And so, our longest Japan trip to date has wrapped up. We're still developing the many rolls of film we took, but here are some highlights from our vacation that included the cities Fukuoka, Amagi, Kobe, Osaka, Nagoya, and Tokyo:
Nanami and The Young Traveler zoom down a slide in an eastern suburb of Nagoya
Nanami and her husband perform at a Nagoya jazz club
This is Nanami's baby, Wataru, and her mother-in-law, Haruko!
Lorelei poses in front of Ultraman, one of Japan's newest superheros
Lorelei has become smitten with kimono and yukata. We had to buy a new suitcase to fit them all (and the model trains Elijah bought)
The trouble back home
On the doorstep to my house was a big pile of mail that my neighbor has kept for me. In addition to sundry bills, the latest FAPA packet, and a handful of independent 'zines (including the latest from the James Doohan International Fan Club), there was the latest issue of Analog. Interest piqued by the lovely (as always) Freas cover, I tore into the mag before unpacking. Sadly, it was all downhill from there…
by Kelly Freas
… And Comfort to the Enemy, by Stanley Schmidt
When an exploration ship lands on a seemingly uninhabited planet, its rapacious, by-the-book commander rubs his hands with glee at the prospect of colonizing plunder. But it turns out there are intelligent natives—it's just that their "technology" is actually the fine control of all of their fellow creatures creating a sort of artificial Deathworld. When the invaders refuse to leave, they take a hostage, who they use as a communications go-between. And then they unleash a deadly plague which ravages first the explorer ship and then their entire race. How the colonizers get out of the predicament is somewhat clever.
by Kelly Freas
This one starts a bit slowly, and the explorers are all too human, even though they're supposed to be aliens. However, once it gets moving, it's pretty good, and you can sympathize with both the planet dwellers and the decimated invaders.
A pharmaceutical company stumbles upon a brain-booster pill. Unfortunately, it promotes eggheaded learning, but not application of this learning. As a result, the nation's economy stumbles as more and more citizens would rather discuss than do.
This is a pretty thinly veiled attack on academia and the intelligentsia, which surely must have tickled editor Campbell's reactionary heart.
Boy this one was a disappointment. We last saw Verge Foray in a nice little piece called Ingenuity, which featured a post-atomic world where humanity was divided into psionically adept but primitive and regressing "Novos" and scientific, but conservative, "Olsaperns." Starn was the hero of that story—a Novo with a rare gift of insight and intuition who managed to get in good with the technical Olsaperns.
This sequel story involves Starn's attempts to develop technology that will augment psionic powers such that they can rival or exceed the technology of the Olsaperns. Fine and well, but really, this is just one of Campbell's "scientific" articles on psionics with a fictional coating. I already find psi to be a pseudoscientific bore, but to try to add a veneer of respectability to it by invoking scientific trappings is distasteful in the extreme.
It's also a really boring tale. One star.
The Choice, by Keith Laumer
by Kelly Freas
A three-astronaut explorer team from Earth is abducted by mysterious aliens who offer each of them a choice of fates—all of them some form of execution. The two military members of the crew meet their fate boldly; the third is a far out civilian cat who doesn't cotton to his own extinction. As a result, the story has a happy ending.
There is serious Laumer and there is funny Laumer. Funny Laumer is usually the more trivial, and this is trivial funny Laumer.
Two stars.
The Man from R.O.B.O.T., by Harry Harrison
by Peter Skirka
A couple of years back, Harrison brought out the droll The Man from P.I.G., about a secret agent who goes undercover as a pig farmer. The twist was that the pigs weren't his livestock but his accomplices. In a similar vein, here we have the story of an agent who goes undercover as a robot salesman, but the robots are his accomplices. Of course, given that the robots are intelligent, and one of them is even designed to look like the agent, one wonders why there needs to be human involvement at all in this case.
Anyway, the agent is dispatched to a rancher planet whose women folk all seem to be locked up, and whose men folk are all paranoid violence freaks. Is it genetic? Or is it in the cattle?
I always get "funny" Harrison (frex "The Stainless Steel Rat") and "funny" Laumer (e.g. "Retief") mixed up. And here they're back to back! Now I'll never disentangle them.
Two stars.
The Empty Balloon, by Jack Wodhams
by Peter Skirka
Last up, a throwaway story about a diplomat who thwarts a telepathic interrogation machine. There's no real explanation as to how he does it, really, and most of the story exists to set up the lame ending.
Two stars.
Wow. What a wretched month for magazine fiction! With the exception of the atypically superlative New Worlds (3.6 stars), everything else was mediocre at best. IF managed to break the three star barrier, but just barely (3.1), same as Fantasy and Science Fiction. Amazing scored 2.6—which is a good month for that mag, while Galaxy got the same score, which constituted a bad month.
Indeed, all of the better-than-average fiction would fill just one decently sized digest. Incidentally, we had exactly one (1) short story produced by a woman, and the one woman-penned nonfiction this month was a biography…of a man.
It just goes to show that all the good stuff seems to be happening overseas these days. I hope the next month of mags reinforces my decision to come home!
As far as I know, there aren't a lot of science fiction mystery novels out there. The most famous, of course, are Isaac Asimov's tales of police detective Elijah Bailey and his robot partner R. Daneel Olivaw. The Caves of Steel (1953) and The Naked Sun (1956) are classics in this specific combination of genres.
A new book continues the tradition of a detective investigating a murder case in the far future. Will it be up to the level of the Good Doctor's predecessors? Let's find out.
The novel takes place aboard a luxury starship on its way from Earth to Altair. On board is police lieutenant/doctor of psychology Claudine St. Cyr. Her job is to make sure that the king of a planet orbiting Altair gets home safely. This seems like an easy assignment, as the king claims that everybody on his world loves him. It turns out this isn't quite true.
After foiling an assassination attempt on the king, things start to go very badly indeed. Somebody has sabotaged the gizmo that allows the starship to travel faster than light. This threatens to make the whole darn thing blow up, killing hundreds of passengers and crew.
As if that weren't enough, both the captain and the second in command die in mysterious ways. Can St. Cyr solve the crime and save the ship?
Suspects? We've got plenty of 'em. Just about everybody we meet has some kind of secret, from the king to a shopkeeper who sells St. Cyr a wristwatch with a second hand that runs backwards.
Notable among the possible killers are a wild-eyed religious fanatic and a guy with telekinetic powers. It takes a while for the plot to get going, but towards the end the author throws in a ton of twists and turns.
As a murder mystery, it generally plays fair with the reader. There are lots of clues scattered here and there, from a mysterious message left near the sabotaged gizmo to the aroma of a certain brand of cigar. My one quibble with the whodunit plot is that some of the twists depend on people concealing information from St. Cyr (and the reader) for pretty weak reasons.
As science fiction, well, that's a different matter. There's a long discussion of the way the starship gizmo works that is pure doubletalk. We also learn a lot about the way telekinetic powers work; more than I wanted to know, really. Despite the far future setting, it feels more like we're aboard the Queen Mary during the golden age of cruise ships.
A word about St. Cyr as a character. She's highly skilled as a detective and as a psychologist. She is also very beautiful, and just about every male character in the novel falls madly in love with her. She isn't afraid to use her feminine wiles to get information out of these besotted fellows, and this gets to be a bit much at times.
Overall, a light piece of entertainment that passes the time pleasantly, but will fade from memory as soon as you reach the last page.
Three stars.
by Gideon Marcus
The Nets of Space, by Emil Petaja
I've only recently discovered Petaja, a Finnish-extraction author with a fantastical sense imbued in his writing and a penchant for incorporating themes from various mythologies. He's sort of a rip-roaring version of Thomas Burnett Swann, and I always enjoy (though not necessarily love) his work. His latest is no exception.
Cover art by Paul Lehr
The opening is a grabber: Don Quick is a technician bounced from the Alpha Centauri expedition at the last minute. The first scene of the book is a dream sequence in which he is in an enormous cocktail glass with dozens of other naked humans, glazed in brine, and they are one-by-one pulled out and dipped in sauce before being eaten by giant alien crabs.
When he awakens, Don finds himself back on Earth and recalls that he has been a mental patient for months. Is his dream a kind of clairvoyance? Or merely a kind of shell shock from the time he inhaled hyperspatial gas during a pre-launch accident involving the Centaur III? And why, when he falls asleep, does the dream continue sequentially and seem to portend an extraterrestrial invasion of the Earth?
Cervantes' classic Don Quixote figures strongly in this book; it is the external influence Petaja has chosen for his latest adventure. The whole thing is lighthearted enough that you're never too worried about Earth's possible impending disaster. Indeed, The Nets of Space is essentially a comic book in literary form—never mind the science or consistency. But it reads quickly: I finished it on a single flight from Tokyo to Fukuoka.
The Day of the Dolphin is a work of fiction of great contradictions: it’s lighthearted and downbeat, escapist and embedded in the world; engaged in technological innovation and driven by characters; and written in manners both straightforward and elliptical.
If there ever was a book to drive a reader crazy, it’s this one.
At the heart of Robert Merle’s new novel is a fascinating concept. We all know that dolphins are smart animals. As this book reminds us, the brain size and complexity of the average dolphin is roughly analogous to those of a human brain. So what if a wise researcher was able to talk to dolphins in their language and teach dolphins to talk to us in ours? How would those dolphins navigate their learning, how would their approaches to the world be different from those of humans, and what would make those majestic creatures truly happy?
When Merle explores those ideas, The Day of the Dolphin leaps ecstatically like a dolphin leaping out of the water to shoot a basketball through a hoop. There’s a thrilling element of discovery as a secret government laboratory of scientists patiently work with a young dolphin to teach him a few words of English. When he starts to learn English, the scientists provide that dolphin a mate. And the courtship and love affair between the dolphin couple is fascinating and sweet and surprisingly moving. My favorite parts of the novel were the sections in which Merle shows the creatures change each other, drive their relationships and truly build a bond between themselves and the scientists who care for them.
But if a scientific agency is driving this research, you know there has to be some geopolitics involved, and of course there is. In fact, one character notes in a clever bit of metafictional dialogue the moment when the plot takes on Bond or Flint elements. There are human romances inside the research group. But there is also espionage, and secret taping, and a “dolphin gap” argument with the Soviets, and it is to sigh.
Mr. Merle
Because to me, all those moments of connection to the real world take away the most intriguing aspects of the book. The book pivots at its midpoint. At that point. The book swiftly changes from an intellectually absorbing exploration of science into an often dull, often by-the-numbers tale of espionage and intrigue. I predicted around page 20 that the dolphins would be sent on the mission they go on towards the end of this novel, and the impact of those actions were equally as obvious.
Merle writes much of this book in a kaleidoscopical style, full of long paragraphs with stream-of-consciousness approaches which kind of wander and meander from first person to third person, from grounded reality to revelations of emotion and often to outright gibberish. At first this style is thrilling or at least intriguing, but when Merle breaks up that approach with excerpts from letters or interviews conducted by government agencies, that break often feels like a necessary breath of fresh air. I kept finding my mind drifting as the characters’ minds drifted, ungrounded in reality or in this story but instead of my own thoughts about dolphins or work or the Miami Dolphins of the NFL.
It sounds like I hated this book but in truth I enjoyed The Day of the Dolphin for its brazen oddness and for Merle’s obvious passion for both the way he presents his story and the story itself. The more I read about them in this book, the more I wanted to read about our aquatic friends. I now have a nice stack of library books on my desk about Cetaceans because I find that species so interesting. I just wish The Day of the Dolphin had a bit more dolphin and a bit less human in its pages.
Thanks to centuries of tradition, we tend to think of the Far East as…well…east! But for us, going to Japan means a 12-hour flight west—literally into tomorrow, as we cross the International Date Line to do it.
This week marked the beginning of our fourteenth trip to Japan. How things have changed since we first went back in 1948, when flying via Northwest Orient meant an entire day of travel with multiple stops. Travel these days is practically instantaneous by comparison.
We were even able to hop on a same-day domestic flight from Tokyo to Fukuoka, which is where I'm writing this. I've been able to develop my first roll of color film, the results of which I am happy to share:
The Alient
The latest issue of Galaxy is, like this month's IF, the first under the helm of Ejler Jakobsson, and it's also a month late. Will it be more interesting than the rather dull IF? Well, it's certainly different. After all, the lead piece is one I would have expected to appear in Analog. Why wouldn't Campbell want the sequel to the incredibly popular and presumably lucrative Dune. Dunno… but here it is:
And so we return to Arrakis, the Dune planet, the only source of the spice melange, which gives the power of prophecy, allows the navigators of the Guild to ply the hyperspace lanes, and is the only currency of note in the Empire.
Last time, Paul Atreides, son of the murdered Duke of Arrakis, had seized his destiny as the kwizatz haderach, leading his army of desert Fremen against the Padisha Emperor in a coup that placed the young general in charge of a galactic domain.
It is now twelve years later, and disparate factions are plotting to overthrow Paul, who has become a figurehead in an interstellar Jihad. The plotters include the Bene Geneserit, the sisterhood that manipulated Paul and his sister, Aria's, genetic destiny; the navigators' Guild, and Irulan, wife of Paul, and daughter of the cruel Baron Harkonnen, who wrested Arrakis from Paul's father.
We know there's a plot because it is the subject of an endless scene at the beginning of the serial installment. And because Paul then discusses the plot at length with his companins at an endless meeting of state in the latter part of the serial. The plot involves predestination, an heir for Paul (his true love, the Fremen Chani, is being kept secretly sterile by Irulan, who wants to beat the child), and the reincarnated form of Duncan Idaho, one of Paul's comrades in the last book.
There. Now you don't actually have to read this chapter, which is all for the best, as it's as deadly dull and motionless as the worst parts of Dune. At least the viewpoints don't change every five sentences.
Two stars so far.
Full Commitment, by Robert S. Martin
Senator Clint is on an investigative junket to Burma, where America is in an endless war against… the Capitalists? What happened to the Communists? And why do all the soldiers parrot the exact same line when explaining why they're there to fight?
Brainwashing, obviously…which is how Clint is ultimately disposed of.
A pointless story, poorly done. One star.
The City That Was the World, by James Blish
by Dan Adkins
James Blish tells the story of a man who makes Howard Hughes look like a piker. John Hillary Dane is a man with vision…or perhaps visions is more appropriate. First, he builds an enormous pair of telescopes four miles high in the Andes. Then he erects a mile-high skyscraper in Denver, the mile-high city. While the reason for the former is never really explained (other than the obvious reasons—the seeing is much better above the majority of the atmosphere), the purpose of the immense building is the point of the story.
I don't really want to spoil things, so I'll just say that the tale deals with time travel, Malthusian overpopulation, and the value (or lack thereof) of friendship. It's a good story, although few of the elements are really plausible.
Four stars (and the best piece in the issue).
For Your Information: Eugen Sanger and the Rocket-Propelled Airplane, by Willy Ley
Willy Ley's article is on Eugen Saenger, the Austrian cum German rocket scientists perhaps best known for his design of the America Bomber—a rocket-plane that would fly high enough to skip on the upper atmosphere until it reached New York. There's a lot of good information that probably can't easily be found elsewhere, since Ley relies on at least one personal source. That said, it's kind of a dull piece.
Three stars.
A Brief History of the Revolution, by David Lunde and James Sallis
In a piece that might well have come out in Fantasy and Science Fiction (or maybe the old Galaxy sister mag, Beyond), we have a young couple hounded by their animate furniture until they are effectively evicted. The cause of all this appears to be the wife's desire to have a child.
Last up is the latest journey of Commodore John Grimes, the famed skipper of the Galactic Rim. In a direct sequel to The Rim Gods, Grimes and his First Mate (though likely not his first mate) Sonya head back to Kinsolving’s Planet. You may recall from the last story (or the review thereof) that the team Grimes escorted tried to exploit some time-space weakness to psionically summon Jehovah. Instead, they incarnated the Olympian pantheon.
This time, their efforts throw Grimes into a fantasy land populated exclusively by fictional characters, from a certain Baker Street detective to larger-than-life but real people like Oedipus and Achilles. Things get really weird when Grimes starts to question his own reality…
I always enjoy Chandler's Rim stories, but this one is just a bit too cute. It also looks like the author is tired of the Grimes series and would love to end it…if only the money weren't good.
Three stars.
Things that came and things to come
And that's that. Quality-wise, a thoroughly unremarkable issue. Indeed, the only real bit of note is how many of the stories seem to be in the wrong magazine. I confess I am kind of looking forward to the post-Pohl era. I want to see how things change for this venerable magazine.
Of course, I also know to be careful what I wish for…
It's hard to believe it was just six years ago that the Renaissance Pleasure Faire started in the suburbs of Los Angeles:
"Counterculture" didn't even have a name yet (I think we were calling it "contraculture"), but already, there were folks weary of the modern age, casting their eyes back to a simpler time. You know, when there were far more things that could kill you, and much fewer opportunities to escape drudgery…
Anyway, I reported on our last foray into the past a couple of years ago. These days, the back-to-then movement is stronger than ever, with the Society for Creative Anachronism exploding (do they have a thousand members now?) and Renaissance Faires catching on. They are a good fit for the Pagans and hippies and folks looking for an escape.
We're not immune to the lure. Here are some scenes from this month's event:
You may recognize the fellow in blue
What really makes the Faire such a delight is the attention to detail. Everywhere you go, there are actors and actress really playing a part, making the whole thing an exercise in living history. Of course, as my "character" styles himself a member of the Habsburg clan, you can bet I razzed the Queen when she paraded by with her foppish retinue.
Nevertheless, I hope the Faire retains its purity, prioritizing the spirit of the event rather than descending into a kind of cynical capitalism. Though, I suppose, that's what the original faires were all about…
Alas!
Speaking of cynical capitalism, I feel that Analog editor stays on the job these days just for a paycheck (and a podium for his irrascible editorials—which he then compiles and sells in book form!) While the latest issue isn't terrible, it certainly doesn't scrape the heights it achieved "back in the day."
by Leo Summers
Artifact, by J. B. Clarke
The name of J. B. Clarke is unknown to me. Perhaps he's Arthur Clarke's little brother (sister?) His writing isn't bad, nor even is the premise, but the execution of this first tale of his…
by Leo Summers
A beach ball-sized orb appears in interplanetary space. When an Earth spaceship tries to pick it up, it zips away at faster-than-light speeds a couple of times, as if to demonstrate that it can, and then becomes docile. After it is picked up, the humans assessing the artifact determine that it was deliberately sent to jump-start our technology. But was the rationale benevolent or otherwise?
This would have been a great story had not Clarke explained from the very beginning that the scheme was a plot by the evil Imperium to instigate a diplomatic incident a la the Nazis asserting a Polish attack against the Germans on September 1, 1939. This would give the rapacious aliens legal precedent to annex our planet. Moreover, we learn that an agent of the "Web", the galactic federation of which the Imperium constitutes a small portion, is already on Earth, guiding our assessment of the artifact.
As a result, there's no tension. We know everything will turn out fine. Indeed, it's a strangely un-Campbellian story in that humans aren't the smart ones in the end. But because there are no decisions to be made, no suspense to the outcome, the story falls flat.
Two stars.
Zozzl, by Jackson Burrows
by Leo Summers
This one gets closer to the mark. It stars a big game hunter whose quarry is a telepathic beast. The creature's natural defense is to access your fears and throw pursuers into a nightmare world, repelling them. It's a neat concept, and Burrows (another name with which I am unacquainted), renders the dream sequences quite effectively.
While we learn a bit about our hero's past and motivations, he never really has to solve any puzzles to win his prize. He just wins in the end. There needs to be more.
Still, I really dug the idea, and there's definitely potential for Jackson. Three stars.
Dramatic Mission, by Anne McCaffrey
by Leo Summers
Here's the latest installment of the The Ship Who. This series stars Helva, a profoundly disabled woman who, at a young age, was turned into a cybernetic brain for a starship. Together with a series of "brawns", the human component of the ship's crew, she has been on all kinds of adventures.
In this story, we learn that brain-ships can earn their independence (paying off the debt of their construction) and fly without brawns, and that many vessels strive for this status. But Helva prefers to ride with company—indeed, she insists on it.
Well, her wish is granted. Short-listed for a priority mission to Beta Corvi, Helva is tasked to transport a troupe of actors to a gas giant in that system, where they will perform Romeo and Juliet for a bunch of alien jellyfish in exchange for an important chemical process.
The problem is the drama that unfolds before the drama: Solar Prane, the star, is dying from chronic use of a memory-enhancing drug. His nurse is deeply in love with him. His co-star and ex-lover is jealous and stubbornly insists on sabotaging the production. It is up to Helva to be the grown-up in the room and save the day.
There is so much to like about this story, so many neat, unique things about the setting and characters, that it's a shame McCaffrey can't help getting in her own way. She loves writing waspish, unlikeable characters, and her penchant for including casual, off-putting violence reminds me of what I don't like about Marion Zimmer Bradley.
This is one of those pieces I'd like to see redone by someone more talented and sensitive. Zenna Henderson, maybe, if I wanted to see the soft tones enhanced, or Rosel George Brown (RIP) if I wanted something a little lighter and funnier.
The planet of Terex has turned into a death trap for the terran Space Force. Invited in to deal with an insurgency problem, a combination of religious proscriptions against advanced technology and a flourishing black market that loots what munitions are allowed in, the human troops are not only made into sitting ducks but laughing stocks.
Enter a canny colonel of the Interstellar Corps, whose bright idea is to suffuse all incoming logistics with explosives so that, when they are stolen, they explode. Deterrent and humiliation, all in one.
It may seem that I've given away the plot…and I have. It's given away fairly early on, and the rest of the story is simply an explication of the plan's success.
I should have liked the story less than I did, but it reads pretty well. Three stars.
The Ghoul Squad, by Harry Harrison
by Leo Summers
A rural sheriff digs in his heels at the notion of government agencies harvesting the organs of newly dead victims of traffic accidents in his jurisdiction. He sticks to his principles even at the cost of his own life, decades later.
The human sphere of stars has begun to brush against the part of the galaxy claimed by the loosely knit Morah, aliens with a talent for profound modification of bodies, internally and externally. In the middle of sensitive negotiations between the two empires over a contested bit of space, a bipedal creature runs amok at the space dock. It is impossible to determine if the being is a Morah made to look like a human or a human made to look like a Morah. Ultimately, the fate of the two empires rests on this hapless person.
Easily the best story in the issue, both interesting and well written, though it still rates no more than four stars.
Give me the past
Short story SF appears to be on the decline in general, with only four magazines out this month. Of them, Fantasy and Science Fiction was by far the best, garnering 3.4 stars, but Fantastic and New Worlds both barely made three stars, and Mark, who covers the last mag, has been grumbling about all the newfangled, outré stuff.
As a result, you could fill just one digest-sized magazine with all the good stuff that came out this month. In other statistical news, women produced just 8% of all the new fiction this month.
It's enough to make you long for the (romanticized) good ol' days…but who knows what the future holds?
Venus has gotten a lot of attention from Earth's superpowers. Part of it is its tremendous similarity to our home in some ways: similar mass, similar composition, similar distance from the Sun (as such things go). But the biggest reason why so many probes have been dispatched to the Solar System's second world (to wit: Mariner 2, Mariner 5, Venera 1, Veneras 2 and 3, and Venera 4) is because it's the closest planet to Earth. Every 19 months, Earth and Venus are aligned such that a minimum of rocket is required to send a maximum of scientific payload toward the Planet of Love. Since 1961, every opportunity has seen missions launched from at least one side of the Pole.
This year's was no exception: on January 5 and 10, the USSR launched Venera (Venus) 5 and 6 toward the second planet, and this month (the 16th and the 18th), they arrived.
Our conception of Venus has changed radically since spaceships started probing the world. Just read our article on the planet, written back in 1959, before the world had been analyzed with radar and close-up instruments. Now we know that the planet's surface is the hottest place in the Solar System outside the Sun: perhaps 980 degrees Fahrenheit! The largely carbon dioxide and nitrogen atmosphere crushes the ground at up to 100 atmospheres of pressure. The planet rotates very slowly backward, but there is virtually no difference between temperatures on the day and night sides due to the thick atmosphere. There is no appreciable magnetic field (probably because the planet spins so slowly) so no equivalent to our Van Allen Belts or aurorae.
This is all information returned from outside the Venusian atmosphere. Inference. To get the full dope, one has to plunge through the air. Venera 4 did that, returning lower temperatures and air pressures. This was curious, but it makes sense if you don't believe the Soviet claim that the probe's instruments worked all the way to the ground—a dubious assertion given the incredibly hostile environment. No, Venera 4 probably stopped working long before it touched down.
The same may be true of Veneras 5 and 6. TASS has not released data yet, but while the two probes were successfully delivered onto Venus' surface, we have no way of knowing that they returned telemetry all the way down. Indeed, the Soviet reports are rather terse and highlight the delivery of medals and a portrait of Lenin to Venus, eschewing any mention of soft landing. The news does spend a lot of time talking about solar wind measurements on the way to Venus—useful information, to be sure, but beside the point.
The Venera spacecraft and lander capsule
Anyway, at the very least, we can probably hope to get some clarity on what goes on in the Venusian air. It may have to wait until next time before we learn just what's happening on the ground, however.
To Hell
I bitched last month about the lousy issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Well, I am happy to say that the May issue is more than redeemed by this June 1969 issue, which, if not stellar throughout, has sufficient high points to impress and delight.
Silverbob has a knack for poetic, evocative writing as well as rich settings. He has successfully made the transition from '50s hack SF author to New Wave vanguard. Which is why this rather forgettable tale is all the more disappointing.
It's about a Sioux spaceman named Tom Two Ribbons who is part of a terraforming contingent on a virgin planet. Except what his compatriots call terraforming, he calls genocide, for the millions of indigenous Eaters that they are clearing out to make room for farms are, he claims, intelligent. To prove his point, he goes out among the aliens, dancing their way and his way, hoping to avert catastrophe.
But is any of it real? Or is it all a figment of his traumatized mind?
I just found it all a bit hollow and affected, and also confusing. Not bad, but nowhere near Silverbob's best.
Three stars.
Pull Devil, Pull Baker!, Michael Harrison
A Jewish dentist finds himself implacably hostile to an Aryan patient, and, to his dismay, finds himself wanting to cause him pain in the examination chair. Turns out the two have a history that goes back centuries to another life, when the drill was in the other hand, so to speak.
So unfolds an age-crossing riddle, at the end of which lies a treasure of untold riches, if only it can be deciphered.
I dug this one. Maybe I'm biased. Four stars.
The Landlocked Indian Ocean, L. Sprague de Camp
De Camp offers himself up as a sort of half-rate Willy Ley, explaining why, for so long, the Indian Ocean was conceived of as a big lake rather than part of the world sea. There's a lot of good information here, but it's not quite as compellingly presented as it could be.
Three stars.
A Short and Happy Life, Joanna Russ
Here's a great little prose-poem on ingenuity involving a barometer. Good stuff. Four stars.
A Run of Deuces, Jack Wodhams
Aboard a superluminary cruise ship, the bored passengers come up with a betting pool to relieve their ennui: the winner of the pot is whomever guesses at what distance from their destination the ship will pop out of hyperspace.
A lot of sex. A lot of languour. A predictable ending. A low three (or a high two, if you're not in a good mood).
Last month, we were (re-)introduced to the Matuchek family: Steve the werewolf, Virginia the combat wizard, Valeria the moppet, and Svartalf the familiar. When Valeria was kidnapped by the agents of Hell, it was only a matter of time before her parents (and their cat!) would have to penetrate the perverse underworld to retrieve her.
Enlisting the aid of a pair of dead mathematical geniuses, in this installment, the trio warps into the infernal dimension, where they must face off against hordes of demons, baffling spatial topography, and the most evil of beings humanity has ever known.
There is good Anderson, there is boring Anderson, and there is middlin' Anderson. This story is firmly in the "good" camp, with vivid descriptions, engaging (and often funny) characters, and the sort of light, fantastic adventure we haven't seen from Anderson since Three Hearts and Three Lions. Poul does somber, dour, very well, so I think it's more work for him to keep things light—even as our heroes are arrayed against the forces of darkness! It's never frivolous, but there's a fey quality that keeps things on the right side of horrific.
And that episode in Hell! I've never read the like. My only regret is that it's not longer, with a little more time for the Matuchek squad to come up with their novel solutions so that the reader can better follow along. Perhaps it'll get expanded into a full length book at some point. I hope so!
Four stars for this installment and the book as a whole.
The Fateful Lightning, Isaac Asimov
A boffo piece on the discovery of electricity. It's good, although I found the explanation of how lightning rods actually work somewhat incomplete.
Four stars.
Repeat Business, Jon Lucas
A mom-and-pop boat charter take on a quartet of "travel agents" who are obviously (to the reader, at least) a bunch of aliens. The E-Ts are sussing out the charterers and their sailing vessel to see if they might be a hit back home on Sirius or Spica or wherever they're from.
It's not a badly written tale, but it's so obvious, and the protagonists so clueless, that it feels sub-par. Maybe this would have passed muster a couple of decades ago. Now it's old hat.
Two stars.
Back to Earth
And there you have it: big news in the skies and in the SFnal pages of F&SF. There's really no unpleasant reading at all in this month's mag, even if it isn't all novel or cutting edge, and the Anderson really ends with a bang—or a flash of brimstone, perhaps. Combined with the exciting space news, and the recent launch of Apollo 10 (article to come!) I am really feeling over the Moon.
[We've got another wonderful haul of books for you this month, many of which are well worth you're time. Be sure to read on 'til the end—you'll definitely catch the reading bug!]
By Mx Kris Vyas-Myall
The Hieros Gamos of Sam and An Smith by Josephine Saxton
Josephine Saxton is British author so, of course, her first book is about apocalypses and sexual awakening. However, it's a particularly skilled one.
The story: an unnamed teenage boy is wandering across the desolated British landscape alone, after an unexplained event has killed off all the other people. He comes across a baby girl and decides to bring her up. Together they try to understand the world that was left behind and what it means to be an adult.
You might assume this is either the usual “New Adam and Eve” story, or some kind of shock piece. However, Saxton manages to negotiate between these two paths skillfully. She describes the sexual emergences of both of them in matter-of-fact terms, which grounds the story within the dream-like atmosphere they inhabit.
As we go through, their comprehension of the world changes from child-like to a clear understanding of the facts of life. Even though their eventual relations could come across as disturbing given the age difference between the two, and the fact The Boy brought her up like a little sister, Saxton manages to largely negate this. She is able to show the passage of time well and, more importantly, give us the thought processes of both our leads to show they have free-will and are fully in control of their choices. For example:
She studied this for some time, and came to the conclusion that this was a drawing of a penis, and at what she had read and seen, she became hot all over, and in an excitable state.
There is also a clear sense throughout the text about the importance of symbolism. The Boy is constantly dismissing the importance of words and symbols but The Girl slowly shows him that deeper meaning is important.
For me, the key message that is brought out here is that they need to wipe away the sins of the past. The things that brought this world into being. When The Girl is bathing she sings about washing away her troubles in the River Jordan. And, when she gives birth, she insists on doing it in a place of death “to eradicate the source of evil here”. There is a central concept that simply them growing up and continuing the human race is not enough. Things have to change.
I picked up this novel as I knew it was related to The Consciousness Machine, one of my favourite novellas of last year. The connection raises significant questions. However, to discuss this requires mentions of later revelations of both works. As such, if you want to avoid knowing these facts, please feel free to skip to the next review.
As the name suggests, the novella is about a machine, WAWWAR, that can take the images of the unconscious mind and display them on a screen. The technician Zona is trying to decipher the meaning of The Boy and The Girl’s journey. There is also another piece of material relating to the hunt for a wild animal. These secondary and tertiary narratives are completely absent from the novel, which only contains The Boy and Girl’s tale in its totality.
As such, the conclusion of the book version is not about Zona learning the nature of the Animus, but The Boy, The Girl and The Baby deciding it is time to go home. So, they get on a bus, pay the conductor and go back to a fully furnished suburban house. The Girl then decides to get an early night as there is nothing on television on Tuesdays and puts the baby to sleep.
Now, a simple explanation for this could be we are literally seeing the film that was recorded by the WAWWAR. However, no hint of that is given and I think that is too large a leap to expect the average reader to make.
But to read it purely as a science fiction tale causes just as many problems. This sharp turn is nowhere hinted at in the text and in fact contradicts several core points created. Even if you could somehow accept the idea that The Boy went to live in a town that has been uninhabited, how does he have a house? How has he never seen a fully grown adult woman before? How does The Girl know about contemporary television schedules? How is the home not only still available to them after decades away, but with the utilities on?
So, what are we to make of this strange choice? There is no reason I could imagine that would force Saxton to expunge this frame from the longer book form. And the novel is indeed a good bit more explicit than the novella. So, a choice we must assume it is.
I like to believe it is opening us up to the freedom to understand the text in our own way. Zona’s meta-commentary on the events is merely one way of understanding a dream. You could also just as easily contend that the explosion in the chemist, shortly before they leave the town of Thingy, actually killed them all, suburbia representing the afterlife and Zona being like the angels in 40s cinema, discussing their existence.
Or, perhaps, the Town of Thingy really does exist and is a time displaced retreat. Something akin to Hawksbill Station. Where couples facing marital difficulties can be de-aged, grow-up together, and learn how to become one unit again, before being brought back at the same moment they left. And then The Consciousness Machine is actually just a dream The Girl has after she goes to bed.
I don’t know what Saxton intended, but I also do not think it matters. The journey and feel of the novel is excellent and how you choose to view it is just as valid as those watching the WAWWAR.
Humanity has made its first steps into interstellar space, settling the worlds of the Pleiades. In so doing, they have brushed across the domain of the mysterious Moldaug—a frustratingly humanoid but not quite human alien race with a fleet strength comparably to Terra's. After decades of peaceful coexistence, the Moldaug suddenly make claim to all the Pleiades. The Old Worlds of Earth, Mars, and Venus, reeling from a kind of space phobia, offer to relinquish their own claims to the Frontier. This only makes things worse for two reasons: 1) the Moldaug inexplicably find the offer offensive, and 2) the Frontier is not Earth's to give, for they had fought and won independence a dozen years prior! (For more on this story, see the novelette Hilifter.)
by Jack Gaughan (and cribbed from the novelization of Three Worlds to Conquer, as I learned from my friend, Joachim Boaz—the art makes much more sense for the original title)
Enter Cully O'Rourke When, the man most responsible for the Frontier's independence. When the veteran spacejacker returns to Earth to treat with the Old World's government, he is thrown into a floating prison with hundreds of other Frontiersmen, rendered impotent to cause more mischief. But in that very prison, he learns from an imprisoned anthropologist the explosive secret that foretells Armageddon between humans and the Moldaug…unless someone can bring the two races into true understanding.
Thus begins a tale that involves Cully's jailbreak, piracy on high space, and political turmoil in three realms.
This is a frustrating book because it has such potential, and there are many things to like in it. The gripping beginning, the well-realized triune nature of the Moldaug (each being-unit comprises three tri-bonded individuals), the subtle difference in morality between the two species (Right/not-Right vs. Respectable/not-Respectable—though one could argue that this is a thinly guised variation of the Japanese concept of "Face"), the rich setting, the final confrontation between Cully and the Moldaug Admiral Ruhn…these are all compelling.
But Dickson falls into the issues he had with his Dorsai series: one mastermind (our hero) knows every move and countermove, and everything breaks his way. As a result, the only drama comes in seeing the master plan unfold, not how said hero responds to adversity. In stories like this, one can see the author laying out the stepping stones, guiding a path so that the protagonist never makes a misstep.
The other issue is the virtual absence of women. I know people have given me grief for harping on this issue since I started this 'zine in 1958, but come on, people—it's 1969. We have women leading Israel and India. On Star Trek, a third of the crew of the Enterprise is female. A few years back, Rydra Wong led a crew of misfits to save the galaxy. So when the only human female character in all of the Frontier and the Old Worlds serves just to be a romantic foil (and to be ignored at the one juncture that she has critical information!), and she is the sole woman amongst a cast of dozens of men, the world Dickson builds starts to feel a little hollow.
Edmund Cooper is a British writer who has been active since the '50s, and up until recently I've not had the pleasure to read any of his work. He put out a novel just a month or two ago, and now here he is again, with a short collection called News from Elsewhere, featuring eight stories, only one of which is original to the collection. It was published in Britain last year but only just now got an American edition, courtesy of Berkley Medallion. Overall it's a mixed bag, since it looks like Cooper likes to repeat himself (there are three or four stories here about space expeditions), but the strongest material does make me curious for more. Let's take a look.
This is the only story to be first published in News from Elsewhere, and it’s… fine. It’s basically a fable, set in an icy and desolate world, about a young woman and her infant son as they travel with “the People of the Spur,” on a religious pilgrimage. The problem is that the woman’s son is a half-breed, a child-by-rape whose father is a “Changeling,” of a fellow humanoid race that whose members have hairy and thorny ridges on their backs. The woman tries to keep her son’s racial status a secret, but in trying to evade her people she literally falls into a chasm—and certain death. Cooper’s style here is almost childlike; there is barely any dialogue, and by the end it becomes clear what message we’re supposed to take from what is admittedly a harrowing adventure narrative. Cooper also saves the answer to the question “Is this science fiction or fantasy?” for the end, although I’m not sure why he treats it like a twist.
We jump from the newest story to one of the oldest, first published as “The End of the Journey” in the February 1956 issue of Fantastic Universe. “M 81: Ursa Major” is a space opera that asks a rather troubling question: “How do we know when we’re dead?” Or, to phrase it less threateningly: “How can we tell the difference, subjectively speaking, between being dead and being unconscious?” An experimental ship uses scientific mumbo jumbo to skirt the fact that it’s impossible to travel at the speed of light. The results are tragic, but also very strange—not least for the deeply jaded captain, who has a hunch that things will go wrong indeed. This is a story with a loose plot and only one genuine character to speak of, but it’s anchored by a strong idea. It’s the kind of story that was commonplace a decade and a half ago, but which now strikes me as a bit refreshing. I almost feel nostalgic about this sort of thing.
Four stars, but I understand if someone reads it and is not as impressed.
The Enlightened Ones
This one originally appeared in Cooper’s first collection, Tomorrow’s Gift. It’s the longest in the collection, and frankly, I’m not sure the length was justified. Long story short, a team of space explorers makes first contact with a race of hominids, who at first seem like primitive humans but who turn out to have a major advantage over the humans—only the humans are too concerned with what to do with the hominids at first to notice anything amiss. It’s a trite premise, even by the standards of a decade ago, that’s elevated by Cooper’s acute pessimism with regards to the notion of human supremacy. In this distant future it’s said that the Eskimos, Polynesians, and some other indigenous groups on Earth have been driven to extinction. Certainly the Campbellian protagonists do not come off well for the most part, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that “The Enlightened Ones” (such an immediately ironic title) was printed in Fantastic Universe and not Astounding/Analog.
First published in the 1963 collection Tomorrow Came, which may sound unfamiliar because it never got an American printing. “Judgment Day” is the most British-sounding of the lot so far, to the point where it reads like the late John Wyndham at a hefty discount. At first it doesn’t even register as SF. The narrator and his wife are in the park one day when people around them start having violent seizures—too many in one place for this to be a random occurrence. Soon the narrator’s wife falls victim as well, and for much of the story we may be wondering about not just the cause, but the context for all this. What does any of this mean? The narrator meets a soldier who promptly feeds him enough information to stun an elephant, the result being that we’re told about something important that basically happens outside the confines of the page and which has already come to an end by the time the narrator hears about it. It’s rather inelegant, never mind that the SFnal element already feels outdated somehow.
Two stars.
The Intruders
Cover art by Virgil Finlay.
This one first appeared as “Intruders on the Moon” in the April 1957 issue of Fantastic Universe. Yes, this surely does read like an SF adventure story from a dozen years ago. A team of explorers land on our moon to investigate the massive crater that is Tycho, for mining as well as the slim possibility of discovering intelligent life. (Something I wish to make clear at this point is that Cooper’s characters are not usually “characters” in the Shakespearian sense; they do not tend to have distinguishable personalities.) Miraculously, however, one of the crew discovers footprints in the sand near Tycho—rather large footprints with very long strides, indeed too much to be a human’s. The explorers go looking for this “Man Friday” of theirs, but they soon learn to regret it. “The Intruders” is pretty straightforward for how long it is, and while its quaint vision of man’s landing on the moon would have been acceptable last decade, I can’t imagine there being much interest in a story of its sort now.
One of Cooper’s earliest stories, and a hand-me-down from Tomorrow’s Gift. A team of space explorers (oh God, not again) lands on “Planet Five,” where there doesn’t seem to be any organic life—save for a species of butterfly. The butterflies have a power over the human explorers they remain unaware of until it’s too late. But it’s not all bad: the explorers also have with them a smartass robot named Whizbang, who emerges as the story’s single genuine character. The autonomous robot comes off more human than the actual humans, although this may be Cooper’s intention, as he uses this disparity at the end of the story to somewhat chilling effect. I’m sensing repetition in the story selection, but I do tepidly recommend this one. If nothing else it comes close to “M 81: Ursa Major” in conveying Cooper’s thesis on the strenuous nature between human rationality and things in our universe which may be beyond human understanding.
A strong three stars.
The Lizard of Woz
Cover art by Virgil Finlay.
This one first appeared in the August 1958 issue of Fantastic Universe, and it’s the crown jewel of the collection. “The Lizard of Woz,” aside from having an incredible title, is different from the others in that it is an outright comedy (albeit of a morbid hue), but it also is told from an alien’s perspective. Ynky is a member of a highly advanced race of alien lizards, who has been sent to Earth so as to determine if it is fit for “fumigation,” i.e., genocide on a planetary scale. The people Ynky comes into contact with (an American, then a Russian, then a third I would prefer to keep a secret) are caricatures, which is all well and good. Cooper pokes fun at both sides of the Iron Curtain, but overall this is a story about the absurdity of the notion of racial supremacy. We’re told constantly that the lizards of Woz are a superior race, yet they also have slave labor and are casually murderous with other sentient races, not to mention Ynky himself is rather slow-witted. Since this is a comedy, and a pretty silly one to boot, some people will be irritated by the antics, but I laughed several times over the span of its mere ten pages.
Finally we have “Welcome Home,” which first appeared in Tomorrow Came and so this marks its first American appearance. Looking back at that time, it seems now like the early ‘60s were simply an extension (or the semi-stale leftovers) of the ‘50s, at least with regards to SF, because this story reads as a few years older than it is. A team of explorers (for the last time, we swear it) land on Mars, which is suspected of possibly hosting life, but if so life on Mars would be far down on the evolutionary ladder. As it turns out, a mysterious pyramid, a sophisticated structure, has drawn the explorers’ attention. This is a first-contact story—of a sort. The twist, which I won’t say here (although you can safely guess it), seemed oddly familiar to me. As with a few other stories in the collection, “Welcome Home” is about the conflict between the West and the Soviets, although it’s not of a ham-fisted sort. It’s fine, but nothing special or surprising.
Three stars.
by Jason Sacks
The Sky is Filled with Ships by Richard C. Meredith
It's the year 979 of the Federation, or the year 3493 in the old calendar. Captain Robert T. Janas of the Solar Trading Company, Terran by birth and starman by occupation, is journeying back to his home planet at a time Terra is in great peril.
The Federation, long bloated and often brutal, is facing a massive rebellion among its vast and angry colonies. A truly titanic armada of thousands of warships from hundreds of solar systems is streaming to Earth via subspace wormholes to gain freedom for the colonies. Janas knows the defense of his home planet will be a futile gesture. There is no possible way even the enormous Terran space fleet can overcome the overwhelming odds and passions of the furious rebels and their massively armed fleet.
Janas knows, too, that a victory by the rebels will spiral mankind down to a new dark ages, just as brutal and destructive as that of Europe after the fall of Rome. Only Janas has the insight and plan to preserve a smidgen of the wisdom — not by saving Terra but by making the Solar Trading Company one of the few institutions to survive and preserve galactic knowledge.
I'm not familiar with the fiction of Richard C. Meredith, but I'm curious to read more by him based on this book. I was pretty intrigued by lead character Janas, who has a nice kind of fish-out-of-water feel to him as he wanders around Earth. That alienation presents a clever, illuminating aspect of the character. I enjoyed having a protagonist who is both a highly self-assured man and who also feels uncomfortable at times due to certain aspects of Earth's culture.
For instance, there's a slightly poignant feel to his annoyance at Earth fashions- like a colonial returned to his home only to find it dramatically different from the place he left. Janas is a stiff military man on a planet where the men dress like harlequins and the women wear fashions which leave them bare-breasted and proud.
But all that discomfort contrasts with the depiction of Janas as a man of action. Like a classic sci-fi hero, Janas brings his own plans and friends to the office of Al Franken, leader of the STC but too blinded by his own hubris to understand he is the problem. Captain Janas literally drags Franken into a plot which will ensure the fall of the ruling Franken family and the survival of Janas's beloved STC.
Meredith adroitly alternates chapters of this palace intrigue with scenes of the armada flying through subspace and showing the massive devastation which the rebel fleet creates on its journey. Those invasion scenes have a breathless, telegraphical quality to them which convey a massive sense of urgency.
As the book winds up, Meredith also does a clever thing: in late chapters he shows brief snippets of events all around the planet Earth as the reality of the Terran apocalypse become clear. In East Asia an angry mob kills their governor and his whole family; in Australia, a cult climb a mountain and await their ends; a rural farmer stands at his barn door, shotgun in hand, waiting to do his small part.
Mr Meredith in his younger days
Mr. Meredith, just over the age of 30, has created a clever and fun novel. There are points in which The Sky is Filled with Ships reads like a pretty standard potboiler sci-fi actioner, with square-chinned heroes fighting for noble causes. In that way it feels a bit of a throwback to the golden John W. Campbell days.
But I appreciated how the actions of our hero were focused on preserving society, which gave him a nobility which stood out on the page. As well, the scenes of oncoming invasion are exciting and had me quickly turning the pages.
I finished this relatively slim novel in one night. And though Meredith is no John Brunner, Philip K. Dick, or Harlan Ellison, he makes no effort to create literary science fiction with this novel. The Sky is Filled with Ships achieves what Meredith set out to create: an intriguing, exciting novel which will make me seek out some of his shorter fiction while I wait for the next thrilling novel by him.
This is the fifth in a series of novels under the collective title of Children of Violence. The others are Martha Quest (1952), A Proper Marriage (1954), A Ripple from the Storm (1958), and Landlocked (1965). I haven't read the others.
A little research reveals that they all deal with Martha, the child of British parents working on a farm in colonial Africa. She's born in about 1920. The four novels all take place in southern Africa. As a teenager, Martha leaves home to work in a city. As the years go by, she is married and divorced and married again. She has a daughter whom she leaves in the care of others. She becomes involved in leftwing politics.
None of the earlier books have speculative elements. The newest one is different. At well over six hundred pages, it's also roughly twice as long as any of the previous volumes.
The sheer length and the very large number of characters and incidents make it difficult to offer a brief summary. I'll do what I can. Keep in mind that I'm leaving out the vast majority of the content of this massive novel.
Martha is now in London in about 1950. She gets a job as a secretary/housekeeper for a man who is married to a woman who is in and out of mental hospitals. She winds up living in the same household for many years, becoming involved with many other members of his family and their acquaintances.
Just to pick one example out of dozens, the man's brother is a scientist who defects to the Soviet Union. He leaves behind his wife and young son. The woman is a Jewish refugee from the Holocaust. When her husband leaves, she kills herself.
That's enough of a dramatic plot for a complete novel, but it only takes up a small portion of the book. Rather than attempt to relate any other events of equal importance, let me try to give you some idea of what the novel is like as a whole. Taking my inspiration from its title, I'll consider it as four different kinds of book in one.
Psychological Novel
Much of the text consists of Martha's interior monologues. She often looks at herself as if she were an outsider. At times, she withdraws from the rest of the world and spends time in a meditative, introspective state.
Novel of Character
Although Martha is the most important character, we also spend a great deal of time with lots of other people. In one section, the point of view shifts to Martha's elderly mother, who leaves Africa in order to visit her daughter. All the secondary characters are described in detail. There are so many of them that I sometimes lost track of who was related to whom. A dramatis personae for this book would take up several pages.
Social Novel
A large number of social and political issues come up in the novel. Just off the top of my head, these include Communism and anti-Communism, psychiatry, post-war austerity evolving into 1960's hedonism, the youth movement, the relationship between the sexes, the media, the environment, the military, espionage, homosexuality, colonialism and anti-colonialism, and economics. At times the novel resembles a series of debates.
Science Fiction Novel
You were wondering when I'd get to that! They take a while to show up, but speculative themes eventually make an appearance. The novel suggests that people diagnosed as schizophrenic are actually clairvoyant and telepathic. They are treated as mentally ill because they have visions and hear voices.
More to the point, the book's lengthy appendix consists of documents, mostly letters from Martha and other characters, describing how the United Kingdom and other parts of the world are devastated by what seems to be a combination of pollution, accidental release of nerve gas, plague, and radiation from nuclear weapons. Martha ends up with a small number of survivors on a tiny island. In true science fiction fashion, children born there have highly developed psychic powers.
Giving this book a rating is very difficult. Some people are going to hate it, and find slogging through very long sentences and paragraphs that go on for a page or more not worth the effort. Others will consider it to be a major literary achievement of great ambition.
I have very mixed feelings. At times I found it highly insightful; at other times I found it tedious.
Three stars, for lack of a better way to rate it.
by Cora Buhlert
A Five and Dime James Bond: Zero Cool by John Lange
This weekend, I attended a convention in the city of Neuss in the Rhineland. Luckily, West Germany has an excellent network of highways, the famous Autobahnen, so the three and a half hour trip was quite pleasant.
I left at dawn and took the opportunity to have breakfast at the brand-new service station Dammer Berge. Service stations are not exactly uncommon – you can find them roughly every fifty to sixty kilometers along the Germany's Autobahnen. There's always a parking lot, a gas station, a small shop, a restaurant and sometimes a motel, housed in fairly unremarkable buildings on either side of the highway.
Dammer Berge, however, is different. Billed as the service station of the future, the restaurant is a concrete bridge which spans the highway, held up by two steel pylons. The structure is spectacular, a beacon of modernism, though sadly the food itself was rather lacklustre: a cup of coffee that tasted of the soap used to clean the machine and a slice of stale apple cake.
But I'm not here to talk about architecture or food, but about books. Now the trusty paperback spinner rack at my local import bookstore does not hold solely science fiction and fantasy. There is also a motley mix of gothic romances, murder mysteries and thrillers available. And whenever the science fiction and fantasy selection on offer does not seem promising, I reach for one of those other genres. This is how I discovered John Lange, a thriller author whose novel Easy Go I read last year and enjoyed very much. So when I spotted a new John Lange novel named Zero Cool in that spinner rack, I of course picked it up.
Zero Cool starts with Peter Ross, an American radiologist who's supposed to present a paper at a medical conference in Barcelona. And since he's already in Spain, Ross plans to take the opportunity for a holiday on the nearby Costa Brava in the seaside resort of Tossa de Mar.
One of John Lange's greatest strengths is his atmospheric descriptions. His skills are on full display in Zero Cool in the descriptions of the rugged Costa Brava with its picturesque fishing villages turned holiday destination for package tourists from all over Europe. It's obvious that Lange has visited Spain in general and the Costa Brava in particular.
That doesn't mean that Lange doesn't take poetic licence. And so his protagonist Peter Ross notes that the beaches of the Costa Brava are full of beautiful women in bikinis with nary a man in sight. As someone who has actually visited said beaches, I can assure you that this isn't true. Like anywhere on the Mediterranean coast, the beaches of Tossa de Mar contain a motley mix of old and young, of men, women and children, of attractive and not so attractive bodies. And yes, there are women in bikinis, too. Ross has holiday fling with one of them, a British stewardess named Angela.
But in spite of what the cover may imply, Zero Cool is not a romance set in an exotic location, but a thriller. And so Ross finds himself accosted on the beach by a man who begs him not to do the autopsy or he will surely die. Ross is bemused—what autopsy? In any event, he is on vacation and besides, he's a radiologist, not a pathologist, dammit.
Not long after this encounter, Ross is approached by four men in black suits who could not seem more like gangsters if they wore signs saying "The Mob" 'round their necks. The men want Ross to perform – you guessed it – an autopsy on their deceased brother, so his body can be repatriated to the US. Ross protests that he is a radiologist, not a pathologist, but the men are very insistent. They offer Ross a lot of money and also threaten to kill him if he refuses.
In the end, Ross does perform the autopsy – not that he has any choice, because he is abducted at gunpoint. To no one's surprise, the four gangsters from central casting are not all that interested in how their alleged brother died, but want Ross to hide a package inside the body. Once again, Ross complies, since finding himself on the wrong end of a gun is very persuasive.
Up to now, Zero Cool seems to be a fairly routine thriller about an everyman who gets entangled in a criminal enterprise. But the novel takes a turn for the weird, when the body vanishes and people start dying horribly, mutilated beyond recognition. Ross not only finds himself a murder suspect – in a country which still garrottes convicted criminals – but other parties also show an interest in the missing body and the mysterious package inside. These other parties include Tex, a cartoonish Texan in a ten gallon hat, the Professor, a bald man who uses mathematics to predict the future and is basically Hari Seldon, if Hari had applied his skills to crime rather than to trying to save humanity from the dark ages, and – last but not least – the Count, a Spanish nobleman with dwarfism, who collects perfume bottles and lives in a castle with a mute butler, a flock of murderous falcons and a Doberman named Franco.
With its exotic locales (well, for Americans at least, since for West Germans the Costa Brava no longer feels all that exotic, when you can book a flight there via the Neckermann mail order catalogue), beautiful but duplicitous women and colourful villains, Zero Cool feels more like a James Bond adventure than a serious thriller. As for the mystery package, it doesn't contain anything as mundane as drugs (which was my initial suspicion), but a priceless emerald stolen by the Spanish conquistadores in Mexico. It all culminates in a showdown at the Alhambra palace in Granada, where Ross finds himself dodging bullets, poison gas and the razor-sharp talons of the Count's murder falcons.
It's all a lot of fun, though it still pales in comparison to the James Bond novels and films, which Zero Cool is clearly trying to emulate. Because unlike the suave agent on her majesty's secret service, Peter Ross just isn't very interesting. He literally is an everyman, an American doctor – and note that John Lange is the pen name used by a student at Harvard medical school who is financing his studies by writing thrillers – bouncing around Spain and France. In fact, Ross is probably the least interesting character in the whole novel. Furthermore, the fact that Ross is a radiologist, though constantly brought up, contributes nothing to the resolution. He might just as well have been a paediatrician or a gynaecologist or any other type of doctor for all it matters.
But even a lesser effort by John Lange is still better than most other thrillers in the paperback spinner rack. If John Lange becomes as good a doctor as he's a writer, his patients will be very lucky indeed.
An outrageous adventure. Three and a half stars.
(As mentioned above, John Lange is a pen name. However, I have it on good authority that his real name is "Michael Crichton" and that he has just published a science fiction novel under that byline. I haven't yet read it, but my colleague Joe has, so check out his review.)
The story begins in the town of Piedmont, Arizona, in the United States. It’s a pretty unremarkable town, with one small exception: just about everyone in the town is lying dead in the street, all except for two men who traveled to Piedmont to recover some lost government property and an odd figure in the town of corpses who happens to be walking their way. Upon the apparent death of the two men, an investigation gets underway, ultimately led by a clandestine government group called Project Wildfire.
Project Wildfire is the brainchild of Dr. Jeremy Stone, a bacteriologist possessing so many awards and degrees that the story paints him as a modern-day Da Vinci, a man above men. His team includes Dr. Charles Burton, a pathologist; Dr. Mark Hall, a surgeon, and the only unmarried man on the team—the odd man as the story puts it; and lastly, Dr. Peter Leavitt, a microbiologist. The four men quickly fall into their roles as they uncover the cause of whatever killed an entire town full of people in one night and try to prevent it from spreading.
They do this working out of a secure, state-of-the-art research facility with a list of protocols to prevent the escape of diseases, viruses, and other deadly pathogens, longer than a football field. Part of the appeal of the story is the detailed descriptions of all the computers, machines, and medical facilities that the four doctors use in their quest. Crichton’s depiction of even the smallest details of the workings of every inch of the Wildfire facility give a grounded feel not only to the base but to the descriptions he provides of the microorganism at the heart of this story: the Andromeda Strain itself. Crichton beautifully has his characters follow the scientific method we all learned in grade school, as Stone and the others start with observation, then move to hypothesis, then experimentation. Every solution in the book is arrived at through the efforts of brilliant men under tremendous pressure. It is truly exciting to witness them work as each discovery and dead end leads to new discoveries and new dangers.
The pacing of The Andromeda Strain felt fitting to me. I never felt as if I was waiting for something to happen. Each scene in every chapter was packed with purpose and direction, each page wasted no space. Every character had a job to do, and each was one of the best in the world at that job. Regarding the characterizations, although the story is set in modern times, these men often felt as if they were the stoic men of bronze from 1950’s serials. The characters felt dated, but the problems they tackled were quite modern.
By the end of the book, the characters and the circumstances reached a good stopping point. The object of worry, the Andromeda Strain itself, proved a challenge that had taxed the heroes of the story to their very limits. Some issues are addressed, and others are left unresolved. In my own zeal for the story, I’ve taken great pains to avoid revealing too much of the plot. It is best experienced in real time. All I can say is that the journey this book takes you on is worth the time investment. It’s a stellar read.
But not a perfect one. This is a story that begins with the end in mind. With all the truly amazing events that unfold in the book, what stands out most are the constant reminders from the narrator that the story was already over. This was my first time reading a book written by Mr. Crichton. I don’t know if he employs this technique in his other works, but I would have preferred that he kept his internal monologuing to himself. In one instance, a character forgets to replicate an action that he had performed on some lab rats. Narrator: “Later we learned that was a mistake.” In another, a character makes assumptions about a biological process. Narrator: “That action wasted days of our time.” The narrator frequently shares tidbits of the future, a narrative tool I would call “Poor Man's Foreshadowing.” The Andromeda Strain is such an engaging and suspenseful tale that I wished to remain in the present throughout my reading without Crichton yanking me out of it, offering glimpses of a future I wanted to reach without shortcuts.
That minor gripe aside, The Andromeda Strain by Michael Crichton is a thrilling mystery with high stakes. It is the kind of fact-based science fiction that I enjoy the most.
My crowd can't decide what to take this semester, but we've narrowed it down to the administration building and the library.
~Judy Carne on Laugh-In
Last Spring, students and Afro-Americans formed an uneasy alliance at Columbia University, taking over multiple buildings in pursuit of several disparate aims. Black students and denizens of the neighborhoods surrounding the campus fought against the school annexing public spaces (specifically, the building of the new Columbia gymnasium in Morningside Park). Other students rallied against Columbia's doing research for the defense department—essentially an inside raid against the Vietnam War.
After assembling to protest, radicals managed to seize five campus buildings, where they squatted for nearly a week before New York's finest, the boys in blue, dismantled the makeshift furniture barricades one by one and dragged the occupiers to the paddy wagons.
This did not end the struggle—thousands of students boycotted classes in May, and Columbia President Kirk resigned in June after giving in to pressure not to press charges against the protesters. Hundreds of students due to graduate that month held their own, unofficial commencement on Low Plaza, in front of the Low Library—scene of clashes in the early stages of the occupation.
Last June, the Columbia Sentinel published a game delightfully titled, Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker!, inspired by a phrase uttered more than once throughout the event, sometimes in official channels. One of the game's authors is Jim Dunnigan, who wargamers will recognize as the fellow who wrote Jutland for the wargame company, Avalon Hill. The other is "Jerry Avorn", a name that is unfamiliar to me.
The game is simple. There is a map that represents Columbia's campus. There are eleven tracks representing eleven communities associated with the school. There are two players: the administration (whose power points are called Level of Administrative Will or LAWs) and the protestors (theirs are called Ratio of Activism Determinants or RADs). Each turn, first the protestors get RADs to place on a track. If there are any LAWs there from last turn, they can choose to clash. A succesful confrontation moves the Position Unit Counter (PUC) one space toward the winner's side. Each space has a point value, and at the end of the game (after twelve turns), the value of the points under the PUCs is totaled—whomever has more wins the game.
The number of LAWs afforded the administration goes up every turn; the radicals get fewer as time goes on. In addition, each turn, a player draws a card from the provided deck, usually increasing the LAWs or RADs provided that turn. There are more cards favoring the administration than otherwise.
Each turn, either side may attempt a board-wide clash rather than fighting for individual tracks. At that point, the titular "Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker!" is exclaimed, and the pieces of both sides totaled. This is a strategic move…or a Hail Mary pass.
Interestingly, the odds of victory in a clash go up as a side gets superiority…up til 4-1. At 5-1, the attacker has a 1 in 6 chance of losing all LAWs/RADs engaged! Presumably, this represents a bad-press atrocity that hurts the cause.
Janice and I got a copy of this game from a friend on the East Coast. Even though things are calm at Columbia University (may they remain so!) the memory of last year's events are fresh enough that it still feels timely. So we headed out for our favorite local diner and set up the game to play.
For our first bout, I took the radicals. I was quickly crushed, both by bad luck and a lack of understanding how to play. We switched sides, and had much more of a game of it. Indeed, Janice played almost optimally.
There really is only one strategy for the radicals—it's the administration's game to lose—and it still depends a lot on luck. At the start of the game, the point total favors the protestors by three points. And the PUC only moves down the track in the event of a clash. So it is in the radical player's interest to plunk down unassailable (for the moment) forces in a few key buildings. Let the LAW(s) come to them.
Now, this war of attrition still favors the administration, but if the radical player is lucky (as Janice was), favorable cards early in the game can allow a declaration or two of "Up Against the Wall…", moving PUCs and decimating (perhaps eliminating) administration presence. The university still has the advantage, but it might come down to a couple of risky 2:1 attacks on the last turn—each has a 1 in 6 chance of backfiring.
As for the administration player, strategy is simple: build up a juggernaut at key places and strike when you hit 3:1. Simple as that. All you need is to shift two points to get the lead.
In the end, Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker is more of a logic puzzle than a game. Once you've solved it, replay value is low. Janice suggested a variant where PUCs move each turn, regardless of whether there is a clash or not, so long as a player ends one's turn with the only piece(s) on the track. This gives more incentive to spread out one's pieces rather than squatting.
Maybe. I think I've had it. But I enjoyed the process, and as an educational tool, I think it's pretty nifty. If you can get your hands on it, give it a spin…if only for the chance to utter those five immortal words…
By the way, friends of ours published an even better article on the game in CrimethInc, and we strongly recommend finding a copy—it even comes with a spruced up version of the game!
In 1961, I got myself a television. Not just any television—I went straight to a color set (an RCA), even as hardly anyone in the nation owned one. Heck, we still had stations that weren't broadcasting in color yet. I think NBC is the only one I can remember that touted its weekly day of color programming.
Anyway, I made up for lost time, watching a lot of (too much) television. I quickly came to agree with then-FCC commissioner Newton Minow's assessment of visual broadcast. He described it as "a vast wasteland."
Still, I found some worthy shows, and back in 1962, I put out a guide to the good shows on television at the time. In 1965, I came out with a sequel.
Why haven't I published a TV guide since? Well part of it is because we've given focus to individual shows. For instance, our Star Trek coverage has been very thorough. Janice wrote about The Green Hornet in 1967. Last year, our UK friends watched The Prisoner, which made a big splash when it hit American shores last summer. Also, Victoria Silverwolf covered the spy craze back in 1966, and that included a lot of TV shows, some of which are still on.
Nevertheless, as we head into the rerun season this year, it's a good time to look back on what's sprouted in the wasteland since our last update. After all, while some of the shows have since gone off the air, or are about to, you'll still get to catch them (often at more convenient times) in syndication.
Star Trek (1966-1969)
Obviously, this is the biggie. Star Trek was (well, there's one more episode to be aired, so technically "is") the first real science fiction series on television. Sure, there was kiddie fare before that, like Space Patrol (both the Corn Flakes-sponsored one and the puppet import from the UK) and Man in Space, not to mention (please don't mention) the profusion of Irwin Allen shows starting with Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea through Lost in Space to Time Tunnel and still going with Land of the Giants.
And yes, The Twilight Zone had SFnal episodes, and The Outer Limits was more explicitly sci-fi, but both shows were mostly inspired by the pulp era, the science fiction content primitive in the extreme.
Star Trek, for all its faults, derived from the science fiction of the '40s and '50s while spotlighting some of the social issues of today. The Enterprise essentially flew out of the pages of classic Astounding—which makes sense; Gene Roddenberry said as much to one of our friends at the 1966 Worldcon. We even had bonafide SF authors like Norman Spinrad, Robert Bloch, Jerome Bixby, Harlan Ellison, and Ted Sturgeon writing episodes…though the practice of soliciting pros quickly stopped when they began demanding too much money. Luckily, many of Trek's best episodes were written by newcomers. Indeed, one of the more gratifying things about the show has been that is has helped launch the careers of a number of women writers, Jean Lisette Aroeste and D.C. (Dorothy) Fontana being the names that immediately come to mind.
So even though the show is cruising toward a premature end of its five year mission, it is a must see when it inevitably gets rerun after this summer.
Mod Squad (1968-)
“One black, one white, one blonde”
If any show has heralded a sea change on the boob tube, it's Mod Squad. Cop shows have been a dime a dozen for a long time. Highway Patrol, 87th Precinct, Dragnet, Felony Squad, The F.B.I., Ironside, N.Y.P.D.—even Car 54, Where Are You? (admittedly, that one was a comedy). Indeed, shows about the police are starting to rival Westerns in terms of airtime dominance. Just this year, we got three of them: Hawaii Five-O, Adam 12, and the subject of this section.
But whereas the only distinguishing characteristic of the first one is its location (beautiful Hawai'i), and the second one is as bad as a patrol cop show from the makers of Dragnet and starring that program's worst guest actor could be, Mod Squad is Something Else.
Mod Squad is the story of three young adults, all with minor criminal rap sheets, all who decide to become undercover cops rather than do time. They quickly form a bond with each other and with their Captain, Adam Greer. Over the course of the season, they have busted narcotics rings, carjackers, helped nab corrupt cops, and otherwise proven their value to the force.
The difference? Heart. Mod Squad is oozing heart, with genuine chemistry amongst all the four leads. The cops in the other shows tend to be portrayed as benevolent(?) automatons. Pete, Julie, and Linc (and Adam) are human beings—compelling, vulnerable, admirable.
Beyond that, there's been a quantum leap in production. Everything in Mod Squad is on location, with mobile cameras and lots of action. Car chases, foot races, you name it. The show bursts with energy. Its lineage traces from the hip globetrotting of I, Spy and the philosophical earthiness and camaraderie of Route 66, and oft times, it surpasses both shows.
Watch it. Dig it. This one's going to be around a while, I predict.
The Monkees (1966-1968)
Debuting at the same time as Star Trek and on the same network, The Monkees flamed out more quickly. No surprise—comedy is hard to maintain, especially the kind of frenetic, innovative stuff you saw on that show. Beyond that, when you make a show about four charismatic musicians, you run the risk of said musicians actually having talent and wanting to do their own thing. No matter what the papers or the sneering cognoscenti say, The Monkees are all pretty talented people. After all, Peter Tork is an accomplished guitarist and folk singer, Mike Nesmith has penned a dozen hit songs (and not just for himself), and Micky and Davy are both decent performers as well as skilled actors.
It's no surprise that the show went off the rails, and then The Monkees demolished it entirely with their deconstructive movie, Head (not to mention their freak-out of a TV special: 33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee).
But if you get a chance to catch the show in rerun, it's worth it. It's genuinely funny, the musical interludes feature complete songs (get your tape deck ready!), the songs are excellent, and the foursome has magical chemistry. When they are a foursome—for some reason, Mike was on vacation for about a fifth of the episodes…
Laugh-In (1968-)
Speaking of successful comedy, it's hard to miss NBC's smashiest of smashes, the psychedelic, wild ride that is Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. We've covered the show previously, so I won't go into too much detail. I will note that the program has evolved in the two years it's been on the air. This year, we got several new performers: Dave Madden, whose shtick is tossing confetti to signify he's having dirty thoughts; Chelsea Brown…The Black One (I hope they broaden her role next year); Alan Souse…The Homosexual (I hope they broaden his role next year).
It is impossible to understate the influence the show has had on pop culture. From "Here Come the Judge" to "Sock it To Me" to "Very Interesting", Laugh-In-isms are everywhere. On the last Bob Hope special, we counted three or four clear references to the show. Arte Johnson is doing Mustang commercials—in his Nazi persona (at least he's not shilling for Volkswagen). Half the cast guest starred (as themselves) on I Dream of Jeannie. Every week, you can see at least one of the team on some variety/talk show or another.
It is a very funny show, and hosts Dick and Dan have a natural rapport. Beyond that, the cast manage to come up with unique musical numbers every week, which is amazing. The women performers, in particular, are amazingly talented.
There are some warning signs: since Nixon got elected, perhaps with Laugh-In's help—Tricky Dick had a cameo earlier this year: "Sock it to me?" he exclaimed stiltedly—the show has tacked rightward in its commentary. In the last episode, the Reverend Billy Graham was the special guest, making rather unfunny jokes, and ending the show with a straightfaced endorsement of John 3:16. I'm not sure if Arte Johnson (in full Wehrmacht regalia) agreeing with the sentiment was intended to be ironic or not.
On the other hand, at least the show isn't as sexist as it used to be. The worst of that last season was when they had Cher Bono as a guest, and the musical number was about grasping wives. If anyone's the grasping wife in the Bono clan, it's Sonny.
Anyway, I don't need to tell you to watch it. You probably already are. Let's hope next season is even better.
Hollywood Palace (1964-)
When I was a very young, Vaudeville was king. Live song and dance—forget this radio and television jazz. Well, ABC's Hollywood Palace, put on in the building of the same name owned by none other than Bing Crosby, is the closest you'll get to the old Vaudeville days. Comedy, acrobatics, singing, magic…the works. All live (but taped).
Every week, there's a different host (Bing always claims the first and last nights for himself). Sometimes they're terrific, like the times Sammy Davis Jr. gets the job; sometimes we get Burl Ives. I'd say the show is pitched mainly at folks of my generation, maybe a touch older. The jokes, the guests, most were big a decade or two ago. That said, the Palace keeps things hip with acts like the Supremes and Gladys Knight. It's definitely not Lawrence Welk (for my parents), nor is it American Bandstand (for my kids).
Lorelei and I have been regular watchers of the show ever since we heard Tony Randall hosted it once. We're grateful it's had such longevity.
The Carol Burnett Show (1968-)
If you took Laugh-In and Hollywood Palace and shmushed them together, you'd get The Carol Burnett Show. Less frenetic than Laugh-In, but hipper than the Palace, it's a bit like if the latter show had just one host the whole time. Carol starts out each show with a question an answer segment that feels genuine and unrehearsed. The musical acts are a mix of looped and live performances. The skits range from domestic comedy to fractured fairy tales, utilizing the supporting cast of the prissy Harvey Korman, the hunky Lyle Waggoner, the adorable Vicki Lawrence (who usually plays Carol's sister; I'm amazed they aren't related), and whomever is guest this week.
It's a terrific show, and Carol is an excellent host. If I have any complaint, it's that the family skits play a little too hard into the marital discord bit. Also, as much as I love Ms. Burnett, eventually you can get too much of a good thing—week after week, skit after skit.
Still, definitely in the upper tiers of television!
That's Life (1968-1969)
Remember how I marveled that Laugh-In manages to produce a new musical number or two each week? Well That's Life tried to make a romantic sitcom that was a complete, hour-long musical on the same schedule!
Robert E. Morse (How to Succeed at Business Without Really Trying) and E.J. Peaker starred in a whirlwind tour of courtship, marriage, and family as they sang and danced through their lives. Each episode had a coterie of special guests (of course, our favorite was Tony Randall), and the whole thing was funny and fast-paced.
Well, you knew it couldn't last. After one season, it's gone. And having only gone on one season, it's likely we'll never see it in syndication. ¡Qué lastima!
Wild Kingdom (1963-)
One show that shows no sign of quitting is Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. Hosted by the Director Emeritus of the St. Louis Zoo, Marlin Perkins, this is quite simply the coolest nature program to be found. We get a new half-season at the beginning of every year. Marlin opens up each episode with a bit of in-studio discussion, often partnering with one of his fellow rangers (usually Jim, but occasionally Stan Brock, the South African mountain) and W.K., the chimpanzee.
Then it's off to the field: either a prerecorded feature narrated by someone else, or footage from a real safari that Marlin has gone on. Usually the latter involves tracking an endangered animal or rescuing some creature for scientific study. Marlin is no joke—at age 60+, you can still find him netting lions or sleep-darting elephants. Of course, Marlin doesn't hold a candle to Stan wrestling hippopotami or saving drowned calves.
I'm sure some of the editing is artfully done for drama, but it's still a great show, emphasizing the importance of preserving the natural abundance to be found in the Wild Kingdom.
Since this article is running long, I shan't bother listing the shows not worth watching. I won't even mention the C+ and B- television that I won't flip the idiot box off for, but which aren't worth seeking out. With just the shows I've recommended, you'll have plenty to watch out for!
If you're anything like me, Peyton Place is something that happened to other people. After all, last season, the first primetime soap opera was scheduled opposite Laugh In, and before that, the 9:30 PM slot in the midst of ABC's insipid Tuesday-night line-up.
But now I feel a little bad that the groundbreaking show is being taken off the air. Based on the 1956 book of the same name by Grace Metalious, the Massachusetts-set serial was salacious for the time, involving as it did a lot of S-E-X, divorce, blackmail, murder, and more. Jack Paar called it "Television's first situation orgy." Johnny Carson quipped that it was "the first TV series delivered in a plain wrapper."
Stars Diana Hyland (standing), Pat Morrow (in can), and Tippy Walker
At one point a few years ago, some 60 million folks tuned in each week for the fun. But nowadays, when the local theater is going blue/stag, and Candy is a mainstream hit ("Is Candy faithful? Only to the book!"), Peyton Place all seems a bit staid. They tried to mix things up by bringing in more teen storylines and also integrating the cast by hiring Percy Rodrigues (Star Trek's Commodore Stone) as the local doctor.
with Ryan O'Neal
Still, you can't beat Dick and Dan, and the series plummetted in the ratings (really—what were they thinking, scheduling it across from Rowan and Martin?) After 514 episodes, the show is going off the air. Which, of course, just means we'll see it endlessly in morning reruns opposite the regular soaps—and you can bet we'll get a revival sometime in the future. In the meantime…
"Goodnight, Lucy. Goodnight, Marshall Dillon. And goodnight to all you kooks on Peyton Place."
Goodnight, Johnny
by Kelly Freas
ABC at least knew when to pull the plug on its sinking stone. Analog editor John Campbell, while he did some brilliant work in the '30s and '40s, seems content to stuff his magazine with the dullest dreck that science fiction has to offer. The latest issue is Exhibit 1 for the prosecution:
Dragon's Teeth, by M. R. Anver
by Kelly Freas
A peace conference on a neutral asteroid promises to end a brutal war between humanity and the alien Cadosians. But a faction of extraterrestrials has plans to distrupt the summit by introducing a deadly virus. The question is how they'll smuggle it in…or in whom?
This is a competently put together adventure/mystery—no more, and no less. As such, it's a fine first effort from Mr. Anver, but nothing to write home about.
Three stars.
The Chemistry of a Coral Reef, by Theodore L. Thomas
Science writer and fictioneer Ted Thomas offers up a long piece on coral reefs and how they're made. For an article on stuff that takes place in our oceans, it's awfully dry. Well, at least I know now what they're made of: calcium carbonate. Good for all those fish with indigestion, I guess.
Two stars.
Operation M. I., by R. Hamblen
by Leo Summers
Three weeks of hyperspace are crushingly dull, and the intergalactic service is worried about the morale of their solo couriers, who have to endure the period without diversion. Apparently, books and booze aren't enough.
So the ship's computer on the latest FTL ship is programmed to act like a nagging mother-in-law so each pilot is more irritated than bored.
Terrible piece. One star.
Persistence, by Joseph P. Martino
by Kelly Freas
This is a sequel to the story Secret Weapon. The Terrans have now got a leg up on their war with the Arcani, now destroying 3-4x as many vessels as they are losing. However, this proportion is still below what the Big Brains in military intelligence expected. Our hero, Commander William Marshall, is certain that the aliens have developed Faster Than Light ("C+") communications and are using them to thwart our patrols.
The story is devoted to the reverse engineering of a captured Arcani corvette, tediously going through each electronic gizmo to see how it is wired and what it is wired to. Eventually, the existence (or lack) of a C+ radio will be proven.
Once again, the story is dull as dirt, and worse, poorly edited. There's an art to writing successive paragraphs using different words. Martino will repeat set phrases several times in a row, the sign of an unfiltered brain-to-typewriter stream of consciousness.
Also, women of the future still remain in the 1950's, socially.
As we saw last month, Rex Bader, last of the private dicks in the People's Capitalism of America's late 20th Century, had been tapped by no fewer than five organizations to spy on each other as Bader went off to Eastern Europe and make contacts. This passage explains it all:
He stared at the screen in disbelief.
This whole thing was developing into a farce. Roget wanted him to make an ultra-hush-hush trip into the Soviet Complex to contact his equal numbers with the eventual aim of creating a world government based on the international corporations.
Sophia Anastasis, of International Diversified industries, thought such a world government would upset the status quo to the detriment of what was once called the Mafia, and wanted all details.
John Coolidge and his group [the successor to the FBI] were afraid such changes would upset the governmental bureaucracy and the military machine and wanted to prevent it from happening.
Colonel Simonov felt the same from the Soviet viewpoint, and wanted to maintain the status quo.
Dave Zimmerman was all in favor of world government but wanted the Meritocracy which would run it to be elected from the bottom up in each corporation, rather than being appointed.
And every damned one of them thought that their part of the operation was a secret.
Once Bader gets to Czechslovakia and Romania, the book reads like typical Reynolds: historical parallels (none after 1969, of course), tourism (we learn about the national drinks of the Warsaw Pact), and mildly droll high jinks. It seems that Bader's cover is blown wherever he goes, suggesting a traitor somewhere in the works among his five employers.
There could have been a good mystery here, but it's all thrown in too little, too late. Moreover, it's clear that this two-part serial is really just the first half of a longer book.
As a result, the whole is lesser than the sum of its parts. I give this segment three stars, and three stars for the book as a whole (so far).
The Eridanians are coming! Responding from signals broadcast by Project Ozma, an alien ship has been dispatched from Epsilon Eridani. After twelve years at near light speed, the vessel is about to arrive—and the press is filled with concerns of an impending alien takeover.
It all stems from a mistranslation of their latest message, suggesting their intent is conquest rather than coexistence. In the meantime, there is a lot of Keystone Copping as the head of the Ozma IX project tries to tamp down on the paranoia.
by Kelly Freas
The best part of the story is the "universal message" broadcast by the Eridanians, hatched up by author Chapdelaine. He explains it in the story—see if you can figure it out yourself.
But in the end, the story is rather pointless and forgettable. Two stars.
Goodnight May
Doing the math, I find that April (postmarked May on the magazines) was a dreadful month for short science fiction. Not a single magazine topped 3 stars, and Analog came in at a dismal 2.3. For posterity, the rest were New Worlds (2.7), Venture (2.7), Amazing (2), Galaxy (3), and IF (3), and Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.7)
Even more disheartening: you could take all the 4-star works (nothing hit 5 stars this month) and barely fill a Galaxy-sized thick digest. Women wrote 20% of all the new pieces published in April, which sounds impressive until you realize that six of the works were short poems in New Worlds, all by Libby Houston.
I am already hearing rumblings about Galaxy and IF's editor Fred Pohl getting the heave-ho, and Amazing's editorial musical chairs is legendary. ABC dumped Peyton Place—is it time for someone to cancel John Campbell?
The end may be near for the nascent would-be-state of Biafra. For two years, the Nigerian breakaway has seen its land systematically (re)taken, and the eight million Biafrans, mostly Ibo people, have been crammed into ever small regions under Biafran control—just 3,000 out of an original 29,000 square miles.
Starvation rages, killing more than gunfire. Yet the Biafrans remain unbowed, converting diesel generators to run on crude petroleum, keeping churches open (at night, anyway), and getting food via threatened air strips.
But on the 22nd, the capital and last Biafran city, Umuahia, fell to Nigerian forces. Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, President of Biafra, has vowed he will continue the struggle in guerrilla fashion. Only Gabon, Haiti, Ivory Coast, Tanzania, and Zambia have recognized the secessionist state, although tacit assistance has been provided by such diverse states as France, Spain, Portugal, Norway, and Czechoslovakia.
At this point, it's hard to imagine the Biafran experiment succeeding. But surely there must be more that we can do apart from watch helplessly. I wish I knew what it was. Support the Red Cross, I suppose.
Impending mediocrity
I don't have a great segue from that bummer of a news item. All I have is the lastest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction. While it's not entirely unworthy (the opening serial is pretty good), the rest offers little respite from the bleakness of the real world:
Back in the '50s, Poul had a great series that took place on a parallel Earth. Its history was not dissimilar to ours, but wizardry replaces technology in many regards. It's a bit like Garrett's Lord D'Arcy series, but a touch sillier. The stars of the series are a magical duo comprising a werewolf and a magic-using dragoon Captain. In the latest story (a decade ago!) the two had gotten married. In the latest installment, Ginny and Steve are the proud parents of a beautiful little girl.
Unfortunately, Valeria Victrix has been born into a difficult time. Adherents of St. John, whose outwardly clement brand of Christianity hides disturbing cultist elements, are waging a war against authority and the military-industrial complex—including the defense contractor that employs Steve. The Johnnites are essentially stand-ins for the current peace movements, albeit more sinister.
The conflict with the less-than-civil resisters recedes in importance, however, when on her third birthday, Valeria is abducted by no less than the demonic forces of Hell. It is now up to Steve and Ginny to rescue their little girl before she is incurably corrupted…and to determine if the Johnnites are at all responsible!
Anderson has three main modes: crunchy, compelling science fiction; crunchy, dull-as-dirt science fiction; and lightish fantasy. This short novel, despite the dark subject matter, promises to be the most fun romp since Three Hearts and Three Lions.
Four stars so far.
The Beast of Mouryessa, by William C. Abeel
A French sculptor is commissioned to create a replica of an obscene, demonic figure, unearthed recently in the Avignon region. The original stone creature has a history of causing catastrophe to those who behold it, but the lovely matron who wants the copy seems unperturbed. Of course, the sculptor has all sorts of ill feelings and second thoughts, but he does nothing about them. In the end, he is possessed by the spirit of the thing, and awful stuff ensues.
Aside from all the sex and frequent references to the statue's enormous dong, this story is pretty old hat. Lovecraft did this kind of thing better.
Two stars.
by Gahan Wilson
London Melancholy, by M. John Harrison
A host of eerie mutants roam post-apocalyptic London in this absolutely impenetrable, unreadably purple piece.
One star.
For the Sake of Grace, by Suzette Haden Elgin
Thousands of years from now, Earth and its solar colonies have organized into a patriarchal, caste-based system. The Kadilh ban-Harihn has much cause for joy: four sons who have all passed the stringent test to become 4th degree members of the Poet caste. But he also has a hidden pain; his sister was one of the rare women to dare entry into the coveted ranks of the Poets. Her fate for failing was that of all women who fail—eternal solitary confinement.
'Unfair!' you cry? Well, at least it keeps women from trying such a foolhardy endeavor. Which is why it hits the Kadilh all the harder when he learns his youngest child, his only daughter, also has decided to try to be a Poet, a task of which she is most certainly incapable…
This is a scathing piece, a refreshing attack on sexism. I'd give it higher marks if it had included even one poem, given the theme, but I still quite liked it.
Four stars.
The Power of Progression, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor explains why our current rate of population growth cannot go on—even if we manage to get off planet, that just means the universe will be clogged with humanity within the millennium.
I appreciate the doomsaying sentiment, but there comes a point when exponents become specious, a masturbatory effort in mathematics.
Three stars.
Copstate, by Ron Goulart
I used to like the tales of Ben Jolson, lead agent of the shapechanging Chameleon Corps, but they've gotten pretty tired of late. This last entry is the least. Ben is tapped to infiltrate a tightly controlled security state to retrieve a revolutionary polemic.
Goulart is capable of writing funny, light, riproaring stuff, but this one is just a bust.
Two stars.
The Flower Kid Cashes In, by George Malko
Item two in the cavalcade of anti-utopian incomprehensibility. Per a conversation I recently had with David and Kris:
Me: Can anyone explain the last story in this month's F&SF to me?
David: Not really. Aging hippie survives after the Bomb falls and sort of commits suicide by staying true to his priniciples? I think it was too concerned with being literary to mean something or be about anything.
Kris: I am not even sure if it is trying to be literary so much as "with it". But either way it seems very hollow.
Your guess is as good as mine. At least it's short. Two stars.
The Body Count
Comparing the lastest F&SF to the Biafran tragedy is probably beyond the realm of good taste. I'll just note that 2.7 stars is an inauspicious sign. However, given that the first few issues of the year were significantly better, I don't think this lapse foretells a permanent downturn.
At least some things are salvageable. See you next month.
![[June 30, 1969] Anywhere but here (July 1969 <i>Analog</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/690630analogcover.jpg?resize=656%2C372&ssl=1)
![[June 16, 1969] The Voyage to Net a Dolphin (June 1969 Galactoscope)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/690616covers.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 31, 1969] When eras collide (June 1969 <i>Analog</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690531analogcover.jpg?resize=665%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 20, 1969] Ad Astra et Infernum (June 1969 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690520coverfsf.jpg?resize=652%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 16, 1969] Strange Dreams (May Galactoscope)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690516covers.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 12, 1969] The Students are Revolting (the wargame <i>Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690512upagainstthewall-1-scaled.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 4, 1969] Navigating the Wasteland #3 (1966-69 in (good) television)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690504laughin.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[April 30, 1969] Eulogies (May 1969 <i>Analog</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690430analogcover.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[April 26, 1969] Downbeat (May 1969 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690424coverfsf.jpg?resize=667%2C372&ssl=1)
