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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[April 11, 1963] A Myriad of Musicks (the state of popular music in 1963)

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by Gideon Marcus

Humans like to categorize things.  Types of people, varieties of animals, kinds of music, boundaries of epochs.  As an historian, I find the latter particularly interesting.  The transition between ages is often insensible to those living in them.  After the fact, we tend to compact them into tidily bounded intervals.  The Gay '90s.  The Roaring Twenties.  The Depression.  The War Years. 

Decades from now, historians will debate when the "'50s" truly began and ended.  Did they start with the armistice in Korea?  Did they end with the election of Kennedy?  Looking around, it's hard to draw a sharp line between Ike's decade and the current one.  Things are changing, no doubt, but it's much of a muchness.  The battle for Civil Rights continues.  The Cold War endures. 

If anything, this year feels like an interlude, that time of uncertain winds before the clouds march confidently in a new direction.  You hear it in the political rhetoric.  You see it in the fashion, with the flared skirts of last decade still living (though decreasingly) alongside the pencil-cut of the '60s. 

And you particularly notice it in the musical trends.  For instance, many of the genres of '50s are still with us.  There are lots of new ones, however, competing for time on the airwaves.  The last time this happened, it was 1955.  For a brief time, swing, schmaltz, rock, and calypso competed for our ears' attentions.  Once more, we have an unprecedented level of sonic diversity:

Pop

Pop, as a genre, has been around for several years.  Ricky Nelson, Neil Sedaka, Bobby Darin were all big in the late '50s, and they're still tops today.  A couple of big changes have occurred over the last few years.  In 1960, we saw women entering the field more frequently.  Ingenues like Rosie Hamlin (who recorded Angel Baby just a few miles from my house, Linda Scott, Brenda Lee (straddling the country line), and Kathy Young.  Not to mention Little Peggy March (I will Follow Him) and Eydie Gorme…singing about the one Latin music form still popular in the States:


Blame it on the Bossanova, by Eydie Gorme

Individual girl singers seem to have peaked in popularity last year, though, giving way to Black girl-groups like the Chiffons, the Crystals, the Shirelles, and the Ronettes, which also began hitting the charts around 1960.


He's so Fine, by the Chiffons

Producer Phil Spector is a big force behind these groups, introducing a new concept in music called "The Wall of Sound" that loops in huge numbers of strings and layered vocals to weave a rich tapestry of music.  You can hear his work in hits like…


He's sure the boy I love, by the Crystals

And on the other side of the Pond, we have British artists that sometimes get airplay over here.  Occasionally, I hear an import from Cliff Richards, the crooner front-man for The Shadows.  His latest soundtrack topped the charts in the UK for a while, though it's since been knocked off by a newcomer band that is still virtually unknown in the States:


Please Please Me, by the Beatles

Motown

Both a style and a label, Motown is a Detroit-based record company producing a slick evolution of DooWop, Soul, and R&B feauturing hits like:


Let me go the Right Way, by The Supremes


Laughing Boy, by Mary Wells


Come and Get these Memories, by Martha and the Vandellas

I have a feeling this may be the next big thing…if it can break out of the Steel belt and the Negro stations.

Surf

Out of the prototypical instrumental music days of the late '50s, typified by folks like Duane Eddy and Link Wray, the genre has come full flower.  It started in 1960 with the Ventures and The Shadows, with their intricate renditions of standards like Ghostriders in the Sky and Apache.  Then someone figured out how to send strummy vibrato into a speaker (probably Dick Dale, the self-crowned "King of the Surf Guitar), and now the airwaves are filled with that fluttery, tubular, sound that's straight out of the ocean.  Numbers like:


Miserlou, by Dick Dale


Pipeline, by The Chantays


Surf Rider, by The Lively Ones

Country

With the recent death of the Queen of the Grand Ole Opry, Patsy Cline, it's worth taking stock of who our luminaries in the Country genre.  This is a genre I've been a fan of ever since The Sons of the Pioneers and Hank Williams were twanging Western and Honky Tonk. 


Patsy Cline's Crazy, written by Willie Nelson

Another country star who came out of the 50s and is still going strong is (my favorite), Wanda Jackson:


Whirlpool (sounds like a modern redo of Funnel of Love)

And you've probably heard Skeeter Davis' latest country-pop crossover hit:


The End of the World, by Skeeter Davis

Folk

Out of the culturally meaningful, commentary-laden folk songs of the 1950s, two main movements have formed.  The first, exemplified by new star, Bob Dylan, hews closely to its roots.  Dylan's voice is as friendly as a buzzsaw, and his guitar is unadorned.  But what he sings sounds like the truth.


Song to Woody by Bob Dylan

The second is the harmonious, still simple, but beautifully polished works by earnest bands like The Kingston Trio and Peter, Paul, and Mary, as well as more playful stuff, for instance by The Rooftop Singers. 


The New Frontier by The Kingston Trio


Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul, and Mary


Walk Right In by The Rooftop Singers

It's difficult to tell which school will in out in the end, but as the 1960s promise to be a turbulent decade, with the fight for Civil Rights and the wars in Indochina heating up, one can bet Folk will be with us throughout.

Jazz

Once king in the 30s and 40s, Jazz has become more of an aesthete's bag.  There are dedicated stations and a semi-regular TV show, Jazz Casual, and plenty of records, but Jazz is definitely not found on the popular airwaves.

Plenty of older artists, like Count Basie, Dexter Gordon, and Duke Ellington remain active, along with mid-rangers like John Coltrane, Earl Bostic, and Dave Brubeck. 


Cheesecake, by Dexter Gordon

The new big thing (though it's been around since the '50s) is "Free Jazz" or "avante-garde" which cares not for fixed chord progressions and time signatures.  At its free-est, it's almost incomprehensible, but tamed, it's exotic and vibrant.


Congo Call, by Prince Lasha

Straddling the jazz and Latin line is Cal Tjader, a '50s vibraphone phenomenon who continues to be popular (you should see my nephew, David, cut a rug to this stuff…)


Cuban Fantasy, by Cal Tjader

—

Of course, this is just a thumbnail sketch of what's out there, and I haven't even touched foreign movements like Jamaican Ska or Brasilian Bossanova.  With so many different genres struggling to catch the public's ear, it's hard to place bets on which ones will be ascendant in the years to come.  For now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the unrivalled musical diversity while it lasts. 

What's YOUR favorite genre/artist?

(If you want to hear these hits and more, tune in to KGJ — Galactic Journey radio plays the newest and the mostest!)
–

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Magazine/Anthology

[April 9, 1963] IFfy… (May 1963 IF Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Every month, science fiction stories come out in little digest-sized magazines.  It used to be that this was pretty much the only way one got their SF fix, and in the early '50s, there were some forty magazines jostling for newsstand space.  Nowadays, SF is increasingly sold in book form, and the numbers of the digests have been much reduced.  This is, in many ways, for the good.  There just wasn't enough quality to fill over three dozen monthly publications.

That said, though there are now fewer than ten regular SF mags, editors still can find it challenging to fill them all with the good stuff.  Editor Fred Pohl, who helms three magazines, has this problem in a big way.  He saves the exceptional stories and known authors (and the high per word rates) for his flagship digest, Galaxy, and also for his newest endeavor, Worlds of Tomorrow.  That leaves IF the straggler, filled with new authors and experimental works. 

Sometimes it succeeds.  Other times, like this month, it is clear that the little sister in Pohl's family of digests got the short end of the stick.  There's nothing stellar in the May 1963 IF, but some real clunkers, as you'll see.  I earned my pay (such as it is) this month!

The Green World, by Hal Clement

Hal Clement (or Harry Stubbs, if you want to know the name behind the pseudonym) has made a name for himself as a writer of ultrahard science fiction, lovingly depicting the nuts and bolts of accurate space-borne adventure.  The Green Planet details the archaeological and paleontological pursuits of a human expedition on an alien planet.  The puzzle is simple — how can a world not more than 50 million years old possess an advanced ecosystem and a hyper-evolved predator species? 

Clement's novella, which comprises half the issue, is not short on technical description.  What it lacks, however, is interesting characters and a compelling narrative.  I bounced off this story several times.  Each time, I asked myself, "Is it me?"  No, it's not.  It's a boring story, and the pay-off, three final pages that read like a cheat, aren't worth the time investment.  One star.

Die, Shadow!, by Algis Budrys

Every once in a while, you get a story that is absolutely beautiful, filled with lyrical writing, and yet, you're not quite sure what the hell just happened.  Budrys' tale of a modern-day Rip van Winkle, who sleeps tens of thousands of years after an attempted landing on Venus, is one of those.  I enjoyed reading it, but it was a little too subtle for me.  Still, it's probably the best piece in the issue (and perhaps more appropriate to Fantastic).  Three stars.

Rundown, by Robert Lory

Be kind to the worn-out bum begging for a dime — that coin might literally spell the difference between life and death.  A nicely done, if rather inconsequential vignette, from a first-time author.  Three stars.

Singleminded, by John Brunner

In the midst of a ratcheted-up Cold War, a stranded moon-ferry pilot is rescued by a chatty Soviet lass.  The meet cute is spoiled, by turns, first by the unshakable paranoia the pilot feels for the Communist, and second by the silly, incongruous ending.  I suspect only one of those was the writer's intention.  Three stars.

Nonpolitical New Frontiers, by Theodore Sturgeon
ans. Al Landau, gideon marcus, hal clement, harry s
Sturgeon continues to write rather uninspired, overly familiar non-fiction articles for IF.  In this one, Ted points out that fascinating science doesn't require rockets or foreign planets — even the lowly nematode is plenty interesting.  Three stars.

Another Earth, by David Evans and Al Landau

When I was 14, (mumblety-mumblety) years ago, I wrote what I thought was a clever and unique science fiction story.  It featured a colony starship with a cargo of spores and seeds that, through some improbable circumstance, travels in time and ends up in orbit around a planet that turns out to be primeval Earth.  The Captain decides to seed the lifeless planet, ("Let the land produce…") thus recreating the Biblical Genesis. 

I did not realize that Biblically inspired stories were (even then) hardly original.  In particular, the Adam and Eve myth gets revisited every so often.  It's such a hoary subject that these stories are now told with a wink (viz. Robert F. Young's Jupiter Found and R.A. Lafferty's In the Garden).

Why this long preface?  Because the overlong story that took two authors (and one undiscerning editor) to vomit onto the back pages of IF is just a retelling of the Noah myth.  An obvious one.  A bad one.  One star.

Turning Point, by Poul Anderson

Last up, the story the cover illustrates features a concept you won't find in Analog.  A crew of terran explorers finds a planet of aliens that, despite their primitive level of culture, are far more intelligent than humans.  The story lasts just long enough for us to see the solution we hatch to avoid our culture being eclipsed by these obviously superior extraterrestrials.  Not bad, but it suffers for the aliens being identical to humans.  Three stars.

Thus ends the worst showing from IF in three years.  Here's a suggestion: raise the cover price to 50 cents and pay more than a cent-and-a-half per word?

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Magazine/Anthology

[April 1, 1963] Stuck in the Past (April 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The world is a topsy-turvy place.  Whether it's a coup in Guatemala, or pro-Peronista unrest in Argentina, or a slow-motion civil war in Indochina, one can't open the newspaper without seeing evidence of disorder.  Even at home, it's clear that the battle for Civil Rights is just getting started, with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference planning a sit-in campaign in Birmingham, Alabama, the most segregated city in the country.  It's been a long time coming, but there's no question that many folks (on the wrong side of history) are upset at the changing order of things. 

So it's no wonder that some turn to the old familiar pleasures to escape from reality.  And while most science fiction magazines are now flirting with a new, literary style (particularly F&SF), a direction the British are starting to call "The New Wave," Analog Science Fact – Science Fiction sticks stolidly to the same recipe it's employed since the early 1950s: Psi, Hokum, and Conservatism. 

I suppose some might find the April 1963 Analog comforting, but I just found it a slog.  What do you think?

Which Stars Have Planets?, by Stanley Leinwoll

You'd think an article with a name like this would be right up my alley, but it turns out to be some metaphysics about planets causing sunspots.  Because, you see, Jupiter's orbital period of 12 years is close to the solar sunspot cycle of 11 years.  And if you add up the orbital periods of Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, and divide by four, you get 11 years. 

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!?

Nothing.  Not a damned thing.  The latter observation is numerological folderol, and the former is meaningless given that sunspots don't only show up on the side facing Jupiter.

Two stars for the pretty pictures.

"What'll You Give?", by Winston Sanders

Last month, Editor Campbell wrote a piece about how the gas giants of our solar system were untapped reservoirs of chemical wealth just waiting to be exploited.  "Winston Sanders" (a frequent pseudonym of Poul Anderson) has obliged Campbell by writing about a Jupiter mining mission in which a deep-diving spacecraft encounters trouble while scooping the ammonia and methane from the giant planet's atmosphere. 

By all rights, it should be an exciting piece, and yet, it almost completely fails to be.  A tidbit the Young Traveler taught me as I was writing my latest novel: don't assume your audience will find the technical details fascinating.  You have to make them relevant to the characters, described through their reactions. 

I could have done without the hackneyed nationality depictions, too.  Three stars, because the topic is good.  The execution is less so.

Sonny, by Rick Raphael

Hayseed army recruit plays havoc with local electrical systems when he telepaths home instead of writing like everyone else.  The military sends him to Russia to send mental postcards.

It's as dumb and smug as it sounds — the most Campbellian piece of the issue.  It is in English, however.

Two stars.

Last Resort, by Stephen Bartholomew

Things start well-enough in this story about an astronaut slowly but fatally losing air from his capsule.  I liked the bit about using a balloon to find the leak (it drifts to the hole, you see), but all trace of verisimilitude is lost when the spaceman lights not one but two cigarettes during the crisis!  Maybe smokes of the future don't burn oxygen. 

And, of course, the story is "solved" with psi.  Because this is Analog.

Two stars.

Frigid Fracas (Part 2 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

After Middle Middle class mercenary, Major Joe Mauser, utterly louses up his chance at joining the ranks of the Uppers through military daring, he signs up with the underground movement whose aim is to tear the class system down altogether.  He is dispatched to the Sov-world capital of Budapest with the cover of being a liaison, but he's really an agent to see if the Workers' Paradise is similarly inclined to revolution.

This, the fourth installment in this particular future history, is rich on color but poor in credibility, and there's a lot more talking than doing.  It's not as disappointing as Reynolds' recent "Africa" series, but I expected a better conclusion to a promising saga.

Three stars.

Iceberg From Earth, by J. T. McIntosh

Iceberg is an espionage potboiler whose setting is a trio of colonized planets that, blessedly, isn't Earth, Mars, and Venus.  I did appreciate that the hero agent was a woman (the iceberg); I was sad that she wasn't the viewpoint character — instead, it was a rather lackluster and anti-woman fellow spy.  I did like the solar system McIntosh created, though.  Three stars.

A Slight Case of Limbo, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

Lastly, if not quite leastly, is this tale about a stout-hearted guy with a weak heart who gives his life to save another.  Except that the other is an alien who swaps the human's ticker with a machine, which turns out to be a mixed blessing.  The story meanders all over the place, and the ending is right out of a mediocre episode of Twilight Zone.  Still, it's not bad — I think I was just disappointed that the Simakian beginning had a Serlingian end.  Three stars.

And so we've come to the end of the April digests (though technically, Analog is now a slick).  Campbell's mag clocks in at a sad 2.6 stars.  Galaxy is the clear champion, at 3.5 stars.  Fantasy and Science Fiction, Fantastic, and New Worlds are all pleasantly above water at 3.2, and Amazing trails badly at 2.1.

Four of 41 fiction pieces were by women — par for the course.  There were enough 4 and 5-star stories to fill two good digests, my favorite of which was On the Fourth Planet, by Jesse Bone.

Speaking of quality, I am proud to announce that Galactic Journey is a finalist for the Best Fanzine Hugo!  Thanks to all who of you who nominated us, and I hope we'll have your continued support come Labor Day.  Either way, we're just happy to have you along for the ride. 

What have you enjoyed the most about the Journey?

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Science / Space Race

[March 24, 1963] Bumper Crop (A bounty of exciting space results)

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by Gideon Marcus

February and March have been virtually barren of space shots, and if Gordo Cooper's Mercury flight gets postponed into May, April will be more of the same.  It's a terrible week to be a reporter on the space beat, right?

Wrong!

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  Rocket launches may make for good television, what with the fire, the smoke, and the stately ascent of an overgrown pencil into orbit…but the real excitement lies in the scientific results.  And this month has seen a tremendous harvest, expanding our knowledge of the heavens to new (pardon the pun) heights.  Enjoy this suite of stories, and tell me if I'm not right…

How hot is it?

Mariner 2 went silent more than two months ago, but scientists are still poring over the literal reams of data returned since its rendezvous with Venus.  The first interplanetary mission was a tremendous success, revealing a great deal about the Planet of Love, whose secrets were heretofore protected by distance and a shroud of clouds. 

Here's the biggie: Preliminary reports suggested that the surface temperature of "Earth's Twin" is more than 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  It turns out that was a conservative estimate.  In fact, the rocky, dry landscape of Venus swelters at 800 degrees — possibly even hotter than the day side of sun-baked first planet, Mercury.  It's because the planet's dense carbon dioxide atmosphere acts like a heat blanket.  There's no respite on the night side of the hot world either; the thick air spreads the temperatures out evenly.

Thus, virtually every story written about Venus has been rendered obsolete.  Will Mariner 3 destroy our conception of Mars, too?

Just checking the lights

On February 25, the Department of Defense turned little Solrad 1 back on after 22 months of being off-line.  The probe had been launched in conjunction with a navigation satellite, Transit, back in June 1960.  For weeks, it had provided our first measurements of the sun's X-ray output (energy in that wavelength being blocked by the Earth's atmosphere and, thus, undetectable from the ground).  DoD has given no explanation for why the probe has been reactivated, or why it was turned off in the first place.  Maybe there's a classified payload involved?

Radio News from the Great White Spacecraft

Last September, the Canadians launched their first satellite — the "top-sounder," Alouette, whose mission was to measure the radio-reflective regions of our atmosphere from above.  The results are in, and to any HAM or communications buff, its huge news.

It turns out that the boundaries of the ionosphere are rougher at higher latitudes than at lower latitudes.  Moreover, Alouette has determined that the Van Allen Belts, great girdles of radiation around our planet, dip closer to the Earth at higher latitudes.  This heats up the ionosphere and causes the roughness-causing instability. — the more active the electrons, the poorer the radio reflection.  Now we finally know why radio communication is less reliable way up north.  The next step will be learning how to compensate for this phenomenon so that communication, both civil and military, can be made more reliable.

Sun Stroke Warning

After a year in orbit, NASA's Orbiting Solar Observatory is still going strong, with 11 of 13 experiments still functioning.  The satellite has probably returned more scientifically useful data than all of the ground-based solar observatories to date (certainly in the UV and X Ray spectra, which is blocked by the atmosphere).

Moreover, OSO 1 has returned a startling result.  It turns out that solar flares, giant bursts of energy that affect the Earth's magnetic field, causing radio storms and aurorae, are preceded by little microflares.  The sequence and pattern of these precursors may be predictable, in which case, OSO will give excellent advance warning of these distruptive events.

Tax money at work, indeed!

Galaxy, Galaxy, Burning Bright

In the late 1950s, astronomers began discovering some of the brightest objects in the universe.  It wasn't their visible twinkle that impressed so much as their tremendous radio outbursts.  What could these mysterious "quasi-stellar sources" be?

Now we have a pretty good guess, thanks to a recent scientific paper.  Cal Tech observers using the Mt. Wilson and Mt. Palomar observatories turned their gaze to object 3C 273, a thirtheenth magnitude object in the constellation of Virgo.  It turns out that 3C 273's spectrum exhibits a tremendous "red shift," that is to say, all of the light coming from it has wavelengths stretched beyond what one would expect.  This is similar to the decrease in pitch of a railroad whistle as the engine zooms away from a listener.

The only way an object could have such a redshift is if it were of galactic proportions and receding from us at nearly 50,000 km/sec.  This would place it almost 200,000,000 light years away, making it one of the most distant (and therefore, oldest) objects ever identified.

At some point, astronomer Hubble's contention that the universe is expanding is likely to be confirmed.  These quasi-stellar objects ("quasars"?) therefore represent signposts from a very young, very tiny universe.  What exciting times we live in!

Five years of Beep, Beep

St. Patricks Day, 1958 — Vanguard 1 was the fourth satellite in orbit, but it was the first civilian satellite, and it is the oldest one to remain up there.  In fact, it is the only one of the 24 probes launched in the 1950s that still works.

What has a grapefruit-sized metal ball equipped with a radio beacon done for us?  Well, plenty, actually.  Because it has been tracked in orbit so long, not only have we learned quite a bit about the shape of the Earth (the variations in Vanguard's orbit are due to varying gravities on the Earth, the measurement of which is called "geodetics"), but the satellite's slow decay also tells us a lot about the density of the atmosphere several hundred miles up.

So, while Sputnik and Explorer might have had the first laughs, Vanguard looks likely to have the last for a good long time.

Telstar's little brother does us proud

RCA's Relay 1, launched in December, is America's second commercial communications satellite.  It ran into trouble immediately upon launch, its batteries producing too little current to operate its transmitter.  Turns out it was a faulty regulator on one of the transponders; the bright engineers switched to the back-up (this is why you carry a spare!), and Relay was broadcasting programs across the Atlantic by January.  660 orbits into its mission and 500 beamed programs later, NASA announces that Relay has completed all tests. 

Nevertheless, why abandon a perfectly good orbital TV station?  Relay will continue to be used to transmit shows transcontinentally, especially now that Telstar has finally gone silent (February 21).  There is even talk that Relay could broadcast the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, if it lasts that long!

In a sea of Blue, a drop of Red

On March 12, 3-12 at the Spring Recognition Dinner of Miracle Mile Association, in Los Angeles, Cal Tech President, Lee DuBridge, noted that the United States has put 118 probes into space, while the Russians have only lofted 34 (that we know of).  He also pointed out that virtually no scientific papers have resulted from the Soviets' "science satellites." 

As if in reply, on March 21 the Soviets finally, after 89 days without a space shot, launched Kosmos 13.  (To be fair, it's been kind of quiet on the American side, too).  The probe was described as designed to "continue outer space research."  No description of payload nor weight specifications were given.  Its orbit is one that allows it to cover much of the world.  While it may be that some of the Kosmos series are truly scientific probes, you can bet that, like America's Discoverer program, the Kosmos label is a blind to cover the Russians' use of spy satellites.  Oh well.  Turnabout is fair play, right?

[Next up, don't miss Mark Yon's spotlight of this month's New Worlds!  And if I saw you at Wondercon, do drop me a line…]

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Magazine/Anthology

[March 18, 1963] The Missing Piece (April 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

In prior articles, the latest news has headlined and set the stage for the SFnal reviews that followed.  This week, however, the news is all internal, filled with tidbits like

"YOUNG TRAVELER LEADS ACADEMIC LEAGUE TO DISTRICT CHAMPIONSHIPS!"

and

"FIVE YEARS OF R&D CULMINATES IN PRODUCT LAUNCH FOR TRAVELER-HELMED COMPANY!"

And yet, amongst the turmoil created by Mundac the Destroyer, we manage to continue the Journey — our most prized endeavor.  It helps that we now have a tremendous constellation of volunteer writers, allowing us to return to a every-other-day schedule for the first time in four years.  Still, I must do my part.

And so, amidst preparations for the Young Traveler's birthday party, I carved out time to read the April Fantasy and Science Fiction.  It is the inverse of last month's, which was forgettable or worse — until the last story.  This month's is surprisingly good… except for the last few stories.  A fair exchange, I think…

Fast Trip, by James White

Fritz Leiber recently wrote about how computers will soon be advanced enough to beat the best humans at chess in The 64-Square Madhouse.  Anne McCaffrey has written a tale of human brains cybernetically fused computers to control spaceships (The Ship Who Sang).  Now, returns my favorite SF-writing Ulsterian with his own spin on things.  In Fast Trip, we see what happens in a world where pilots are exclusively trained on their own spaceship, for whom swapping craft is as uncomfortable as swapping right-handed gloves with a fellow half your size… and with two left hands.  A good technical thriller.  Four stars.

Still Shall the Lovers, by Doris Pitkin Buck

A poem on how real stars shall always pale in brilliance to those in new lovers' eyes.  Three stars.

Place of Refuge, by Robert J. Tilley

A quick quality dip as Bristolian Tilley writes of the real world as if it be the nightmare, and vice versa.  Uninspired.  Two stars.

The Short and Happy Death of George Frumkin, by Gertrude Friedberg

A playwright, herself, Friedberg turns her hand to a Moderan-esque tale in which a nonagenarian playwright with an electric heart enjoys a brief flash of youthful energy when he's taken off batteries and plugged into the house line.  It's cute.  Three stars.

The Rigid Vacuum, by Isaac Asimov

There are few compound words I like better than "Luminiferous Ether," and fewer people I'd ask to explain this light-conveying substance than The Good Doctor Asimov.  Four stars for the first half of what looks to be a Two Parter.

Tell Me, Doctor – Please, by Kit Reed

Ms. Reed has recently moved and left no forwarding address, sadly terminating our burgeoning correspondence.  As a result, I have no authorial insight for this tale.  Nevertheless, Doctor is a strange and moving piece on dependence and torture as operatives of an evil state attempt to extract the secret of time travel from a bedridden exile from the future.  Difficult to read, and the ending is a strange Matryoshka that I'm still not sure I understood.  But like so much of Reed's stuff, it grips.  Four stars.

Kindergarten, by Fritz Leiber

A straightforward piece on learning the basic X-Y-Zs in a most unusual (and yet, the most commonplace) of settings.  Four stars.

The Voyage of the "Deborah Pratt", by Miriam Allen deFord

F&SF, more than any other SFF digest, is a haven for ghost stories.  This one, involving a 19th Century brig on the Gold Coast run, makes no great advances in plot.  Ah, but the telling, and the subject matter (far more horrific than the fantastic elements), are superb.  Five stars, and sure to be anthologized many times.

The Old Man of the Mountains, by Terry Carr

Over time, certain names in our genre incite a Pavlovian response in me.  For instance, Sheckley provokes a grin.  Garrett incites nausea.  Carr, a newish writer and long-time Big Name Fan, definitely brings about positive reactions, having now impressed me several times in rapid succession.  This pastoral piece, set in the mountains of Oregon, features the reunion of a country-turned-city boy, and the ornery cuss who knew his uncle many years before.  Like the deFord, the quality is in the telling.  Four stars.

My Son, the Physicist! by Isaac Asimov

Here's an inconsequential short-short from a fellow who has mostly abandoned science fiction.  I understand Asimov got a princely per-word sum for this piece, and it was used to adorn an advertisement for Hoffman Electronics in one of last year's Scientific Americans.  Three stars.

The World Must Never Know, by G. C. Edmondson

I really want to like Edmondson, a fellow San Diegan and one of the few non-Whites who has made it into the ranks of the SFF genre (he's Mexican).  But this latest in the series of stories set South of the Border, guest-starring a Mestizo who met an extraterrestrial policeman (to the former's profit, and the latter's dismay), is just too affected.  Two stars.

The Histronaut, by Paul Seabury

I didn't think I'd ever meet a time travel/alternate history story I didn't like, but Seabury managed to produce one.  One page of story preceded by many pages of dithering and nonsense.  And that single page isn't worth the wait.  One star.

Not Counting Bridges, by Robert L. Fish

Finally, a piece on the growing footprint of space devoted to the transit, maintenance, and storage of motor vehicles.  Two stars, careening toward one had it been longer than two pages.

That's a pretty sour note to leave a magazine that still scored a decent 3.2 stars on the Galacto-Meter.  If you stop before the Edmonson, I think you'll find your time thoroughly rewarded.

Speaking of which, I'm now off to jump on the giant trampoline we rented for the birthday party.  If I spot any X-15s on the way down, I'll be sure to snap a photo…




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Movies

[March 16, 1963] Red Comes Knocking (The Day Mars Invaded Earth)

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[P.S. If you registered for WorldCon this year, the deadline to vote is tonight! Please consider nominating Galactic Journey for the "Best Fanzine" Hugo. ]


by Lorelei Marcus

The idea that there might be life on Mars has been around for a while now. When I say the word "Martian" most people automatically picture a little green alien with a big, bulbous head. However, this vision is merely a fictional caricature of an alien — we know it's not real. But what if there is life on Mars? Perhaps these Martians are beyond what we can imagine visually, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. For all we know, mars could be populated with vast civilizations. On top of that, if there is life on Mars, then how would they react to us humans? Well, luckily, all of these questions have been answered, not by a scientist, but by the newest movie to hit the box office: The Day Mars Invaded Earth.

Going into this movie, neither me or my father had very high hopes, though we figured as long as the movie didn't literally have 'bottom' in the title, we were probably going to be okay (q.v. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea). Luckily, this movie exceeded our expectations, and we were pleasantly surprised with a thrilling horror-esque mystery. As my dad exclaimed at one point in the film, it was almost like a long Twilight Zone episode.

Our film begins with a shot of a small rover exploring Mars. However, something goes wrong, and the rover catches fire and explodes. Then we are introduced to our main character, Dr. Fielding, the lead scientist on the Mars exploration project. After the stress of the recent rover failure, he decides to go home and visit his family. The house the family was living in at the time was a massive mansion estate, adding to the almost ghost-story feel of the movie. As the movie goes forward, Dr. Fielding and his family quickly start realizing something is wrong. People aren't acting like themselves, they're appearing in two places at once, and there's even a strange accidental death. It isn't long before the Doctor realizes this is all the work of invaders from Mars assuming the forms of other humans, and devises a plan to try and defeat the aliens to save himself and his family.


Martians scan the brain of Dr. Fielding…or a bug ran into the camera

The Day Mars Invaded Earth delivers a very tense (if not exactly taut) and suspenseful mystery with an unexpected twist at the end. The cinematography was excellent, very dynamic. It was particularly neat to see how they managed the special effects when a character and their duplicate were both on screen (accomplished with split screen and body doubles). The acting was also great, very emotional. The story was thrilling and complex, keeping you on the edge of your seat until the very end. I think some may be disappointed by the ending, because it is unexpected, and certainly not "Hollywood," but I think it adds to the movie. It's a movie that gives you a lot to think about, long after the movie is over, quite similar to Panic in Year Zero.

This movie was very enjoyable to watch. Both an intriguing mystery and intense story helped it become an incredibly satisfying film. I give The Day Mars Invaded Earth 4 out of 5 stars. This movie perhaps isn't for everyone, but I felt it told the story it was trying to tell very well. If you are a fan of horror, sci-fi, or mystery, I recommend this movie.

This is the Young Traveler, signing off.


by Gideon Marcus

I think the Young Traveler has done a fine job catching the feel and broad strokes of the film.  I just wanted to add a little commentary.  The opening of The Day Mars Invaded Earth sets a tone of verisimilitude with its reasonably accurate visual and verbal space vocabulary.  The probe that goes to Mars is a Mariner, presumably of the same series as Mariner 2, which just flew past Venus.  There is a model of the spacecraft in Dr. Fielding's office, and it is a Block 2 Ranger, the kind designed to hit the Moon and deposit a scientific package. 

Just as the Block 1 Mariner was adapted for the Venus flight, it makes sense that a Block 2 would be used to go to Mars.  I don't think that's what's actually planned, but for a movie made last year, it was an excellent guess.  It is also launched with an Atlas — also accurate.  An Atlas-Agena launched Mariner 2.

On to the movie, itself, The Day Mars Invaded Earth impresses because it takes the time to develop its characters.  We get to know the Fieldings and understand the strain his job has put on their marriage.  I also appreciated that the Fieldings talk to each other, communicating the strange apparitions they've seen, believing one another, and using the knowledge to very quickly deduce what's happening to them. 

While Director/Producer Maury Dexter, a newish face at schlock-house American International Pictures, clearly didn't have much of a budget to work with, nevertheless, his direction and the cinematography keep the movie from looking cheap.  The beautiful estate on which the bulk of the film is shot doesn't hurt, either.  It helps that stars Kent Taylor and Marie Windsor are veterans (even if they tend to avoid the A-flicks).  Their performances never induce the cringes I'd expected walking into the theater.

In the end, The Day Mars Invaded Earth delivers far more ghost story than sf flick, and you certainly won't see rubber suited Mars-mooks.  Nevertheless, it does make for a decent 69 minutes of entertainment, which is a lot more than I was expecting.  Three stars.

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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine/Anthology

[March 8, 1963] Pan-Galactic Union? (April 1963 Galaxy)

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's the tops, pops…]


by Gideon Marcus

Seven years ago, Egypt's Gamal Nasser, ascendant member of the junta that deposed the constitutional monarchy in '52, ululated his way across the Sinai tilting at the Israeli windmill.  At stake was more than the nationalization of the Suez Canal or the subjugation of the Jewish State.  Nasser's dream has always been a Pan-Arab Union, bringing the Arabs of North Africa and the Middle East under one flag (preferably his), and though Egypt's sword was blunted in that Arab-Israeli war, nevertheless, it was a rallying cry to achieve his dream.

The closest Nasser got was in 1958, when he bound his country and Syria in the hopefully titled "United Arab Republic." There were high hopes that Iraq would also join in.  But the 1961 coup in Syria reduced the U.A.R. to the boundaries of the nation formerly known as Egypt. 

Nevertheless, the dream lives on and may yet achieve reality.  Egypt backed a coup in Yemen in 1962.  Then, there was the recent Ba'athist coup in Iraq, rumored to have been assisted covertly by the United States.  A similar event is underway as we speak in Syria (Egypt and Yemen have already voiced their full support).  The Iraqi government is now talking about joining the U.A.R.  And so, the Arab Union that features so prominently in Mack Reynold's "Black Africa" series may soon come to fruition.

I can't help but wonder if science fiction writer and editor Fred Pohl is taking a page from Nasser's book.  As of last month, Pohl now helms three science fiction magazines, Galaxy, IF, and Worlds of Tomorrow, an empire of pages rivaled only by the twin magazines, Fantastic and Amazing, under the dominion of editor Cele Goldsmith.  Will an SF Cold War break out?  Perhaps a Personal Union like what happened under James I/VI of Great Britain?  Either way, the fallout of Pohl's ambitions, unlike those of the Egyptian leader, can only be for the good of humanity.  One need only look at the most recent issue of Galaxy for proof.

The Visitor at the Zoo, by Damon Knight

The first half of the magazine is taken up with a single novella set in the early 21st Century.  A sentient alien from Brecht's World, a spiky biped, is brought to the Berlin Zoo to mate with another of its race.  But when the creature swaps bodies with a young journalist, both of the resulting entities must learn to make the best of their situation.

Author Damon Knight has recently spent much more time editing, critiquing, and translating works from French authors than producing his own work.  Visitor marks his first original story in quite a while.  Knight manages to give the work just a trace of awkwardness, capturing the feel of a translated piece.  At first, it reads like a farce, some Teutonic trifle from the pen of a decent German talent.  But Visitor is really a story about what it means to be human, the indignity (and arbitrariness) of being designated a sub-human, and the general indifference of most people to these issues.  Effective satire and enjoyable (most of the time — some bits are hard to take) reading.  Four stars.

The Lonely Man, by Theodore L. Thomas

Is the value of a colony its ability produce goods that can't be made at home?  Or is the act of colonization itself a worthy pursuit?  Thomas draws a fine portrait of a reticent genius, an engineer whose mind is a wellspring of inventions that require other worlds as sites of manufacture.  But said engineer's motivation is extraterrestrial sojourn — the benefit to humanity is secondary.  Four stars for this well-drawn piece.

My Lady Selene, by Magnus Ludens

Back in 1957, Isaac Asimov wrote a story about the Moon, and what mysteries might be dispelled once we got there.  The Good Doctor's take on it was strictly for laughs, and since the flight of Luna 3, also outdated. 

Ludens' tale is a more serious but no less whimsical variation on the theme — what will we find when we get there?  Selene is a tale of the first human on the Moon, and how he does his level best to preserve the spirit of wonder associated with our planet's companion.  Nicely done, perhaps a tad overwrought.  Three stars.

For Your Information: The Great Siberian Space Craze, by Willy Ley

Galaxy's columnist (goodness — almost 13 years already!) has a good article on the Siberian Tunguska blast of 1908 and its likely origins.  It's an interesting look at science behind the Iron Curtain, and the first good explanation I've read as to why the object that decimated dozens of square miles of forest couldn't have been a spaceship.  Four stars.

On the Fourth Planet, by J. F. Bone

Veterinarian and veteran author Jesse Bone gives us this fascinating tale of the fateful first contact between the pseudopodian Martians and the metallic Terrans.  Plausible, thoughtful, even beautiful.  I won't spoil more (though Finlay's lovely art spoils plenty).  Five stars.

Voyage to Far N'jurd, by Kris Neville

Lastly, we have the latest from Kris Neville, a fellow who sometimes turns out good stuff, but more reliably turns out bad stuff.  N'jurd is in the latter category.  While the words Neville wrote are certainly in English, they are not strung together in a way that makes a coherent story — certainly not an enjoyable one.  Something about a colony ship and the traditions that grow after many generations of travel.  Maybe.  Again, it's ersatz English.  One star.

Despite the disappointing finish, this month's Galaxy was otherwise fine and quick reading.  And at half-again as large as any other magazine on the market, it makes a fine core for Pohl's burgeoning Empire of prose.  Lecturi te salutant!

[P.S. If you registered for WorldCon this year, please consider nominating Galactic Journey for the "Best Fanzine" Hugo.  Your ballot should have arrived by now…]




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Book

[March 6, 1963] Generation Gap (Ace Double F-177)

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's the utmost…]


by Gideon Marcus

It was only a few years ago that Drs. Watson and Crick discovered DNA, that magical double-helix of protein molecules that are the blueprints for our genetics.  Now we know that our biology is coded, like so many punch cards, and that's why people are people, puppies are puppies, amebae are amebae.  An embryo with human DNA cannot grow up to be a horse.  A bear-coded blastula won't transform in utero into a giraffe.

There is a coding that runs almost as deeply as that in our chromosomes.  It derives from the society in which we are raised and the circumstances under which we grew.  Thus, a Dixiecrat is not wont to clamor for Civil Rights, and no one in my family is likely to abandon shul for Mass. 

Science fiction authors have their own genetic code.  While writers can be more flexible than politicians or religionists, they nevertheless tend to remain of a type, composing in a style forged early in their career by the prevailing trends and markets at the time. 

As evidence of this, I submit to you two short novels by a pair of authors whose output couldn't be more different despite appearing bound together within the pages of the recent Ace Double, #F-177. 

The Star Wasps, by Robert Moore Williams

The world of the 21st Century is a tidy, orderly place.  Free will is an illusion.  People live for their jobs and medicate for their moods.  Commerce and society hum along smoothly under the control of one Erasmus Glock, a shadowy figure whose hold on the strings of power is absolute. 

There is a fly in the ointment, however — John Derek is a man who would set society free.  With his base on the Moon, a cadre of die-hard loyalists, and his little glass spheres that instill a yearning for freedom, he is poised to lead a revolution.

Unfortunately, the ointment also has a wasp in the form of an invasion of interstellar killers called "the viral."  Incorporeal blue creatures, invisible to most humans, have been inadvertently teleported to our planet by the well-meaning scientist, Dr. Cotter.  These shimmering aurorae bring death to anyone they touch, and their numbers grow by the day.  This plague threatens both the stultifying profiteering of Glock and the freedom-fighting agenda of Derek.  Glock and Derek must work together, along with Cotter and Derek's new recruit, Jennie Fargo, to defeat the alien foe.

Robert Moore Williams was first published in the pre-Campbell days of Analog.  He has since written more than a hundred stories for a variety of magazines, but his DNA was baked in the Golden Age of science fiction.  The future world of The Star Wasps is an archaic, mechanistic one.  Society simplistically hinges on the activities of a half-dozen people.  There is a Resilient Woman Character whose primary role is to be the Love Interest.  After the intriguing set-up, Wasps degenerates into a figurative car chase, with people running around and pulling levers until the enemy is defeated.

Also, Williams writes like he's still getting a penny a word, writing in a redundant manner that only gets worse as the story drags.  Gems like:

As Jennie watched, with terror tightening the band around the bottom of her heart, the circle changed and became a ball of tiny dancing blue lights.

Under other circumstances, she would have thought the lights and the changing form and the color were beautiful. 

Now she knew they were death.

Was death beautiful?  Not to her.  She wanted life.

The Coelacanth fish, thought to be long-extinct until a specimen was hauled out of the Indian Ocean in 1938, is what's known as "a living fossil."  The Star Wasps is a similar relic from a time long passed.  I'd throw it back.  Two stars.

Warlord of Kor, by Terry Carr

The flip-side of F-177 is an entirely different matter.  Terry Carr is a new writer, as well as a Big Name in the fan community.  He is one of a new wave of authors steeped in the more nuanced works of the Digest Era of science fiction that began in 1949. 

Kor is set on a dusty world at the edge of Terran settlement, the site of humanity's first encounter with living sentient aliens.  The Hirlaji are a dying race of telepathic saurians, their once burgeoning culture reduced to a mere handful of aged specimens due to an unknown catalytic event thousands of years prior. 

Lee Rynason is the archaeologist tasked to discover the mystery of this societal sea change.  Why did the shift happen so abruptly?  Why is Horng, possessor of the Hirlaji's race memory, so reluctant to divulge this secret? 

Rynason's efforts are hampered by the ambitions of his superior, Rice Manning.  Manning has designs on the governorship of the planet and is willing to scapegoat the Hirlaji as a threat to do so — especially when it appears that the aged reptiles might somehow be related to The Outsiders, a long-vanished alien civilization that left its traces throughout the galaxy. 

Sketched in thumbnail, I suppose the plot of Warlord of Kor doesn't sound much better than that of The Star Wasps.  The lurid title doesn't help either (Ace loves its lurid titles).  But Kor is no pulpy tale.  It is the sensitive story of first contact, of discovery, of racial understanding, and of morality — of a piece with Bone's The Lani People and Piper's Little Fuzzy in illustrating the worth and importance of other, different cultures.

Plus, the characters are beautifully drawn with a spare efficiency that Williams would have done well to emulate.  In 97 pages, we learn far more about Rynason and Manning, as well as the other pivotal characters — the quietly strong colony quartermaster Mara Stephens, and the cynical heretic Rene Malhomme — than we do about William's characters in 126 pages.  It doesn't hurt that Kor has a very satisfying ending. 

If there's any drawback to Kor, it's that Rynason and Stephens seem a little slow on the uptake.  I was always a step or two ahead of them in solving the mystery, even when they had access to the same clues as the reader.  That's a small quibble, though.  Warlord of Kor is an excellent, quick read, and it's worth the 40 cent book price all by itself.  Four stars.

Speaking of collections of old and new, this month's Galaxy is a collection of stories by veterans and novices alike.  Come see how this amalgam of generations fares in the Journey's next article.  Stay tuned!

[P.S. If you registered for WorldCon this year, please consider nominating Galactic Journey for the "Best Fanzine" Hugo.  Your ballot should have arrived by now…]




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Magazine/Anthology

[March 2, 1963] Bucking the System (March 1963 Analog)

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's the tops, pops…]


by Gideon Marcus

February has been a busy month for the Journey in terms of fanac (Fan Activity for you normal folks), including a presentation at the Mysterious Galaxy bookstore in San Diego and a panel at a small Los Angeles convention last weekend.  And the pace hasn't slackened: tonight, I'll be giving a talk on the Space Race at, of all places, a space-themed pub.  (And if I met you at the event, be sure to drop me a line.  I love meeting folks from all eras…)

This month's Analog Science Fiction, that great faded lady of the genre, has also been lively.  Not only has it recently grown from digest to slick-sized (so as to take shelf space next to other respectable mags like Time and Scientific American), but it features a host of stories whose common theme seems to be rebellion against a stultifying system. 

So let's check out the March 1963 Analog, shall we?

Natural Resources in Space, by John W. Campbell, Jr.

Apparently Editor Campbell couldn't find anyone to write a science article for him this month…or nothing he got met his exacting standards (i.e. didn't involve quack science like psychics, dowsing, or reactionless drives).  On the other hand, what we got in the way of nonfiction this month is a pleasantly crunchy piece on the location and accessibility of valuable materials in the solar system — from the iron of the asteroids to the helium of the gas giants.  Now we just need to get there!  Three stars.

Frigid Fracas (Part 1 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

Joe Mauser, Mercenary supreme, is back.  Last time we saw him, he was wending his way up through the rigid caste system of 21st Century "Industrial Feudalism," his only opportunity for social climbing being to fight in live-fire corporate disputes.  These "fracases," broadcast on Telly to a largely unemployed, tranquilized populace, are a modern-day Bread and Circuses.  And they're tightly regulated.  No weapons beyond those available in 1900 are allowed; this produces just enough slaughter to entertain, but the weapons pose no threat to a civilized, otherwise peaceful world. 

This time around, the ambitious Major stakes everything on a repeat of his last performance, flying an unmotored sailplane on a reconnaissance patrol.  But this time, he goes armed with a machine gun…because the opposing team has also discovered the benefits of taking the high ground.  Though this is just Part 1 of a two-parter, and despite featuring a fair bit of exposition, this installment makes a decent stand-alone story — and the world Reynold paints is vivid, if not particularly plausible.  Four stars.

All Day Wednesday, by Richard Olin

Ernie, a working stiff in a union factory, dreams of the day when he can finally stop worrying about it all.  That day will never come, because the day he's in won't ever end.  It's a weird, Twilight Zoney piece that doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's nicely rendered.  Three stars.

The Happy Man, by Gerald W. Page

Centuries from now, humanity has left for the stars, leaving behind the placid stay-behinds, content to spend their time in suspended animation, dreaming their own private Heavens.  But one fellow won't accept an artificial paradise and becomes a rebel, raiding the remaining settlements for food and other plunder.  To each their own poison, right?  A decent tale with a surprising ending.  Three stars.

Not in the Literature, by Christopher Anvil

Chris Anvil is an Analog perennial whose work tends toward the satirical.  When he publishes elsewhere, his work can be quite good, but when he writes for Campbell, it tends to take on a self-satisfied tone.  Literature is one of his better efforts in Analog, about an alternate timeline (or another planet) where the history of science differs from our own.  They have experimental rocketships, airships, advanced metallurgy and chemistry, yet no conception of electricity.  When a failed chemist offers a wild plan to conduct heat down a wire (Dig it — current flows!), he is met with derision and dismissal.  Cute, and my nephew, David, liked it.  Three stars.

Spanner in the Works, by J. T. McIntosh

Finally, we have a Spy vs. Spy tale…except the other Spy is not only supposed to be a good guy, it's not a guy at all!  Rather, a capable counter espionage agent must discover why the Bureau's hotshot computer has suddenly started giving useless advice.  A pleasant potboiler, although it's very much in the "Problem; Solution," category of stories, sort of the SF equivalent of the locked room mystery.  Good stuff…for the early 1950s.  Three stars.

This being the end of the month, it's time to see how the monthly sci-fi magazines fared in comparison with each other.  This time around, we had seven, more than the Journey has ever reviewed at a time.  Thank goodness we have the writers to cover it (ten at last count…) If you added up all the four and five-star stories, the stuff worth reading, you'd have enough to fill two whole magazines.  That's pretty good.  Only three out of forty eight stories were by women, continuing the dismal trend of the last several months.  That's not so good.

For you baseball fans, here are the actual numbers: IF secured the top spot with 3.3 stars, followed by Analog (3.2), Worlds of Tomorrow (3), Fantasy and Science Fiction (just 2.7, but featuring the month's best story), Fantastic (2.7), New Worlds (2.6), and finally, Amazing (2.3).  But all of them have something to recommend them, regardless of the score.

Be sure to stay tuned.  Next up, Jason Sacks is back with a look at National Comics…because you knew he couldn't let my recent praise of Marvel go unanswered.  See you then!

[P.S. If you registered for WorldCon this year, please consider nominating Galactic Journey for the "Best Fanzine" Hugo.  Your ballot should have arrived by now…]




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Magazine/Anthology

[February 20, 1963] A merry chase (March 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's real now, man…]


by Gideon Marcus

If you've been reading the papers this week, you've no doubt been avidly following the improbable trip of the Anzoategui.  This Venezuelan freighter was hijacked by Communist dissidents who wanted to embarrass Venezuelan prime minister Betancourt such that he wouldn't visit the United States.  Several navies chased the purloined vessel as it steamed 'round the eastern hump of South America, ultimately finding sanctuary in Brazil.

The editorial helm of F&SF was recently taken over by Avram Davidson, and like the poor freighter, the magazine has been a captive to its new master and his whims.  Quality has declined steeply, and were it not for Asimov's article and the excellent tale at the end, this issue would barely be fit to warm a stove.

But, those two pieces are the saving grace of the March 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction…

Seven Day's Wonder, by Edward Wellen

This un-shocking tale of an electric New Testament missionary will fail to galvanize you, either with its ponderous pace or its puny puns.  Honestly, this is the sort of thing Avram Davidson (now F&SF's editor) used to make work.  Sadly neither Wellen nor Davidson are Davidson anymore.  Two stars.

The Day After Saturation, by D. K. Findlay

If overpopulation compel us to settle the seas, is de-evolution toward our aquatic ancestry the next inevitable phase?  Probably not, and this, Findlay's first work, is overwrought.  Two stars.

The Sky of Space, by Karen Anderson

Not a bad poem on the changing understanding but unchanging characteristics of outer space.  Three stars.

The Question, by Donald E. Westlake and Laurence M. Janifer

Hot enough for you?  Be careful what you take for granted.  It might just disappear.  Three stars.

The Importance of Being Important, by Calvin Demmon

Second in a matched pair on solipsism (also from a new author), it explores the perfect life of a fellow whose existence is merely another's convenience.  Pointless.  Two stars.

The Journey of Ten Thousand Miles, by Will Mohler

It's the end of the world, and Tyson St. J Tyson III desperately wants to leave his tomb of a house and go on a sea cruise — only the sea isn't there anymore.  Three pages of a story inflated five-fold to no one's profit.  One star.

Captain Honario Harpplayer, R.N., by Harry Harrison

Overblown, unfunny pastiche of C. S. Foreseter's work.  I've often said that I have trouble distinguishing Harrison and Laumer, but Laumer is funnier when he tries.  1 star.

Game for Motel Room, by Fritz Leiber

When a three-brained, too-silky centenarian beauty with a homicidal husband comes a flirtin', best you send her packing sooner rather than later.  Decently written, but disturbing and kind of dumb.  Two stars.

You, Too, Can Speak Gaelic, by Isaac Asimov

I love pieces on etymology, and the Good Doctor does a fine job of explaining the (not) Celtic roots of para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde.  Four stars.

Zack With His Scar, by Sydney Van Scyoc

When the world of the future is perfect, the only imperfect thing…is you.  And the only therapy is being saddled with someone worse.  I don't know that I liked this story, but I found it interesting.  Three stars.

Hunter, Come Home, by Richard McKenna

I put off reading the final novelette for days, given how lackluster the rest of the issue had been.  But this story makes up for them all.  It's sort of a cross between Deathworld and Hothouse — a planet with a single, planet-spanning and omnivariate lifeform is under attack by a group of rapacious colonists bent on scouring the native biome and replacing it with terrestrial plants and animals.  The rationale of the invaders is plausible (if distasteful), the depiction of the native life is profound, and the characterization is superb.  Five stars.

And there you have it.  Mediocrity and downright lousiness followed by a burst of talent.  Let's hope Asimov and McKenna don't disembark at Brazil, never to be seen again…

[P.S. If you registered for WorldCon this year, please consider nominating Galactic Journey for the "Best Fanzine" Hugo.  Your ballot should have arrived by now…]




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