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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 28, 1966] Scapegoats, Revolution and Summer Impulse and New Worlds, July 1966

June 28, 2021 Mark Yon 10 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

This month I am trying to be more optimistic about the British magazines. Now that the sun is out, why wouldn’t I be? But to be honest, the last couple of issues have rather underwhelmed on the whole. That’s not to say that there haven’t been great moments but much of the material has seemed – well, predictable.

To Impulse first.

An interesting cover this month, with polymath and Associate Editor Mr. Keith Roberts illustrating the last part of his Pavane series. Where does he find the time?

After a month off, Kyril’s Editorial this month continues his recent ruminating that he doesn’t know what to write about as an Editor. It’s a sadly oft-repeated theme, and makes me think that Kyril really has lost interest in the job. The only thing of note here is that Harry Harrison’s latest novel, Make Room! Make Room! (recently reviewed by my colleague Jason HERE for Galactic Journey) will appear here from next month, which I am looking forward to.

Of more interest, the Editorial is followed by an essay by the “Guest Editorial” writer from last month, Harry Harrison. With that in mind, it shouldn’t be too surprising that the “Critique” (as it is called) rather reads as if it should be the Editorial rather than an essay. It is the first of a regular monthly essay, in which (as Kyril puts it) “…untrammelled by fear or favour, he will praise the best, trounce the worst, review current science / fantasy / fiction and cope with any reader’s letter which strikes a spark in his great soul.”

In other words, Harry is doing what an editor should do. As to be expected, the article, once again, makes good points about the state of British sf and the need to grow up, but it is nothing new. I like the fact that Harry has asked for definitions of sf, with the winner being offered a year’s free subscription. (This, of course, assumes that Impulse will last for at least a year!)

Let’s move on. To this month’s actual stories.

Pavane: Corfe Gate, by Keith Roberts

The fifth story from Roberts’ alternate History takes us back to a place we visited last month – Corfe Castle, which last time was the home of Robert, Lord of Purbeck and where Robert took Anne Strange. This time the hints of change made before, suggesting that we may be on the way to revolution, seem to have come true.

Several decades in the future, Corfe Gate continues this story of rebellion and change by telling the story of Lady Eleanor, who refuses to pay the tithe demanded by the Roman Catholic Church because the people of Corfe Castle would starve in order to do so. As King Charles is away in the New World, this leads to Lord Henry of Rye and Deal turning up on her doorstop ready to fight on behalf of Pope John of Rome. Eleanor refuses to yield, believing that King Charles would never allow his people to suffer. The revolution spreads, until King Charles arrives at Corfe Castle and the matter is resolved.

Around this story, much of the narrative tells us about Eleanor’s life and how she got to this point.

As the final part of this series, this is where the different elements seen so far come together. Corfe Gate is really the story of Eleanor, the daughter of Robert and Anne Strange, who were in the last story. In Corfe Gate we see the power wielded by Parliament and the Roman Catholic Church, of whom we found out about in the second story, with the semaphore system of the Royal Signallers who we found out about in the first story also playing a part. We even have the brief return of the Lady Anne, the steam tractor of the second part.

But most of all we read of a young woman in a patriarchal world determined to do their best for her people, against the forces of conservatism and inertia equally determined to crush her rebellion before it becomes something bigger.

It is a story where we are undoubtedly meant to feel for Eleanor, and it is to the writer’s credit that I did. Corfe Gate is a powerful story that caps the series wonderfully. 4 out of 5.

The OH in Jose by Brian W Aldiss

Once again, where Harry Harrison goes, Brian Aldiss follows – not the first time the two have appeared in the same issue of New Worlds or Impulse/Science Fantasy. Can we be sure they are not the same person? Nevertheless, the story is a typical piece of Aldiss whimsy – that is to say, on the mildly humorous side but with a point to make.

A number of travellers make up wildly different stories about the origin of the word “Jose” carved into a rock, before the truth is revealed. A much-needed lighter story after the darkness of Roberts’s Pavane. Another that has already been published, however. 3 out of 5.

The White Monument by Peter Redgrove

A new author. This one is subtitled “A Monologue” and is the tale of a man who, annoyed by the sound coming from his house’s chimney, creates a monument for his wife who is entombed by his efforts to fill the noisy chimney with concrete. Lyrical and experimental yet as silly as it sounds. Another story that has appeared elsewhere before – this time as a radio play on the BBC’s Light Programme. 2 out of 5.

The Beautiful Man, by Robert Clough

Another new author. Three goatherders discover skeletons in a cave, and a crucifix. A twist in the tale story that suggests that this is a post-apocalyptic world. Pretty predictable. 3 out of 5.

Pattern As Set by John Rankine

The return of an author last seen in the May 1966 issue, with the rather underwhelming story of The Seventh Moon. This time I was slightly more impressed – perhaps the shorter length plays more to John’s strengths. Mark Bowden is a pilot on the Cyborax, a spaceship on a hundred-years-long journey, where one at a time members of the crew are unfrozen to do their duty. Borden spends most of the beginning of the story lusting after teammate Dena. The story becomes more interesting when Bowden tries to defrost the next crew member to find that they have died. The end is a disappointment, in the manner of “so…it was all a dream!” 3 out of 5.

A Hot Summer’s Day by John Bell

What's this? A story about Summer, published in Summer? We’ll be getting Christmas stories in December next!

A new author, but this is a satisfactory enough tale of a day in a future London, where getting to work via private or public transport is a significant challenge. It begins with descriptions where traffic is at a standstill, riots on the London Underground are common, people are invariably late for work and the resulting stress levels make London a miserable place to be. As if this wasn’t enough, the story then piles on descriptions of overcrowded sweatiness and grumpy employers, to the point where the story ends with parts of London being razed to the ground by rioters. Seems a little extreme, but rather inevitable as the story ramps things up to its ending. It was fun to read of Tube stations being places of chaos and disorder. One for the commuters, I guess. 3 out of 5.

The Report by Russell Parker

Another new author, but a story of little consequence. Written in the form of a report, it tells of a post war world where thirteen months ago nations released nuclear weapons on each other and wiped out most cities. So far, so predictable.

The point of the story seems to be that the war seems to have started by accident – not with an attack on cities like London (if there’s any of London left after the previous story, of course!) but with a meteor strike on Norfolk! (For non-British readers, Norfolk is an area of flat, mainly rural countryside which I’m tempted to describe as a British equivalent of the Florida Everglades, if cooler.) 3 out of 5.

Hurry Down Sunshine by Roger Jones

By contrast to the chaos of A Hot Summer’s Day, Hurry Down Sunshine is a story of a supremely organised future, from another new author. In this future, the clinically clean world feels deliberately Kafka-esque, and is not helped by the point that the efficient government is run from the sidelines by the rather Dr. Strangelove-like Dr. Holzhacker, who sacrifices everything in the name of efficiency.

Towards these ends, in order to reduce mental instability in a country free of crime, Smith is promoted from anonymous office drone to be the nation’s scapegoat (an Official National Criminal), upon whom all grievances can be laid. Said scapegoat is placed on the much-maligned and mostly unused national railways, the last in existence in the world. In this manner, Smith not only fulfills his duty in comparative safety (for no one rides the train to vent their frustrations on the scapegoat) and the railways get an extra lease on life — after all, they can't be shut down while they have such an important customer on board. Our randomly selected stooge rides the rails for eighteen months, during which a Report is produced which includes Smith’s unpublished letters to The Times newspaper. This becomes a bestseller. As Smith pulls into a station, a mob of angry citizens arrived determined to make Smith pay for his ‘crimes’. But they assail the wrong train, and Smith, rather hurt at not being able to fulfill his scapegoat duty, is whisked to Bletchley.

Subdivided into sections like a J. G. Ballard story, this is another satire, like Ernest Hill’s story Sub-liminal in last month’s New Worlds – but better. It is good fun, although still rather silly. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

Well, I’m pleased to type that I generally enjoyed this one – more than last month’s anyway. Admittedly, it’s not perfect. Whilst I’m pleased to see new writers given their moment in the sun alongside the big-hitters, some of the material (again) shows inexperience and banality or even extreme and bizarre mood changes. They lack the subtlety of quality writing, although they are good efforts overall. With the exception of Corfe Gate, there’s nothing really memorable here, although they’re all entertaining enough.

And with that, onto issue 164 of New Worlds, hoping that it is better.

The Second Issue At Hand

Like last month’s Impulse, the Editorial in New Worlds is a Guest Editorial. Instead of Moorcock this month, we get his friend J. G. Ballard making another appearance. (Is it Editor’s Holiday time, I wonder? What is going on?)

Ballard being Ballard, this is not an Editorial as such but a review of a film – La Jetee, directed by Chris Marker. (Why this couldn’t be later in the issue as a review, rather than as the Editorial is a mystery.) Anyway, Ballard loved it – unsurprisingly, as it appears to be a film tailored to Ballard’s own interests. It is entirely made up of black-and-white photographs but put on film. The film is bold and experimental – and even has an sf theme.

Might be worth a look, but not for everyone – rather like Ballard's own writing!

To the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

In Passage of the Sun, by George Collyn

George is a regular contributor to the magazines, both as a writer and as a critic/reviewer. This has an intriguing first line – “You can have no idea of what it was like in those last days of Earth.” – before settling into post-apocalyptic Space Opera shenanigans. Our ‘hero’ is taken from the overcrowded domes of Earth in the ongoing war between humans and the lizard-like Throngians, and is then put into a war not only between the humans and the Throngians but also a political battle between the King and other factions.

In some ways In Passage Of The Sun was old-school, old style Space Opera, in that it is really old ideas rehashed into something not terribly new.

The main difference I guess is where an old story of this type would try to show Humanity succeeding against all the odds, this one suggests little but backstabbing, meaningless slaughter and misery. The first part of the story seems to revel in grime, sweat and dead bodies – a typically British dystopian story! It did get a little better after that, but as the lead story of an issue, it is wildly uneven. I felt that it really wasn’t cover story material.

Which rather makes me worry about the quality of the rest of the issue. Are we scraping the barrel a bit, here?

A low 3 out of 5.

The Other, by Katherine Maclean

The return of an author who has had stories steadily published from the 1950’s. The Other is the story of Joey, who we discover is an artificially constructed being, and “The Other”, a voice inside Joey’s head. After a psychiatric meeting with Doctor Armstrong and Joey we find that The Other may be more than we at first expected. As expected from a veteran writer, the story is short but memorable, even if it feels like only part of a bigger story. It’s not Maclean’s best but it stands out in this issue. 4 out of 5.

Sanitarium, by Jon DeCles

A newcomer to me, though I understand he has been published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction before. A strange story about a strange future, where even sexual satisfaction is provided by the State. It is mainly about people in the Sanitarium, who are generally unpleasant. Nearly three-hundred-year-old Romf Brigham is invited by his strange neighbours to a party to celebrate Mrs. Christopher Carson’s absence for six months and becomes involved in the investigation. The story loses momentum though as we are told from the start where she is. An attempt at satire in a decadent future, which seems to celebrate decadent excess and languor. I found it pretty unpleasant. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Way to London Town, by David Redd

Nancy arrives in Sacaradown, observes the people there and meets Walther, who collects “strange people”, who Nancy seems to be. He becomes obsessed with finding out more about eleven-year-old Nancy, and Nancy says that she wants to collect enough money to visit places earlier in time, like London before the war that destroyed it. It’s a clumsy plot device to allow the writer to fill in background. We discover that Nancy is a mutant who can travel through time at will.

I suspect that this will be the first of a series, rather like Keith Roberts’ Anita was. This shares some similarities to those stories – an unusual outsider, seemingly innocent, for example. But whereas Anita was often charming, in places this unsubtle story comes across as creepy and odd. It gets better towards the end, but by then the damage is done. 2 out of 5.

The Outcasts, by Kris Neville

One of those lyrical, allegorical stories that Moorcock loves. This one is about a Los Angeles, full of pushers and strange women. No real story to it, the writer seems to be more interested in writing interesting prose and create vivid imagery rather than have the narrative go somewhere. Not for me, I’m afraid. 2 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The God Killers (Part 2 of 2) by John Baxter
I said last month that I thought that John Baxter’s story was too provocatively titled, but that I enjoyed it. I was even more interested to read further when last month’s New Worlds heralded this part of John Baxter’s story as “bizarre”.

A quick reminder – we were told last issue of the planet of Merryland, where the people actively worship Satanism. Young David Bonython finds in his farm’s attic forbidden technology – a matter transmitter from a heretic age whose storage threatens death or torture for David, his friends and family.

Through this arrived Hemskir, a rogue Proctor wanted for offences against Federal law.

The story finished last time with David spending the night with his stepsister Samantha Padgett at some kind of Christian ritualistic orgy. When David returned to the Padgett farm the next day, he found Hemskir dead and the farm on fire.

The farm has been set ablaze by the Examiners, the local justice force who have been tipped off by Elton Penn, the leader of the Christian group. David rescues Samantha at the farm, who goes with him, albeit reluctantly, to the city of New Harbour. There they are captured by Penn, but escape. David realises that Penn is searching for the place of origin of the green crystal that is so rare, but by looking at a map he and Samantha, now lovers, sail to a research station where they find a lake of the stuff. The green crystal is malleable to their will – basically if they can think it, the crystal will turn into it – solid, liquid or gas. Penn has followed them there in a spaceship and there is the inevitable showdown.

There’s some nice descriptions of the world in decay here and some nice ideas of ancient forbidden technology that I liked, but to counterbalance this there’s also some honking howlers in prose – try “She began to cry, savagely, as if forcing grief out of her like vomit”, or even “Love and the water turned them into beautiful animals…” All in all, despite the attempts to make it worth my reading, The Godkillers is not very surprising if you’ve read Ballard’s Crystal World, nor actually very good. Disappointing. A low 3 out of 5.

The Failure of Andrew Messiter, by Robert Cheetham

Cheetham’s first story here since A Mind of My Own in December 1965. It’s another fairly predictable story of scientific experiments in inner space. Dr. Messiter and his team of Wendy Lardner and Bill Maine conduct an experiment where, in order to prove that paranormal powers such as telekinesis exist, Messiter agrees to become what is basically a brain in a body, not connected to any of the traditional five senses. This is so that the latent powers without the usual senses working can then be goaded into action and show themselves.

Over the next year, whilst love blooms between Lardner and Maine, there are no signs of life in Messiter. Maine decides to do what he and Messiter agreed they would do if there was no activity and injects a poison into the body, leaving the couple to go and pursue their affair further. The twist in the story is that Messiter is alive and aware and only just beginning to show the means of contact they wanted before he dies. It’s readable, but not without flaws, such as the awfully awkward romance. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews

A lot of reviews again this month. As ever, the reviews are colourful and entertainin,. prompted by the proliferation of new material, anthologies and reprints. As well as his Editorial/review earlier in the issue, J.G. Ballard contributes reviews of two books, Surrealism by Patrick Waldberg and The History of Surrealist Painting by Marcel Jean. As they clearly echo some of Ballard’s own ideas in his version of sf, they are, unsurprisingly, both liked.

Equally predictably, James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) then positively reviews in some detail J. G. Ballard’s The Crystal World, which I’ve already mentioned this month but was also serialised here a while back.

Hilary Bailey (Mrs. Moorcock to you and me) tackles the briefer reviews, covering Harry Harrison’s Plague From Space, also recently serialised in New Worlds (she likes it more than I did), Rick Raphael’s Code Three, William Tenn’s collection Time in Advance and The Eighth Galaxy Reader, all of which get generally positively reviews. However, she finds Poul Anderson’s Three Worlds to Conquer impossible to finish and dislikes his Virgin Planet enormously.

R. M. Bennett writes an essay on satirical sf, which seems to echo my own view that it is hard to write and rarely successful. Nevertheless, there are suggestions there for the reader to try.

Bill Barclay writes of new titles by a publisher admittedly unknown to me, Ronald Whiting and Wheaton. Whilst the article can come across as little more than an advertisement, there are books mentioned there that whet my appetite, including work by James White and a A Science Fiction Anthology written to commemorate the sadly-departed Cyril Kornbluth.

We still have no Letters pages this month.

Summing up New Worlds

I’m not sure why, but this month’s issue feels slightly different than usual, in its choice of content and its general tone. Is this an attempt to be different, or is it because it feels like New Worlds has had a different hand on the helm? Whilst James Colvin has made an appearance, the magazine itself seems filled with unmemorable material or stories that are just not worth shouting about. The Collyn is rather uneven, the Maclean good but not one of her best and even the John Baxter novel ends disappointingly. Has Moorcock taken his hand off the wheel? It does feel a little bit like it.

Summing up overall

So: despite my hopes, more disappointing issues this month. Not just one but both issues rather feel like there is no one at the rudder, and that the willing but exhausted subordinates have taken much of the strain. Again, they’re not bad, but there’s little that is memorable in either issue.

A tough choice then in choosing “the best”. In the end I’ve opted for Impulse again as my favourite, simply for Roberts’s Corfe Gate which is by far the best thing I’ve read this month. However neither magazine should be showered with glory this month.

But next month's New Worlds sounds better:

As I type this, we are about to begin a World Cup soccer tournament, with England being the host nation. Although football is not something I have much of an interest in, I feel that it would be wrong of me not to exhibit some sort of nationalistic pride on this global event. So – come on, England, etc etc.

(Moment over.)

Until the next…

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[June 10, 1966] Summer Reruns (July 1966 Fantastic)

June 10, 2021 Victoria Silverwolf 2 Comments

by Victoria Silverwolf

Old Series Never Die, They Just Fade Away

Summertime is right around the corner, here in the Northern Hemisphere, and all patriotic Americans know what that means; reruns on television. Not only does this save the production companies money, it allows defunct programs to continue to appear on TV screens long after they're gone, like ghosts haunting a house. (Of course, they're easier to exorcise than traditional specters; just pull the plug.)

Two popular, critically acclaimed, and long-running series recently cast off this mortal coil, ready to enter the monochromatic afterlife of reruns.

Late last month, the courtroom drama Perry Mason slammed down the gavel for the last time with The Case of the Final Fade-Out. The story involved a television studio, so a large number of crew members made cameo appearances, pretty much as themselves. There was also a very special guest star.

That's executive producer Gail Patrick Jackson on the left and Hollywood columnist Norma Lee Browning on the right. The fellow in the middle? That's bestselling author Erle Stanley Gardner, creator of Perry Mason, dressed up for his role as a judge in the final episode.

At the start of this month, The Dick Van Dyke Show came to a conclusion with the appropriately titled episode The Last Chapter. Van Dyke's character, television writer Rob Petrie, finishes the book he's been working on for five years, and looks back on his life.

Because The Last Chapter was really just an excuse to reuse sequences from previous episodes, I'm offering you this scene from the penultimate episode, The Gunslinger. Surrounding Van Dyke in this Western parody are cast regulars Mary Tyler Moore and Richard Deacon.

I'm sure that both of these hit series will be reincarnated in American living rooms for quite a while.

Not all summer television programming consists of reruns, to be sure. There are so-called summer replacement series as well. In a week or so, we'll enjoy (or avoid) the first episode of The Dean Martin Summer Show (not to be confused with The Dean Martin Show, which has been going on since last year. Are you still with me?) It will be hosted by the comedy team of Dan Rowan and Dick Martin.

Rowan on the left and Martin on the right, in a scene from their 1958 Western spoof Once Upon a Horse. I wonder if they'll have any success as TV hosts.

A Home Run The First Time At Bat

Although it's not unknown for popular songs of yesteryear to return to the charts — auditory reruns, if you will — listeners are usually searching for something original. Newcomer Percy Sledge offers an notable example with his smash hit When a Man Loves a Woman. This passionate, soulful ballad, currently Number One in the USA, is not only the first song recorded by Sledge, it is the first song recorded in Muscle Shoals, Alabama, a city famous for its music studios, to reach that position.

Your fans mean it, Mister Sledge.

I've Seen This All Before

The reason I've been talking about reruns, before I get to the contents of the latest issue of Fantastic, isn't just the fact that they've been filling up the magazine with reprints for some time now. As we'll see, many of the old stories in this issue have reappeared several times before. Reruns of reruns, so to speak. Whether fans of imaginative literature will be willing to spend four bits for fiction they may have already read in collections or anthologies remains to be seen.

Cover art by Frank R. Paul.

Predictably, the front cover is also a rerun.

The back cover of the June 1943 issue of Amazing Stories. It looks better in the original version.

Before I get to the reruns, however, let's start with something new.

Just Like a Man, by Chad Oliver

Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

Three men are in an aircraft, flying over the surface of an Earth-like planet. A sudden storm forces them to abandon the vehicle, stranding the trio in an area resembling an African savannah. Because the place is full of leonine predators, they hightail it to the relative safety of a nearby rainforest.

Climbing one of the planet's gigantic trees in order to get away from the hungry cats.

They wind up far above the ground, among an unsuspected community of highly intelligent primates. These mysterious creatures help them survive, and even offer the possibility of reaching their home base, located five hundred miles away across uncharted wilderness.

Among the primates, who are not as hostile as shown here.

This is a decent tale of adventure, and the enigmatic primates are interesting. The planet is so similar to Earth — the feline predators are pretty much just lions — that you might forget you're reading a science fiction story. Overall, it's worth reading, if not outstanding in any way.

Three stars.

The Trouble With Ants, by Clifford D. Simak

Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

From the January 1951 issue of Fantastic Adventures comes this final story in the author's famous City series. (By the way, the title of this work was changed to The Simple Way when it appeared in book form.)

Illustration by Rod Ruth. From this point on, all the illustrations are reruns from the original appearances of the stories.

In the far future, people are gone from Earth, with the exception of one fellow in suspended animation. Long ago, humans increased the intelligence of dogs, gave them the power of speech, and built robots to serve their needs. The canines, in turn, taught other animals to speak.

Complicating matters is the fact that a man caused ants to develop technology of their own, including robots the size of fleas. Now the ants are constructing a building, for an unknown purpose, which threatens to take over the planet.

An ancient robot returns from humanity's new home in a mysterious fashion. It seeks out the man in suspended animation as part of its quest to understand the ants.

Brought together as a fix-up novel in 1952, the City series won the International Fantasy Award the next year. It is usually considered a classic of science fiction, and has been reprinted many times.

One of the many editions of this work. Cover art by Ed Valigursky.

Highly imaginative, and with a sweeping vision of the immensity of time, Simak's tales also have a gentleness and intimacy that touches the reader's heart. The mood is one of quiet melancholy, and the acceptance of the fact that all things will pass away.

Although SF fans are likely to have read this story before, its quality makes it a welcome repeat. (One can rarely say the same thing about television reruns, or else viewers would stay glued to their screens.)

Five stars.

Where Is Roger Davis?, by David V. Reed

Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

Let's take a break from stuff that has already been reprinted multiple times, and take a look at the first reappearance of this yarn, taken from the yellowing pages of the May 1939 issue of Amazing Stories. (The author is unknown to me, but I have discovered that he also writes for comics, particularly Batman. Apparently a couple of episodes of the new television series are based on his scripts for the comic book.)

Illustrations by Julian S. Krupa.

Two young men working for a New York City tour bus encounter an invisible, telepathic Martian. One of them is seduced by the alien's plot to take over the world, and soon becomes a megalomaniac.

The fact that the Martian makes robbing a bank as easy as pie is another factor in his decision.

The other fellow has to figure out a way to keep the Martians from conquering Earth.

The mood of the story changes drastically from light comedy at the start to grim tragedy by the conclusion. Given the year it was written, I wonder if the dictatorial intentions of the first man were influenced by the rise of Fascism.

The author claims that this story is a true account, sent to him by the second man. There are also bits of imaginary news articles scattered throughout, in an attempt at verisimilitude. These don't work very well, particularly the long one at the end. The only thing I found mildly intriguing, if implausible, was the way the hero manages to plot against beings who can read his mind.

Two stars.

Almost Human, by Tarleton Fiske

Cover art by Harold W. McCauley.

The introductory blurb makes it clear that the author of this story, reprinted from the June 1943 issue of Fantastic Adventures, is really Robert Bloch, using a rather absurd pseudonym. (As is common practice, this was done because he had another story in the same issue under his own name.)

Illustration by Rod Ruth.

A hoodlum makes his way into the secret laboratory of a brilliant scientist. His moll has been working for the guy, so the crook knows the genius has created a robot. The machine is being educated like a child. The gangster teaches it to be an invincible criminal, and to kill without mercy. As you'd expect, things don't work out very well.

This piece reads like hardboiled fiction from a crime pulp. The final scene is particularly gruesome, in typical Bloch style. The author shows a certain knack for the Hammett/Chandler mode, but that's about all I can say for it. Not that great a story, but somebody thought it was worth reviving for an anthology.

Cover art by Jack Gaughan.

Two stars.

Satisfaction Guaranteed, by Isaac Asimov

Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

Speaking of robots, here's one of several stories about the robopsychologist Susan Calvin by the Good Doctor, from the April 1951 issue of Amazing Stories.

Illustration by Enoch Sharp.

Calvin only plays a minor part in this story, which focuses on a rather mousy, insecure housewife. Her husband works for the same robotics firm as Calvin, so he brings home a test model of a new machine. It looks like a handsome young man, and is designed to be helpful around the house in many different ways. The husband goes off on a business trip, leaving his wife alone with the robot.

The housewife is frightened of it at first, but soon learns to accept it. It even helps her with home decorating, clothing, and makeup, so she learns self-confidence. A final, unexpected gesture on the part of the machine, seemingly out of character for a robot, wins her the envy of her snobbish acquaintances. Susan Calvin explains why the machine's action was a perfectly logical way of obeying the famous First Law of Robotics.

Anonymous cover art for a British edition.

The author must be fond of this tale, because he has already included it in two different collections of his work. The one shown above, as the title indicates, includes stories that take place on Earth rather than in space, despite the misleading illustration and blurb. The story also appears in an omnibus that brings together his two robot novels as well as several shorter works.

Cover art by Thomas Chibbaro.

Besides that, it is also included in the same Roger Elwood anthology as Bloch's story. My sources in the television industry tell me that it is being adapted for the British series Out of the Unknown, and should appear late this year. (Will there be American reruns? One can only hope.)

Is it worth all this attention? Well, it's not a bad yarn, if not the greatest robot story Asimov ever wrote. The housewife is something of a stereotype of an overly emotional female, dependent on a man for her happiness. (This is in sharp contrast to the highly intelligent and independent Doctor Susan Calvin.) At some point you may think that the author is violating his own rules about robot behavior, but it's all explained at the end.

Three stars.

A Portfolio – Virgil Finlay

I'm not sure if I should even discuss this tiny collection of illustrations by the great artist, but at least I can share them with you.

For The New Adam (1939) by Stanley G. Weinbaum. The magazine calls it The New Atom, which is an egregious error.

For Mirrors of the Queen (1948) by Richard S. Shaver.

For The Silver Medusa (1948) by Alexander Blade (pseudonym for H. Hickey.)

What can I say? His work is stunning.

Five stars.

Satan Sends Flowers, by Henry Kuttner

Cover art by Robert Frankenberg.

The January/February 1953 issue of Fantastic is the source of this variation on an old theme.

Illustrations by Tom Beecham.

A man sells his soul to the Devil in exchange for immortality. (The premise is similar to that of the Twilight Zone episode Escape Clause, but the twist ending is different.) He ensures that he will remain young, healthy, and all that, so Satan can't play any tricks on him. Obviously, he figures he'll never have to pay up.

The Devil demands surety in the form of certain subconscious memories the fellow possesses. After assuring him that he won't even know he's lost anything, the man agrees. Unafraid of either earthly punishment or damnation, he lives a life of total depravity.

His first crime is the murder of his mother.

Eventually, he persuades the Devil to give him back what he lost, even though Satan warns him that he won't like it. This turns out to be a bad idea.

Like most other stories in this issue, this one has already appeared in a book. (It acquired the new title By These Presents.)

Back and front cover art by Richard Powers.

I should mention that the husband-and-wife team of Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore almost always collaborated, even if the resulting story appeared under only one name. Whoever might have been responsible for whatever parts of this work, it's a reasonably engaging tale. I'm not sure I really accept the explanation for what the man's unconscious memories represent, but I was willing to go along with it.

Three stars.

The Way Home, by Theodore Sturgeon

Cover art by Barye Phillips.

This quiet story comes from the April/May 1953 issue of Amazing Stories.

Illustrations by David Stone.

A boy runs away from home. Along the way he meets a wealthy man and his glamourous female companion, in their fancy car; a man with an injured hand who has been all over the world; and a pilot in a beautiful airplane. Without giving too much away, it's clear from the start that these men represent possible future versions of himself.

Is this the road to the future, or to home?

Like Asimov's story, this piece has already appeared in two of the author's collections, but with a slight change in the title.

Cover art by Mel Hunter.

(I'm not sure if I should really count these as two different collections, because all the stories in Thunder and Roses already appeared, along with others, in A Way Home. Such are the vagaries of the publishing industry.)

Cover art by Peter Curl.

In any case, this is a beautifully written little story, subtle and evocative. To say much more would be to ruin the delicate mood it creates.

Five stars.

Worth Tuning In Again?

Cartoon by somebody called Frosty, from the same magazine as Satan Sends Flowers.

I wouldn't call this issue bad at all, although there were a couple of disappointing stories. It's no big surprise that the Simak and the Sturgeon were excellent, and Finlay's art is always a delight. It's enough to make you want to tear yourself away from all those reruns on television and turn to some literary reruns instead.

In the world of cuisine, reruns are known as leftovers.

Tune in to KGJ, our radio station! Nothing but the newest and best hits! Even the reruns are great!

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 24, 1966] Hatchetmen, Marilyn Monroe and God Killers (Impulse and New Worlds, June 1966)

May 24, 2021 Mark Yon 5 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

June… Summer already! Well, almost. A British Summer can usually be relied upon for its inclemency. So, of course, it’s grey and dull here.

Well, at least I have the latest New Worlds and Impulse to cheer me up. Mind you, the two issues last month were rather damp squibs, if I’m honest. I am hoping that this month’s are better, although there are worrying signs here. More later.

To Impulse first.

And having rather fuzzy covers lately, courtesy of Associate Editor Mr. Keith Roberts, we have another one this month. Though it is not credited, it is clearly a Keith Roberts painting. At least I can tell that it’s a science fiction-y one.

The Editorial this month is interesting in that it is a “Guest Editorial” from Harry Harrison. After Kyril’s recent ruminating that he doesn’t know what to write about as an Editor, perhaps this is a sign that he’s given up, at least for a while.

It also rather makes me wonder how much of the work behind the scenes is actually done by the editor and how much by his Associate Editor!

Anyway, the Editorial by Harrison is OK. It looks ahead to 1968 for new sf books, and whilst there will be a number of “old hat” reissues and “rehashes of old themes”, Harry suggests that there will be new themes, probably more adult, and based on the softer sciences. It’s really a summary of the ideas that have been proposed before, both here in Impulse and in New Worlds.

Let’s move on to this month’s actual stories.

Hatchetman, by Mack Reynolds

You know Mack pretty well in the US, I think, though he is much less well known here. Last time he appeared in the Brit magazines, in the August 1965 issue of New Worlds I wasn’t too impressed, to be honest. His work in the US magazines since seems to be fairly solid, if rarely outstanding. His stories for Analog are often based on ideas from John W Campbell, which rather confirms my opinion. Hatchetman is the sort of old-fashioned story that I expect in Analog, which rather contradicts Harrison’s comments in the Editorial.

It’s a Space Opera adventure story, based upon a United Nations style organisation but dealing with planets rather than countries. The planet of Palermo, one of the United Planets, is being run by Luigi Agrigento, a Sicilian-type gangster who keeps tight control of the planet’s inhabitants in a feudal robber-baron set-up. An assassination on Earth instigated by Agrigento leads to Section G being left to arrest or kill the assassin. There’s lots of running about as a result.

It’s an entertaining read. It felt very much like a Western or a Gangster film transposed to Outer Space, the epitome of Space Opera, I guess. The characterisation is as you’d expect, and the pacing is great, though the story, whilst entertaining enough is clearly not “cutting-edge”. 3 out of 5.

George by Chris Boyce

The story of a hen-pecked husband defending his family during an invasion of dinosaurs. Not sure what annoyed me more about this one – the deliberately condensed sentences or the cloying endearments George uses towards his wife. They are designed to be annoying, but even so it was enough to put me off the rest of the story. 2 out of 5.

The Golden Coin of Spring by John Hamilton

A spaceship arrives on Earth from somewhere else to find that humans, without realising it, make the planet an inappropriate place for invasion. A basic twist in the tail story that hinges on the fact that the invading spaceship is the size of a coin. 3 out of 5.

Pavane: Lords & Ladies, by Keith Roberts

The fourth story from Roberts’ alternate History describes the social hierarchy that exists between the aristocracy and common folk in this alternate England, and perhaps something weirder.

We begin near the bed of Jesse Strange, the man we first met driving the Lady Anne steam-tractor back in the April 1966 issue. Intriguingly, Jesse is currently undergoing an exorcism and is near death.

This would be captivating enough. However, the focus of the story is really upon Anne Strange, the young niece of Jesse who is sat near the room’s window. Whilst sat she appears to go into some sort of reverie which reveals to her memories of her younger self but also visions of the future. Most of the narrative is about how the barely teenage Anne, meets Robert, who is Lord of Purbeck and lives at Corfe Castle. He woos her, beds her and then discards her. It was unclear to me whether this is past, present or both.

This could just be a historical tale of aristocracy dominating those beneath them, but Roberts adds to this elements that are definitely odd. Jesse’s home appears to be haunted, (hence the exorcism rites) but this may be due to appearance of things from other times or dimensions. In an almost Lovecraftian twist, Anne talks of and then meets one of “the Old Ones”, who seem to have some, but not total, influence on the proceedings of humans on Earth. Anne feels that she travels backwards and forwards through time in her memories, which may be the Old One’s doing.

Much of this series is about change. It is clear that some things have changed, whilst others have not. The story ends with Jesse’s death, as we seem to pass from one age to another. The role of the aristocracy appears to be on the wane, whilst the importance of the rich merchant seems to be on the rise – more signs that things are changing in this world. It’s another engaging, if at times peculiar, addition to this ongoing story. 4 out of 5.

The Superstition by Angus McAllister

A new author with an anthropological tale. When McCormick fails to return to the expedition spaceship from the Krett village, the rest of the team go looking for why. They are told that he has been taken by the Zungribs, another alien species, of which they have a number of superstitions. When the humans themselves are captured by the Zungribs, the reason for their continued existence in captivity is revealed. A one trick story, but the ending made me laugh. 3 out of 5.

Clay by Paul Jents

The return of an author last seen in Science Fantasy magazine in February 1966. In this story we visit a school where the pupils are learning to shape their thought-patterns. A bullying incident leads the teacher to turn to physically using clay as an alternative. It is the ultimate in worldbuilding, especially when the teacher can take their worlds two million years forward in time through a time furnace to see what happened. The twist in the story is pretty much expected. 3 out of 5.

Synopsis by George Hay

And the return of another author, last seen in Science Fantasy magazine in April 1965. This one is – surprise, surprise! – quite funny. (Regular readers will know how unusual that is for me.)

It is basically written as a two-page recap of a serial story that does not exist, and starts with “NEW READERS START HERE.” In spite of an unpleasant mention of “fiancée-rape”, the story could be pretty much any science fiction story in any of the magazines from the last twenty years or so. To me it reads like a cross between Flash Gordon and EE ‘Doc’ Smith. The use of words in capital letters throughout is wryly amusing. It seems to be written with affection but also with a little jab at what passes for traditional sf. 3 out of 5.

A Visitation of Ghosts by R. W. Mackelworth

The return of a regular author, last seen in Science Fantasy magazine in December 1965.

Boraston works at a school. He hates those he lives and works with and has a secret – he often draws sketches without his deliberate knowledge and he has visions that are premonitions of the future. After experiencing one vision he finds himself actually there, in a school but in some sort of post-apocalyptic future. He is given the job of helping children that are “uncontaminated” through a radiation belt to safety, which may be his reason for being there.

When he gets to the other side, he is sent back to his school to find the point in time where the apocalypse started. He changes things. The story ends with plot lines unresolved, to Boraston’s annoyance.

Despite the bad ending, I liked this one because it is a little different to the usual rockets and aliens in the magazine, although it could be straight out of a “Boys Own” adventure magazine. Something different for Mackelworth. It reminded me of H. G. Wells’ writing, which is not necessarily a bad thing – though again hardly the brave new world of Harrison’s editorial. The characterisation is rather unsophisticated. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

This issue sits firmly in the reasonable category. The Pavane story is as good as ever, the rest is readable yet fairly forgettable. His own work aside, I can’t help feeling that Roberts is filling the magazine with material from the slush pile that’s been there a while. The overall result is that of an issue that’s treading water a little, when I was rather hoping to find something that grabbed my attention more.

And with that, onto this month’s New Worlds, hoping that it is stronger.

The Second Issue At Hand

Having said already that Keith Roberts has too much to do, the cover of New Worlds is another Roberts effort!

A perfunctory Editorial from Moorcock this month. He briefly takes time to point out that there is a number of questions proposed throughout this magazine and asks for reader’s opinions, in the hope of influencing the direction of the magazine in the future, before launching into a series of quick reviews, usually left up to Moorcock’s alter-ego James Colvin.

To the stories!

The God Killers (Part 1 of 2) by John Baxter

Here’s the welcome return of Australian John Baxter, last seen in these pages back in April with Skirmish. This time around, I must admit that I thought the title was a little too provocative, and it is. The story deserves better.

It is a narrative set mainly on the ironically-named planet of Merryland, out on the outer frontier where, after nuclear war, the residents have forsaken God and taken up an alternative religion, that of Satanism. Although focused on Satan, their ways are very Puritan to my mind – most machines are seen as abominations, reading is not something people do for fun and daily life is farm-focused. Of course, anything regarded as a sin is met with harsh punishment.

Amidst this we are introduced to young David Bonython, who is an orphan taken in by the Padgett family and who works on their farm. David is infatuated with Padgett’s daughter Samantha, but she has “gone Christian”, and he is both horrified and attracted by this fallen woman. When David is invited by Samantha to join them in one of their illicit meetings, he is enticed to go in order to spend time with Samantha.

Before this, David finds that in the farm’s attic there is a hidden matter transmitter, from which appears Earthman Hemskir. His use of a matter transmitter is forbidden, as technology of a heretic age, could lead to death or torture for David his friends and family.

We discover that Hemskir is a rogue Proctor wanted for offences against Federal law and the fact that he has stolen a carving of a beetle (like the one on the magazine’s cover this month). David realises that to get Hemskir further support he may need to enlist outside help – such as the Christians from the nearby town of New Harbour Samantha has gone to meet.

He talks to Elton Penn (great name!) who we learned earlier has spent time as an academic scholar on Earth. He is the first contact Merryland has had with Earth in hundreds of years.

The story finishes with David spending the night with Samantha at some kind of Christian ritualistic orgy. When David and Samantha return to the Padgett farm the next day they find Hemskir dead. Someone clearly knows about the forbidden technology and their involvement with it. David tells Samantha about the matter transmitter and threatens to tell her father that she’s “gone Christian” if she tells anyone else about it.

When David leaves the house to tell Penn what has happened, he finds that they have moved on. He follows their tracks for a while and finds a Satanic shrine before taking a rest and falling asleep. He decides to return to the Padgett farm, but on his return finds the farm on fire.

The title really oversells the religious aspect of the narrative. What I actually got was a well-written tale combining religious fanaticism, a teenage coming-of-age story and forbidden technology.
It’s nothing special, but it read well enough. I enjoyed it more than John Brunner’s most recent effort as a serial, and am looking forward to the second half next month. A high 3 out of 5.

Notice how the banner text has become part of the image.
Illustration by James Cawthorn

You: Coma: Marilyn Monroe, by J. G. Ballard

Here’s another one of those stories where Ballard mixes real people with his own brand of multifaceted, fractured weirdness. In April we had John F Kennedy, Malcolm X and Lee Harvey Oswald, this time we have Marilyn Monroe. Still as bizarre as before, as the writing with the artwork at the beginning of the story shows. Ballard continues to mix fact and fiction in his deliberately compressed prose, non-linear fashion.

Lots of pieces of story, admittedly well written from different perspectives, that form an incoherent whole. This still reads like a story extract, using characters such as Karen Novotny that I first read of in The Assassination Weapon, but this time Instead of Kline as the protagonist we now have Tallis.

Much of Ballard’s work is about the repetition of words and images, and it is so here. The prose seems obsessed with geometry and angles, not only those of Karen Novotny, but also of the apartment room she is in. Is this Tallis trying to make sense of the world around him? Possibly. Whatever the story is, I think I am now starting to get how the disparate pieces connect together, but it is deliberately obtuse.

Like the other story, it stays with you after you’ve read it, even if I’m still not entirely sure what it is I’m reading. A bit of a cheat though, in that the story has already been published in the Spring 1966 issue of Ambit magazine. 4 out of 5.

The God-like Niktar
Illustration by Yates

The Gloom Pattern, by Peter Tate

Peter’s last effort was the rather awkward romance Fifth Person Singular in last month’s issue. This story is better, though still not great. Charlie and Nicholas are two bored schoolboys who set themselves a challenge – to make single man Gregory Birtle smile. Alien Niktar, Superemedial Agent to the Sad Sometimers, sends Gregory his secret weapon, to examine “the human reaction to a state where sorrow has been banished and happiness and its attendant joys are the order and the law.” This is a girl robot named Satina. She does manage to bring a smile to Birtle's face, but the ending is a mess. 3 out of 5.

Sub-liminal, by Ernest Hill

Another of Moorcock’s regulars. Clearly meant to be ironic, Sub-liminal is about a politician of the future trying to rig the voting of an election, only to find too late that another deal has been made. The fact that the politician is named Sir Jocelyn Diddimous may say it all. 3 out of 5.

What Passing Bells?, by R. M. Bennett

In a time after a nuclear war, the survivors fight it out amongst themselves. Women are used for entertainment, men are locked away and left for stealing another’s hoard of stuff. It doesn’t end well. This one’s unremittingly bleak and generally unpleasant. Not my cup of tea, but fine for what it was. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

World of Shadows, by S. J. Bounds

In which the most exciting thing is that regular writer of the space-filler, Sydney J Bounds, has now mysteriously become 'S. J. Bounds' on the Contents page.

Would-be gangster Fatso Tate lands on a new planet to start a new life away from the prying eyes of the Patrols wanting to hunt him down. Watching the twin shadows created by the planet’s two suns, he soon finds that the shadows have a life of their own. Readable, but unconvincing. 3 out of 5.

Letters and Book Reviews

A lot of reviews this month prompted by the proliferation of new material, anthologies and reprints. All the reviewers are kept busy this month. James Colvin lists many. He is dissatisfied by Samuel Delany’s work, finding his purple prose “off-putting”, disappointed by Dick, finds himself not a fan of Zenna Henderson’s “brand of sentiment”, refers to Heinlein as “science fiction’s answer to Agatha Christie” and finds the re-issue of Brian Aldiss’s The Canopy of Time as “the best of this month’s whole batch”. Lots and lots of others mentioned as well, though.

James Cawthorn takes on reviewing duties this month as well as his artistic work. He is more positive about Zenna Henderson’s work than Colvin was, and he also covers a wide range of new and old work. Like Colvin’s reviews this month, there are too many to mention individually, but the reviews are entertaining, succinct and insightful.

We have no Letters pages this month – perhaps Moorcock has gone for a lie-down after the recent furores over religion.

Summing up New Worlds

I liked Baxter’s God Killers this month, even if it tries too hard to shock. Ballard still confuses and impresses. Whilst the rest veers between the mundane and the overblown, it is a better issue than last month’s, though still not an outstanding one.

Summing up overall

Is there enough there in either issue to keep the old readers and entice others to pick up an issue? I’m not sure.

In the end, I decided that Impulse was the better of the two, although I could easily see other readers opt for New Worlds.

Until the next…

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[April 26, 1966] Inner Space, Romance and Religion Impulse and New Worlds, May 1966

April 26, 2021 Mark Yon 8 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Never let it be said that Science Fiction is always lightweight stuff. Both magazines are tackling big issues this month.

We’re back to fuzzy covers in this month's Impulse – don’t forget, “The NEW Science Fantasy”. It’s OK but not the best. It’s another Keith Roberts, more of which in a minute.

The Editorial this month has the Editor Kyril still meditating over the genre. Readers still like stories about other humans, he suggests – it is rare for humans to like stories that are truly alien – presumably a response to the Merril story started last month and concluding in this. (More later.)

To this month’s actual stories.

Seventh Moon , by John Rankine

A debut author, I think. When spaceship Interstellar Two-Nine goes missing on its approach to the ‘polite’ planet of Bromius, Dag Fletcher of the Inter-Galactic Organisation goes to investigate. With such a set-up, I suspect that this will become an ongoing series of some sort. It’s typical Space Opera and paradoxically remarkably mundane, even down to the repeated descriptions of how gorgeous all the women are, with the exception of the lead female character, who is deliberately annoying. 3 out of 5.

Pavane: Brother John, by Keith Roberts

In this third story from Roberts’ alternate History, where Elizabeth I was assassinated in 1588, we are given the chance to see the effect of religion upon this alternate life. As this is a world dominated by the Roman Catholic faith, it is an interesting perspective on what we have read so far.

Brother John is an Adhelmian monk who is given the task of recording, for the benefit of Rome, all stages in the proceedings of The Court of Father Hieronymous, Witchfinder in General to Pope John. He begins to dare to question the practices of the Church during a version of the Inquisition, and is so affected by what he sees that he begins to lead a revolt against the Church. The ending is rather enigmatic, in that in a crowd of acolytes Brother John experiences a vision showing an alternate future, a more positive one than that experienced by the masses. Leaving on a boat to Rome, the boat capsizes with no one to be found. This development of this series continues to impress.

Well, it’s taken a bit longer than it has in our world, but it seems that some sort of religious reformation is beginning. It’ll be interesting to see where this social upheaval leads, and I’ll read the next story to see if this idea evolves further. 4 out of 5.

The Pace That Kills by Alistair Bevan

From an alternative past to an alternate future, though from the same writer, because Alistair is actually Keith Roberts, who we have just read!

The two stories however couldn’t be more different. The Pace That Kills is evidently inspired by the newly introduced 70-miles-per-hour speed limit on Britain’s motorways. It is a world where this obsession with speed is taken to its limit. The government have politicized speed limits and uses black boxes in the vehicles to control speed in most people’s vehicles, but rebellious types adapt their vehicles, deliberately race each other and flagrantly ignore the limits.

Johnny Morris and his friend Tinker are witness to a seemingly fatal accident. They rescue a girl and meet the officious Masterwarden of Sector Twelve in West London, Horace J. Bigge. Afterwards, we discover that they work for Peter Hanssen, the leader of the Driver Party, for there is an ongoing political war between the Motorists, known as Drivers, and the Pedestrians, called Peds.

The survivor of the accident, Moira Alice Kelly, is taken to hospital, interrogated by Bigge and sentenced to torture and death. Despite Nanssen’s wishes, Morris and Tinker decide to attempt a rescue. It doesn’t go well, but Moira is released. Bigge is also captured and there follows a bizarre interrogation after which Bigge is set free, but dies by being run down on the road. Moira enthusiastically explains how she became a motor addict to Nanssen. They begin a relationship, only to find that Kelly is an undercover Warden. The story finished unconvincingly.

This is a really mixed-up story. Part adventure, part satire, in the end it is not a good example of either. It is generally uneven in pace and plot, veering between unsubtle satire and making a serious point. There’s a huge clumsy dollop of ‘telling’ the reader things in the middle as well.

Generally, things are usually ramped up to excess throughout this overlong story, which diminishes it overall. Difficult to believe that these two stories are from the same writer, which may be the point of the pseudonym. 2 out of 5.

The Run by Chris Priest

Something to freshen the palate a little now. This is a debut story in Impulse from someone who has made quite a name for himself through his critical comments in recent months – it was Chris that Kyril wrote an open letter response to in his editorial of Science Fantasy back in January. He is also currently a regular critic in the British Science Fiction Association’s in-house magazine, Vector.

With this in mind, it is interesting to read some of Chris’s fiction rather than his critical work. It is OK but nothing special. Senator Robbins, driving in his car, is summoned back to his base in an emergency. As he gets closer to the headquarters the journey becomes increasingly fraught as the road is surrounded by angry jeering teenagers known as Juvies.

Clearly tapping into the feeling of unease that many older people have about teenagers of today, the gist of the story is that the Juvies are going to take over the world, incite rioting and basically destroy law and order, and that this is the start of the revolution. There’s some nice touches, but the ending is annoyingly enigmatic. This is clearly a beginner’s work, but I’d be interested to see more of this from Chris. 3 out of 5.

Cry Martian, by Peter L Cave

A story of little Timmy who tells his mother that he has found a Martian camp whilst playing out in the woods. The twist in this brief story is that he is on Mars. Short but fairly effective, if forgettable.
3 out of 5.

Homecalling (Part 2 of 2) by Judith Merril

Back to the second and final part of Judith Merril’s story. Last time we found nine-year old Dee and her younger brother Petey stranded on a planet and taken in by the insect-like Lady Daydanda.

In this second part we read of further attempts to communicate and understand each other. Dee learns to translate the thoughts Daydanda is telepathically putting in her head. In return, Daydanda learns more about the humans. When Dee and Petey return to their rocket, Dee allows one of Daydanda’s sons to enter the burned-out spaceship with them, and through the son Daydanda can communicate further. She discovers what ‘machines’ are, that the place they are in is ‘a spaceship’ and that it can travel to places beyond their world.

Daydanda’s concern for the children and willingness to care for them is made more difficult by Dee’s seemingly illogical desire to be with her Mother. The aliens eventually are allowed access to the cockpit where both of her parents are dead, and much of the last part of the story shows us Daydanda’s logical, if erroneous, reasoning for why Dee does not want to see her Mother dead in the Spaceship. Intriguingly, the ending feels rather creepy, although I suspect the idea is meant to be a happy one, where Petey and Dee are willingly left in the presence of the Mother – for now.

As I said last month, even though there are issues of this being a reprint, it is a great story. Merril’s description of the aliens, and the thought processes they go through to make their decisions and choices is wonderful – but, of course, really it is the humans who are the aliens. 4 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

Mainly novellas again this month. The Merril finishes well, and may be the best thing in the magazine, although I am still annoyed about it being a reprint. I continued to enjoy the Pavane series, although I know that it is not for everyone and this latest installment will not change that view, I’m afraid. It’s intriguing to read Chris Priest’s fiction as opposed to his letter-writing. But then we have what even Kyril referred to last month as “typically Bonfiglioni space-fillers”.

I’m almost tempted to add the Rankine here as one, though that may be uncharitable. It’s OK, if just… boring. The Cave story Cry Martian tells us an old trope in a new way – but nothing new, there. However, The Pace that Kills is just awful. I suspect it has been there a while waiting to be used as “space-filler”.

So: a mixture of good and bad this month, leading to a lower-than-average, certainly of late, issue. With the dominance of new Associate Editor Keith Roberts this month, this may be a little worrying.

Onto this month’s New Worlds

The Second Issue At Hand

In contrast to Impulse, Mike Moorcock has opted for shorter stories with more variety this month. He’s also promised to tackle that perennial (and most touchy!) topic of religion.

In the Editorial, Moorcock warms up by tackling the topic of the supernatural. He refers to a new book about it, quoting its point that the supernatural may be connected to the natural, or normal, in a person’s mind, and that Ballard and Philip K. Dick write about this in different ways. The final paragraphs suggest we should see more sf incorporating drugs to explore this new territory.

My issue with this is that you may need to take drugs to understand such stories. As I don’t partake – beyond the odd cup of tea! – such stories tend to leave me cold.

And talking of stories, to the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

Pilot Plant by Bob Shaw

Here’s the welcome return of Bob Shaw, last seen in these pages back in October 1965 with …And Isles Where Good Men Lie.

Whilst involved in an aeroplane test flight accident, aerospace engineer Tony Garnett hears a voice say, “Get me out of here Xoanon.” When he is recovering in hospital, he tries to work out who Xoanon is and where the voice came from. He contacts his deputy Ian Dermott to cancel the firm’s current project, a flying wing for civil aviation. Four months later, Garnett is back to work but finds that, despite his wishes, work has been continued in secret. His attempt to meet a worker involved in the project is unsuccessful – the man faints – but Garnett finds that the poor unconscious worker has recently been sent away on a special training course.

He takes his nurse Janice Vickers away on a weekend but really goes to find the place in Harlech, Wales, where this training course has been held. As Garnett gets near he realises he has been there before but has strangely forgotten about it. The date with Janice doesn’t go well, and Garnett ends up in Janice’s chalet whilst she ends up in his. This is a fatal mistake, as during the night there is an explosion in Garnett’s chalet where he would have been sleeping and Janice dies. The last words she mumbles to Tony are also about Xoanon.

Things now get stranger. Garnett is told by the police that the explosion was caused by a meteorite strike. After being interrogated by the police Garnett returns to the factory where he is told that a wing is being built for a customer by the name of Xoanon, who is one of a group of extraterrestrials. They wish to use the wing to collect something lost off the coast of Wales.

Dermott tells Tony that he has been manipulated by Xoanon from the start, but the accident meant that a metal plate was put in his skull which broke the contact between him and Xoanon. Garnett is shot by Dermott. Surviving this, Tony captures a test plane about to take off and attempts to rendezvous with Xoanon’s spaceship hidden in the upper atmosphere.

Tony meets Xoanon, who in Bond-villain fashion explains all to Garnett. Garnett also meets Janice again, because – surprise, surprise! – she wasn’t killed, but is now in the body of an alien. Tony decides not to return to Earth.

It’s good to see Bob back, but this is relatively mediocre stuff. The setting’s good, the prose too, but the plot got wilder and wilder until it lost credibility for me. The ending is particularly weak, as there are elements seemingly key to the plot that are not explained – do the aliens retrieve their device? – and the abrupt end of the story means that we do not find what happens next.

I think Bob’s trying to write a contemporary thriller with a science-fictional element, but it didn’t quite work. 3 out of 5.

The Ultimate Artist, by Richard A. Gordon

We’ve met Gordon before with his story A Question of Culture back in Science Fantasy in December 1965. We’re treading similar ideas here, as this story is about what happens when an Artist named Zacharias decides to retire. The story is told by a narrator who has spent much of their life following Zacharias as he travels across the galaxy. When Zacharias performs for the last time, there are consequences for the narrator.

There’s some nice descriptions of what it is like to be enraptured by a performance. It is about the joy of the experience and fan-worship. Rather like seeing The Beatles or The Rolling Stones as they retire, I guess. 3 out of 5.

Rumpelstiltskin, by Daphne Castell

Daphne has been popping up with some regularity in New Worlds of late. This time she retells the old fairytale of a princess locked away in a tower from the perspective of Rumpelstiltskin. Well written but not really memorable. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

Unification Day, by George Collyn

George Collyn was last seen in last month’s issue waxing lyrical over the work of Kurt Vonnegut. Here we’re seeing his fiction. I quite liked the set-up of this one, in an alternate history where Britain has been unified with France. This is emphasised by the point that although the story is set in Scotland, there’s lots of wine, pastries and Camembert around!

The narrator tells us of what happens when he and his wife go to stay with his posher brother-in-law for the celebrations of the 150th anniversary of Unification Day. As the narrator is an advovate of English Home Rule and the brother-in-law is a Francophile, as you might expect it doesn’t go well. Much of the story here shows us how the British are treated as underdogs and lesser citizens, how the language is down-graded in society and British culture is derided. The consequence of this is the story-teller is determined to continue his fight in the future. An interesting version of the traditional Scottish – English independence debate, which makes valid points, but then doesn’t seem to go anywhere. 3 out of 5.

Secret Weapon by E. C. Tubb

The return of an old-school regular. Students from different planets begin at an Earth academy. Armitage is an unpleasant student who finds it difficult to fit in, and reacts violently to what he sees. He graduates – eventually. However, the reason for his behaviour is revealed at the end of the story.

This is a story with an almost Heinlein-like tone, which may wrongfoot the reader. It doesn’t show humans in a good light, though. Nicely written, even if it is a one-trick kind of tale. 3 out of 5.

Fountaineer, by David Newton

This month’s lyrical story, about a fountain in a village in Italy and its creator. Lots of lush prose which otherwise has little point. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

Fifth Person Singular, by Peter Tate

A story of awareness from different perspectives. An alien shows us his perception of his world. When he meets Ahn, he then discovers that there is more than one way of looking at things. Appropriately inner space, this one. A romance that takes navel-gazing to another dimension. 3 out of 5.

A Man Like Prometheus, by Bob Parkinson

A more typical romance story now. A space pioneer returns from “Out There” to meet Rosamund, his Earthbound love, after their careers and a genetic disorder have kept them apart. I like what the writer is trying to do here – romance in a SCIENCE FICTION magazine?! The problem is that it’s not that well done and comes across as somewhat mawkish and maudlin. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

Girl, by Michael Butterworth

A person visits an old barn filled with ancient and decaying artifacts. Lots of descriptions of things in a dream-like state. The twist in the tale is that this story is after some sort of an apocalypse which they have caused. Lots of lyrical allegory which tries to mean more than it does. 3 out of 5.

Clean Slate, by Ralph Nicholas

Stranded, John Sumpter attempts to fix a broken-down spaceship without help or spare parts. It seems impossible. Expecting the end, Sumpter and his friend Orlando swap tales about their pasts. They experience some kind of cosmic event, which allows them to fix their ship and go home. Unconvincing. 3 out of 5.

A Different Kick – Or How to Get High Without Going into Orbit, by John Brunner

After last month’s strange serial, here’s John Brunner in non-fiction mode. This is an abridged transcript of an address given by Brunner at the London Worldcon last year. It was mentioned by both editors after the event as a landmark speech and caused a bit of a stir at the Worldcon, I gather. I assume for that reason it is given here.

Reading it, I can see why. Brunner examines what sf readers like and don’t like about non-sf novels, and how non-sf writers have managed to be successful in the genre. It’s well thought out and makes valid points using lots of references to different author’s work. At the end Brunner echoes Moorcock’s ideas that sf needs to move away from its pulp origins and be something new and different if it is to inspire and succeed in the future. A “Look forward, not back” kinda thing. It is well done, but is nothing new to regular readers.

Letters and Book Reviews

Assistant Editor Langdon Jones tackles one book in depth this month – Dreams and Dreaming by Norman MacKenzie. The reason given for this is that it gives the reader an insight into Fantasy writing by explaining the workings of the inner mind. Really though it seems to be a justification for all those stories we are currently reading about visions and dream-states – there’s some in this month’s issue, for example.

James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock, don’t forget!) covers a number of story collections in some detail. The Best from Fantasy & SF Volumes 11 and 13 come out of this dissection pretty well, although Colvin feels that Volume 11 is better than Volume 13. By contrast, Lloyd Biggle’s All the Colours of Darkness is “a weary book”. Walter M Miller’s Conditionally Human collects three “above average” novellas from the fifties. Daniel F Galouye’s latest, The Lost Perception, is “unsuccessful”.

After being absent for a while, the Letters pages this month are very entertaining, as Moorcock answers criticism of his "attack" on religion in his Editorial of Issue 158 (January 1966). Too long to quote, but the responses on both sides are fulsome and interesting.

Summing up New Worlds

Once again Moorcock has gone for breadth rather than depth here this month. This means that there’s more to like and the range of material is good, but overall the issue feels a little underwhelming. The much-vaunted Bob Shaw story disappointed, for example. There’s nothing here that is not entertaining, but at the same time there’s not a lot here worth remembering.

Summing up overall

Once again, we have the two magazines showing different aspects of the genre. Whereas Impulse has gone for less stories and more depth, New Worlds impresses with its range.

This makes the choice difficult in that we are rather comparing oranges with apples. It also doesn’t help that neither magazine truly impresses this month. They are not bad, it is just that we’ve had better from both editors. Each issue has its own disappointment.

In the end I’ve opted for Impulse as the better, although I could easily see other readers opt for New Worlds, for the reasons I have given above.

With all this talk of religion, I see the title of John Baxter's novel in next month's New Worlds with a certain degree of irony…

Should be interesting! Until the next…

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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 10, 1966] A Fairy Tale from the East: King Thrushbeard

April 10, 2021 Cora Buhlert Leave a comment

by Cora Buhlert

Marching for Peace

The long Easter holiday weekend has just passed. For most West Germans, Easter is a time for church services, family dinners, bunnies and chocolate eggs.

However, in the past six years, Easter has also become a time for peace protests. These so-called Easter marches have been inspired by the British Aldermaston marches and always take place during the Easter weekend throughout West Germany.

Easter March in Delmenhorst, 1966 — The Easter march in Delmenhorst, a town of 60000 people in my region.

Initially, Easter marches only happened in big cities. But now, fuelled by fears about the war in Vietnam and nuclear armament, even places like Delmenhorst, a town of 60000 people in my region, have Easter marches of their own. Meanwhile, the big marches such as Frankfurt's attract celebrities such as US folk singer Joan Baez, West German actor, singer and comedian Wolfgang Neuss and US peace activist Ira Sandperl.

Easter march 1966 in Frankfurt/Main — Celebrity protesters at the 1966 Easter march in Frankfurt include US peace activist Ira Sandperl, singer Joan Baez and German actor, singer and comedian Wolfgang Neuss

Springtime in Leipzig

However, marches are not the only way to promote world peace and global understanding. Meeting people from the Eastern bloc also helps and so I ventured across the Iron Curtain last month to attend the 1966 spring fair in Leipzig, East Germany. Based on a tradition going back to the middle ages, the Leipzig spring and autumn fairs have become a showcase for East European industry since the war. The Leipzig fairs are also a time when East and West move a little closer together and the Iron Curtain becomes a bit more porous. Particularly, the associated Leipzig book fair offers a chance for booklovers from East and West to meet.

Leipzig spring fair 1966 Wartburg — The brand-new Wartburg 312 is the pride of the East German car industry. But don't think you can just walk into a showroom to buy one. The waiting list is several years long.

Leipzig spring fair 1966 — East German construction equipment on display at the Leipzig spring fair

Soviet space probes on display at the Leipzig spring fair — My favourite part of the 1966 Leipzig spring fair was this display of Soviet spacecraft.

East German chocolate bunnies — This young lady presents tasty chocolate Easter treats at the Leipzig spring fair. Finding them in stores is much more difficult.

Because I have family in the nearby town of Schkeuditz, I eschewed the pricy and spy-ridden hotels catering to western visitors and instead spent the night on my Aunt Metel's couch. During the day, I admired the products of East European industrial ingenuity, including a fascinating display of Soviet space probes, and in the evening, I enjoyed the cultural life of Leipzig. Among other things, I went to the cinema to watch the latest East European movies. And this is how I came to see König Drosselbart (King Thrushbeard), a delightful fairy tale that was the highest grossing East German movie of 1965.

Capitol cinema Leipzig — The Capitol cinema in Leipzig with its striking neon sign.

Fairy Tales from the East

Eastern Europe in general and East Germany and Czechoslovakia in particular produce a lot of fairy tale movies. These films rarely reach the English speaking world, but they do make their way onto West German movie and TV screens, because they offer well-made and – at least on the surface – apolitical entertainment for viewers of all ages.

In 1950, the state-owned East German film studio DEFA kicked off its series of fairy tale movies with Das kalte Herz (The Cold Heart), based on a fairy tale by Wilhelm Hauff. The movie was a huge success and so the DEFA started adapting more fairy tales, borrowing stories from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen, but also from Russian folklore. King Thrushbeard, based on the eponymous fairy tale collected by the Brothers Grimm, is already the seventeenth fairy tale movie the DEFA has made since 1950.

Haughty Princesses and Handsome Strangers

The movie follows the plot of the fairy tale very closely and opens with Princess Roswitha (Karin Ugowski) on a coach ride with her governess Beatrix (Evamaria Heyse). Roswitha urges the coachman to go faster and faster, until the inevitable happens. The coach strikes a pothole and loses a wheel.

King Thrushbeard 1965 — Princess Roswitha (Karin Ugowski) confronts coachman Sebastian (Nico Turoff) after her carriage suffers a mishap in the woods.

Lucky for Roswitha and her entourage, a dashing horseman (Manfred Krug) just happens to pass by and immediately offers his help. The horseman is quite taken by the princess. Roswitha, in turn, doesn't quite know what to make of this handsome and helpful stranger, so she reacts with what we quickly realise is her default response to any situation, haughtiness and snark.

King Thrushbeard — Princess Roswitha pretends not to be interested in the handsome stranger (Manfred Krug).

Roswitha is not just haughty and snarky, she's also a spoiled brat and would be difficult to like if the movie didn't show us her softer side, when she uses her own handkerchief to bind the coachman's bleeding hand. This glimpse at Roswitha's kinder side is not lost on the handsome stranger either, who shamelessly flirts with Roswitha and even gives her a bouquet of little blue wildflowers. This bouquet will reappear throughout the film, indicating that in spite of her behaviour, Roswitha is attracted to the handsome stranger.

However, Roswitha doesn't have time to act on her attraction to handsome strangers she meets in the woods, for she has to return to the castle of her father, King Dandelion (Martin Flörchinger) who is throwing a feast in her honour and has invited several aristocratic and eligible bachelors, hoping Roswitha will choose one of them. Roswitha, however, doesn't want to marry, least of all one of the men her father has chosen for her.

The Hateful Eight

We first meet Roswitha's suitors at the castle, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the Princess. And immediately, the viewer sympathises with Roswitha and her reluctance to marry any of these men, because the suitors are a terrible bunch.

There is King Heinz-Eduard, the favourite of Roswitha's father, who's rich, fat and eats way too much. Roswitha compares him to a wine barrel. King Wenzel of Weinreich is ugly, has crooked teeth and likes alcohol a little too much. Knight Balduin von Backenstreich is rotund, clumsy (he has his proposal written down on a cue card he carries in his sleeve and still messes it up) and so short that Roswitha wonders how he can even carry his sword. Lord Zacharias von Zackenschwert is bald, scarred and really, really loves battles and telling war stories. He presents Roswitha with the medals he's won. Duke Adolar von Antenpfiff has a terrible dress sense and is also old enough to be Roswitha's grandfather. Count Eitelfritz von Supp is incredibly vain, thinks wearing a red shag carpet is the height of fashion. He also appears to find Roswitha's other suitors far more interesting than the princess herself, but since this is a movie for children, Count Eitelfritz's romantic preferences remain allusions. Prince Kasimir, finally, seems tolerable at first glance, except that he never had an original thought in his life and always says what he thinks the other person wants to hear.

King Thrushbeard 1965 The terrible suitors — Would you want to marry any of these men? Roswitha's suitors are not exactly promising.

In short, they're all terrible and Roswitha is not shy about letting her suitors know exactly what she thinks of them. In general, it is notable that while Roswitha may be haughty and a pain in the backside at times, she's also a far cry from the wilting and bland princesses found in western fairy tale movies such as Disney's. Roswitha is sassy and knows exactly what she wants, whether in a husband or in a gown. There is a scene early on where she refuses to wear the (very ugly) gown and blonde wig her father has chosen for her and instead opts for a simpler gown and her natural red hair. 22-year-old East German actress Karin Ugowski, a regular in the DEFA fairy tale movies, imbues Roswitha with a lot of charm without losing her prickliness.

King Thrushbeard 1966 — The entire annual East German curtain production was used up to make this gown and then Roswitha doesn't even want to wear it, much to the dismay of her governess Beatrix (Evamaria Heyse)

In addition to the terrible eight, a surprise suitor puts in an appearance and he's none other than the handsome stranger Roswitha met in the woods. But though Roswitha was quite taken by the handsome stranger before, she now rejects him as well. This time around, Roswitha objects to the handsome stranger's beard, which she insists looks like the beak of a thrush, hence the nickname King Thrushbeard.

Manfred Krug King Thrushbeard — I'm not a fan of the beard Manfred Krug is sporting here either, but Roswitha should know that beards can be shaved off.

A King in Disguise

However, Roswitha has overplayed her hand. Her father is furious that she rejected all the suitors again and was extremely rude about it as well. So the king swears that he will marry off Roswitha to the first beggar who appears at the castle gates. Lo and behold, promptly a wandering minstrel playing a hurdy-gurdy appears outside the castle. Meanwhile, King Thrushbeard has mysteriously vanished.

King Dandelion wavers about marrying off his only daughter to a wandering minstrel, but the insulted suitors hold him to his word and so Roswitha is married to the minstrel and cast out of the castle.

The true identity of the minstrel will not come as a surprise to anybody but Roswitha, even if the DEFA make-up department did its best to disguise Manfred Krug with a fake beard and to cover up the distinctive scar on Krug's forehead, legacy of his pre-acting career as a steelworker, with a hairpiece. Yes, the wandering minstrel is none other than King Thrushbeard in disguise, out to teach the princess a lesson and win her after all.

Eastern Jazz

28-year-old Manfred Krug is a rising star in East Germany and King Thrushbeard certainly demonstrates why. Whether king or minstrel, he always displays his cocky working class charm and has great chemistry with his co-star Karin Ugowski. King Thrushbeard (we later learn that his real name is Hans) takes no crap from Roswitha and gives as good as he gets. But contrary to his fairy tale counterpart, he's not a jerk, but instead treats Roswitha with kindness and patience.

Manfred Krug is not just an actor, but also a talented singer and songwriter, skills that he gets ample chance to show off in King Thrushbeard. Both East and West Germans love schlager, sappy pop songs of love lost and won, so schlager make up most of Manfred Krug's musical output. However, his true love is jazz, which he calls "the best gift our American brothers ever gave us".

Manfred Krug plays jazz — Manfred Krug and his band Die Jazz Optimisten play jazz in East Germany.

So how good a singer is Manfred Krug? A very good one, it turns out. Check out his amazing version of "House of the Rising Sun", which I for one prefer to The Animals'. Krug also wrote the German lyrics, which touch on taboo subjects such as race relations in the US South.

Jazz und Lyrik, one of Manfred Krug's records

Crafting Lessons in the Woods

The songs that Krug sings in King Thrushbeard are far more traditional, though pleasant. However, the people of the town, through which Roswitha and her new husband pass, only have a few pennies to spare for a wandering minstrel. The minstrel spends those few pennies on an apple for Roswitha. In the real world, he tells her, things cost money and they have none.

Manfred Kurg and Karin Ugowski in King Thrushbeard — The minstrel performed such a lovely song to buy this apple and now Roswitha doesn't even want it.

The minstrel takes Roswitha to a shack in the woods, where Roswitha turns out to be absolutely hopeless at housework. Nor does she have any marketable skills, which does not bode well for the couple's financial future.

Now the movie turns into "Crafting with Manfred Krug", as King Thrushbeard tries to teach Roswitha basket weaving, spinning and finally pottery (we never learn just how a king came by such practical skills). Roswitha turns out to be bad at all three crafts, but she reveals herself to be a talented painter, so she paints the pots and jugs that her husband makes. Meanwhile, Roswitha is thrilled that her painting skills are actually appreciated, because back at the castle, no one ever did.

Manfred Krug and Karin Ugowski in King Thrushbeard — Crafting with Manfred Krug: Lesson 2: Spinning

Next, King Thrushbeard sends Roswitha to market to sell the pots and jugs they made. Her success is middling, because Roswitha just isn't the stereotypically noisy market wife. On the second day, she sets up her stall a bit apart from the others, only to have a drunk soldier ride straight into it, shattering all her pottery. Humiliated and deeply ashamed, Roswitha runs off into the woods, believing she cannot come home to her husband, after she lost their entire stock.

Happily Ever After with Meatballs and Parsley

At a well in the woods, Roswitha asks her reflection for advice and gets it in the form of a kitchen boy from the nearby castle who is gathering mushrooms for the royal table. The boy tells Roswitha of an open position in the castle as a kitchen maid, so Roswitha goes with him. She is quickly hired, especially since it turns out that she is very good at making the king's favourite dish, meatballs with parsley sauce, which – quelle surprise – also just happens to be her husband's favourite dish.

Meanwhile, King Thrushbeard is looking for his missing wife and learns what happened from the other market vendors. Realising that he overdid the whole charade, he goes in search of Roswitha, enlisting the aid of his most trusted courtiers and servants. The cook recognises the king's description as the new kitchen maid.

So King Thrushbeard throws a big wedding feast and has Roswitha make meatballs with parsley sauce (a specialty from Saxony) as the main course. He also insists that she personally serves the meal. When Roswitha realises who the king is she drops the tureen with the meatballs (this movie certainly is hard on tableware) and runs off once again. King Thrushbeard catches up with her, apologises and the two are married for real. And they lived happily ever after.

King Thrushbeard wedding — Roswitha and King Thrushbeard celebrate their wedding with a dance.

King Thrushbeard is an delightful film. It sticks close enough to the original plot that everybody recognises it at once, but also updates the 150-year-old story to remove some of the more unpleasant aspects of the original, where King Thrushbeard is very much a jerk. The cast is excellent, particularly the two leads, but also the supporting actors playing the various suitors.

One thing about the film that surprised me were the rather basic sets. The movie was shot entirely in the DEFA studios in Potsdam Babelsberg and it shows. Even the woods through which Roswitha and King Thrushbeard pass repeatedly are obviously a studio set. The castle, the town and the minstrel's shack consist of random set pieces and bits of furniture against a plain grey studio background. The result is a highly stylized look, partly reminiscent of silent movies and partly of the fairy tale stage plays that are a staple of German theatres in the run-up to Christmas. I have seen DEFA movies with location footage and elaborate sets, so this is a deliberate artistic choice, not an economic necessity. Allegedly, the reason for the stylized sets is the theory that realistic sets would only confuse young viewers and distract from the plot.

A Socialist Fairy Tale?

So how political is King Thrushbeard, considering it is a movie from beyond the iron curtain? On the surface, it's not very political at all, considering it is an adaptation of a 150-year-old fairy tale cum morality play, featuring kings and princesses. However, at second glance, Socialist politics do become apparent, though they are more subtle than the blunt messaging e.g. in the East German science fiction film The Silent Star.

For starters, the movie very much stresses the value and importance of work. It is his ability to work with his hands that sets King Thrushbeard apart from the useless suitors and Roswitha's redemption involves getting a good honest proletarian job, first as a ceramic painter, then as a pottery vendor and finally as a kitchen maid.

Furthermore, the second song the minstrel sings explicitly states that both excessive wealth and poverty are bad for society and that equality is the best state. It's the Socialist message in a nutshell.

The terrible suitors can also be seen as an indictment of various vices. We have a drunkard, a war monger, a glutton, a man who ostentatiously shows off his wealth, a pompous fellow with a monocle, a yes-man who parrots what others wants to hear, a stammering idiot and a man who cares about his own appearance above all else. These, the movie tells us very clearly, are the sort of people the real existing Socialist republic of East Germany does not need. Though it is notable that the vices of the bad suitors also line up with the seven deadly sins of Christianity.

King Thrushbeard Russian poster — The Russian poster for "King Thrushbeard"

But don't let my comments about the political content of the movie scare you off. King Thrushbeard is an enjoyable fairy tale for young and old.

Four stars

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 8, 1966] Search Parties (May 1966 Fantastic)

April 8, 2021 Victoria Silverwolf 1 Comment

by Victoria Silverwolf

Keep Watching the Skies!

The good citizens of Michigan were recently reminded of the warning I've quoted above, from 1951's The Thing from Another World (a loose cinematic adaptation of John W. Campbell's 1938 novella Who Goes There?).

Father and son describe what they saw.

Folks in Washtenaw County (just look for the city of Ann Arbor on the map, and you're smack dab in the middle of it) reported seeing strange lights in the sky last month. Supposedly, a UFO even landed in a swampy area near the tiny community of Dexter Township.

Looks like a classic flying saucer to me.

About one hundred people witnessed these phenomena. Naturally, the federal government got involved. They sent astronomer J. Allen Hynek to the area to check things out. Reportedly, he thinks at least some of the sightings can be explained as swamp gas. One politician isn't so sure.

Note that the article uses the phrase marsh gas. One person's swamp is another person's marsh, I suppose.

Gerald R. Ford is a United States Congressman from the Grand Rapids district of Michigan, so this situation strikes close to home for him. (He's a Republican, and the Minority Leader of the House of Representatives. Maybe this event will make him famous.)

Here's a picture of Representative Ford and wife Betty on a recent fishing trip, so you'll recognize him if his face shows up in the news in times to come.

It Makes a Fellow Proud to Be a Soldier

While some Americans are tracking down UFO's, others are searching for ways to justify their nation's involvement in the conflict in Vietnam. As a counterpoint to the many demonstrations against the war, a patriotic song celebrating the heroism of the Army Special Forces has been at the top of the charts for several weeks. The Ballad of the Green Berets, sung by Sergeant Barry Sadler, seems to have struck just the right note with many conservative music lovers.

Personally, I prefer the Tom Lehrer song I have alluded to above.

Hunting Through the Pages

Meanwhile, I've been searching for good reading. Take, for example, the latest issue of Fantastic. Fittingly, many of the stories feature characters who are on quests of one kind or another.

Art by Frank R. Paul.

(I might add that I had to search through piles of old pulp magazines to find the original source of the magazine's cover art. It turned out to be the back cover of the September 1944 issue of Amazing Stories.)

Confused? We'll get to an explanation of this weird scene later in the issue.

The Phoenix and the Mirror, by Avram Davidson

Let's begin our journey with a new novella from the former editor of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

The author's introductory note explains that the ancient Roman poet Virgil, author of the Aeneid, was depicted as a sorcerer in legends of the Middle Ages. (Davidson prefers the spelling Vergil, which I will use for the name of the fictional character in this story. He also prefers nigromancer to necromancer and Renascence to Renaissance, but that's typical erudite eccentricity on his part.) He also notes that this tale is the first part of a series to be called Vergil Magus.

Anyway, we begin in medias res, with Vergil trying to escape from an underground labyrinth full of malevolent manticores. (These are not the lion-scorpions of myth, but something more like large, clever weasels.) He manages to get out, winding up at the palace of an aristocrat with magical powers. She forces him to undertake the extremely difficult quest of creating a very special enchanted mirror, so she can see where in the world her daughter might be. He can't say no, because she steals one of his souls.

You read that right. People in this world have more than one soul, it seems. Losing one isn't fatal, but it seems to be so traumatic an event that Vergil feels compelled to undertake the nearly impossible task. He has to obtain unrefined tin and copper ore from the far ends of the known world, and then form the mirror through a long and laborious process. After many struggles, with the help of his alchemist sidekick, he manages to complete this onerous undertaking.

The mirror in use.

That isn't the end of his troubles, however. After instantly falling in love with the daughter after one glimpse in the mirror, he treks through desert wastelands, with an enigmatic Phoenician at his side, to rescue her from a Cyclops.

The lady and the cyclops.

This isn't the typical brutal, dimwitted Cyclops from mythology, but an intelligent, even sensitive creature. Multiple plot twists follow, and we find out why a phoenix is mentioned in the title.

Davidson keeps his baroque writing style under control here, and the plot is cleverly crafted. The background, which is kind of a mixture of the ancient world and the Middle Ages, with a strong dose of pure fantasy, is unique and interesting. Some readers may be impatient with several pages describing in great detail the exact method of creating the mirror, but I found it fascinating.

My one major complaint is that Vergil's lengthy and dangerous voyage to obtain copper ore is skipped over almost entirely, related in just a few sentences of flashback. I would like to learn more about his adventures there. Maybe Davidson plans to expand this novella into a novel, as authors of science fiction and fantasy often do. Otherwise, I greatly enjoyed this witty and imaginative excursion into a past that never existed.

Four stars.

Seven Came Back, by Clifford D. Simak

Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

As usual, the rest of the magazine is filled up with reprints. Let's start with a tale from the pages of the October 1950 issue of Amazing Stories.

Illustrations by Arthur Hutah.

The setting is Mars, the favorite world of SF writers. Like many fictional versions of the red planet, this is a place where humans can survive without spacesuits. It's still a very dangerous environment, however, with all sorts of deadly creatures living in the endless desert.

The protagonist is on a quest to find the fabled lost city of the nearly extinct Martians. He hires a couple of tough guys to guide him through the wasteland. As we'll see, this turns out to be a big mistake.

Six Martians show up at their camp. It seems that they're the last of their kind, and they think that the men can lead them to a seventh. The Martians have seven sexes, you see, and this is their last chance to reproduce. (That must certainly make things complicated.)

If the humans help them out, they'll take them to the city, which is supposed to be full of fabulous treasures. The two roughnecks take off on their own, leaving the protagonist alone in the deadly desert.

Things get a lot stranger after this, and I don't want to give too much away. Suffice to say that the main character manages to survive, wins an unexpected ally, and has a mystical experience at the city.

The lost Martian city.

At first, I thought this was more or less a science fiction Western, with the hero heading for a showdown with the no-good polecats who left him to die. I have to admit that the plot went in completely unexpected directions. I'm still pondering the meaning of the ending. The author mixes space adventure with his usual warmth and concern for all living things and a touch of Bradbury's magical Mars.

Four stars.

The Third Guest, by B. Traven

The mysterious author of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre offers a fable of life and death that appeared in the March-April 1953 issue of Fantastic.

Cover art by Richard Powers.

Like everything else about the author, the provenance of this story is puzzling. As far as I have been able to determine, it was written under the title The Healer, was first published in German in 1950 as Macario, and somehow wound up with its current title when it showed up in Fantastic.

Illustrations by Tom O'Sullivan.

One of the few facts known about the author is that he — or she? — lives in Mexico, the setting for most of his — or her? — fiction. This tale is no exception. It takes place when the region was still known as New Spain, during the colonial period.

Macario, a dirt-poor woodcutter, barely manages to feed himself, his wife, and their many children. For most of his life, his greatest dream has been to eat an entire roast turkey by himself. Over several years, his wife saves the tiny payments she receives for doing chores for slightly less poverty-stricken folks. She buys a turkey, prepares it exquisitely, and presents it to her husband, telling him to go into the woods and devour it alone.

Before he can enjoy the delicious feast, however, three strange visitors show up. The first is a sinister fellow, richly dressed. He offers Macario enormous wealth for a share of the turkey. Macario refuses.

The first guest.

The second one is poorly dressed, gentle, and saintly. Despite his kindly manner, Macario again refuses to share his meal. The visitor blesses him anyway.

The second guest.

The third guest, as the title suggests, is the one most vital to the plot. Macario knows he cannot refuse this cadaverous figure, so he at least manages to keep half of the turkey for himself. In exchange, the guest gives him an elixir that will cure all ills, but only if the visitor chooses who will live and who will die. The rest of the story follows Macario as he wins a reputation as a great healer. A summons from the Viceroy of New Spain, whose child is dying, leads to a final confrontation with the third guest.

This is a remarkable fantasy, with the simplicity of a folktale but the sophistication of great literature. It appeared in The Best American Short Stories 1954 (edited by Martha Foley), so I'm not alone in my opinion. It was even made into a Mexican movie in 1960, which you might be able to catch at your local arthouse cinema, if you don't mind subtitles.

Five stars.

The Tanner of Kiev, by Wallace West

The last time we met this author, it was with a reprint of the antifeminist dystopia The Last Man, to which my esteemed colleague John Boston awarded one star. Even if we ignore that story's political stance, it's poorly written. Will this tale, from the October 1944 issue of Fantastic Adventures, be any better? It could hardly be worse.

Cover art by J. Allen St. John.

The first thing to keep in mind is that this is a story about World War Two, written and published during the height of the conflict. You have to expect Our Side to be heroic Good Guys, and Their Side to be sadistic Bad Guys. In particular, the Soviets are definitely on the side of the angels here.

Illustrations by Malcolm Smith.

The hero parachutes behind enemy lines in Nazi-occupied Ukraine. His mission is to deliver a radio transmitter to the underground resistance. Things get weird pretty quickly, as he runs into an immortal magician from Russian folklore.

The wizard and his pets.

Next thing you know, he's at the chicken-legged hut of the legendary old witch Baba Yaga. None of this supernatural stuff seems to bother him, and soon he's on his way into Kiev. He contacts the Russian guerillas, including the pretty female one with whom he falls in love. With the help of the warlock and witch, as well as a talking squirrel and a were-rat, the brave Soviets overcome the craven Germans.

Given the fact that, inevitably, a wartime story is going to paint things in black and white, this isn't a bad yarn at all. It's pretty well written, and the wild and wooly plot held my interest. The changes in mood from whimsical to romantic to horrific are disconcerting, and the love story is a little sappy, but's it worth a read.

Three stars.

Wolf Pack, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.

Cover art by Leo Summers.

The Second World War is also the background for this story, from the September-October 1953 issue of Fantastic, but this time the battle rages in Italy instead of the Soviet Union.

Illustrations by Bernard Krigstein.

The main character is the pilot of an American bomber who has already flown nearly fifty missions, raining destruction from the skies. He has recurring dreams about a alluring woman he thinks of as La Femme, or just La. It would be easy to dismiss this as a predictable fantasy for a young man deprived of female company for an extended period of time, or as an idealized image of his girlfriend back home. Yet she seems very real, and he appears to be in some kind of telepathic communication with her, even while awake.

The woman known as La.

During his latest bombing run, he nearly aborts the mission, terrified that he might destroy her. The other members of the crew have to physically restrain him to complete their gruesome task.

A bomber's world.

The author was a radio operator and tail gunner during World War Two, participating in as many bombing missions over Italy as the story's protagonist. It's no surprise, then, that the details of life as a bomber pilot are extremely realistic and convincing. Miller took part in the bombing of the Benedictine Abbey at Monte Cassino in 1944, which certainly had an influence on the writing of his award-winning novel A Canticle for Leibowitz (1959), already considered a modern classic.

Unlike the previous story, which, understandably, was full of gung-ho patriotic glory (much like Sergeant Sadler's hit song, come to think of it) this is a somber, emotionally powerful account of the way that war turns men into machines, and how the innocent suffer as much as the guilty.

Five stars.

Betelgeuse, in Orion: The Walking Cities of Frank R. Paul, by Anonymous

I wasn't sure if I should even bother discussing this little article, but what the heck. It originally appeared under the slightly different title Stories of the Stars: Betelgeuse in Orion, supposedly by a Sergeant Morris J. Steele in the September 1944 issue of Amazing Stories. This is probably a pseudonym for the magazine's editor, Raymond A. Palmer, but I can't prove that.

Cover art by Julian S. Krupa.

Anyway, after some facts about the giant star, we get wild speculation about the beings who might live there. It's pretty much just a way to fill up some space.

Two stars.

The End of the Search

Well, my search for enjoyable fiction certainly paid off! This was an outstanding issue. Even the worst story was pretty good, and the best were excellent. It makes me ponder my skepticism about reprinting old stuff. After all, I don't complain when an movie from yesteryear shows up on television, as long as it's a good one.

Check your local listings to see if this decade-old classic will be showing in your area any time soon.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 26, 1966] Steam Tractors and Ballardian Mind Games Impulse and New Worlds, April 1966

March 26, 2021 Mark Yon 13 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Well, after last month’s rather enthusiastic response from me – most unusual, honestly! – with the emergence of Impulse, “The NEW Science Fantasy”, I was very interested to see if it could keep up the standard of last month’s issue.

Having graced us with a cover from Mrs Blish last month, this month’s Impulse cover is back to the usual of late by using a Keith Roberts cover to illustrate his latest story in this magazine. Well, as the recently-promoted Mr Roberts is now the Associate Editor, why not? Presumably there’s a discount for using all these elements…

Kyril, the Editor, is in pensive mood this month. He professes that after two years he is still not sure what to write in the Editorial, but then goes on to give brief descriptions of this month’s stories before mentioning that he has concentrated on four longer stories this time, which has led to less “typically Bonfiglioni space-fillers”.

To this month’s actual stories.

Pavane: The Lady Anne, by Keith Roberts

I really liked Keith’s alternate history story last month, despite the odd ending. It has been hinted that this was the first of a series, and here is the second, now elevated to prime position in the magazine. As I said last time, and is made explicit this month, the premise is that Elizabeth I was assassinated in 1588. As a result, Protestantism has not taken hold in England and Roman Catholicism still dominates the world. With the Roman Catholic view of science being one of suspicion, and innovation suppressed, inventions have not as developed as they have been here today.

This time the story focusses on a life on the road, being centred around the Lady Anne, a steam tractor that moves goods from settlement to settlement along the roads of the predominantly rural Britain. It’s not an easy life – the cover suggests one of the challenges! – but there’s a real feeling of a way of life that is not dissimilar to that of the ancient mariner or the locomotive driver of Edwardian England. Keith’s vivid imagination describes what life could be like in this alternate history in a way that made me feel like I was there. Although there’s a rather clumsy attempt to tell of a doomed and unrequited relationship between Jesse the tractor driver and a woman in the town of Swanage which sits uneasily, this is a good start. 4 out of 5.

A Last Feint , by John Rackham

Another regular. John was last seen in the January issue of Science Fantasy with his Weird Tales-type story The God-Birds of Glentallach. This time the story is a much lighter one, about an inventor who attempts to invent a cheap vest and foil for fencing electronically but inadvertently creates a weapon that can slice things in half. This month’s silly story in Impulse, and the weakest. 3 out of 5.

Break the Door of Hell, by John Brunner

Having mentioned in New Worlds last month how much more we’re seeing of John Brunner of late, here’s a novella from the man. And whilst last month’s serial in New Worlds was OK (more about that later), this one is terrific.

Break the Doors of Hell is a fantasy story about a nomadic traveller, who has many names, who seems to be journeying from place to place and at different times to bring Order in an eternal battle between Law and the forces of Chaos. It is a great idea. I could see Mike Moorcock liking it, for it has that same mythical tone to it that the Elric stories have.

To bring Order, the Traveller travels across the All, giving people what they ask for, although the first part of the story shows that the result is often not what the requester wishes for.

Most of Break Down the Doors of Hell is about the Traveller visiting the once proud and pretty city of Ys, which now seems to be a place of decay where the inhabitants live a life of amoral decadence and decline. Led by Lord Vengis, they blame this decline on the city’s founders and wish to contact them, though long dead, to reprimand them. This does not go well.

Break the Doors of Hell is extravagant in its portrayals of decline and excess, giving vivid descriptions of the setting and the characters therein. There are cannibal babies, hints at bestiality and shriekingly awful lords and ladies in positions of power, none of which are particularly nice, but which also means that their come-uppance at the end is perhaps more satisfying.

Imaginative and definitely odd, this is quite different from the Brunner work I usually read, and different again from the other Brunner I've read this month. 4 out of 5.

Homecalling (Part 1 of 2) by Judith Merril

A few months ago I mentioned that both Moorcock and Bonfiglioli had said that as a result of talks at the London Worldcon we could expect fiction from Ms Merril in both Science Fantasy and New Worlds soon. And here it is. Kyril in his Editorial claimed that it is perhaps the best story in the issue.

Unfortunately, my own excitement was tempered by the fact that this is not “new” fiction but a reprint from Science Fiction Stories back in November 1956. Even more annoyingly, although the back cover claims that it is a complete short novel, it is actually only the first part of the story, to be continued next month. It is perhaps understandable, though. Ms Merril currently spends most of her time currently dissecting books in her reviews in The Magazine of Fantasy and SF. and The Year’s Best SF anthologies and presumably has little time to write new fiction.

We begin with what appears to be a family – mother Sarah, father John, daughter Deborah (also known as Dee) and baby Petey. However, their spaceship crashes on a strange planet and Dee is left with Petey to survive. After some exploring, Dee finds the home of the insect-like Lady Daydanda, who lives in a hive-like colony. After First Contact, Dee and Petey are persuaded by telepathy to be rescued by Daydanda’s hive, who take them back to their home. Daydanda as a Mother and a Lady of a Household is fascinated by them, especially as they seem to have travelled beyond the skies. The end of this first part leads to Dee and Daydanda meeting and, despite Dee’s initial and understandable reluctance, communicating with each other.

The character of Dee is lovely – a nine-year old who is brave, strong and resourceful in a way that I usually only see Heinlein achieving. She is no child prodigy, though, and Merril does well to make her seem like a nine-year old and not a child wunderkind. However, the triumph of this story is that through Daydanda, Merril manages to create aliens whose thoughts and concepts are logical and yet definitely alien. Daydanda’s initial mistaken ideas about Dee and Petey are understandable given the nature of her race, but much of the latter part of the story shows her resourcefulness, bravery and intelligence as she tries to both look after the orphaned children and understand them.

The story’s definitely worth reading, but like the reprint of Arthur C Clarke’s Sunjammer story in New Worlds in March 1965, it takes up space that could perhaps be better filled with new material. Therefore, although it is, as Kyril suggests, one of the best stories in the issue, I have removed one mark from my original score to make it 3 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

The stellar group of authors in last month’s issue have been superceded by a smaller group of more varied and less well-known writers.

This could be seen as a return to normal, of going back to basics, and as a result a bit of a let-down. It doesn't help that the Merril is half of a reprint.

However, despite there only being four stories in this issue, I am impressed by the quality of what’s on offer. At least three out of the four are great, whilst the Rackham is a little bit of a placeholder, I’m afraid. Nevertheless, this is a good issue.

Onto this month’s New Worlds

The Second Issue At Hand

Editor Mike Moorcock does not have Kyril’s crisis of confidence this month. He spends his time talking about the difference between ‘truth’ and ‘untruth’, which for most sf writers is difficult, involves total intellectual and emotional detachment and discipline. The reason for this musing is to allow Moorcock to suggest (again) that the best of the ‘new SF’ does this, unlike the ‘old’, and then use that point to say how good JG Ballard’s story in this issue is. That cover is awful, though.

To the stories!

Illustration by Unknown

The Assassination Weapon, by J G Ballard
After his book reviewing in New Worlds and his story in Impulse last month, we have a return to fiction by Ballard in New Worlds.

There has been an interesting trend in the New Wave fiction in recent months. Moorcock’s done it as James Colvin, referencing Eva Braun and Adolf Hitler in a story in the September 1965 issue, and Richard Gordon brought the Marquis de Sade back to a trial in the November 1965 issue. Here JG manages to use JF Kennedy, Harvey Oswald and Malcolm X in a much darker story, connecting them together in his usual cut-up disparate fashion.

My understanding of the story may be unclear. I get the vague impression that this one may even be beyond me, but Moorcock in this month’s Editorial summarises the story by saying that Ballard ”questions the validity of various popular images and modern myths which remain as solid and alive as when they were first given concrete form in the shape of the three assassinated men who continue to represent so much the atmosphere of their times. Ballard does not ask who killed them, but what killed them – and what combination of ideas and events created and then destroyed them?”

To do this Ballard writes a number of short paragraphs from different perspectives, all evoking people we ‘know’ and sometimes images Ballard has used before – the terminal beach, decaying cars, cityscapes – in a dazzlingly assembled group of seemingly disconnected elements which together form a patchwork of a story.

Personally, I am torn between admiration of such a bold idea and a feeling that the story is just taking American culture and trying to shock. The fact that Moorcock has to explain to me what the story is about, rather than me being able to work it out for myself, is a minus.

Despite this, Ballard has imagined a deliberately controversial story here that will confuse many (like me) yet at the same time make the reader think. Therefore typical Ballard, on form. 4 out of 5.

Skirmish, by John Baxter

The return of Australian John Baxter, last seen in these pages back in February 1965 with More Than A Man. This is the story of a hopelessly damaged spaceship, the Cockade, and the remaining crew’s attempts to finish their mission and survive against the alien Kriks. Well written but predictable Space Opera. It’s a bit of a relief after the intense Ballard, frankly. 3 out of 5.

No Guarantee, by Gordon Walters

We’ve met Gordon before with his story Death of an Earthman in New Worlds in April 1965. You may know him as George Locke. No Guarantee is a comical attempt to publish a monograph about the Moon landing but along the way discusses Literature and the members of the “Leicester Literary Longhairs”. The overall point of the story to me seems to be “Don’t go to the Moon!” It is written almost as a stream of consciousness, part comedy, part horror story, but the combination seems forced and it doesn’t really work for me. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

House of Dust, by Norman Brown

Yet another new name. Another post-apocalyptic tribe story about a group’s struggles to eventually return to the deserted city of their past. Not particularly original. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

The Ruins, by James Colvin

James’s first story since the serial The Wrecks of Time, which started really well but disappointed me in the end. Here Maldoon is wandering in a set of ruins. He seems to encounter a city with cars, people and cafes, and then stranger things but in reality all of this seems to be hallucinations experienced whilst in the ruins as his mind breaks down. More drug related allegory that didn’t really mean a lot to me. Again, Colvin's story isn’t really bad but fails to excite. 3 out of 5.

Cog, by Kenneth Harker

A new writer to me. The title suggests something that is part of bigger machinery, but actually the word Cog is short for “cognito-handler”. Or at least I think so. Through this story there are a number of alternatives suggested – Chaser of Gloaming, Chance Orbit Gambler, Clerk Ordinary Grade, even Castor Oil Gargler. It is a mildly amusing joke that overstays its welcome and attempts to cover up the fact that this is an overworked satire. 3 out of 5.

Eyeball, by Sam Wolfe

Another new writer. A short but deliberately lyrical story about an Earthman from planet Alpha 762 who is the involuntary host of an invading Martian spaceship inside their body – actually, in one of his eyeballs – to gain intelligence before invasion.

There’s some wonderfully florid descriptive passages here. Try the first few lines as an example: ”Irritation surrounds the glowing softness, the jelly mass light sponge crisping in the raw sunlight attack. The red streaked itch and harsh grains of invisible sand dust. Ganglion strands sucking away protective juice,” which I suspect you will either love or, like me, feel that it is a little overworked. A story of style over substance, perhaps. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

Consuming Passion, by Michael Moorcock

A story about a man known as “Pyro Jack”, who can set off fires at will and does so across London for fame and triumphant recognition by the police and public – a sort of pyromaniac Jack the Ripper! He is arrested but escapes to a library, determined to make his last act memorable. Wonder what Ray Bradbury would make of this one? 3 out of 5.

The Evil That Men Do (Part 2)), by John Brunner

The second part of Brunner’s creepy story now. If you remember, Godfrey Rayner’s party-piece was that he is a hypnotist. When he puts reluctant Fey Cantrip into a trance she talks of a nightmare involving a white dragon. We found at the end that Rayner’s psychiatrist friend Dr. Laszlo has a patient with what sounds like the same dream.

This month Godfrey tries to get more about Fey’s background in order to help her. He talks to her few acquaintances and meets the patient Alan Rogers in Wickingham Prison. Through hypnosis Rogers reveals a sad and perverted background that seems to be centred on a pornographically explicit book, The Harder Dream by Duncan Marsh. To try and get to the bottom of the issue and help Fey, Godfrey travels to Fey’s original home in rural Market Barnabas, where we find that Fey has also had access to this book. The story ends in a fury of Weird Tales-ian psychosexual violence.

Last month I said that this is OK and read easily. This month the point of the story is revealed, as a sexual tale designed to shock. Whilst undeniably violent and sexually intense, It is still readable, but I much preferred the other Brunner on offer this month. 3 out of 5.

Articles and Book Reviews

First this month is an article from Bill Butler, he being the author of the poem From ONE in last month’s issue, which talks of William Burroughs and his work. As you may have noticed, since Moorcock’s uptake as Editor in New Worlds there has been a fairly regular indulgence in the deification of William Burroughs. We continue this here. Whilst I realise that there may be new readers to the magazine who may not have read this before, the long-term readers (of which I see myself as one), will recognize it.

Two points sprang to mind after reading this – one, the first part of the review does little more than summarize what J G Ballard said in issue 142, which, although relevant, rather bores those of us who have been here before, and second, it’s never a good idea to spend paragraphs explaining why Burroughs is deliberately obtuse and then berate fans of his work for not understanding his writing. I appreciate the enthusiasm of the article, but this feels like what you Americans call “a puff-piece” and so undoes the promotion that it seems to be trying to do.

George Collyn then continues this look at New Wave writers by examining the work of Kurt Vonnegut. Because I haven’t read this before, although it is not the first time Mr. Vonnegut has been mentioned lately in this magazine, I was more interested. Collyn points out that if Ballard is the British version of New Wave the Vonnegut is the American. Personally, I disagree (I think Zelazny, Ellison, and Samuel Delany fit the description, myself), but I understand the point he is trying to make. Like Ballard, Vonnegut plays with form and writes in a way that is not what most people may think of science fiction, even when there are elements within. Reading this article further I’m fairly sure Vonnegut doesn’t think he writes science fiction, either. The rest of the essay is expectedly rather gushing.

Assistant Editor Langdon Jones, under the intriguing title ‘Wireless World’ Strikes Again reviews Voices from the Sky by Arthur C Clarke. As one of the old guard of writers, and as this is a book of non-fiction essays, I was rather expecting these trendy reviewers to denigrate the book. I am pleased to read that they are surprisingly complimentary. “Only Clarke (with the possible exception of Asimov) could write about Space Flight and the Spirit of Man without descending into dreadful pseudo-poetry and bathos.” It sells the book well, which may be the point.

There are no Letters pages AGAIN this month, though we are promised letters on Science vs Religion next time.

Summing up New Worlds

In this 161st issue of 160 pages, there’s a lot to like, despite the dodgy cover. Moorcock has (deliberately, I think) gone for a wide range of stories, often from new writers. This was part of his mission statement a few months ago, and it is pleasing to see him keep to his word.

Unfortunately, whilst appreciating the chance to read new writers, many of the stories are clearly work from writers still learning their craft and frankly they are not always that good. The Colvin disappoints, the Moorcock is good, though a minor piece. The Ballard is the selling point this month, but one story does not make an issue. There’s a lot here that seems to be simply trying too hard, which is why I liked rather than loved this issue. It was a little ironic that I felt at the end that New Worlds had more “typically Bonfiglioni space-fillers” this month.

Summing up overall

Less of a difficult choice this month. Whilst both magazines still seem to be blazing a trail, and all the better for it, the relative inexperience of the work in New Worlds and the quality of the Keith Roberts and John Brunner in Impulse means that Impulse has my vote this month.

Next month, the return of Bob Shaw, a name we’ve not seen for a while, in New Worlds!

Until the next…

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 22, 1966] A New Age? Impulse and New Worlds, March 1966

February 22, 2021 Mark Yon 17 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

This is a particularly exciting time with the British magazines this month. After the announcement of the end of Science Fantasy in the February issue, we now have Impulse, “The NEW Science Fantasy”, as it says on the cover, and a bigger, bolder, thicker New Worlds – albeit with a shilling rise in the price of each.

Do I get extra value for my extra two shillings a month? I’m looking forward to finding out.

Well, the cover of the new Impulse is interesting. There’s nothing like selling yourself with a roster of names on the cover – and the list is impressive, admittedly. The cover artwork is reasonable too. Gone are the Keith Roberts covers (more about him in a moment) to be replaced with a rather unusual cover by “Judith Ann Lawrence”, though we may also know her as Mrs. James Blish.

As Kyril points out in his as entertaining as ever Editorial, there is even a theme to the issue, that of “Sacrifice”. Sounds intriguing.

To this month’s actual stories.

The Circulation of the Blood, by Brian W. Aldiss

We start this issue with the return of one of the current and most vocal exponents of the New Wave, Brian Aldiss. Clem Burke is an oceanologist who has returned to his tropical idyll to meet his wife and son after spending six months investigating ocean currents. We discover over the course of the story that he and his team have discovered a new virus carried by microscopic copepod that seems to imbue immortality upon the creatures who ingest it.

This is typical Aldiss, in that the story that at first reads as if it is a travelogue of tropical islands. It could almost be published in any magazine. However this is Aldiss, and what the author then does is reveal a science-fictional element gradually, by which time of course the reader is hooked. What we end up with is a world on the edge of major irretrievable evolutionary change from which there is no going back.

Brian would hate me for saying this, as he’s not a fan of the author’s writing, but to me this one felt like it had a touch of the John Wyndham “global catastrophes" about it, although it leaves the reader wondering “What happens next?” at the end. It is about what would be the consequences of what will happen when this secret discovery is revealed to the world, and the effects afterwards, on society, on relationships and on the world’s ecology. A good start. 4 out of 5.

High Treason, by Poul Anderson

From a story that’s rather British in tone to a stridently American tale. Edward Breckenridge is a space pilot currently imprisoned and on trial for treason. The reason is that he was the commander of an attack force given the job in a last ditch effort of wiping out the enemy’s home planet, but who took an alternative decision, sacrificing his own family and career to do so.

I have always thought of Poul as a right-wing writer, and consequently this story is something I didn’t expect. To begin with it reads like a typical sf Space Opera tale from the States, with its roots in Doc Smith’s Lensmen, all about honour and loyalty, but then takes a left turn into the unexpected.

It shows us that when difficult choices have to be made, the answer is far from simple and leaves us with the moral dilemma – would you, faced with a relatively benign enemy, make the same decision?

Whilst the tone of the story is what I would expect in the American magazines, this one is a tale that I don’t think you’d find in Analog. Surprising. 4 out of 5.

You and Me and the Continuum, by J.G. Ballard

And then from a story that appears at first to be traditional to one that is most definitely not. If Aldiss is often seen as “the voice” of New Wave, then here is perhaps the group’s leading exponent, making a welcome return to the British mags.

Ballard has set himself quite a challenge here, as the banner suggests: “The theme of sacrifice led me to think of the Messiah, or more exactly, the second coming and how this might happen in the twentieth century.”

Written in that typically fractured, disjointed manner, the disparate pieces together make up a story which doesn’t quite reach its lofty ideals yet must be admired for its ambition. Deliberately provocative, ambitiously subversive, the story is filled with phrases that remain in the memory after the story has been read. One where the parts may be greater than the sum of the whole. 4 out of 5.

A Hero’s Life, by James Blish

The banner on this one tells me that for the first time this is the first original piece published in Britain from this American author (admittedly living in Britain). I’m sure that you will know him for his Cities in Flight series of stories if nothing else, although I know him more for his literary criticism as much as his fiction writing.

It is a strange story about a poisoner on a Romanesque planet where being a traitor is a valuable trade. As a traitor Simon de Kuyl is given untouchable status, but he is about to have his twelve days of grace expire. The story is about how he manages to use his wits to survive, finding himself playing a complex game with the planet’s leaders. Lyrical, a bit grim, one that seems to combine Samuel Delany’s style of grimy underworld writing and when de Kuyl is tortured produces stream of consciousness gibberish with more than a touch of the lyrical Jack Vance. It’s ambitious, but feels a little like it’s trying too hard. 3 out of 5.

The Gods Themselves Throw Incense, by Harry Harrison

Friend and colleague of Mr. Aldiss, here’s another name that seems to be forever in the British magazines at the moment. This time Harry is into Space Opera mode, but not the farce of Bill, the Galactic Hero (thank goodness!), but instead a darker, more visceral story.

The explosion of the spaceship Yuri Gagarin leads to a motley trio of survivors in an emergency capsule. With oxygen running out and rescue unlikely for at least a few weeks, the story is how they survive – which means that one of them needs to make the ultimate sacrifice in order for the others to live. A story which examines what could really happen when people are put under significant life-changing stress. Like Poul Anderson's story this month, this is not a story of honour or glory, nor is it particularly pleasant, but it is memorable. 3 out of 5.

Deserter, by Richard Wilson

Continuing the theme of sacrifice, Richard’s story tells of William Leslie, a soldier who with an impending war coming, marries Betty. The couple are immediately separated, because – wait for it! – it’s a war of the sexes! Bill deserts to meet Betty, and does so, but is then arrested and sent for a court-marshal. It all seems a little silly. Not the best story in the issue. 2 out of 5.

The Secret, by Jack Vance

Having mentioned the lyrical American Hugo-winning author already, here he is, with a coming-of-age story. Rona ta Inga lives in idyllic tropical paradise with food, shelter and all the company he could want. However, one day as the oldest of the group, he, like many of his friends and predecessors before him, feels the urge to sail away to the West, where he discovers "the secret" and his innocent child-like life is changed. It’s a one-trick tale, but well done. Precise wordage mingles with metaphor. 3 out of 5.

Pavane, by Keith Roberts

This is the first of what I believe will be many stories spread over the next few months, and something a little different from Mr. Roberts, who in this same issue we are told has taken on the responsibility of assistant editor.

Pavane is an alternate history where Elizabeth I was assassinated in 1588. As a result, Protestantism has not taken hold in England and Roman Catholicism still dominates the world. With the Roman Catholic view of science being one of suspicion, and innovation supressed, inventions have not as developed as they have been here today. Although it is still the 1960’s, here we have Keith’s descriptions of this strange new-yet-old world which runs a feudal system and where communication is not through telegraph or radio (electricity not invented) but by flags.

The story is focussed upon the duties of Rafe Bigland, a signaller whose job is to pass semaphore flag messages down the line to the next semaphore station in a distinctly more rural England. It shows us Rafe’s job at a semaphore station and through a bit of history how he got to this prestigious position. Think of it like a particularly British Lord Darcy story.

I’m not sure where it is going – presumably we will discover more in later stories set in the same world – but I enjoyed the worldbuilding and the sense of timelessness that pervades this slower pace of life. There is a deliberately shocking ending, which I guess does fit with the overall theme of the issue. 4 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

Well, this one hits the ground running. What a superior issue! Impulse covers an impressive range of story. From Space Opera to alternative history to New Wave, each story this month combines this impressive variety of styles from a host of well-known authors to create an all-star issue. There’s little I didn’t like about this one. I particularly enjoyed the Aldiss, the Poul Anderson and the Keith Roberts, though if I had to pick a weak story it would probably be Richard Wilson’s Deserter, which was a little overwrought.

We seem to have started well. Can this month’s New Worlds compete?

Onto this month’s New Worlds

The Second Issue At Hand

After last month’s rally against the old guard, this month Mike Moorcock is attempting that perennial theme of trying to summarise what Science Fiction means to him and how fans can make it matter. It’s a nice summary for all those jumping on board at this point, but I’ve read similar before.

To the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Evil That Men Do (Part 1), by John Brunner

I think we’ve had a bit of resurgence with John Brunner in the magazines of late. I was under the impression that even with the use of various pseudonyms, the magazines had lost him to the US magazines and writing novels, but in the last few months we’ve had stories (The Warp and the Woof Woof, last month) and non-fiction articles (Them As Can, Does in the January 1966 issue) in these pages, and now a novel split into two parts. This is different though in that it is less science fiction and more of a horror novel.

Godfrey Rayner’s party-piece is that he is a hypnotist, although he really uses the skill as a psychological tool. When persuaded to perform at a party, he does so reluctantly, to find the quiet young girl Fey Cantrip is upset by the process. Whilst not Rayner’s intended participant, Fey goes into a trance and talks of a nightmare involving a white dragon. When Rayner discusses what has happened with his psychiatrist friend Dr. Laszlo, they are surprised to find that Laszlo has a patient in Wickingham Prison who has recounted what sounds like the same dream (and the reason for one of the silliest covers I've seen on New Worlds lately.)

Lots of setting up here, which reads well but then just as the story gets going, it stops. What is the connection between the two dreamers and why are they having identical dreams? We’ll find out next month. This is OK, and reads easily, but as this is something with more of a Fritz Leiber / Weird Tales vibe about it, it’s not typical Brunner, and I would argue not his best. Kudos for trying something different, though. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

The Great Clock, by Langdon Jones

One of the points that’s surprised me lately in New Worlds is that Langdon Jones manages to pull a double shift. Not only is he the Assistant Editor, but he’s managing to create a line of intriguing fiction as well. They haven’t always worked for me, but I can’t deny that they are usually quite ambitious both in style and content. This one’s another allegorical one, about a naked man who finds himself giving his life’s service to the working of a giant clock. I get the idea that it is probably about the passage of time and the uselessness of spending an entire life giving service to a machine. Some nice descriptions of the workings of this enormous edifice, but in the end it seems rather pointless. It wouldn’t happen inside Big Ben, now, would it? Weirdly, it rather made me think of the film Metropolis. 3 out of 5.

From ONE, by Bill Butler

A poem, from a new name to the magazines. It’s about burning animals and dinosaurs. Marks for effort, but it doesn’t stir me to any kind of emotion. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

Psychosmosis, by David I. Masson

And another story from who is probably my favourite ‘new’ author of the moment – this is his third story in three successive months. Again, this story is quite different, this time set in some kind of primitive cultured society.

To begin with, it is about a death in a tribal village, which leads to a naming-feast and much partying. However, in the aftermath Nant, one of the husbands is missing, followed by his newly-renamed wife Mara (once named Nira) in something referred to as a “double-vanishing.” We discover that they have passed over into The Inside, a realm where the village cannot see or hear them.

We then have two worlds – the first, the Faded lands of The Hard of Hearing, which is a harsh and difficult life with a language to match, whilst those who have passed over to The Inside, the Invokers, have a life of relative pleasure and luxury, which is again reflected in the language.

Returning to the land of the Hard of Hearing there is a boar hunt. Tan is regarded as a hero for surviving and killing many animals. However, like Nant and Mara before, when he goes to find his girlfriend Danna it seems that she has gone missing. He searches for her, eventually dies and passes over to the Inside where he meets all of his friends again, including Danna.

As is often the case on a first read of Masson's stories, I’m not quite sure what it all means. All the story really does is depict two opposing societies – is it an allegory for Heaven and Hell, for example? – but it is entertaining enough. as Masson manages to indulge in his love of language to depict the differences in society and lifestyle. The second tribe are, according to the author, ‘saved’, whilst the others are doomed, as shown by the last sentence.

Not sure that this one entirely works for me, but it is still impressive. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

The Post-Mortem People, by Peter Tate

Another new name to the magazines, or at least me. A strange tale of men and women who go around literally rubber-stamping dying people with their time of death in order to allow organ harvesting. The latest in another depressing dystopian setting, this one is typically sombre and actually rather unsettling. 3 out of 5.

The Disaster Story, by Charles Platt

Charles’s presence in the magazine in recent months has been a constant, with often well-received stories and entertainingly grumpy reviews in New Worlds. The Disaster Story is an attempt by the author to become deliberately more Ballardian, beginning with the statement “This is an attempt to isolate and express the ingredients which endow a distinct type of science fiction with unusual appeal.”

Well, they do say that imitation is the best form of flattery and if so then Ballard should be pleased. There’s nothing like ambition, but whilst The Disaster Story echoes Ballard in its visually dramatic and lyrical imagery and like some of Ballard’s tales is made up of short, discordant paragraphs, it is not as good as Ballard. Compare with Ballard’s story in this month’s Impulse and this is weaker, though a brave attempt. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

For A Breath I Tarry, by Roger Zelazny

I mentioned how much I enjoyed Roger’s writing when I reviewed Love is an Imaginary Number in the January 1966 issue of New Worlds. It seems that Mike Moorcock is similarly impressed, as here’s another story. I think that this one is just as good, if not better. It is a post-apocalyptic tale about Frost, who is a sentient computer created by Solcom, with dominion over half of the Earth. Over ten thousand years, Frost has taken on a hobby – that of studying Man, even though Man has long gone. At the South Pole there is the Beta-Machine, created by Solcom to work in a similar way over the Southern Hemisphere. Solcom now watches over both of them from space.

Opposing Solcom is Divcom and The Alternate, a computer system originally meant as a back-up to Frost and The Beta that through a chance accident to Solcom has also been activated. The two systems have spent the last few thousand years trying to remove the other – Frost claiming that the Alternative should not have been made operative in the first place, Divcom claiming that Solcom has been damaged and needs replacing. Over time this has created a somewhat uneasy but stable peace.

When Mordel, a robot created neither by Solcom or Divcom, strikes up a conversation with Frost, they find that they have a common interest – to study humans. This leads to Frost and Mordel examining a human relic – a book on Human Physiology – and then sharing of ideas on what is the nature of Man. This leads to Frost becoming determined to attain Manhood, and much of the rest of the story is about how far it goes towards that.

This story of god-like machines wanting to comprehend and even become like Man is thoughtful and well written and shows that Roger is writing material that is setting the standard across the Atlantic. I wouldn’t be surprised to see this one nominated for Awards in the next few months. Robots with personalities and a conscience – I wonder what Asimov would make of it? 4 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

Phase Three, by Michael Moorcock

Nice to see the editor as author again. This is the third Jerry Cornelius story (having first been seen in issues 153 and 157). Moorcock mixes cultural references with pagan mythology and strange happenings in time through the actions of his action-hero and his side-kick, Miss Brunner. (Where has Cornelius's wife gone to, I wonder?) This time Jerry goes to Scandinavia to try and find his brother Frank who appears to be “in a bad way” following the events of the previous story. Frank leaves a strange map:

which Jerry and Miss Brunner use to track Frank down, to a place with secret Nazi constructions in some variant of the Hollow Earth theory. In terms of the bigger picture, it all seems to be connected to the super-computer mentioned in the last story.

Wildly imaginative, if supremely improbable, the rattling pace almost covers up the fact that this is an extract of a novel soon-to-be-published. As an extract, it doesn’t make much sense. But then that may be the point. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews

We start with a big-hit reviewer this month. J.G. Ballard takes up the mantle and reviews The Childermass, Monstre Gai and Malign Fiesta by Wyndham Lewis. Must admit, I always confuse Wyndham Lewis with the already-mentioned-this-month John Wyndham, he of The Day of the Triffids fame, but Ballard makes a good case for reading Wyndham Lewis.

James Colvin, the Editor-by-Another-Name, tackles the paperbacks. He reviews J G Ballard’s story collection The Fourth Dimensional Nightmare in some detail before going onto a very brief mention of Isaac Asimov’s latest British releases.

Keeping that literary viewpoint he then reviews Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse and Jorge Luis Borge’s Fictions which, as expected, is regarded as “sublime”, and then Ray Cummings’s Tama of the Light Country for a bit of contrast. (As an old pulp story it does not fare well.)

Lastly Colvin mentions, but actually does little more than list, a number of Philip K Dick recent publications, stating at the end that they are “much, much better than most sf published recently.”

Like Moorcock, not content with just having a story in this issue, Assistant Editor Langdon Jones, under the heading Rose Among Weeds reviews The Rose by Charles L. Harness. It sells the book well, although as it is published by the same publisher as this magazine, I did cynically wonder whether it masquerades as subtle promotion. Given the reviewer’s usual sense of scorn (so-British!) I hope not.

There are no Letters pages this month.

Summing up New Worlds

In an appropriate moment of serendipity, the back cover subtly points out that this is the 160th issue and the first to have 160 pages. I have been quite positive about the changes in New Worlds in recent months, but the extra space seems to have reenergised the magazine even further. The weaker spots for me are the Brunner and the Platt, but even they are not bad, just eclipsed by the Zelazny and the Masson, both of which are excellent. The range is broad, and perhaps not for everyone, but if I was to point out an issue that epitomises the changes that sf has experienced in the last couple of years this would probably be it. From intangible horror to post-apocalyptic dystopia and decay, from culture bending satire and even a search for meaning, from Ballard-esque imagery to poetry, it is, dare I say it, a diversely classic issue. Moorcock’s editorial summing this up forms the impressive structure upon which current sf can be exhibited.

Summing up overall

Difficult choice this month. Both magazines seem to have benefitted from the extra space more page-age provides. I think that both editors have pulled out all the stops and produced better than average issues – I hope that it lasts. Impulse has hit the ground running, and I liked the the fact that both issues have managed to combine quality writing from both British and American writers to create a varied issue. Overall, I liked more of Impulse than I did New Worlds, but the Zelazny story in New Worlds is perhaps the best I’ve read this month.

So: Impulse has the edge, although – and I say this very rarely – in my opinion both issues are worth reading this month – despite me being two extra shillings down on the deal.

This is a wonderful sign for the future of sf here in Britain. What is also great is that comparing what we get here with what you get in the USA, the difference to me is quite apparent. Absolutely nothing wrong with that – in my mind, a broad genre is a sign of strength, not weakness. We really do seem to be entering some sort of new Golden Age.

To reflect this – next month, more Ballard in New Worlds!

Until the next…

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[February 12, 1966] Past? Imperfect. Future? Tense. (March 1966 Fantastic)

February 12, 2021 Victoria Silverwolf 2 Comments

by Victoria Silverwolf

Straight From the Horse's Mouth

The Noble Editor and my Esteemed Colleagues always do a fine job of informing our fellow Journeyers about what's happening on Earth and in outer space. There is one small piece of news, however, which seems to have escaped notice.

The last episode of Mister Ed appeared on American television screens last week. For those of you fortunate enough not to be familiar with this program, it's about a talking horse.

The star of the program. I believe there are some human actors as well.

I find it remarkable that a show with a premise that does not lend itself to a large number of variations has lasted for more than five years. For those of you who are counting, that's five times as long as the excellent, groundbreaking series East Side/West Side.

George C. Scott as New York City social worker Neil Brock. He doesn't seem happy about being outdone by a loquacious equine.

To add insult to injury, Mister Ed wasn't even original, but an obvious imitation of a series of low budget movies about Francis the Talking Mule, who appeared in no less than seven films from 1950 to 1956.

In Hollywood, changing a talking mule to a talking horse is known as creativity.

How Green Was My Valley

If the success of Mister Ed proves that entertainment was less than perfect in the recent past, a new novel suggests that the future of popular literature may lead to some tension among sensitive readers.

Every Night, Josephine! is a nonfiction book about the author's dog. I can't seem to get away from animals, can I?

Jacqueline Susann's first novel, Valley of the Dolls, appeared in bookstores a couple of days ago. The word on the street is that it is quite racy. I expect the author will earn a fair amount of greenbacks from this fledgling work of fiction.

A Songbird Flies Back

In the world of popular music, even a song a few weeks old can seem dated. A little more than a year ago, multilingual British singer Petula Clark had a Number One hit in the USA with her upbeat number Downtown, which I quite like. I might even say her past success is far from imperfect.

Now she's back with another smash hit. It makes me a little tense to realize that My Love isn't as good a song as Downtown, but I have to admit that the lady can sing, and I wish her more success in the future.

You're going to the top of the charts, dear.

Half a Century for Half a Buck

Given the fact that Fantastic and its sister publication Amazing are now filling their pages with lots of reprints, not all of them classics, we have plenty of evidence that speculative fiction's past hasn't always been perfect. The latest issue goes back in time nearly fifty years, but also features a couple of new works. Appropriately, many of the stories deal with threats from the distant past, while the only futuristic tale describes a tense situation that may confront the people of tomorrow.

Cover art by Frank R. Paul, reprinted from the back cover of the November 1940 issue of Amazing Stories, as shown below.

I don't think this is a very accurate picture of what the surface of the moon Titan might be like.

The Bells of Shoredan, by Roger Zelazny

Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

We've already met Dilvish, a warrior who escaped from Hell, a couple of times before. He returns to the material world to defend his homeland, with the aid of a being that takes the form of a steel talking horse. (There's that again! Francis and Ed, what hath thou wrought?)

In this adventure, he journeys to the ruins of an incredibly ancient, seemingly deserted citadel. His quest is to ring enchanted bells that will summon soldiers from the limbo where they have been trapped for an immense amount of time. Along the way, he acquires a temporary companion in the form of a priest.

The unlikely pair witness a ghostly battle.

Dilvish is an intriguing character, and the author gives readers just enough information about his past to make them want to know more. This sword-and-sorcery yarn is full of imaginative supernatural happenings and plenty of action. I could quibble about the author's attempt to sound archaic — he has a habit of inserting the word did before verbs in order to sound old-fashioned — but that's a minor point. Overall, it's a solid example of the form. I'd place it somewhere between Robert E. Howard and Fritz Leiber, and a little bit higher than John Jakes.

Four stars.

Hardly Worth Mentioning, By Chad Oliver

Cover art by W. T. Mars.

From the pages of the May/June 1953 issue of the magazine comes this tale of unexpected rivals of humanity from the mists of prehistory.

Illustrations by Ernie Barth.

A team of archeologists digging in rural Mexico discovers a plastic disk in a layer of soil from pre-Columbian times. The apparent paradox leads the protagonist to discover that another humanoid species, distinct from Homo sapiens, has been directing human history since the beginning. They even have the ability to travel in time, in order to correct little mistakes, like leaving the plastic disk where it could be found centuries later.

An army of the time travelers arrives in an ancient Indian village.

When the archeologist discovers the truth, the humanoids hurt him in the worst way possible. Knowing that he cannot fight them directly, he resolves to protect the future of humanity in a different way.

The author is an anthropologist by profession, so his portrait of the related field of archeology is completely convincing. The price the protagonist must pay for learning too much carries a powerful emotional impact. I was pleased and surprised to find out that the story avoids a melodramatic battle between the two species, but instead ends in a quiet, hopeful, bittersweet fashion.

Four stars.

Axe and Dragon (Part Three of Three), by Keith Laumer

Illustration by Gray Morrow.

In the first two parts of this novel, we journeyed with our hero, one Lafayette O'Leary, into another reality, that he seemed to create through self-hypnosis. After many wild adventures, he wound up getting blamed for the disappearance of a beautiful princess. Now he sets out to rescue her from a legendary ogre and his dragon.

This segment starts off with an even more comedic tone than the others, bordering on the just plain silly. Lafayette meets with some folks who are obviously intended to be cartoon versions of Arabs. They remind me of a famous novelty song from a few years ago, Ahab the Arab, by comic singer Ray Stevens. As an example of the goofiness, at a feast they not only consume Chinese and Hawaiian dishes, but bottles of Pepsi.

Anyway, Lafayette goes on to acquire a loyal steed in the form of a friendly dinosaur, and finally meets the ogre. The ogre has a very strange brother indeed. After an unexpected scene of bloody violence in such a lighthearted story, Lafayette returns to the palace. He meets an old rival, learns the truth about the king's mysterious wizard, saves the princess, discovers who was behind her kidnapping, finds out about his own special background, and gets the girl (although maybe not in the way you'd expect.)

The whole thing moves at a furious, breakneck pace, so that you don't realize it doesn't always make a whole lot of sense. Lafayette's ability to change reality, for example, seems to come and go, depending on how the author needs to propel the plot. There's a scientific explanation, of sorts, from the so-called wizard about what's really going on, but it might as well just be pure magic. It's entertaining enough to keep you reading, but hardly substantial.

Three stars.

Keep Out, by Fredric Brown

Cover art by Clarence Doore.

The March 1954 issue of Amazing Stories supplies this brief tale, from a master of the short-short story.

Illustration by John Schoenherr.

From birth, a group of people are bred to survive on the surface of Mars. The narrator is one of these folks, and reveals their plans.

Some of Brown's tiny tales are masterpieces of a very difficult form. This one is not. I saw the twist ending coming. Maybe you will, too.

Two stars.

The People of the Pit, by A. Merritt

I have been unable to find out who drew this cover.

We jump back to the January 5, 1918 issue of All-Story Weekly for yet another yarn about danger from the remote past. It was reprinted in the March 1927 issue of Amazing Stories.

Cover art by Frank R. Paul.

Some folks head for a remote part of the Arctic in search of gold. A man who is nearly dead crawls to their campsite and relates his strange story.

It seems that there is an immense pit, bigger than the Grand Canyon, beyond a chain of mountains. Not only that, but a gigantic set of stairs, carved in the remote past, leads down into it.

The fellow descends into the pit, and encounters bizarre beings who enslave him. He tells how he finally escaped, and managed to crawl his way back up to the surface.

Illustration by Martin Gambee.

This story reminds me of H. P. Lovecraft, with its unimaginably old structures and creatures who are almost beyond the ability of the human mind to conceive. Given the original date of publication, I presume Lovecraft was influenced by it. The author creates a genuine sense of weirdness and menace. The old-fashioned use of a narrative-within-a-narrative slows things down a bit, and it's mostly description rather than plot, but it's not bad at all.

Three stars.

Your Soul Comes C.O.D., by Mack Reynolds

Cover art by Leo Summers and Ed Valigursky.

Once you get beyond the face of Joseph Stalin on the front of the March 1952 issue of Fantastic Adventures, you'll find the original appearance of this variation on a very old theme.

Illustration by Leo Summers.

A guy intends to summon a demon in order to exchange his soul for a good life. Before he can even perform the necessary ritual, however, a being appears, ready to make a deal. The man gains forty years of true love, prosperity, and a happy family. When it comes time to pay the price, he finds out what he bargained for.

A story like this depends entirely on the twist in the tail. I have to admit that the author took me by surprise and came up with a new version of the sell-your-soul premise.

Three stars.

How Did You Enjoy Today's Grammar Lesson?

Example of the past imperfect: I was reading Fantastic magazine yesterday.

Example of the future tense: I will finish this article today.

Well, that may not be the best way to study the structure of English, but it gives me something to think about while I sum up my feelings about this issue. For the most part, it was pretty good. Only the Fredric Brown reprint was disappointing, because I expected more from him. There was a good old story, and a good new story. The rest of the stuff was decent filler.

If you don't care for the way I'm acting like a language instructor, maybe you'd prefer something a little more technologically advanced.

Don't blame me if you don't like math.

The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 14, 1965] Expect the Unexpected (January 1966 Fantastic)

December 14, 2020 Victoria Silverwolf 4 Comments

by Victoria Silverwolf

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's . . . a Meteor? A Satellite? A Flying Saucer?

Things got off to a bang earlier this month, in a most unexpected way. On the evening of December 9, folks in Canada and the United States saw a fireball in the sky. According to witnesses, something crashed in the woods near the town of Kecksburg, Pennsylvania.

(Cue eerie theremin music.)

The US military and state troopers sealed off the area and began a search. So far, they haven't reported finding anything.

(That's what they want you to think.)

Isn't this the way The Blob started?

After eliminating things like a plane crash, the authorities seem to think the most likely suspect is a meteor that exploded in the atmosphere. (Vocabulary lesson for today: A very bright meteor, particularly one that blows up spectacularly, is known as a bolide.) It might possibly be debris from a satellite, some suggest. Of course, you and I know it's really little green men . . .

Another Song of Solomon?

Almost as surprising as a blazing visitor from outer space is a modern pop song with lyrics that are a couple of thousand years old. The Byrds are currently at the top of the American music charts with their version of Turn! Turn! Turn!

Composed by folk singer Pete Seeger, almost all the words are taken from the Old Testament book Ecclesiastes, supposedly written by King Solomon. The exceptions are the title, repeated several times, and the closing line I swear it's not too late, emphasizing the song's antiwar message.

She don't care about grammar either, I guess.

What Do You Expect For Four Bits?

Appropriately, the latest issue of Fantastic is full of unexpected happenings.

Cover art by James B. Settles, taken from the back cover of the August 1942 issue of Amazing Stories.

The best copy I can find of the original. Please excuse the tiny print. I doubt this is a very accurate representation of the planet Uranus anyway.

Six and Ten Are Johnny, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.

Cover art by Barye Phillips and Leo Summers.

From the very first issue of Fantastic comes this tale of an unexpected encounter on a distant world.

Illustrations by Virgil Finlay.

A shuttle carries a survey team from a starship down to the surface of the planet. The crew has an uneasy feeling about the place, for no obvious reason. They land on a plateau above a dense jungle. They are shocked to meet Johnny, who claims to be the sole survivor of a lost starship. Things get even weirder when some of the crew members vanish, and the others claim that they never even existed.

Officers from the starship join the survey team in an attempt to figure out what's going on.

Everybody seems to be in a dazed condition, except the protagonist. That's because he's got a metal plate in his head, which protects him from having his mind controlled by the alien organism that makes up the jungle.

The wild-eyed madman in this picture is actually our completely sane hero, who is trying to protect a colleague from the creature's telepathic powers.

This is a grim little science fiction horror story with a feverish, eerie mood. I'm not sure I believe the way the alien organism works, or if the behavior of the crew is plausible. (Would you really bring a bunch of dogs on a starship to test if a planet's atmosphere is breathable? Of course, the real reason they're present is so they can go crazy and bark wildly, like in any scary movie.) Not the most profound story in the world, but a competent spine chiller.

Three stars.

Wonder Child, by Joseph Shallit

Cover art by Robert Frankenberg.

The January/February 1953 issue of the magazine supplies this account of an invention with unexpected effects.

Illustrations by Ed Emshwiller (better known as Emsh.)

A married couple would like to have a child, but they don't want to deal with all the work of raising it from infancy. They happen to know a scientist who has created a gizmo that will speed up the nerve growth of a fetus in the womb. Their son develops rapidly, sparing them a lot of trouble with things like toilet training.

He also develops a precocious interest in sex.

Despite some problems with teachers, neighbors, and other kids, things seem to be going pretty well. What they don't know is that their acquaintance is a classic Mad Scientist, who has also given the child increased aggression. It's not hard to see that things won't work out for the best.

I found both the technology and the behavior of the characters implausible. The ending of the story left a bad taste in my mouth. I suppose the author does a decent job portraying a pair of self-centered bohemian parents, but they're not much fun to read about.

Two stars.

Axe and Dragon (Part Two of Three), by Keith Laumer

Let's take a break from reprints and turn to the latest installment in this new novel.

Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

As you may recall, the improbably named Lafayette O'Leary wound up in a strange, supposedly imaginary world through self-hypnosis. He has some control over things, creating food, drink, clothing, shelter, and the like. However, the place has a stubborn reality of its own.

After surviving a duel in a slapstick fashion, he winds up being framed for the kidnapping of the land's beautiful princess. Much running around follows, with O'Leary even creating a secret door for himself, so he can escape into it.

He also briefly returns to the so-called real world, where he runs afoul of the law.

Determined to clear his name, he sets out to rescue the princess from a fabled giant and his supposed dragon. Complicating matters is the king's magician, who has more advanced technology than you'd expect in this steam-powered world, and who seems to know more about what's going on than he admits.

There's also a big guy.

The mood remains very light, with even more comedy than the first part. The breakneck pace of events holds the reader's attention. Even if the whole thing could be dismissed as much ado about nothing, it provides adequate, forgettable entertainment.

Three stars.

What a Man Believes, by Robert Sheckley

Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

Back to reprints with this tale of the afterlife, from the November/December 1953 issue.

Illustrations by Henry C. Pitz.

A guy who didn't expect anything after death winds up in an oddly accommodating Hell. It seems he has a choice of eternal punishment: he can undergo physical torture, fight wolves, or drift in a boat.

He can also climb a mountain.

Predictably, he selects the boat, preferring endless boredom to unending agony. This leads to an ending that, well, didn't make a lot of sense to me. I suppose some irony is intended, but it falls flat.

Two stars.

Three Wishes, by Poul Anderson

Wraparound cover art by Richard Powers.

A nice old man makes an unexpected discovery in this yarn from the March/April 1953 issue.

Illustration by Dick Francis.

The elderly fellow is Papa Himmelschoen. If that sounds familiar, you're probably thinking of Papa Schimmelhorn, a character created by Reginald Bretnor in the story The Gnurrs Come from the Voodvork Out back in 1950. Anderson's old man has a similar thick accent, so I assume this is a deliberate allusion.

Anyway, the kindly Papa mends a pair of pants for a neighbor, and gets a little statue of a fairy as payment. It comes to life when, in a burst of gaiety, he kisses it. His reward is three wishes. Since he's completely happy with his life, he doesn't know how to use his wishes. The solution to his problem isn't completely satisfying, and involves a bit of circular reasoning.

This is a trivial work from a talented writer. The mood is pleasant enough, and Himmelschoen is a lot less obnoxious than Schimmelhorn, but it doesn't add up to much.

Two stars.

Phoney Meteor, by John Beynon

Cover art by J. Allen St. John.

From the yellowing pages of the March 1941 issue of Amazing Stories comes this piece, by an author better known as John Wyndham.

Illustration by Jay Jackson.

Neatly wrapping up the magazine with an incident similar to the one I mentioned at the start of this article, this story involves a mysterious object falling to Earth. Since the setting is England during the Second World War, the local folks treat it as a possible Nazi weapon.

Alternating sections of narration reveal that it's really a spaceship, carrying a large number of aliens from their dying world. It's obvious from the start, and the illustration, that they're tiny beings, so Earth seems like a planet full of giant monsters.

That's about all there is to the story. Beynon/Wyndham writes well enough, but I found the accounts of life in England during the Blitz more interesting than the science fiction stuff.

(Everybody seems very coolheaded when faced with this potentially deadly object. I suppose that's a bit of wartime propaganda, to maintain morale. Keep Calm and Carry On, and all that.)

Two stars.

Did It Meet Your Expectations?

I wasn't expecting this issue to be so weak, ranging from so-so to below average. I can understand the financial reason for using so many reprints — I believe the publishers have full rights to the stories and art, so they don't have to pay anything for them — but it results in a lot of disappointing early work from well-known writers. If I were in a worse mood, I'd be tempted to tell the editor exactly where he can go with all these old relics.

Cartoon by Ray Dillon. It's a reprint, too, from the same issue as Poul Anderson's story.

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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction