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[July 28, 1967] The Shock of the New – Rabbits, Hedgehogs and Kazoos (New Worlds, August 1967)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After last month’s impressive resurrection of New Worlds, I’m quite intrigued this month to see whether editor Mike Moorcock’s vision of the future of British science fiction magazines can be upheld. Let’s go to the issue!


They say "sex sells". This may be the reason for this cover! Cover by Eduardo Paolozzi

This month’s “Leading Article” is one of those that examines an idea – not always related to science fiction, at least not at first. This month the connection seems obtuse, about creativity and theories of art by focusing on the work of Anton Ehrenzweig.


Again, I think we’re aiming at the new readers drawn to New Worlds by the Art Council rather than by science fiction.


Mind-bending Art meets Philosophy!

It does make you think, though, even if I feel that it is a little too introspective myself. I could be wrong, but this does not feel like a Moorcock editorial, but perhaps rather an Associate Editor Langdon Jones article.

Camp Concentration (Part 2 of 4) by Thomas M. Disch


Illustration by Zoline. This makes sense in the story, honest!

And so to the continuation of the big event story.

A quick recap. Conscientious objector Louis Sacchetti has been imprisoned in Camp Archimedes and given the task by prison commander Humphery Haast of observing other prisoners who are being experimented upon by Doctor Aimee Busk. The group are being given an experimental drug, Pallidine, which will hopefully improve intelligence.

We left the story last time where one of the prisoners, George Wagner, had become ill during a camp performance of Faustus. The group’s ringleader, Modecai Washington, had explained to Louis that the drug only gives them months to live.

Continuing this month, Louis, inspired by the revelation that the prisoners will die, is spurred on to write after months of writer’s block. George Wagner dies. There is a funeral. Sacchetti is admonished by Busk for using the prison library to do a little research of his own.

We discover that Pallidine is a spirochate bug, in actual fact the initiator of syphilis. In the past syphilis has been known to cause madness before death, something which Sacchetti is made very aware of. With this in mind, much of the story becomes increasingly bizarre as the effects of the virus on the infected person’s brain takes hold.

Mordecai’s infection is clearly very advanced and Louis spends much of the beginning of this story listening to Mordecai explaining how little time he has left and explaining how the cumulative effects of syphilis progress, in some vivid detail. This is emphasised by the point that Mordecai has three ‘familiars’ – rabbits infected with the disease – because the effects of Pallidine on rabbits are the same as humans, but happen much faster. (This also explains the strange pencil illustrations of rabbits seen over these two first parts.)

The intense intellectual discussions and the increasingly surreal events he experiences inspire Louis’s writing of a play entitled Auschwitz: A Comedy, which he describes as “fantastic”.

However much of the last part of the story describes Sacchetti’s observation of the prison performance of Faustus – a very odd, quasi-religious performance, involving camp commander Haast as a Messianic figure wearing a 'crown of thorns' made up from an electrocardiograph machine on stage. Before the performance reaches its ending though, Mordecai dies.

That night Louis has strange yet vivid dream of a conversation with Saint Thomas Aquinas. As a result, upon waking, he realises that he is as much of a prisoner as the other inmates.

Shocked yet? You’re meant to be.

In a lot of ways, this second part of the story continues what happened in Part One, but in understandably more extreme ways. The decay of the physical body and the brain, combined with the increasingly bizarre degeneration of the mind, is quite well done, although this means that much of the plot is pseudo-intellectual talk, lengthy yet meaningful diatribes and random navel-gazing. We have much talk of philosophers and art, alchemy, James Joyce and religion as the disease takes hold.

Consequently, I found that much of this part of the story was intellectual fluff and provocative imagery that, although interesting, did little to progress things. It was challenging and thoughtful, yes, but also long-winded and even a little dull. It felt more like a university philosophy lecture than anything else, rather like the author was showing off his knowledge rather than portraying anything of actual purpose.

Don’t get me wrong, Camp Concentration is still fascinating and often gripping, even as it becomes increasingly odd and remains incessantly downbeat. I’m still interested to see how this continues in the next issue. 4 out of 5.

The Green Wall Said by Gene Wolfe

And now a much shorter and simpler story from a new author to me, American Gene Wolfe. This is a story of aliens abducting humans to ask for help. I found it to be an interesting one in that I think it is written in a style that shows a slightly different take on what is now seen as British New Wave.

It is "cut-up", having two narrative threads running side-by-side, but more linear and more straightforward than say, the works of Disch and Ballard. As a result, it is more memorable for me. I like the ambiguity of the ending! I would be interested to read more from this writer. 3 out of 5.

Article: Language Mechanisms by Christopher Finch

This month’s ‘arty’ article (artycle?) examines the work of sculptor Eduardo Paolozzi, a person I was not aware of before reading this article but makes fascinating reading here. Paolozzi seems to integrate inspirations from wide-ranging sources such as writer William Burroughs, the Dadaism movement and philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, which fit right into the sort of material the magazine is currently writing about. Lots of pictures too, to illustrate.

I’d be interested to hear what other readers make of this as part of New Worlds though. Is this something that is genuinely new and adds to the magazine’s appeal, or is it instead a case of the artist disappearing into a self-imposed balloon of introspection? Putting it simpler: is it mind-blowing or just self-obsessed clap-trap with delusions of grandeur? And does it deserve a place in New Worlds? One I might need to think about more myself. 4 out of 5.

Kazoo by James Sallis

A new writer to me, writing here in a faux-hip style that seems both terribly new and yet terribly dated at the same time. Reminds me of Samuel R. Delany, William S. Burroughs and Anthony Burgess – deliberately, I think – with its made-up language and hipster-style prose.

It seems like a day in the life of Ferdinand Turnip, and uses John Lennon-eque turns of phrase to describe a set of strange events. Turnip is first attacked on an urban street, but then the two agree to have lunch. He then goes to the blood bank, joins in with a street band, (Guess what – he plays a kazoo) goes to his artist’s studio and drinks turpentine, then meets his partner Bella who breaks up with him. I’m fairly sure the last line is meant to be an ‘amusing’ double-entendre, but it’s difficult for me to tell, if I’m honest.

It’s OK as a stylistic piece, although tries too hard to be clever for me. But at least it is a little different from what all the other stories seem to be trying this month. One for the hip cats, which I am clearly not. 3 out of 5.


No, I don't know what this means, either!

Mars Pastorale, Or, I’m Fertile, Said Felix by Peter Tate

Allegorical tale about the self-aware growth of a plant juxtaposed with the story of Felix Jimpson, and his partner Velvet, recently arrived on Mars. I could be wrong, but it seems to be about the dichotomy between modern technology and nature on Mars.

Perhaps best summed up with a quote from the story: “What else is a poet or any other writer except a hedgehog trying to find a voice to yell at oncoming death?” which will either intrigue you or make you want to run for the hills. It is so ridiculous it makes me think that the story is meant to be satire.

Another deliberately obtuse, rather pretentiously symbolic tale. I may have read the satire wrong, but generally it seems to be trying too hard and worse, it feels like it has been done before. 2 out of 5.

Multi Value Motorway by Brian Aldiss

Another interesting experiment from Brian as he continues to channel his inner-Ballard. This feels like part of a story, more so when I realised that it involved Colin Charteris, who I last encountered in Just Passing Through, a story in the February issue of SF Impulse . It continues the idea that much of Europe has experienced psychedelic drugs as a result of Russia dropping hallucinogenic bombs in the Acid Head War. Last time it was about Charteris’s experiences of Western Europe. This time it is a splintered story of Charteris’s travels around the English Midlands, observing pop culture, teenagers, sex and motorway crashes creating art, and ending with Charteris becoming Saint Charteris, a god-like personality that is worshipped and adored. Perhaps best described as “If Aldiss wrote Ballard”, or perhaps more fittingly, “If Ballard wrote Aldiss”, as it is less cut-up than J.G.’s usual work.

Still intriguing, though, even if it feels like only part of a story. 4 out of 5.

Article: New Directions in Medicine by Brig.-Gen. Thomas H. Crouch

Another article, this time on how new science, often developed by the military, has led to innovations being taken up in the wider world.

Laser beams for surgery! Robotic prosthetics! Velcro closure tape! I found it interesting to read how new ideas are becoming generally available in the real world.

Science fiction is often seen as “the fiction that predicts the future”, and this article seems to confirm that (even if I think that it's not always true, myself!) I suspect that we will see most of these being commonly used in the future. 4 out of 5.

Concentrate 1 by Michael Butterworth

Michael Butterworth has appeared in New Worlds before, last time in October 1966 with The Steel Corkscrew. His work seems to be liked because it is different, and so is this. Concentrate 1 is more of a prose poem than prose or a poem, a mercifully short piece on – well, I’m not sure what. More seemingly disjointed ramblings, with some nicely written prose but deliberately no linear narrative. I understand that his writing is popular, but I still can’t shake the general feeling that the author wants to be Ballard and is not as good. This month’s “not for me” piece. 2 out of 5.

Book Reviews

The detailed review this month is by already-mentioned author Thomas M. Disch, of Harry Mathews’s Tlooth. (No, I hadn’t heard of it either.) Despite Disch’s claims that his enthusiasm for Mathews’s work borders on the “evangelical”, and his thoughtful and detailed analysis of this novel, I was less impressed. The book sounds very Disch-like, and I can see why he likes it, although I feel that it is not something I want to spend time with.

Brian Aldiss reviews Jeremy Seabrooks’s social history novel The Unprivileged. No, I’ve not heard of that one, either, but Aldiss seems impressed with the honest telling of the history of the Seabrook family from 1779, although it does sound to be filled with poverty, punishment and hardship.

Elsewhere James Cawthorn reviews Norman Spinrad’s story of cannibalism in The Men in the Jungle, Fritz Leiber’s “erotic interlude” The Wanderer, the “admirable” The Best from Fantasy & SF 16 and the “dull” Extrapolasis by Alexander Malec.

Summing up New Worlds

Another good issue on the new magazine that is New Worlds. Whilst John Sladek’s Masterton and the Clerks, advertised last month, hasn’t appeared, the Disch still impresses. It does not seem quite as strong as it started, but is still one of the most memorable stories I’ve read in years.

The rest seems to be settling down into this new format impressively. Science, art, philosophy – all are covered, although at the expense of fiction, perhaps. Regarding the fiction, I liked the Wolfe and can see how, like Disch and Sladek, this American author’s story may be influenced by this British New Wave.

However, many of the stories in this issue feel like variations of the same style, echoing Ballard and the like, and as a result the issue’s fiction is more demanding to read than many earlier issues, but less varied in style. Perhaps a little more worrying, what once gained traction by being new, original and shocking is now surprisingly less so, with the influence of Burroughs and Ballard looming large and throughout. It is clear that the editor and his assistants like what they publish – but do the readers?

As a reader, I can see that in future me not liking everything (or is that understanding everything?) in New Worlds is going to be a regular comment. However, at the moment there is enough to keep me better informed, interested and entertained – even if the new New Worlds feels more like a University magazine than an SF digest.

Until the next!



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[June 26, 1967] Change is Here (New Worlds, July 1967)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

It’s been a while, but I’m pleased to finally receive a copy of the new New Worlds. (Note: no longer with sf impulse.)

And it is new, and different.

The first noticeable change was heralded by the slap of the magazine landing on my doormat. Clearly designed to compete with the big glossies on the newsagent’s shelves, New Worlds has changed from the paperback size (7 inches x 4 ½ inches) to something that is 11 inches by 8 ½ inches. It reminds me of that change that Analog Magazine tried a couple of years ago.

As fellow Traveller Kris explained back in March, the magazine now has funding from the UK Arts Council – the rumours seem to suggest somewhere in the region of £120 000. So we now get bigger (in size, if not in the number of pages) and glossier, determined to impress. But is it enough? Let’s go to the issue!

Another change. The “Editorial” has now become the “Leading Article”. Presumably this is to let other writers than the editor Mike Moorcock to do some of the writing. This issue states that the article is by Moorcock with “editorial contributions and assistance from Thomas M. Disch and (Mrs Moorcock) Hilary Bailey” on the contents page.

Other than that, the message is pretty much the usual – change is here and this magazine reflects that change. There is an emphasis on social change and the social sciences, “imperfect as they are” being the new place to go to examine the human condition as it is – and by looking at the past how the human condition has changed. To do this, the writers cover a broad range of ideas, from Victorian melodrama to religion, Freud, Kafka and Viet Nam. All good stuff and thought-provoking, not to mention controversial – I suspect Analog readers might have something to say on the matter!

Really though, it is the usual ideas that we’ve seen in recent Editorials in New Worlds, albeit for a potentially new audience.

Illustration by Zoline

Camp Concentration (part 1 of 4) by Thomas M. Disch

And so to this month’s big event story.

The story is told in a diary format. As the narrator, Louis Sacchetti, begins his tale we discover that he is in Springfield prison with a five year sentence for being “a conchie”, a conscientious objector to the war the US is fighting. (There are deliberate parallels here with Viet Nam, I think.) Without warning, writer Sacchetti finds himself being taken from Springfield to Camp Archimedes, where he is to be an observer and write as if to an outsider what the Camp is like. He is well looked after, although the reason for this is initially unknown.

He meets fellow prisoners George Wagner and Mordecai Washington, the nominal leader of the prison inmates, and Doctor Aimee Busk, who explains that George is part of an experimental group at Camp Archimedes attempting to enhance intelligence.

Sacchetti meets more of the prisoners. Like in some bizarre alternate version of a WW2 prisoner-of-war film, Sacchetti agrees to help set up a theatre production by the prisoners, that of Marlowe's Faustus. During the performance George becomes violently ill. Mordecai explains to Sacchetti that it is a side-effect of being given Pallidine, a drug that rots the brain and gives the person months to live whilst hopefully improving intelligence.

The drug enhancement made me think that Camp Concentration is like Daniel Keyes’s Flowers for Algernon, but for a more grown-up, more worldly-wise and drug-aware audience. The whole story (so far, anyway!) is dark, unsettling and decidedly adult, more Aldiss than Asimov. Filled with cultural and literary references, we are a long way away from the traditional space opera here, although I can see that this nearly continuous name-dropping may be wearisome in the long-term.

Last time, in the "Up and Coming" advertisement for this issue,  Moorcock declared Camp Concentration to be the finest sf novel we have ever published. I was a little wary of the hyperbole, personally, but I must admit that this is actually pretty good, a more contemporary version of Orwell’s nightmarish autocratic vision in 1984, perhaps.

It’s not always easy reading, and some of the language used is quite shocking and not for everyone, but this is big, bold science fiction and a story for our modern times. I can’t wait to see where it goes next. 5 out of 5.

The Death Module by J. G. Ballard

Appropriate illustration for the cut-up world of J. G. Ballard. Illustration by Douthwaite.

Leading the British sector of the so-called New Wave, where would we be without a contribution from England’s “Mr Chuckles”, J. G. Ballard? Irony aside, this is typically anti-utopian stuff made up of the usual cut-up snippets and dense yet precise prose we expect from Mr. Ballard.

Regular readers of his work will find characters from previous work reappear – Karen Novotny, Coma, Kline, Xero, Ralph Nader, J. F. Kennedy, Harvey Oswald – now joined by the three dead (and thankfully unnamed) astronauts of the recent Apollo disaster, though to what exact purpose is under debate. Images of sex, pornography and crashing vehicles proliferate in this collage of moments. As baffling as ever, fans will appreciate more of the bleakness and the dour mood that typically suffuse Ballard’s work. Intellectually disconcerting. 4 out of 5.

1937 A. D. ! by John T. Sladek

John Sladek has been appearing a lot in the British magazines lately. Whilst not quite as noticeable as Disch or Zelazny, he has been known to be creating readable stories of interest. This is another one, a time-travel story that in its setting and lighter tone has the feel of a Bradbury rather than a Wells – or perhaps a Clifford Simak. Amusing and well done, if nothing really new. 3 out of 5.

Article: Sleep, Dreams and Computers by Dr. Christopher Evans

This heralds the return of science articles to New Worlds. Dr. Christopher Evans is known here for his articles on computers. He’s not Isaac Asimov, admittedly, but his article on computers, sleep and machine intelligence (they are connected here!) is accessible and written in a prose that is not intimidating. 4 out of 5.

The Heat Death of the Universe by P. A. Zoline

Zoline is perhaps known for her art – there is some of it in the magazine! – but here her prose “does a Ballard” and is presented in small, easily digestible chunks. 3 out of 5.

Not So Certain by David Masson

The return of David Masson brings me mixed feelings. When his work is good, it is very, very good – see his story Traveller’s Rest, for example, back in the September 1965 issue.

However, some of his more recent stories have been less impressive – often still ambitious, but for me lacking something.

The good news is that I enjoyed this one a little more than some. Not so Certain deals with one of Masson’s interests that has appeared in his stories before – that of linguistics and syntax. It is pleasantly complex, although overall the story feels like a lecture, heavy on its didactics. As a result, it is rather like Ballard’s work to me – complex, intelligent and yet rather mystifying. There’s some effort made here, but it does feel rather dull, with a cop-out ending. 3 out of 5.

Article: Expressing the Abstract by Charles Platt

The first page of the Escher article, showing how the magazine is taking advantage of its new quality printing and bigger layout. 

And talking of lectures, here’s an article from the magazine’s newly-employed Art Director (you may also remember him for his prose too!) that examines the work of abstract artist E. M. Escher. This accounts for the eye-catching cover this month, but also explains that – wait for it! – there is more to Escher than meets the eye! (Sorry.) An interesting and enlightening article, that I suspect is here because it fits the wider brief given to the magazine by the Arts Council. 4 out of 5.

The Soft World Sequence by George MacBeth

Poetry. Glass eye in groin. Cucumbers. 2 out of 5.

In the House of the Dead by Roger Zelazny

Lyrical Fantasy from Roger. Strange, gruesome, experimental dream-like images… the sort of thing now expected from the New Wave. An apocalyptic tale of gods and Masters, it is more obtuse than most of the recent material I’ve read of his. Thus, I liked this a little less, but it is still quite good.  4 out of 5.

Book Reviews

Brian Aldiss continues to provide book reviews in this new New Worlds. This month, Brian has two descriptions of non-fiction books about the Hiroshima atomic bomb and a discussion on the consequences of such an event. Douglas Hill reviews Judith Merril’s The Year’s Best S-F, 11th Annual Edition. James Cawthorn (here as “J. Cawthorn”) reviews Samuel R. Delany’s The Einstein Intersection, Roger Zelazny’s Four for Tomorrow, Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle and Robert Bloch’s collection, Pleasant Dreams / Nightmares, amongst others.

I like the more in-depth reviews, with Aldiss clearly the star of the show this month – even if they’re reviews of books I’m not tempted to read or buy myself.

Another change – there’s a little potted history of all of the contributors at the end of the magazine. I liked it – it’s a nice classy touch, and introduces the authors to those who may not know them from previous incarnations.

Summing up the new New Worlds

If I had to predict what I thought the new New Worlds would be like, this issue would be it. A wide-ranging mixture of science articles, articles on art, book reviews, poetry and yes, some science fiction, but a literary science fiction that is of “the now”, rather than something that harkens back to the past.

Comparing this to earlier Moorcock issues and especially the John Carnell era issues of a mere couple of years ago, this is a revelation, although regular readers may feel that this is what we’ve been leading up to.

More importantly, I think that this issue is the closest we’ve got so far to Moorcock’s vision for New Worlds. It is eclectic, abstract, big, bold and experimental. I feel that this issue is designed to show everyone what a science fiction magazine can offer – and, in my opinion, it mainly delivers. Ballard is Ballard, whilst the Disch is designed to shock – and does a pretty good job.

Whilst many of the authors are those we have read before, Moorcock clearly picking favourites to highlight the potential of his magazine, the presentation of a package of diverse material makes it seem new. It feels deliberately determined to prod, cajole and create controversy. You may not like everything here (and I didn’t!), but I think that that is the point. Is it science fiction and fantasy for the masses, though? Time will tell.

For me, Mike has impressed with this issue – now all he has to do is keep up this quality on a regular basis.

Until the next!



 

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[June 10, 1967] Music To Read By (July 1967 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

So May I Introduce To You The Act You've Known For All These Years.

The Beatles, that is.

I know, I know. By now you're a little tired of the Fab Four. Well, the release of their latest album in the USA early this month may change your mind.

(Those lucky folks in the UK got it late last month.)

After evolving from catchy, expertly crafted pop songs into new musical territory with the albums Rubber Soul and Revolver, the Liverpudlians have taken a giant leap.


You could spend hours just studying the cover art.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is extraordinary. It takes rock 'n' roll, mixes it up with other forms of popular music, adds more than a little modern psychedelic surrealism, and comes up with a genuine work of art. I'm afraid I'm going to wear out lots of phonograph needles listening to it over and over.

Because I've already got the songs from this album stuck in my head, let me suggest the ones you might listen to while reading the latest issue of Fantastic.


Cover art by Johnny Bruck.

The image on the front is stolen from one of the weekly German magazines featuring the adventures of space explorer Perry Rhodan.


Perhaps one of our German Journeyers can supply a translation.

The Narrow Land, by Jack Vance


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

The only new story begins with the birth of our hero, forcing his way out of an egg and fighting off others of his kind. He then grows up swimming in swampy water with other amphibian youngsters.

You can tell he's not a human being, can't you? All of the characters are of his species, but there are different kinds. The number of ridges on their heads indicates what variety they are.

One-ridge folks are the most common, and exist as fully developed males and females. Two-ridge types are sexually neuter. Three-ridge individuals are invariably male. As we'll learn later, there used to be a lot of them, but war with the two-ridge kind left only one alive. There's also one four-ridge being, a monster that preys on the one-ridge children.

Confused? So is our hero, as he tries to understand his world. As the title implies, it's a thin strip of inhabitable land between a region of cold, dark mist and an ocean of constant thunderstorms.

(The editorial blurb states that this is a planet with one side always facing its sun. This is not explicitly stated in the text. It explains why it's always twilight.)


There are also birds, but they are barely mentioned.

We'll get a detailed explanation for the various subtypes of aliens. Suffice to say that the main character leaves the water and is taken in by the two-ridge folks as one of their own. Later, however, he is labeled a freak, and has to escape to the realm of the three-ridge being. He learns a lot more about what's going on from that fellow, and comes up with a plan.

The story's setting and exotic alien biology is fascinating. The author does a good job of seeing things through the eyes of a character very different from a human being. The end comes rather suddenly, suggesting the possibility of a sequel.

Four stars.

(Suggested listening: Fixing a Hole, because the protagonist is trying to fill the gaps in his knowledge of the world.)

The Ship Sails At Midnight, by Fritz Leiber


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

This lovely and sad story comes from the September 1950 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Illustrations by Henry Sharp.

The narrator is one of a quartet of jaded, world-weary intellectuals in a small college town. He's a writer. One is a philosopher, another is studying physics. The only woman in the group is a sculptor. They're all fairly skilled in their various fields, but far from brilliant.

The four meet a strikingly beautiful woman working as a waitress at an all-night diner. She doesn't say much, and reveals almost nothing about herself. Somehow or other, she brings out the best in each of them. They lose their cynicism, and produce works of genius.


She claims her name is Helen, suggestive of the ancient Greek myth of the Trojan War.

It's obvious from the beginning that she's from another world. If the illustration wasn't enough of a clue, the story starts with reports of a meteorite falling to earth and sightings of a UFO.

The narrator falls in love with Helen, and she returns his affection. A strange man shows up, telling her it's time to leave. She chooses to stay. It turns out that the other two men are in love with Helen as well, and had also won her heart. Jealousy rears its ugly head, leading to sudden violence.

(As a side note, it seems to me that the author very subtly suggests that the sculptress is in love with Helen too. This is somewhat disguised by the fact that she is engaged to be married to the physics student. I may be reading too much into this, but I would not be very surprised if Leiber, a sophisticated writer always ahead of his time, meant to offer hints of a lesbian romance.)

This is a beautiful and heartbreaking tale of joy won and lost.

Five stars.

(Suggested listening: Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, because Lucy is as transcendent a creation as Helen.)

The Remarkable Flirgleflip, by William Tenn


Cover art by J. J. Blumenfeld.

The May 1950 issue of Fantastic Adventures supplies this futuristic farce.


Illustration by Leo Summers.

At some unspecified time in the future, human activities are controlled by time travelers from an even more distant future. In particular, they forbid a researcher from inventing time travel, because it's not supposed to be invented until a later time.

(I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Time travel stories are confusing.)

The guy decides to invent it anyway, and to heck with the consequences. He tricks the narrator into getting sent to the Twentieth Century. The fellow just wants to go back to his own time. Complications ensue, partly because people of the future don't wear clothing.

After hiding in a garbage can for a while, he winds up with a wisecracking newspaper reporter. It seems his story makes for hot news, even if nobody really believes him.

This is a silly story, without much of the satiric edge often found in Tenn's sardonic yarns. As you can tell from the title, it's full of goofy invented words. That always annoys me in a science fiction comedy.

Two stars.

(Suggested listening: Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite!, because it's the most whimsical song on the album.)

From This Dark Mind, by Rog Phillips


Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

The November/December 1953 issue of the magazine is the source of this look at tomorrow's psychiatry.

Using a device that gives a patient a word association test and analyzes it, the headshrinker is able to determine that a woman needs psychological surgery. This consists of altering her memory of an incident in her past.

As a secondary plot, another patient fails to show up for an appointment, and the psychiatrist suspects he's going to kill somebody. This part of the story turns into a kind of mystery, with a twist ending of sorts.

The background assumes that psychiatry is going to take over many of the functions of medical care. An outbreak of influenza among children, for example, is said to be caused by their anxiety over an event in the Little Orphan Annie comic strip!

At that point, I thought the author's intent was satire. As far as I can tell, however, the story is meant to be serious. The premise reminds me of the pseudoscience of Dianetics. (There's even a reference to pre-birth experiences as a source of mental disorders, which sure sounds like part of L. Ron Hubbard's nonsense to me.)

Setting aside my disdain for Dianetics, this isn't a very exciting story. There's some banter between the psychiatrist and his receptionist to fill up space. The two plots never come together, and they're resolved pretty much as you'd expect.

Two stars.

(Suggested listening: A Day In The Life, because the story takes place during one long day and night for the psychiatrist.)

The Man with the Fine Mind, by Kris Neville


Cover art by Robert Frankenberg.

This chiller comes from the January/February 1953 issue of the magazine.


Illustration by Leo Summers.

A man is at a party with his fiancée. He's drinking pretty heavily, and he doesn't seem to be too happy. He even thinks about killing her.

(Don't ask me why these two are engaged. They seem like a very unlikely couple indeed.)

She makes some remarks about how it's a shame he has to leave. He insists that he's staying. Things get weird when everybody at the party acts like he's gone. They ignore him completely. Figuring that this is some kind of cruel prank, he gets angrier and drunker. The situation ends badly.

I have to admit that I didn't fully understand this story. I wasn't sure if the guy had actually left, and some kind of unseen doppelganger was left at the party, or the other way around. Despite my confusion, and an unpleasant lead character, it held my interest.

Three stars.

(Suggested listening: With A Little Help From My Friends, because the protagonist was in desperate need of assistance from his acquaintances.)

The Ant with the Human Soul (Part Two of Two), by Bob Olsen


Cover art by Leo Morey.

Here's the conclusion of a novella that appeared (in one part) in the Summer 1932 issue of Amazing Stories Quarterly.


Illustration by Morey also.

Last issue, we met a fellow who attempted suicide because his loss of religious faith led to his girlfriend leaving him. (Oddly, the guy remains a rather jolly, wisecracking sort.) A Mad Scientist rescued him. In return, the man agreed to undergo a bizarre experiment.

Part of his brain went into the body of an ant, so he could experience its sensations. (This involved a lot of shrinking and growing. That's one talented Mad Scientist.)

In this half, the guy's mind goes into several different kinds of ants. We learn about gentle farmers of fungus, aggressive warriors that enslave other ants, herders of aphids that live on the liquid they secrete, and so forth. It all winds up with the fellow regaining his faith in God, based on life among the ants, and going back to his sweetheart.

As in the first part, the main appeal of the conclusion is in the detailed description of the ant colonies. The author must have done a lot of research. Some of this stuff is a little too anthropomorphic, but otherwise it seems very accurate.

The subplot of attempted suicide and loss of faith seems way out of place with the rest of the story. It's not a comedy, but it's very lighthearted. (The man gives whimsical nicknames to the other ants, such as Sherlocka Holmes.) The premise is outrageous, of course, but go along with it and it's not a bad read.

Three stars.

(Suggested listening: When I'm Sixty-Four, because this is the oldest story in the issue, and the song is also a featherweight piece of fluff.)

Mr. Steinway, by Robert Bloch


Cover art by Augusto Marin.

From the April 1954 issue of the magazine we get this bit of dark fantasy.


Illustration by Bill Ashman.

The narrator is a woman who falls in love with a pianist. The musician practices an odd sort of meditation, in which he enters a trance. In this unconscious state, he communicates with everything, including inanimate objects.

In particular, he has a special relationship with his piano. Nicknamed Mr. Steinway, it was a gift from his mother, now deceased. The instrument has its own preferences. It doesn't like certain composers, for example.

As the two lovers grow closer, Mr. Steinway displays signs of jealousy. As you might imagine, this doesn't end well for anybody.

On a superficial level, this is just a spooky yarn about a haunted piano. There's a bit more to it than that, I think. The author does a pretty good job of writing from a woman's point of view, which is not always something you can say about a male writer. What happens to the narrator is more subtle and disturbing than you might expect.

(If they made this into a movie, her fate would be a little more openly violent, I think.)

Three stars.

(Suggested listening: She's Leaving Home, because the narrator is never going home again.)

I've Got To Admit It's Getting Better, A Little Better All The Time.

Well, that was a pretty decent issue, with only a couple of poor pieces, a very good new story, some readable reprints, and one great classic. Not as perfect a masterpiece as the latest Beatles album, but enough to keep smiles on our faces.


Mustaches and band uniforms optional.



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 16, 1967] The Generation Gap (May 1967 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Youth is Wasted on the Young

The children now love luxury; they have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise. Children are now tyrants, not the servants of their households. They no longer rise when elders enter the room. They contradict their parents, chatter before company, gobble up dainties at the table, cross their legs, and tyrannize their teachers.
— attributed to Socrates

It's no secret that young people are rejecting many of the opinions of their elders these days. That's always been true to some extent, of course. However, with the hippie culture, the civil rights movement, and antiwar protests, all of which mostly involve young adults, the gap between the generations seems wider than ever.

In particular, once heavy bombing of North Vietnam began a couple of years ago (Operation Rolling Thunder, still going on intermittently), college students, led by such organizations as Students for a Democratic Society, started demonstrating against the war. On April 17, 1965, somewhere between fifteen thousand and twenty-five thousand people showed up at the nation's capital, in the largest protest to date.


SDS members and others during the March on Washington, almost exactly two years ago.

There have been many other protests since then, both in the United States and other nations. I don't mean to imply that these demonstrations consist entirely of young people, but they do seem to make up the majority of peace activists.

Just yesterday, thousands appeared at massive protests against the conflict in Vietnam in major cities across the United States. In New York City, well over one hundred young men burned their draft cards, followed by a speech by civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr., at the United Nations.


The crowd fills Kazar stadium in San Francisco.

What does the parallel escalation of America's involvement in the war and the rejection of it by many young adults and their elders mean for the immediate future of the United States?  It's hard to say, but things look dark.  Just as the struggle for civil rights sometimes looks like a second Civil War, complete with bloodshed, the battle between Hawks and Doves threatens to tear the country apart along political lines.  Let's hope the nation is never as divided as it seems to be now.

Music to Argue With Your Parents or Children By

The tension between generations shows up in popular culture as well. A fine example of this happened recently. From late March until the middle of April, a cheerful little tune from the young folks who call themselves The Turtles was at the top of the American music charts. Happy Together is a great favorite of teenagers, I believe.


I like the part near the end, when the frequently repeated title changes to How is the weather.

Mom and Dad are likely to prefer the song that replaced it as Number One this week. Veteran crooner Frank Sinatra, assisted by daughter Nancy, currently has the nation's biggest hit with the much more traditional number Somethin' Stupid.


I'll refrain from commenting on the propriety of having father and daughter sing a love song together.

Catch a Wave

Not even speculative fiction escapes the conflict between generations. The so-called New Wave movement within the field, primarily in the United Kingdom, offers experimental, controversial, and sometimes incomprehensible stories to readers. The latest issue of Fantastic, a magazine which has been rather stodgy since it went to a policy of containing mostly reprints, mixes a bit of New Wave with plenty of Old Wave stuff.


Cover art by Malcolm Smith.

As usual, the cover reprints art from an old magazine. In this case, it's from the back cover of the July 1943 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


The original looks a lot better.

The Ant with the Human Soul (Part One of Two), by Bob Olsen


Cover art by Leo Morey.

The whole of this Old Wave, pre-Campbell novella appeared in full in the Spring-Summer 1932 issue of Amazing Stories Quarterly. I guess Fantastic didn't want to devote most of the magazine to it.


Illustrations by Morey also.

The narrator tries to kill himself by jumping into the ocean, but a scientist rescues him. The scientist suggests a bizarre scheme. He has a gizmo that can increase or decrease the size of anything, even living creatures. He combines that with neurosurgery in order to perform a weird experiment.

First, he'll increase an ant to the size of a human being. After that, he'll put a part of the narrator's brain into the ant's head. When he shrinks the ant back down to normal size, the narrator will experience everything the ant does, and will be able to control the ant's actions. In essence, he will become the ant.

After the strange transformation takes place, the narrator takes us on a guided tour of life in an ant colony. This first part ends with a cliffhanger, promising the reader that a violent event is about to occur.


Mad Science!

This is an odd story, not only because of the outrageous premise. The mood varies wildly. Some sections deal with the narrator's loss of religious faith, which drove him to attempt suicide. Others are very lighthearted, with playful banter between the two characters. The best part of it is the description of life as an ant, which is depicted in vivid, accurate detail.

Three stars, mostly for taking me into the ant colony.

The Thinking Seat, by Peter Tate


Cover art by Keith Roberts, better known to me as a writer.

The magazine calls this a new novelette, which is a half-truth. It's new to American readers, but it appeared in the November 1966 issue of the British publication New Worlds. My esteemed colleague Mark Yon reviewed it at that time, but let's take another look.


Illustration by Gray Morrow, which is the only truly new thing in the magazine.

The setting is the seacoast of California in the near future. The rugged shore has been replaced with artificial beaches of a tamer nature. The water is warmer, due to the discharge from a nuclear power plant. (I also got the impression that it made the water thicker, almost gelatinous, but I may be wrong about that. This New Wave story isn't always clear.)

A man and a woman with a strange relationship show up at a beatnik colony. She'd like to be more intimate with the fellow, but he doesn't seem interested. Instead, he becomes fascinated by a charismatic poet, who openly announces that he's going to take the woman away from the other man. Things come to a climax during an attempt to sabotage the nuclear power plant, as a way of protesting what it's done to the coast.

I have probably greatly simplified and distorted the plot, because this isn't the easiest story to understand. The narrative often stops to offer examples of obscure poetry, which adds more ambiguity. (Apparently the poet steals phrases from the Beat poets, but I don't know enough about their work to confirm that.)

I got the impression that this example of the Eternal Triangle, which ends badly, was really a case of repressed homosexuality. That's a theme you won't find in most Old Wave science fiction, to be sure. The whole thing works better as a study of the psychology of the three main characters rather than as science fiction.

Three stars, mostly for keeping me wondering about things.

A Way of Thinking, by Theodore Sturgeon


Cover art by Art Sussman.

The October-November 1953 issue of Amazing Stories supplies this supernatural chiller from the pen of one of the field's greatest stylists.


Illustration by Ernest Schroeder.

The narrator is a writer of science fiction and fantasy, who even mentions his work appearing in Amazing, so I assume it's a fictional version of the author. He tells us about an acquaintance who reacts to problems in unusual ways, often by thinking about things backwards. The fellow's brother is dying a slow, horrible death. The suggestion arises that it might have something to do a doll owned by the dying man's vengeful ex-girlfriend. The brother deals with the situation in his usual unorthodox manner.

This synopsis makes the story sound like a typical tale of voodoo, but that's misleading. I don't want to give too much away, but the plot goes in unexpected directions, and the climax is truly disturbing. Of course, given the author, it's very well written. It's not his most ambitious work, to be sure, but it succeeds as a horror story.

Three stars, mostly for the shocking conclusion.

The Pin, by Robert Bloch


Cover art by Mel Hunter.

From the December-January 1953-1954 issue of Amazing Stories comes another tale of terror.


Illustration by Lee Teaford.

An artist looking for a cheap studio comes across an abandoned loft. It's supposed to be empty, but there's a guy inside, surrounded by a huge pile of telephone books, directories, and so forth. The fellow stabs at random names in the books with a pin.

You may have already figured out that the pin causes the death of those whose names are selected. (The premise reminds me of Ray Bradbury's 1943 story The Scythe, as well as the 1958 movie I Bury the Living.) There aren't a lot of surprises in the plot, but it's an effective little thriller.

Three stars, mostly for creating an eerie mood.

Cold Green Eye, by Jack Williamson


Cover art by Richard Powers.

The March-April 1953 issue of the magazine offers yet another spooky tale. In its original appearance, it was called The Cold Green Eye. Don't ask me why they left out the first word.


Illustration by Ernie Barth.

The child of a pair of daring explorers is raised by Buddhist monks after his parents die in a mountaineering accident. He's adopted by an aunt back in the United States. She's a harsh disciplinarian, punishing the boy for what she thinks of as his heathenish ways. In particular, she hates flies and kills them whenever she can, while the child believes in reincarnation and that all living creatures should be protected. Things get strange when the kid uses the sacred scroll he has in his possession.

There's a good chance you'll see the ending coming, although it still raises goose bumps. What's more surprising is that the cruel aunt is a devout Christian, in contrast to the boy's gentle Buddhism. I didn't expect that from an American horror story from more than a decade ago. Maybe the author just thought it made for a good story, and wasn't really trying to say anything about the two faiths.

Three stars, mostly for aunt's comeuppance.

Hok Draws the Bow, by Manly Wade Wellman


Cover art by C. L. Hartman.

Here's a sequel to a story that was reprinted in the previous issue of Fantastic. It comes from the May 1940 issue of Amazing Stories.


Illustrations by Robert Fuqua.

Once again our hero is Hok, a Homo sapiens fighting a war of extermination against sinister, cannibalistic Neanderthals. (It's best to forget about this story's version of prehistory and just think of it as a sword-and-sorcery yarn.) A fellow shows up bragging about his ability to project a spear farther than anybody else. That's because he's got a leather strap that he winds around it, sending it spinning.

The boastful man also has plan to take over Hok's clan, and he's particularly interested in Hok's pretty mate. He's made himself a god-like ruler over the Neanderthals, even teaching them basic military tactics. It looks like Hok's people will be wiped out, but our hero combines the man's strap and a throwing stick used by the Neanderthals to create a secret weapon.


That doesn't keep him from being captured. Fortunately, his mate has a throwing arm Sandy Koufax might envy.

The title and the opening illustration give away the fact that this story is about Hok inventing the bow and arrow. Other than that, it's an efficient adventure story.

Three stars, mostly for keeping things moving quickly.

Beside Still Waters, by Robert Sheckley


Illustration by Virgil Finlay.

The same issue as the Sturgeon story is the source of this tale. A spaceman lives on an asteroid, turning rock into soil that can grow crops and extracting oxygen from minerals. His only companion is a robot. The machine starts off only able to speak a few phrases, but over time the man teaches it to converse more fully. The story ends with a scene that tries to touch the reader's emotions.

The fact that the man can live on the surface of an asteroid unprotected, even if he somehow produces oxygen and food, is ludicrous. (Not to mention the fact that the asteroid's tiny gravity is going to send the oxygen out into space quickly.) The ending takes the plot into pure fantasy. An author best known for his wit tries to be sentimental here, and the result is bathetic.

Two stars, mostly for the excellent illustration.

Bridging the Gap

That was mostly a middle-of-the-road issue, coming to a sudden halt at the end. Maybe there's something to be said for mediocrity. If nothing else, both young and old can agree that the Old Wave and the New Wave have their ups and downs.


The late President Kennedy closes the generation gap.



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 26, 1967] Changes Coming New Worlds and SF Impulse, April 1967

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

So I’m now having to get used to receiving just one issue of the British magazines a month. The deal made with the Arts Council last month means that I was guaranteed this issue, which I understand will be the last in this paperback format. It is less but is it a case of "less means more"? Let’s go to the issue!

Editor Mike Moorcock is clearly busy this month, and as a result we have a Guest Editorial from the much-plaudit-ed Samuel R. Delany, who I know is making quite an impact in the US with his novels (Babel 17, amongst others).

Though it is well written, it’s another editorial discussing the future of science fiction. Editors Moorcock, Harrison and Bonfiglioli have all covered this in various issues in the past few years, and this isn’t really anything new. It may, however, be for new readers. It is unsurprisingly positive and embraces the change that we’ve seen in recent years.

To the New Worlds/SF Impulse stories.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Daughters of Earth by Judith Merril

Judith Merril is currently writing reviews for the Magazine of Fantasy & SF and editing The Year’s Best SF anthology. In between her work on those, she also found the time to revise one of her pieces from December, 1952.

Allowing for the fact that it's a reprint, Daughters of Earth is a cracker in that it takes a lot of old-fashioned science fiction ideas but gives them a modern, different twist. It is the story of future human space exploration but instead of the usual future being determined by men, this is told through successions of generations of women in one family. It is a deliberate subversion of the usual science fiction cliches.

To emphasise this, the story begins in an almost-Old Testament style: “Martha begat Joan, and Joan begat Ariadne. Ariadne lived and died at home on Pluto, but her daughter, Emma, took the long trip out to a distant planet of an alien sun. Emma begat Leah, and Leah begat Carla, who was the first to make her bridal voyage through sub-space, a long journey faster than the speed of light itself”. We go from the Earth to the Moon with Joan, from the Moon to Pluto with Ariadne and from Pluto with Emma to Ullern, a planet reached on the spaceship Newhope through FTL travel. There the colonists meet aliens.

It is an epistolary story, initially told through letters written for Carla, a future descendant, and for future generations on Ullern.

This may sound like a typical space-exploration story as humans expand their influence to the stars. However, it is different in that although it is clearly writing a history, it shows the female of the species in a more positive and pro-active light than usual, even when at times it regresses to soap-opera. With that in mind, the story is perhaps proto-feminist and shows that the future is not just male heroism and gung-ho histrionics, but also about love, family, and personal sacrifice, as well as coming to grips with the fear created by travel into the unknown.

Pleasingly refreshing, this makes me think that this is the sort of story that Heinlein would like to write, but can’t quite reach. It is an example of how traditional science fiction can be given a modern update. 4 out of 5.

Aid to Nothing by P. F. Woods

And then a step down, from the author also known as Barrington J. Bayley. A story of conflict when a Martian tribe, the Sussorr, meets colonising humans. The Sussorr are receiving telepathic vibes from their neighbours the Tuaranth. The beginning reminds me of A. E. van Vogt’s The Black Destroyer, but it soon degenerates into a story where other parts read like a cut-rate Edgar Rice Burroughs. The sympathy is clearly with the peaceful Martians, emphasised by the cartoonish war-loving humans, led by a man annoyingly named Bungleton. 2 out of 5.

Three Short Stories by Thomas M. Disch

The return of Mr Disch, who recently exploded into the British magazines (and was perhaps most recently noted by our Noble Editor for his expletive-laden story in this month’s Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction), started well and yet recently has had stories published that to me felt like his writing is running out of steam.

The title tells it all – there are three stories. The first is a story told by a man to another about a girl he knew before she committed suicide. The storyteller is shot by a secret agent once he has told the story. In the second part, Thadeus and Diane are looking to move into a dilapidated New York apartment, where they discuss life and love before leaving. In the third piece, Mrs. Neary is on a ship that is sinking.

Lots of metaphor and clearly sentences that are meant to mean something, but the point of the stories seem to have passed me by. I’m sure that the stories means something to somebody, and that the three stories are connected in some way, but if they are it is all a bit beyond me. Disch can write – but this is still a bemusingly metaphorical disappointment.3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Key of the Door by Arthur Sellings

Arthur is an author much liked by Moorcock, so the return of this writer to New Worlds is not entirely a surprise. His last story was That Evening Sun Go Down in the September 1966 issue of New Worlds.

I had better just check, though. Are you aware in the US what the phrase “Key in the Door” means to us Brits? Just in case you’re not (and apologies if you are!) here it’s a turn of phrase to describe the rite of passage, reached at the mighty age of twenty-one, when according to the adage, the person is symbolically given the key of the door to a property. It really means that they are now an adult, with the freedom to do what they want in their future. Here such matters are turned into a light-hearted time-travel story that’s moderately humorous and not to be taken too seriously.

Victorian Godfrey is discovered to be using his father’s time machine, travelling to 1985 and 2035. There he saw his father dancing with a young lady, but is reluctant to tell his father this. To his father’s horror, Godfrey’s travelling has changed things in the future. As you may know, humour is very divisive and usually for me doesn’t do too well. This one is… fair. It provides a bit of lighter counterbalance to the rest of the issue. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews

I’m pleased to see the return of a book review column, even if it is for only one book! Guest reviewer Brian Aldiss reviews I. F. Clarke’s (no, not that one!) book, Voices Prophesying War 1763 – 1984. Brian goes through the book in some detail, pointing out the (mostly) positives and negatives of the book. It rather sounds like the sort of thing Olaf Stapledon was doing with First and Last Men – quite dry, but full of science-fictional ideas. Might be worth a look.

Summing up New Worlds / SF Impulse

Really this is a holding issue, in that it is the last before we get the new New Worlds in its new form, whatever that is. Whilst it is not quite the same as the “What do we have left?” issue of last month, it is still a little underwhelming. As you might expect, the Merril short novel dominates the issue at about 70 pages and is as good as I had hoped for, but it is a (revised?) reprint. The rest of the issue is lesser material. Even the Disch felt like sub-standard work.

And as is clearly explained in the beginning, that’s that.  Goodbye SF Impulse, hello New New Worlds!

It looks like Mr. Disch may be important. I’m hoping that this new material may be better than his recent efforts, good though they can be.

Until the next – whenever that is!



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 24, 1967] Changes Coming (New Worlds and SF Impulse, March 1967)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

In the world of British SF magazines, things have moved since last time we spoke. In the comments on my review of SF Impulse last month, my colleague Kris here at Galactic Journey gave me the news from the BSFA magazine Vector that despite the publishers going bankrupt, Brian Aldiss has managed to secure a deal with the British Arts Council for funds. This has propped up New Worlds for a while. But notice – the funding is just for New Worlds.

So something has had to give. As a result, the two magazines have merged from this issue, hence the new banner heading (even if sf impulse is in much smaller type – expect to see that disappear soon!)

To be fair, though, I have noticed over the last few months that the magazines have become very similar to each other anyway – both have had book reviews, letters pages and even the same roster of writers flitting between the two magazines. It almost makes me wonder if the editors Mike Moorcock and Keith Roberts (with a helping hand from Harry Harrison) had an inkling…

Anyway, all of this is explained in Moorcock’s editorial, entitled “Changes Coming”. Understandably, lots of praise for Aldiss and all of those who fought for New Worlds with the Arts Council. It looks like the magazine may have survived (again) – at least for a while.

To the New Worlds/SF Impulse issue.


Report on Probability A by Brian W. Aldiss

And after the praise already heaped upon Brian, here’s some more.

According to Moorcock’s Editorial, Brian has donated his story to the magazine. Knowing that funds are tight (ie: non-existent) Brian, like all of the other contributors this month, have given this complete novel of over 100 pages for free (or at least a minimal amount.)

That’s the plus-point. Readers may be less happy knowing that, like last month’s Just Passing Through in SF Impulse, this is Brian in experimental mode. Anyone expecting a humourous Aldiss story or a more-straightforward science fiction story may be disappointed.

Mr and Mrs Mary are being observed from three different perspectives by ex-employees of Mr and Mrs Mary, which make up this report. G is a gardener who watches Mr and Mrs Mary from a summerhouse. S is an ex-secretary who does the same from an outhouse in the back garden. C, the ex-chauffeur, is in the loft of the garage close to the Mary’s house. We have a story divided up into different perspectives and written in three different sections (The number three seems important here!) It is a story of surveillance, about observation and effect of being observed. Therefore, lots of meticulous descriptions of what the observers and Mr and Mrs Mary are doing follows.

The reason for this observation slowly becomes apparent when we realise that the observers and the observed are being watched themselves by Domoladossa and Midlakemela, aliens who think that this observation of “Probability A” is important. (It seems that the universe has a number of probabilities, of which this is just one.)

And then we get to the point that Domoladossa and Midlakemela, who are watching the observers watching Mr. and Mrs. Mary, are being watched themselves by The Distinguishers, who are in turn being watched…. confused yet?

It is easy in some ways to see why not a lot happens – although that seems to be the point. The dialogue reminded me a little of Samuel Beckett or Harold Pinter in its stylistic brevity and manner – something that with Aldiss’s literary bent I am sure is no coincidence. It is also weirdly voyeuristic – much of what is described seems mundane and of little consequence, yet I found myself wanting to keep reading.

I guess that the reason for these descriptions of the obvious, whilst they may seem very boring to me/us, is that the world of the Mary’s and their observers is being described for those who have never seen it before. It shows us our world as others see us. Together these viewpoints create a mosaic of often rather mundane events – lots of talk of processed fish, factory strikes, the weather (especially rain.) It’s all rather British and summarises perhaps how others see us.

Interestingly, the constant watching and the events observed makes the whole thing feel claustrophobic and unsettling. Have you ever felt you’ve been watched? Here you are!

There are a lot of unanswered questions. Whilst we are told that ‘it’ may be important, what is the purpose of the surveillance? Is it just to observe? And why is it the Mary family that are being observed? Mrs. Mary is described at one point to perhaps being “the key to everything”, although we are not always clear what “everything” is. Is it something creepy or even malicious?

This may not be to everyone’s tastes – despite Moorcock pointing out on the back cover that it is “perhaps his most brilliant work to date”, the lack of a plot makes it rather against the usual grain. I suppose that it is this that has made the novel a hard sell – I understand that this story has been around a while before being published – but it is one that kept me thinking. Does feel a tad too long, though. Nevertheless, it has stayed with me since reading, a sign that the story has made an impact. 4 out of 5.

The Ersatz Wine by Chris Priest

A story of multiple narratives all chopped up into a jumbled tale. A story of nothing turned into a confusing nothing that plays with form but is probably a story where the form is more important than the narrative. 3 out of 5.

The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race by J. G. Ballard

Ah – the now predictable scenario of J. G. using contemporary people and elements to tell his downbeat cut-up tale. Before we’ve seen included JFK, Mickey Mouse and Marilyn Monroe amongst others. However, I’m not sure about this one where the events of the assassination are turned into a motor race. For example, Oswald starts the race by firing his gun, Kennedy is disqualified at the hospital for taking a turn for the worse, Johnson takes the lead and wins the race.

Although it happened a good 18 months ago, Kennedy’s assassination still feels quite recent to me, and perhaps too recent to become something of amusement. It feels wrong, like making a joke about the poor Apollo astronauts recently would be. Is the use of JFK here to shock, to be controversial? Possibly. As satire, I guess it can be seen to be puncturing the balloon of pretentiousness that often surrounds public figures. Does it work? Not sure… despite the description on the back cover (see below) about it being witty and filled with deeply-considered comment, I really get the impression Ballard finds this all very funny, but if it is, to me it’s a one-trick joke stretched too far. 3 out of 5.

Hunger’s End by Robert Cheetham

Another recently emerged writer in these pages. An odd allegorical tale that deals with expense, perfection and beauty and how a hunger for what you desire may be more important than mere functionality. Well, that and a sea sponge that bites a woman’s finger off. 2 out of 5.

No Book reviews or letters pages this month.

Summing up New Worlds / SF Impulse

As the back cover shows, there’s clearly a need to advertise the magazine this month. Obviously, I am pleased to see anything from New Worlds / SF Impulse. There was a point where I didn’t expect anything. With all of that stuff going on in the background it is rather difficult to judge the magazine purely on its written material. Brian’s novel is oddly memorable, but I’m not entirely sure that it works. Praise should be given in that it epitomises the brave new world of the New Wave, but like most of that work I suspect that it will receive as much criticism as praise. The Ballard is typical Ballard, but – dare I say it – not perhaps his best. Priest still underwhelms and Cheetham’s story, by comparison with the Aldiss and Ballard, is very much a lesser item in the issue.

But I guess we should be grateful to read ANYTHING this month. As we will be next month.

Until the next!



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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[February 14, 1967] Three Facets of Conan: Conan the Warrior by Robert E. Howard

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by Cora Buhlert

Winter in the City and the Park

An aerial view of the Bremen Bürgerpark with the luxurious Park Hotel and the Holler Lake.

It's cold a wet February here in my hometown of Bremen, but the first signs of spring are already visible and audible in the form of the red and white pavilions and the shouts of the barkers of the Bürgerpark tombola.

Bürgerpark Kaffeehaus am Emmasee
The modernist coffee house at the Emma Lake in Bremen's Bürgerpark opened only three years ago, replacing a building which was destroyed in WWII.

The Bürgerpark (citizen's park) is a roughly 200 hectare big park in the heart of Bremen, which celebrates its 100th anniversary this year. The park contains several lakes, a luxury hotel, a restaurant, a coffee house, a theatre, a small zoo as well fountains, bridges, benches, statues and lots of beautiful scenery. Beloved by the people of Bremen, the upkeep of the park is financed almost entirely by donations as well as the Bürgerpark tombola, a charity raffle that has been going on every year since 1953 in the late winter and early spring.

Dromedary Bobby
The dromedary Bobby is one of the most popular inhabitants of the zoo in the Bremen Bürgerpark.
Llamas and Zebra in the Bürgerpark
The llama Chacca and her baby Roland, who was born en route from South America to Bremerhaven, are the newest inhabitants of the Bürgerpark zoo. A longtime inhabitant, the Zebra Timmy, looks on.

Whenever I chance to find myself in the city center at Bürgerpark tombola time, I inevitably buy a few tickets. After all, it's for a good cause and you can win some great prizes such as cars, holiday trips, sports tickets or cruises. Though so far, all I won was a packet of rice.

Bürgerpark tombola
The red and white pavillions of the Bürgerpark tombola on the Our Lady church yard in Bremen. The grand prize is the snazzy car, but all I got was a packet of rice.

More from the Cimmerian Barbarian

But even though I only won an underwhelming prize from the Bürgerpark tombola, I did hit the reading jackpot this month with yet another great collection of Robert E. Howard's Conan stories from the 1930s courtesy of Lancer Books.

Conan the Warrior

After Conan the Adventurer, which I reviewed last month for the Journey, I cracked open the purple edged pages of the follow-up collection Conan the Warrior with a mix of excitement and apprehension. For while I was happy to spend more time with the Cimmerian, I was also worried that this collection would be a let-down, compared to the high quality of the previous installment.

However, I need not have worried, because Conan the Warrior is even better than Conan the Adventurer, collecting one good and two excellent stories.

Red Nails

Weird Tales July 1936
Margaret Brundage's striking cover illustrates a pivotal scene in "Red Nails"

The novella "Red Nails" was serialised in Weird Tales from July to October 1936 and has the distinction of being the last Conan adventure that Robert E. Howard completed before his untimely death in 1936. And what an adventure it is.

Once again, the story opens not with Conan, but with another character, Valeria of the Red Brotherhood, a female pirate and mercenary, who had to go on the run when she killed an officer of the army in which she had enlisted, after he tried to rape her. Now Valeria makes her way through the uncharted jungles of the Hyborian Age equivalent of Africa. Unbeknownst to Valeria, Conan, who served in the same mercenary army, has fallen for Valeria and followed her into the jungle, quietly dispatching any other pursuers.

Weird Tales August 1936
Not Conan or Valeria, but an illustration for Edmond Hamilton's "The Door Into Infinity"

Valeria is a marvellous character, a warrior woman who is Conan's equal in many ways. "Why won't men let me live a man's life?" Valeria laments at one point. "That's obvious," Conan replies with an appreciative look at Valeria's body. Robert E. Howard is usually considered a writer of masculine fiction and Conan is clearly a man's man, but I was pleasantly surprised by the variety and competence of the female characters in these stories. Not every women in these stories is as impressive as Valeria or Yasmina from "The People of the Black Circle", but they are all characters with personalities and lives of their own and every one of them is given a chance to shine.

Weird Tales October 1936
This hellish scene by J. Allen St. John illustrates not "Red Nails", but "Isle of the Undead" by Lloyd Arthur Eshbach

At first, Valeria is not too pleased to see Conan, but this quickly changes when Valeria and Conan find themselves pursued by what they call a dragon, but which twentieth century readers will quickly recognise as a dinosaur who has survived the extinction of its brethren. Now I was not expecting to see Conan and Valeria fighting a dinosaur, but my inner ten-year-old who loved dinosaurs was delighted.

Red Nails Hugh Rankin
Conan and Valerie fight the "dragon", as imagined by Harold S. DeLay

Together, Conan and Valeria manage to kill the dinosaur, but fearing there might be more in the jungle, they flee into the desert, where they spot yet another mysterious and seemingly abandoned city on the horizon. However, Xuchotl, which is not so much a city but a giant enclosed maze, is far from abandoned. Instead, it is home to two rivalling factions who are engaged in a generations long blood feud to the exclusion of all else. The title refers not, as I had initially assumed, to women's fingernails, but to copper nails which are hammered into a column to keep a tally of enemies killed.

Red Nails Harold S. DeLay
Conan and Valeria meet the people of Xuchotl, as imagined by Harold S. DeLay

In spite of their best efforts, Conan and Valeria cannot avoid getting dragged into that feud. But other dangers lurk in Xuchotl as well, including a treacherous king, a vampiric queen with an unsavoury interest in Valeria and a mad sorcerer.

Robert E. Howard clearly enjoyed writing stories about mysterious cities in the desert inhabited by drugged out or otherwise insane inhabitants and monsters both human and supernatural, since no less than five of the seven stories in these collections include a variation on this theme. "Red Nails" is the best of these and it almost seems as if the previous stories were practice runs for this one.

Red Nail Harold S. DeLay
More "Red Nails" interior art, courtesy of Harold S. DeLay

Howard also contrasts the madness and inhumanity of Xuchotl's inhabitants and their endless feud with the warmth and humanity of both Conan and Valeria. There is a wonderful moment where Conan's interrupts the pompous King Olmec's victory speech with a gruff "You'd best see to your wounded." We also see Conan and Valeria taking care of each other and treating each other's injuries. Fantasy fiction rarely pays attention to the physical cost of battle, but the Conan stories repeatedly show that characters, including Conan, can and will be wounded. Robert E. Howard's father was a Texas country doctor, so Howard knew a thing or two about injuries.

Another amazing (and very bloody) adventure with a heroine who's Conan's match in every way. Five stars.

The Jewels of Gwahlur

This novelette appeared in the March 1935 issue of Weird Tales and finds Conan still (or once again) in Africa, climbing the sheer walls of a cliff surrounding the ruined city of Alkmeenon. Inside this city, there rests a legendary treasure of priceless jewels known as the Teeth of Gwahlur.

Weird Tales March 1935
Margaret Brundage's evocative cover for the March 1935 issue of Weird Tales illustrates not "The Jewels of Gwalhur", but "Clutching Hands of Death" by Harold Ward

Conan is eager to get his hands on this treasure and has ingratiated himself with the King of Keshan in order to steal the jewels, which happen to be sacred to the people of Keshan.

However, Conan isn't the only one who's after the jewels. There's also his rival Thutmekri and his accomplice, the fake oracle Muriela. Furthermore, the city of Alkmeenon once again is not nearly as deserted as everybody believes, but is still being stalked by the monstrous servants of its former masters.

Jewels of Gwalhur interior art
Muriela is assaulted by an offensive racial stereotype, while an uncharacteristically blonde Conan intervenes.

So far in this collection, we've seen Conan the mercenary, Conan the warlord and Conan the pirate. This story adds a new dimension to the Cimmerian and gives us Conan the con man, who is literally running a long con to get his hands on the jewels. The city of Alkmeenon, located in the center of what a modern reader will recognise as an extinct volcano, is a very evocative setting. Though unfortunately, the descriptions of the black characters who appear in the story are once again dated and no longer appropriate to the civil rights era. The heroine Muriela is no Valeria either, but closer to the stereotype of the clinging and whimpering damsel.

A fun heist story starring Conan. Four stars.

Beyond the Black River

Weird Tales May 1935
This rather dull Margaret Brundage cover for the May 1935 issue of Weird Tales illustrates "The Death Cry", an adventure of scientific detective Craig Kennedy by Arthur B. Reeve

This novella was originally serialised in the May and June 1935 of Weird Tales and is set on the northern edge of Aquilonia, the Hyborian age equivalent of France and also the kingdom Conan will eventually come to rule. Aquilonia has recently expanded its borders northwards into the wilderness inhabited by the barbarian Picts. The Picts are understandably not happy about this.

Beyond the Black River interior art Hugh Rankin
A giant snake wreaks havoc on a Pictish village that is seemingly inhabited solely by naked women in the interior art by Hugh Rankin for Part I of "Beyond the Black River"

The historical Picts were a people who lived in what is now Scotland during the late Roman era and the early Middle Ages. Little is known about them and so Howard uses a lot of poetic licence to turn his version of the Picts into analogues for American Indians, setting up a frontier conflict. The Picts are very much depicted as offensive stereotypes here, though Howard also wrote several stories chronicling the struggles of a Pictish chieftain named Bran Mak Morn with the Roman Empire, where the Picts are portrayed in far more sympathetic light.

Once again, the novella opens not with Conan, but with a young man named Balthus who has come to Aquilonia's newly opened frontier, lured by promises of cheap and abundant land. However, Balthus quickly encounters the Picts and is saved by none other than Conan, who has come to Fort Tuscelan to serve as a mercenary. Since Conan's homeland Cimmeria borders on Pictish territory (though the Cimmerians and the Picts are ancestral enemies), the Fort's commander puts Conan's wilderness skills and knowledge of the enemy to good use by sending him on scouting missions.

Weird Tales June 1936
Margaret Brundage is back on form with this striking cover for the June 1935 issue of Weird Tales, which illustrates "The Horror in the Studio" by the unjustly forgotten Dorothy Quick.

Conan is convinced that Aquilonia's expansion plans will eventually fail, when the various Pictish tribes rally together to kick out the invaders. After all, that was what the Cimmerians did when Aquilonia attempted to annex their territory. Balthus has heard stories of that legendary battle for the Aquilonian Fort Venarium and asks Conan if he was there. "Yes," Conan says and calmly tells Balthus that he fought on the Cimmerian side as a fifteen-year-old. So Conan fought the very people at the age of fifteen that he will come to rule as a king some twenty-five years later and sees absolutely no contradiction in this.

Conan's prediction proves to be accurate, for the Pictish wizard Zogar Sag has rallied the tribes and is gearing up for an assault on Fort Tuscelan. Conan and a party of scouts, including Balthus, sneak into Pictish territory to take out Zogar Sag. But they are ambushed and only Conan and Balthus survive. However, the attack on Fort Tuscelan has already begun and all Conan and Balthus can do is to warn the Aquilonian settlers, so they can flee before they are slaughtered.

Hugh Rankin Beyond the Black River
Conan fights a demonic creature in Hugh Rankin's interior art for part 2 of "Beyond the Black River"

Of all the Conan stories I've read so far, this one is the bleakest, since it literally ends with everybody except for Conan dead. This includes Balthus who makes a heroic last stand together with a feral dog named Slasher to allow the settlers to escape to safety.

Now I'm very much not a dog person and Slasher, who went feral after the Picts murdered his owner and now takes revenge on the slayers in his own fashion, is very reminiscent of the slobbering and barking menaces that chased after me behind much too low fences when I rode my bicycle to school as a kid. That said, Slasher is a marvellous character in his own right and the mix of total savagery towards the Picts and affection towards Balthus rings so true that I wonder if Howard owned a dog. I'm not someone who cries at movies or books and managed to sit through all of Doctor Zhivago without shedding a single tear. However, the heroic sacrifice of Slasher and Balthus made even me misty-eyed.

"Beyond the Black River" also showcases Howard's versatility, since he plops Conan into what is basically a western. And considering Howard grew up in Texas at a time when the so-called Old West was still within living memory, it seems only natural that he would draw on the frontier era in his fiction.

To someone from West Germany, the Old West is just as exotic as the Hyborian Age. Nonetheless, I connected to this story, because I noticed many parallels between the Cimmerians and later the Picts kicking the Aquilonians out of their respective homelands and my own ancestors, led by the Cherusci chieftain Arminius, kicking the Romans out of Northern Germany in the battle of the Teutoburg Forest in 9 AD.

"Beyond the Black River" also ends with what is probably one of Howard's most famous lines: "Barbarism is the natural state of mankind. Civilization is unnatural; it is a whim of circumstance… And barbarism must always ultimately triumph!"

A bleak and grim story that will stick in your mind for a long time. Five stars.

A Multi-faceted Barbarian

So far, I have read a few of the Conan stories in scattered reprints in magazines and collections as well as two of Lancer's new paperback collections and I'm struck by the variety of settings and themes in the stories that Robert E. Howard wrote about this character. But even though the various stories reveal different aspects of the Cimmerian, Conan always remains recognisably the same character.

Those who have heard of Conan, but have not read the actual stories featuring him, inevitably cite Conan's violence, his physical strength and his womanising as his most notable characteristics. Nor are they wrong, because Conan is clearly a violent man. Those at the receiving end of his sword or his fists usually deserve their fate, but it's also difficult to overlook that Conan outright murders the pirate captain Zaparavo in "Pool of the Black One" to take over his ship and also murders a rival in "Drums of Tombalku" to usurp his position.

A lot of people also think that Conan is stupid, an illiterate Barbarian, big of muscle and small of brain. They could not be more wrong, because the Conan depicted by Robert E. Howard is actually a very intelligent man. He speaks, reads and writes multiple languages. He is a also a brilliant military strategist and tactician and – at least in "The Jewels of Gwalhur" – a clever con man.

As for the womanising, like many men, Conan does think with the dangly bit on occasion. In "Red Nails", Conan literally walks across half a continent in order to go after and protect the woman he has fallen for.

In the seven stories collected in Conan the Adventurer and Conan the Warrior, Conan is without female companionship in two of the stories and with a different woman in the each of the remaining five. And even though most Conan stories end with Conan walking off into the sunset with his current lover, the woman in question is usually nowhere to be seen in the following story. This is a pity, for while some of the female characters in these stories are insipid non-entities like the woman clinging to Conan's leg on Frank Frazetta's cover for Conan the Adventurer, Conan is also paired with some remarkably strong women like Valeria from "Red Nails" or Yasmina from "People of the Black Circle".

But then, Conan is extremely charismatic. He may be a loner and wandering outlaw for much of his career, but Conan never has problems persuading people to follow him. In "Drums of Tombalku", Conan goes from prisoner marked for death to leader of the warriors who have captured him within the space of a few days. And in "Pool of the Black One", Conan steals the crew of the pirate captain Zaparavo from under his nose by gaining their loyalty. Even though those stories haven't been reprinted yet, it's easy to see how Conan will wind up becoming King of Aquilonia, the very country whose warriors he helped to kick out of his native Cimmeria at the age of fifteen.

Though for Conan, loyalty is not a one way street. In fact, the most notable of Conan's traits that appears in story after story is his deep loyalty towards friends, lovers, comrades in arms and people he feels responsible for. In "People of the Black Circle", Conan's main goal throughout the story is freeing the seven of his men who have been captured by the authorities of Vendya. Nor will Conan abandon the people he has adopted, even after they try to kill him. And when one of his friends is killed, as happens in "Drums of Tombalku" and "Beyond the Black River", Conan swears bloody vengeance on the killers.

Closely linked to Conan's deep loyalty towards people he feels responsible for is a trait that is not often brought up in connection with a violent Barbarian warrior, namely his compassion. For these stories demonstrate again and again that Conan deeply cares about people, whether it is his budding friendship with Balthus and Slasher in "Beyond the Black River", his protectiveness towards Valeria in "Red Nails" or Conan freely foregoing the great treasure he has been chasing after for the entire story in order to save a life at the end of "The Jewels of Gwalhur". Indeed, it is when pitted against a merciless and utterly inhuman opponent, whether it's the wizards of Mount Yimsha in "People of the Black Circle", the blood-mad inhabitants of Xuchotl in "Red Nails", the apathetic pleasure seekers of Xuthal in "The Slithering Shadows" or the murderous Pictish warriors and wizards in "Beyond the Black River", that Conan's humanity shines most brightly.

Now that Lancer is reprinting all the stories, you owe it to yourself to get to know the real Conan, this fascinating and multi-faceted character that Robert E. Howard created more than thirty years ago.

Robert E. Howard

Three fabulous tales of the Cimmerian Barbarian. Five stars for the collection.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[February 12, 1967] All's Fair in Love and War (March 1967 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Peace on Earth? No. Peace Above Earth? Maybe.

With the conflict in Vietnam growing ever more bloody, and tensions building between the Soviet Union and China, it seems that war is here to stay on this sad little planet. Dare we look to the skies for a way to escape this endless chaos?

Although humanity is just starting to take its first baby steps into the cosmos, some folks are trying to make sure that it will be filled with plowshares instead of swords. Late last month, the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Soviet Union signed the so-called Outer Space Treaty.


President Lyndon Baines Johnson shakes hands with Soviet ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin at the signing ceremony. Barely visible between them are British ambassador Sir Patrick Dean and American ambassador Arthur J. Goldberg. I think that's American Secretary of State Dean Rusk at the podium. Don't ask me who the other folks are.

The agreement is formally known as The Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies. That's quite a mouthful, but what does it mean?

In brief, it bans nuclear weapons in space; limits use of the Moon and other extraterrestrial bodies to peaceful purposes; and prevents any nation from claiming sovereignty over any region of space or any celestial body. Of course, only three countries have signed it so far, and any treaty is only a piece of paper, so we'll have to wait to see what really happens outside the atmosphere. Hope for the best.

Monkeying Around With My Heart

Let's turn our backs on war and look for romance. Love songs are always popular, and the current Number One hit in the USA is no exception. The upbeat number I'm a Believer by the Monkees has been at the top of the charts since early January, and shows no signs of fading away.


And all this time I thought they were just a fictional band created for a television situation comedy.

Tales of Mars and Venus

The latest issue of Fantastic is full of stories involving wars, both large and small, as well as amorous relationships between women and men. Sometimes both themes show up in the same yarn.


Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

This issue, unsurprisingly, features one new story and a bunch of reprints. The cover illustration is also from an old magazine.


The May 1939 issue of Fantastic Adventures, to be exact.

Happiness Squad, by Charles W. Runyon


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

A personal war meets love gone very bad in the opening of the only original story in the magazine. A man places a timebomb in his wife's flying car, so it will explode during her flight to visit her mother. After this stark beginning, we learn something about this future world, and the man's place in it.

In the tradition of Aldous Huxley's famous novel Brave New World, this is a society bent on eliminating unhappiness through the use of drugs. It has also nearly wiped out the ability of human beings to perform acts of violence on each other, in a way reminiscent of the Anthony Burgess novel A Clockwork Orange.

In addition to that, it also manipulates memories, in such a way that it can give people completely new identities. The uxoricidal protagonist accidentally discovers that he was once a brilliant plastic surgeon, who transformed an unattractive woman into a raving beauty. The woman, with the help of the man's rival, then altered his memory so that he imagines himself to be her loving husband.

Because of his programmed aversion to violence, the man sabotages all his attempts to kill the woman he blames for ruining his life. (Besides everything else, he also lost the woman he really loves, who had her memory altered in such a way that she now works in a brothel.) Unable to perform the murder himself, he hires one of the very few people who avoided the programming to do the dirty work. (This fellow was one of the rare folks born on Mars who survived a failed colony and escaped to Earth.)


The killer, the victim, and the man who hired him.

There's a twist ending that changes everything we thought we knew. Without giving too much away, I interpret the conclusion as implying yet another reversal, which the author leaves unwritten. I may be reading too much into this, but what remains unsaid is just as powerful as what is made explicit, I believe.

I have a hard time giving a fair rating to this very disturbing story. It's not exactly pleasant to read, but it held my attention from the beginning to the (incomplete?) end. It's nearly impossible to sympathize with any of the characters, even if they're not really responsible for the kind of people they've been manipulated into becoming. The subtle implications of the conclusion may just be in my imagination. In short, I think I like this story more than I should, if that makes any sense at all.

Four stars.

Shifting Seas, by Stanley G. Weinbaum

The April 1937 issue of Amazing Stories supplies this apocalyptic work from the pen of a pioneering author who died much too young.


Cover art by Leo Morey.

Gigantic volcanic explosions and earthquakes rip apart the isthmus of Central America, driving most of the land under the sea. Besides the immediate deaths of millions, this changes the flow of the Gulf Stream, so that much of Europe becomes much colder. The crisis alters political alliances. In particular, war between the United States and a desperate Europe, led by the sea power of the United Kingdom, seems imminent.


Illustration also by Leo Morey.

Besides war, we also have love. The protagonist is an American man engaged to a British woman. The impending conflict threatens to destroy their relationship, until the man comes up with a way to solve the problem without a clash of arms.

The premise is an interesting one, and I liked the way the author considered the political implications of a major change in world climate. The resolution may be a little too simple, and the narrative style a bit old-fashioned, but the story creates a decent sense of wonder.

Three stars.

Judson's Annihilator, by John Beynon

An author now better known as John Wyndham supplies this war story, which first appeared in a British publication under the title Beyond the Screen.


Cover art by Serge Drigin. This issue, number one of only three ever published, is dated 1938, without specifying the month.

It was quickly reprinted in the October 1939 issue of Amazing Stories.


Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

In true Astounding/Analog style, a lone genius invents gizmos producing fields that make anything inside them disappear. When combined German and Italian forces send a huge number of planes to attack England, the devices cause the aircraft to vanish.


Illustration also by Robert Fuqua.

The inventor's sister falls into the field produced by one of the machines and disappears. The hero, in love with her, follows her into it. As the reader suspects by this point, the invention doesn't really destroy what passes through the field, but sends it somewhere else. The place turns out to be an England inhabited by a small number of people living in a primitive way. With the help of a local woman, the hero and his beloved escape from the clutches of the Germans who went through the field.

There's a nice little twist about where they've wound up that is mentioned in passing, but nothing much comes of it. The plot is pretty straightforward once the hero enters the field. I found the imaginary version of World War Two the most interesting part of the story. Other than that, it's a pretty typical science fiction adventure.

Three stars.

Battle in the Dawn, by Manly Wade Wellman

From the January 1939 issue of Amazing Stories comes this vision of the remote past.


Cover art by Robert Fuqua again.

Apparently, this is the first of a series of stories about a caveman named Hok. In this tale, his tribe is moving to better hunting grounds when they run into Neanderthals. Contrary to what modern anthropologists think, these are bestial creatures, who attack the group of Homo sapiens and even kill a baby and eat it. Obviously, a war between the two species begins.


Illustrations also by the ubiquitous Robert Fuqua.

After an initial triumph over the subhumans, Hok steals a woman from a rival tribe of Homo Sapiens, in order to make her his mate. She objects, going so far as to threaten to kill herself if he doesn't let her go. Eventually, the first kiss in history makes the woman fall in love with her captor, and the two tribes unite against the Neanderthals.


Not to mention other challenges.

With nearly three decades of hindsight, it's easy to dismiss this story as a very inaccurate portrait of prehistory. It might better be thought of as a sword-and-sorcery yarn, without swords and without sorcery. The Neanderthals are monsters, the hero is a brave warrior with a beautiful woman to win, and so forth. As such, it's a fair example of the form.

Three stars.

The Draw, by Jerome Bixby

The March 1954 issue of Amazing Stories supplies this tale of the Old West, where war often consisted of one man against another.


Cover art by Clarence Doore.

You may have already seen it in a paperback collection of the author's stories that came out a few years ago.


Cover art by Ralph Brillhart.

An onery teenager — we'd call him a juvenile delinquent these days — is an excellent marksman, but not good at all when it comes to pulling his pistol from his holster. This is the only factor that keeps him from becoming an infamous killer.


Illustrations by William Ashman.

Through sheer force of will, he develops the telekinetic ability to instantaneously transport his gun to his hand, making him the deadliest gunman around. After terrorizing the local townsfolk, he challenges the sheriff to a gunfight. As you'd expect, things don't go well for him.


A scene from Gunsmoke?

I don't have a lot to say about this story. The ending is somewhat anticlimactic, but there's nothing particularly wrong with it. The usual Western clichés are present, which may be inevitable.

Three stars.

Masters of Fantasy: A. Merritt Illustrated, by Anonymous

The magazine ends with a few drawings by Frank R. Paul that accompanied a reprint of Abraham Merritt's 1919 fantasy novel The Moon Pool, which was serialized in Amazing Stories in the May, June, and July 1927 issues.


I guess this is the Moon Pool.


All cover art by Frank R. Paul as well.


I didn't notice the frog people at first.


I'm guessing this is a scene from The Moon Pool.


Is she doing the Twist?


Caution! Mad Scientist at Work!

What can I say? Three stars.

Fighting for Something to Love

In this magazine full of love and war, the stories were fair. Not that great, not that bad. I predict that Runyon's new novelette is going to produce strong reactions, both positive and negative. The reprints are likely to be less controversial.

As for the choice between the two great themes I've noted, it seems like an easy one.


Somebody came up with this catchy slogan a couple of years ago, and now you can get it on a poster.

 



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 24, 1967] Absenteeism and Making Do SF Impulse, February 1967

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

So generally, post-Christmas and in the cold of winter, 1967 is settling into a routine, I guess. Except in the British magazines, where things are rather more turbulent. My suspicions were raised when the postman only delivered a copy of SF Impulse this month.

Now it is possible that New Worlds has been delayed in delivery–y’know, Winter!–but after the recent rumours and rumblings that things were not well at the magazines, I did a little rummaging and asked around to see if I could find out what was going on.

Whisper it quietly, but it seems that things are really bad financially–even for New Worlds, which has the higher circulation of the two–to the point that the publishers are seriously considering closing not one, but both magazines.

More as I get it, but frankly, it’s not looking good.


Cover illustration by Agosta Morol

To the SF Impulse issue. There are also signs here that things are not good.

The Managing Editor (interesting phrase!) Keith Roberts points out at the start that the Editor-in-Chief Harry Harrison is “absent, having made tracks for Philadelphia”. Is this rather ambiguous statement just a case of Harry being busy? As a writer, critic and editor Harrison does have a lot of fingers in pies, to be honest, which is presumably why Roberts does most of the leg-work here at SF Impulse.

But all I can think of is that the last time this happened, with editor Kyril Bonfiglioli taking time off to go stargazing(!), the magazine changed from Science Fantasy to Impulse not long after. The phrase “Rats deserting a sinking ship” also springs to mind, though that would be most uncharitable–Harrison is most certainly not a rat! But it is worrying that things may be changing behind the scenes.

But at least this Editorial space gives Roberts the opportunity to step up, as he has been doing for a while, admittedly, and give his opinions in the Editorial on the material in the issue, which he does. All good, even if (like much of the magazine this month) it feels a little like space-filler.

Might be something to read after you’ve read the stories, though.


Illustration by Keith Roberts

The Bad Bush of Uzoro by Chris Hebron

After last month’s story Coincidences, from Chris, we begin with a story I liked more. This one has a Weird Tales vibe, in the form of a story of a haunted mission in Africa as told by a Catholic priest–it even mentions Lovecraft. Not bad, though, and endearingly different with its mentions of African culture, even if there is an element of imperialistic “fear the foreigner” to this one. 4 out of 5.

Just Passing Through by Brian W. Aldiss


Illustration by Keith Roberts

Harry Harrison may not be about much this month, but his friend Brian Aldiss is (Again: when do we ever see the two together?)

This is unusual for Brian: a style that is almost Ballardian, filled with ennui and decay. Colin Charteris is in France on his way to England. His general musings on his stop-over through a mouldering French town also reveals to us that this is a future after the superpowers have released psychedelic drugs in what is being called the Acid Head War. The result is that many of the population are insane, locked away in their own heads as much as they are in institutions. The remainder, such as those seen here in France, seem to live a transitory existence. Whilst this intriguing situation is slowly revealed, the point of the story is less clear, and just as the reader is reeled in, the story ends. More of a mood piece than an actual story, I think.

Brian deserves credit for deliberately pushing the experimental side of science fiction in this story. It is a lot more serious than much of his work, but it feels very much like it is the beginning of a longer story. Nevertheless, it is unusual enough and odd enough for me to give it 4 out of 5.

Inconsistency by Brian M. Stableford

Don’t be fooled by the “new writer” comment given at the top of this story. We have met Brian before, both as Brian Stableford in the October 1966 issue and as co-writer Brian Craig back in the November 1965 issue–not to mention his letters to Kyril back in the same issue. Here he’s writing a fantasy story with a deliberately allegorical touch. Characters live around a village slowly disappearing in the sea. They have no idea of why they are there or how they got there. At the end the sea covers all. BUT WHAT DOES IT REALLY MEAN? Another symbolic puzzle which will either be appreciated or cause befuddlement. 3 out of 5.

The Number You Have Just Reached by Thomas M. Disch


Illustration by Keith Roberts

More from Mr. Disch this month, on the creepier side. It is about Justin Holt, the last man in the world who, staring out from his fourteen-storey apartment, receives a telephone call from someone who may be the last woman in the world. But is she real or is she a figment of his imagination? A story of fear and claustrophobia that doesn’t end well. This one’s fine, but I didn’t like it as much as some of his more recent stories. 3 out of 5.

The Pursuit of Happiness by Paul Jents

Another story from the often-underwhelming Mr. Jents, who last appeared in the June 1966 issue. Krane lives on Aligua, a distant planet which has spurned technology due to once being enslaved by computers, but have integrated circuits implanted in their heads to cope with their lives. Another story that deals with what is real and what is imaginary. One of Paul’s better stories, but really nothing special. 3 out of 5.

It’s Smart to Have an English Address by D.G. Compton

D.G. is a writer who tends to make me think of Fred Hoyle, strangely. Not sure why, other than he has this very British tone. And so it is here. Paul Cassevetes goes to meet his old friend Joseph Brown, a concert pianist (see also Hoyle’s October the First is Too Late where the main character is a composer). Doctor McKay and Paul try to get Joseph to record brain patterns whilst playing one of his finest pieces to give listeners a better experience. Joseph is resistant, feeling that such techniques do not get to the essence of a performance. At the end Joseph suffers a stroke, which makes the process rather redundant. A story of friendship and rather elegiac, if a little bit convenient at the end. I liked it but could see some thinking the story is mawkish. 3 out of 5.

Impasse by Chris Priest

Chris is one of our new young writers beginning to make an appearance in the magazines: last time it was with his Ballardian pastiche Conjugation in the December 1966 issue of New Worlds. This one seems to be an attempt to write short satirical Space Opera and shows the futility of conflict. Insults and threats are made between a Denebian and the Earth Field-Marshal which escalate until one of them shoots the other. Not sure I really get the point. 2 out of 5.

See Me Not by Richard Wilson

Another returning writer. He is popular, I understand, though his stories rarely register with myself for some reason. So the fact that Keith Roberts mentions in his Editorial that this is a “long, complete story” made my heart sink. But I was surprised, even if we are reusing old ideas here. This time it is about invisibility–thank you, Mr H. G. Wells! (Actually, I’ve only just realised that this may have been written as a result of that recent centennial celebration of Mr Wells’s birth.)

Avery wakes up to find himself invisible. Much of the rest of the story is about how he deals with this situation with his wife, Liz, his children, Bobby and Margie, and his doctor, Mike Custer. Lots of social issues ensue. The scientists try to work out what has happened and why. At the end of the story, Avery and Liz, who also becomes invisible, walk off together to live happily ever after it seems.

This is an attempt to write a lighter version of Wells’s tale, but ends up something more akin to an episode of your TV series Bewitched than the original Wells story. Although nowhere near as good as Wells’s version, for me this is a better story from Richard. 3 out of 5.

Keith Roberts rereads ‘The True History’ of Lucian of Samosatos


Illustration by Keith Roberts

And talking of Keith Roberts… This is space-filler of the highest order, as the writer gives us his interpretation of an ancient Greek classic. Not quite sure of its purpose, although Roberts writes well enough and brings to light an old classic that may be worth a second glance. Made me yearn to read a Thomas Burnett Swann story, which may not really be the point of this piece. 2 out of 5.

Book Fare (Reviews)

Book reviews from Alistair Bevan, also known as Keith Roberts. There are reviews of Planets for Man by Stephen H. Dole and Isaac Asimov, Other Worlds Than Ours by C. Maxwell Cade, Colossus by D. F. Jones, Window on the Future edited by Douglas Hill, Ten From Tomorrow by E. C. Tubb and The Machineries of Joy by Ray Bradbury.

Letters to the Editor

Last month I said that the ongoing discussion about Sex in SF that E. C. Tubb started a couple of issues ago felt like it was an attempt to generate mock outrage. With hindsight I now realise that the magazine probably has enough drama going on. Anyway, this month the Letters pages have a spirited defense of “WSB”, better known as William S. Burroughs to you and me, and a discussion of the meaning of Science Fiction, a competition that Harry opened when he first took over from Kyril. There is a winner, step up Peter Redgrove!

Summing up SF Impulse

Keith Roberts is clearly working above and beyond the usual here and should be credited with pulling together an issue even if some material was not up to the usual standard. Let’s hope that the magazine continues, although the signs are doubtful.

An advertisement on the last page of the issue. Is this an omen or a cryptic clue? Is there life after death for New Worlds or SF Impulse?

Until the next (hopefully!)



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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 22, 1967] The Return of the Cimmerian: Conan the Adventurer by Robert E. Howard

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by Cora Buhlert

1967 is off to a cold and wet start here in West Germany, so it's the perfect opportunity to stay indoors and read. Thankfully, I have a plethora of magazines to keep me company.

Bravo January 1967
Teen magazines Bravo profiles Uwe Beyer, who plays Siegfried in the upcoming fantasy epic The Nibelungs, this month.
Für Sie January 1967
The women's mag Für Sie offers costume and make-up tips for the upcoming carnival season.
Das Motorrad January 1967
Motorbike magazine Das Motrrad tests the new Honda CB-250.

What is more, during my latest visit to my local import bookstore, the trusty spinner rack yielded not one but two treasures: Conan the Adventurer and Conan the Warrior by Robert E. Howard.

Conan the Adventurer
Hugo winner Frank Frazetta's interpretation of Conan

 

The Cimmerian Barbarian and the Texas Pulpster

The untimely death of Robert E. Howard thirty years ago is one of the great tragedies of our genre. The lifelong Texan Howard had his first story, the prehistoric adventure "Spear and Fang" published in Weird Tales in 1925, when he was only nineteen years old. In the following eleven years, Howard published dozens of stories in Weird Tales as well as in long forgotten pulp magazines such as Oriental Stories, Fight Stories, Action Stories, Magic Carpet Magazine or Spicy Mystery. In the introduction to Conan the Adventurer, editor L. Sprague de Camp calls Howard "a natural story-teller, whose tales are unsurpassed for vivid, colorful, headlong, gripping action."

In 1936, tragedy struck, when Howard's beloved mother was about to succumb to tuberculosis. Overcome with grief, Howard took his own life. He was only thirty years old.

Robert E. Howard
Robert E. Howard shortly before his untimely death

Howard's most famous creation is undoubtedly Conan the Cimmerian, a barbarian warrior whose adventures in the so-called Hyborian Age some twelve thousand years before our time Howard chronicled in eighteen published and several unpublished stories in Weird Tales between 1932 and 1936. At the time, the unique mix of pseudo-historical action, adventure and supernatural horror that Howard pioneered in the Conan stories had no name. Some thirty years after the appearance of the first Conan story, Fritz Leiber finally bestowed a name on this nameless subgenre: sword and sorcery.

It was the fate of many pulpsters, including popular and prolific writers, to be forgotten as the pulps faded. Howard, however, was never forgotten in the thirty years since his untimely death. His fiction has inspired authors like Fritz Leiber, Michael Moorcock and Lin Carter. There is a club devoted to his works, the Hyborian Legion, and the popular fanzine Amra started out as a Howard fanzine before branching out to cover the entire subgenre now known as sword and sorcery, a subgenre Howard created out of whole cloth in his parents' house in Cross Plains, Texas.

However, until now the actual stories of Robert E. Howard have been unavailable outside the yellowing pages of thirty-year-old copies of Weird Tales. There have been occasional magazine reprints, and Gnome Press reprinted the Conan stories in several hardcover collections in the early 1950s, but those editions are almost as difficult to find as vintage copies of Weird Tales.

Luckily for all of us sword and sorcery fans, Lancer Books has decided to reprint all the Conan stories in paperback format with striking covers by last year's Hugo winner Frank Frazetta. I was a little sceptical about Frazetta's Hugo win last year, since at the time he was mainly known for his Edgar Rice Burroughs covers. However, now that I've seen his take on Conan, I'm a fan.

Howard wrote the Conan stories, which follow the Cimmerian from his time as a thief in his late teens to his time as King of the Aquilonia in his forties, out of order, but editor L. Sprague de Camp has rearranged them into chronological order for the Lancer editions. For reasons best known to themselves, Lancer began its Conan reprints with two volumes set in the middle of Conan's career, during his time as a mercenary and warlord.

The People of the Black Circle

Weird Tales September 1934
Margaret Brundage's take on the Devi Yasmina and the Master of Mount Yimsa

Conan the Adventurer begins with "The People of the Black Circle", a novella that was serialised in the September, October and November 1934 issues of Weird Tales.

The story opens not with Conan – and indeed, it is a pattern with these stories that they open with other characters, before the Cimmerian appears – but with the King of Vendya, the Hyborian Age equivalent of India. The King is dying. In a moment of clarity, he tells his sister, the Devi Yasmina, that wizards have drawn his soul out of his body. Should he die in this state, his soul will be doomed forever. However, now that his soul has briefly managed to return to his body, the King begs Yasmina to kill him to save his soul from eternal damnation. Sobbing, Yasmina stabs him.

After a beginning like that, who could not read on? And so Howard leads us into a fabulous adventure that follows several competing factions as they vie for control over the Hyborian Age equivalents of India, the Himalaya and Afghanistan (thankfully, there is a handy map at the beginning of the paperback).

Weird Tales interior art
Hugh Rankin's interior art for Weird Tales feature Yasmina, Conan and a giant snake.

The Devi Yasmina, unsurprisingly, wants revenge for the death of her brother and her chosen instrument of vengeance is none other than Conan. The mercenary Kerim Shah wants to kidnap Yasmina and conquer Vendya on behalf of his employers, the neighbouring kingdom of Turan, and has conspired with the wizards of Mount Yimsa to murder the King. One of those wizards, Khemsa, is not satisfied with being merely a tool. He wants to overthrow both the wizards and the Devi with the aid of his lover Gitara, one of the Devi's handmaidens. Conan, finally, who is a warlord of the Afghuli hill tribes at this point in his life, merely wants back seven of his men, who have been captured by the forces of Vendya.

Weird Tales October 1934
The second installment of this story appeared in the October 1934 issue of Weird Tales, whose striking cover by Margaret Brundage illustrates C.L. Moore's story "Black God's Kiss", which I'd love to see reprinted.

Things come to a head, when Conan infiltrates the palace to negotiate the release of his seven hill chiefs with the governor of the Vendyan province of Peshkauri. Yasmina happens to blunder into the governor's study at just this moment and Conan winds up kidnapping her and going on the run. Conan intends to use Yasmina as leverage to secure the release of his men, while Yasmina still hopes to use him to avenge herself on the wizards of Mount Yimsa. Only one of them will get their will.

What follows is a glorious adventure. Conan finds himself faced with treachery from those he thought his allies, as well as unexpected alliances with enemies, as he takes on the wizards of Mount Yimsa and falls for Yasmina in the process.

Weird Tales November 1934
Margaret Bundage's striking cover for the November 1934 issue of Weird Tales.

After reading "The People of the Black Circle", I understand why Lancer and de Camp chose this particular story to reintroduce us to Conan. This story has it all, adventure and romance, political manoeuvrings and the blackest of magics. Conan's loyalty to the people whose leader he has become and his determination to rescue his captured men make him an incredibly likeable character for all his faults. And even though she was created more than thirty years ago, Yasmina is the sort of strong woman that is still all too rare in contemporary fantastic fiction. One of the most story's most memorable scenes occurs as the Master of Mount Yimsa forces Yasmina to relive all her previous lives, subjecting her to the violence and pain that women have suffered across time. I was surprised to see such insight from a male author.

Fellow traveller Victoria Silverwolf reviewed this story, when it was reprinted in the January 1967 issue of Fantastic and gave it three stars. I enjoyed this story a lot more than Victoria did.

A fabulous adventure by a writer at the height of his powers. Five stars.

The Slithering Shadow

Weird Tales November 1933
Margaret Brundage's illustration of Thalis whipping Natala, while the slithering shadow lurks in the background, was Weird Tales' most popular cover of all time.

This story originally appeared in the September 1933 issue of Weird Tales, which featured one of the most popular covers Margaret Brundage ever created for the unique magazine. But even though Brundage's predilection for painting scantily clad women in suggestive poses is well-known, the cover accurately illustrates a scene from this story.

"The Slithering Shadow" opens with Conan staggering through the desert of Kush in the Hyborian Age equivalent of Northern Africa, after the mercenary army in which he fought was defeated and wiped out. He is accompanied by Natala, a blonde woman he rescued from the slave market and made his companion.

Conan is at the end of his line and he knows it. He and Natala are out of water and there is no end to the desert in sight. Conan considers mercy-killing Natala to spare her the pain of dying of thirst, when they spot a mysterious city on the horizon.

However, the city Xuthal turns out to be just as deadly as the desert. And so Conan and Natala face Xuthal's drugged out inhabitants and the treacherous Stygian (the Hyborian equivalent of Egypt) Thalis who takes a liking to Conan and subjects poor Natala to the whipping that Margaret Brundage so memorably illustrated for the original Weird Tales cover. Finally, there's also Thog, a Lovecraftian horror (Howard and Lovecraft were pen pals) and the Slithering Shadow of the title who preys on the people of Xuthal…

Another great adventure. Not quite as good as "The People of the Black Circle", but then what could be? Four stars.

Drums of Tombalku

L. Sprague De Camp
L. Sprague De Camp

This novella is brand-new, based on an incomplete draft that was found among Howard's papers after his death and was completed by editor L. Sprague de Camp according to Howard's outline.

Like "The People of the Black Circle", "Drums of Tombalku" opens not with Conan, but with a young mercenary named Amalric. Conan and Amalric were comrades, until their mercenary army was wiped out (the armies in which Conan enlists sure tend to be unlucky). They fled into the desert, were attacked by raiders and separated. Amalric believes Conan dead, though the reader knows that the Cimmerian is still alive.

The novella opens with Amalric resting at a water hole with two bandits whose band he has joined, when the leader appears, bearing a young woman he found unconscious in the desert. The bandits plan to rape the young woman, but Amalric discovers his sense of chivalry and kills his companions.

This opening scene, which was presumably written by Howard, is the one point in Conan the Adventurer where the fact that these stories were written more than thirty years ago becomes apparent. For the bandits are black men and the physical descriptions of these characters are dated and downright uncomfortable to read in this era of progressing civil rights. And the fact that these bandits want to rape a (white) woman is unpleasantly reminiscent of Southern fears of sexual violence committed by black men. Though it is notable that Conan himself does not seem to suffer from racial prejudices and befriends people of all races. Indeed, both Conan and Amalric explicitly state in this story that white people are just as capable of both good and evil as black people.

Amalric attempts to return Lissa, the young woman he rescued, to her home and finds himself in yet another mysterious city in the desert whose hopped up inhabitants are stalked by the monstrous god Ollam-Onga. Clearly, this was a theme Howard loved, since it appears several times in his Conan stories.

Amalric slays Ollam-Onga and makes his escape together with Lissa, the god's worshippers in mad pursuit. He is reunited with Conan who is not dead after all. Instead, Conan was captured by the raiders of the desert metropolis Tombalku, but has risen to their captain by now, since Tombalku's king is an old friend of Conan's from his days as a pirate on the coast of what is now Africa.

Conan takes Amalric and Lissa to Tombalku, where racial tensions between the vaguely Middle Eastern and black population come to a head. The fact that Amalric slew the god Ollam-Onga, who is worshipped by Tombalku's inhabitants, does not help either.

Sometimes, stories are left unfinished for a reason and this was probably the case here. For Amalric is simply not as interesting as Conan and the first half of the story is very reminiscent of "The Slithering Shadow" (and Howard may well have reused ideas from this unfinished story).

As evidenced by his novels Lest Darkness Fall and The Tritonian Ring, L. Sprague De Camp is a very different writer than Robert E. Howard. He makes a decent effort to match Howard's style, but while Conan's dialogue does ring true most of the time, De Camp's action scenes don't have the energy of Howard's. Nor does De Camp have Howard's poetic sensibility and some of his word choices like "condottiere" don't match the prehistoric milieu of the Hyborian Age.

The weakest story in this collection, but nonetheless entertaining. Three stars.

The Pool of the Black One

Weird Tales October 1933
Margaret Brundage's stunning cover for the October 1933 issue of Weird Tales

This story originally appeared in the October 1933 issue of Weird Tales and opens quite spectacularly with Conan clambering dripping wet aboard the pirate ship Wastrel in the middle of the Western Sea (we call it the Atlantic Ocean) after a fallout with the Barachan pirates. The Wastrel's captain Zaparavo is not particularly pleased with the mysterious stranger who boarded his ship, though he grudgingly makes him part of the crew. Meanwhile, Zaparavo's lover Sancha is fascinated by Conan.

As we've seen in "The People of the Black Circle" and "Drums of Tombalku", Conan is very charismatic and a natural leader and so he quickly wins the respect of the Wastrel's crew. He is also clearly aiming to become captain of the Wastrel, just as he became warlord of the Afghuli hill tribes and captain of the raiders of Tombalku.

Conan gets his chance to take over the Wastrel, when the clearly insane Zaparavo takes the ship to a mysterious island far off the coast in search of some great treasure. What he finds instead is death at the business end of Conan's sword.

But the island is not as deserted as it seems and soon Conan has to defend Sancha and the pirate crew against its inhuman inhabitants and their strange and terrible rites…

"The Pool of the Black One" starts off as a pirate adventure-–and indeed, this makes me question De Camp's chronology, for in "Drums of Tombalku" it is clearly stated that Conan's pirate days are in the past-–but takes a turn into Lovecraftian territory, once the Wastrel reaches the nameless island. The horror of the island, a mysterious pool which turns people into figurines, is certainly a unique idea, but Howard never fully explores it.

Another enjoyable adventure of the Cimmerian barbarian. Four stars.

There's Gold in Them Pulps

Sword and sorcery has been undergoing something of a revival ever since Michael Moorcock introduced Elric of Meniboné in the pages of Science Fantasy and Cele Goldsmith Lalli rescued Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser from oblivion and also gave the world John Jakes' Brak the Barbarian and Roger Zelazny's Dilvish the Damned in Fantastic. Furthermore, the enormous success of Ace's (unauthorised) paperback editions of J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings has shown that fantasy has the potential of being just as successful as science fiction.

However, until now it has been very difficult to read the original stories of Robert E. Howard as well as other sword and sorcery writers of the 1930s such as C.L. Moore, Clark Ashton Smith, Henry Kuttner or Clifford Ball that started it all.

I have read a few of the Conan stories in scattered reprints in magazines and collections and my own Kurval sword and soccery series was directly inspired the novel The Hour of the Dragon a.k.a. Conan the Conqueror, which features Conan as King of Aquilonia. But in spite of scouring used bookstores, I have never been able to track down all of the stories. Therefore, I'm grateful to Lancer and L. Sprague De Camp for reprinting the Conan stories, including the ones that Robert E. Howard never got to finish. I hope that sales are good enough that they will complete this project.

Furthermore, I hope that the Conan reprints are only the beginning of a movement to bring the fantasy of thirty years ago back into print. For while there was a lot of dross published in the pulps, there also were a lot of wonderful stories that deserve rediscovery. For example, I would love to see some of the other characters Robert E. Howard created for Weird Tales such Kull of Atlantis, the Puritan avenger Solomon Kane or Bran Mak Morn, last King of the Picts, back in print. C.L. Moore's stories about the interplanetary outlaw Northwest Smith and the medieval swordswoman Jirel of Joiry from Weird Tales also deserve to be rediscovered as do the lyrical and truly weird fantasy and horror stories of Clark Ashton Smith. Finally, I also hope to see all of Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and Gray Mouser stories collected eventually, including the early ones that were published in Unknown some twenty-five years ago.

Conan the Adventurer is an excellent collection of what we now call sword and sorcery fiction and also serves as a great introduction to the author and the character who gave birth to the subgenre.

Four stars for the collection.

But what about Conan the Warrior, the second Lancer Conan collection, you ask? Well, stay tuned, cause I will be reviewing that one next month right here at Galactic Journey.

Snow in East Berlin in 1967
Winter has come to East Berlin, giving children the chance to get out their sleds.




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