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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[June 6, 1968] The Stalemate Continues (July 1968 Amazing)

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by John Boston

This July Amazing—wait, what?  You thought Amazing appeared in even-numbered months?  No more.  The mis-dating of the April issue as June means that what was to be the June issue has been pushed back—or at least the cover date has been—to avoid the confusion and likely loss of display time and sales had the publisher released a second issue dated June.  And Fantastic is pushed from July to August to keep these bimonthly magazines in alternate months rather than in direct competition. 

This issue looks a little better than the last.  There’s a new and seemingly higher grade of paper; the pages look less pulpy and the magazine is a bit thinner.  The cover, by Johnny Bruck, is lighter and more attractive than his usual; even though there’s a line of guys waving ray guns, for the foreground he’s borrowed another sort of cliché from Ed Emshwiller—guy with firm jaw, determined expression, and clenched fist staring out towards the viewer, like he just stepped off an Ace Double.  Relatively speaking, it’s a relief.


by Johnny Bruck

Once more, all but one item of fiction are reprints, though this issue’s exception is more considerable than some: House A-Fire, by Samuel R. Delany, described as a short novel (at 33 pages!) on the cover and contents page, though editor Harrison acknowledges in the letter column that it is actually an excerpt from Delany’s new novel Nova, forthcoming from Doubleday.  Delany’s name is misspelled on the cover and contents page and in Harrison’s editorial, spelled correctly on the story’s title page and in the letter column.  Are you getting tired of all this nit-picking?  So am I.  But the persistent sloppiness of this magazine continues to irritate.

Editor Harrison, clearly chafing under the reprint regime, continues to tout the non-fiction contents (seemingly the only part of the magazine that he actually controls) on the cover—“New Feature by HARRY HARRISON” (an editorial) and “New Article by ROBERT SILVERBERG POUL ANDERSON and LEROY TANNER” (the book review column).” There are also a new “Science of Man” article by Leon Stover (see below) and a London and Oslo Letter by Brian Aldiss, recounting his travels in Scandinavia.  The book review column includes Robert Silverberg’s thoughtful review of Brunner’s new novel Quicksand, Poul Anderson’s slightly celebrity-struck review of Asimov’s Mysteries, and two reviews by “Leroy Tanner,” a Harrison pseudonym.  One is a perfectly reasonable review of James Blish and Norman L. Knight’s A Torrent of Faces.  The other, of Algis Budrys’s The Amsirs and the Iron Thorn, spends more space (about a page!) denouncing Budrys for his review in another magazine of a book Harrison co-edited than it does on Budrys’s book.  This is distasteful to read and represents notably bad judgment on the editor’s part.

Harrison’s editorial, titled The Future of the Future, picks up where last issue’s mistakenly truncated editorial left off, reiterating his division of the world into SF-1, SF-2, and SF-3, and proceeding mostly to a series of platitudes.  (“SF-3.  This is wide open now and there are no rules. No one school is SF-3 and no one particular style or clique is any more important than the others.”) He does amusingly recount that he asked J.G. Ballard to tell him what inner space is, and he was about to answer, but just then someone interrupted them and the answer never came.  The letter column, with its traditional title Or So You Say, is back as well, for those who care.

House A-Fire, by Samuel R. Delany

Delany’s excerpt House A-Fire is about a bunch of overprivileged kids who are seemingly able to gallivant around the galaxy at whim.  We first meet Lorq von Ray, son of a mining magnate in the Pleaides Federation (Earth is in Draco), as a child.  Lorq’s parents are big shots in local politics.  They vacation (or something) on an off-the-map world called Brazillia where things are a little primitive; one of the local amusements is a variation on cockfighting.  There, he meets two other children, Prince Red and his sister Ruby Red; their father, Aaron Red, is a hyper-wealthy spaceship mogul from Earth, proprietor of Red-shift Ltd. (I guess Acme was taken.) Prince has an artificial right arm and is belligerently sensitive about it. 


by Gray Morrow

Young Lorq is of course brilliant and among other things, when he’s a little older, has his own spaceship, which he races in the New Ark regatta, coming in second, before heading off to a party thrown by Prince on Earth—in Paris, at the Ile St. Louis.  (“Caliban can make Earth in three days.”) He and his crew arrive and Prince immediately recruits them to rescue Che-ong, “the psychodrama star,” and her hangers-on, who have gotten stuck in a snowstorm in the Himalayas and upon rescue, prove to be a bunch of stereotypically air-headed teenagers.

At the party, everyone must have masks, and Prince has prepared an elaborate pirate mask for Lorq.  Delany has hinted to the reader, but kept Lorq in the dark, about Lorq’s father being involved in piracy.  A bit later, Lorq encounters Ruby Red, who has gotten pretty grown up since last seen, and who lets him in on the joke.  Prince shows up and tells Lorq to get away from his sister, they have a fight, and Prince lays Lorq out and messes up his face with his prosthetic fist.  Lorq’s crew carries him away and Ruby shows up on the river in her skimmer-boat and takes them all to the spaceport.  Later, in a final scene, we see Lorq, now back home, rich, and scarred, and contemplating his future.

This all sounds in summary like an overripe pulp space opera, but it is framed in some striking visualization and writing, as one would expect from Delany.  Like Lorq’s first glimpse of the mature Ruby Red:

“Then there was this: her eyes were smashed disks of blue jade, her cheek bones angled high over the white hollows of her wide face.  Her chin was wide, her mouth thin, red, and wider.  Her nose fell straight from her forehead to flare at the nostrils (she breathed in the wind—and watching her, he became aware of the river’s odor, the Paris night, the city wind); these features were too austere and violent on the face of a young woman.  But the authority with which they set together would make him look again, he knew, once he looked away; make him remember, once he had gone away.  Her face compelled in the way that makes the merely beautiful sick with jealousy.”

Yeah, a bit hokey, but it’s good hokum, suitable to our modern age.  And keep in mind that this is obviously all stage-setting for what one can hope are more substantial doings in the novel it is mined from.  Four stars, optimistically.

Locked Worlds, by Edmond Hamilton

Next up, straight from the September 1929 Amazing Stories Quarterly, is Edmond Hamilton’s Locked Worlds, all 50 pages of it.  It’s a sort of mad scientist story.  Dr. Adams, head of Physics at Northeastern University (a real place!), brilliant but widely disliked, discovers that the seemingly loose electrons sometimes found in atoms are really evidence that matter partakes of two worlds; our world’s electrons going around in one direction, the other world’s going in opposite directions.  Room for everybody! 

The rest of the profession isn’t having it and mocks Adams, who is determined to show them and get his own back.  Shortly he disappears, leaving his apparatus and a pile of bluish clay behind.  His assistant Rawlins comes to narrator Harker with an awful suspicion—and the newspaper clippings to prove it, sort of—that Adams has fled to the other world and that he’s planning his revenge there (the clippings refer to large and small piles of blue clay found at various places around the Earth).  So what to do for Rawlins and Harker but reconstruct Adams’s apparatus, follow him into whatever world he’s gone to, and thwart him?

And so they do, finding themselves on a mostly barren world with a blazing white sun overhead and blue clay under their feet.  And then—the giant spiders attack! 


by Frank R. Paul

Now Hamilton does not seem just to be trading on arachnophobia here.  Going forward, he refers to these giant spiders as spider-men, and shows them with a fairly advanced civilization.  But still, they signify that a cliched plot is about to take off, featuring captivity, aerial escape, pursuit, return in force with Earth’s new allies the bird-men (the birds and spiders engage in a dogfight), confrontation with the mad Dr. Adams, some literal cliff-hanging, and the ultimate triumph of good over evil.

Well, that was tedious.  It’s not for lack of enthusiasm on Hamilton’s part.  A sample, as our heroes escape the spiders with Nor-Kan, the bird-man, in the latter’s aircraft:

“He whirled to the craft’s controls, opened its speed lever to the last notch, and sent the air-boat racing on toward the south in a burst of added speed.  The great flying-platforms swiftly leapt after us, hurtling through the air at immense speed and slowly drawing ever closer toward us moving obliquely toward our own course.  Closer they came, and closer, air-boat and flying-platforms cleaving the air at a velocity unthinkable; now we saw from the foremost of the platforms behind us a shaft of brilliant orange light that burned toward us at the same moment.  Nor-Kan swerved the air-boat to avoid it.  He turned toward us, motioned swiftly toward the long tube-like projector mounted on a swivel at the stern of our own air-boat, and which I had already noticed.

“ ‘The static-gun!’ he cried.  ‘There are a few charges left in it—try to stop them with it!’ ”

Back in 1929 that would have been enough to get everyone’s blood up.  But in this decadent age, hot pursuit by ray-bearing airborne spiders just doesn’t seem to make it any more.  Or maybe it would take Delany to bring the spider-men to life.  Two stars.

The Genius, by Ivar Jorgensen


Uncredited

The other reprints in this issue are all from the 1950s, which is not necessarily good news.  Ivar Jorgensen is present with The Genius, from the September 1955 Amazing, except that Mr. Jorgensen is not really present because he doesn’t exist, being a house name used variously by Howard Browne, Harlan Ellison, Paul W. Fairman, Randall Garrett, Robert Silverberg, and Henry Slesar.  It is alleged in some circles that Randall Garrett is the mystery guest this time.  The story is a caveman epic, about old Zalu, who is trying to prove he’s still worth feeding so his grandson Cabo won’t bash his head in to get rid of him.  His plan doesn’t work, but Zalu does something rather significant en route to getting his head bashed in.  It’s short, readable, and mildly amusing.  Three stars.

The Impossible Weapon, by Milton Lesser


by Julian S. Krupa

None of the above can be said about Milton Lesser’s The Impossible Weapon (Amazing, January 1952), which is the kind of silly finger-exercise fluff that filled the back pages of the lower-level SF magazines in the 1950s.  Earth is losing a war to the League (League of what?  I forget), and our hero Stokes has figured out how to counter their super-weapon, but no one will listen to him, so in cahoots with a spaceman he meets in the wake of a barroom brawl, he commandeers a spaceship and takes off and proves he can do it.  Yeah, that oversimplifies a bit, but mercifully.  Stokes’s invention is silly, as is the supposed scientific rationale for it, as are all the other events from the beginning of the story to the end, so much so that I can’t bear to recount them.  Read the damn thing yourself if you must.  One star, too generously.

This Is My Son, by Paul W. Fairman


by Tom Beecham

Paul W. Fairman’s This Is My Son is from Fantastic for October 1955, during his two-year absence from the editorial masthead of that magazine.  It too is pretty dreadful.  Protagonist Temple, a young physicist with a fixation on getting a son, and his new wife are trying to reproduce, without success.  Temple has a great career opportunity and signs a contract taking him to South America for five years.  Jill is not pleased.  She wires him four months later that his son is due in five months.  But he can’t go back under his contract and if he breaks it he’ll be blacklisted.  After the five years he heads home to meet his son, and everybody’s happy, until he finds the manufacturer’s receipt for the android child, and reacts xenophobically.  Jill slaps him across the chops and then leaves after telling him, double-edgedly, that the child is as human as he is.  So he’s miserable for years, finally begins to see the error of his ways and sends the kid a gift.  Then the kid lands in the hospital after saving a couple of other kids from a fire.  Temple beats it to the hospital, the kid’s on the brink, so he offers an “old-fashioned blood transfusion” instead of the bottled plasma the nurse is about to give him.  Curtain, music swells, everything’s going to be fine.  It’s ridiculously contrived, sentimental, and manipulative, but at least demonstrates a little more craft than The Impossible Weapon.  Grading on the curve, barely two stars. 

Killer Apes—Not Guilty! , by Leon E. Stover

After the last two I am definitely in the mood for the contentious Dr. Stover, whose “Science of Man” article, Killer Apes—Not Guilty!, is suitably abrasive.  He takes on Robert Ardrey’s best-selling African Genesis from a few years ago, and he clearly has been waiting for his chance.  Ardrey attributed the bloody-minded and -handed character of homo sapiens to the apes from whom we descended.  Not so, says Stover; the apes were peaceful vegetarians (though not averse to the occasional grub or worm mixed in with their roughage), and the next step up (homo erectus) were carnivorous browsers, not carnivorous hunters.  We sapiens achieved our predatory status all on our own. 

Along the way Stover asserts with confidence a great deal about such subjects as the effect of domesticating fire on prehistoric social life, though without much explanation of how the dots were connected.  But he is also happy to patronize those of a different view, such as Ardrey’s favorite, the distinguished Professor Raymond Dart, late of the University of Witwatersrand: “Everybody is more than willing to let the old gentleman play with his pet theory that Australopithecus stood up to adult baboons and clouted them with humerus bones taken from antelopes.  Few take it seriously.” Good times!  Three stars.

Summing Up

Once more, business as usual at Amazing: signs of editorial vitality struggling to be seen beneath the clammy wet blanket of the publisher’s reprint policy, against the backdrop of negligent or indifferent production.  The stalemate continues.




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 10, 1968] Horse race (June 1968 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Three and Two make Two

I imagine Vegas bookies are tearing their hair out trying to predict the Presidential race this year.  On January 1, the hard money would have been on President Johnson beating Governor George Romney in a fairly easy race.  Then McCarthy and Nixon won in New Hampshire.  The former sent LBJ announcing his resignation and the latter gave the former Vice-President the first victory of his own since 1950.

Then Bobby Kennedy jumped in, trying to steal McCarthy's lunch.  Inevitably, Vice President Humphrey threw his hat in the ring, instantly commanding the loyalty of most democratic party bosses.  Meanwhile, Romney's dropped out, but Nelson Rockefeller, who said he wasn't going to play this year, has jumped in.

So, who will face each other come Labor Day?  It's anyone's guess, especially since both McCarthy and Kennedy just won recent primaries.  I guess we'll have to see if the New York Governor's campaign has legs, and if Humphrey's position translates to delegates at the convention.

Stay tuned…

Nine to Rule Them All

It's similarly a horse race with the latest issue of Galaxy, which presents a solid batch of stories.  Which one is the best?  That's a hard choice, too!


by Paul E. Wenzel

But first, the editorial.  Remember a few months ago F&SF ran competing ads from SF authors for and against the war in Vietnam?

Well, now Pohl's mags are doing it.

Pohl (Galaxy's editor) says it's not just enough to bitch about it.  Someone needs to come up with a solution.  He figures SF fans are about the smartest people around, so why don't we try our hand at it?

So now there's a contest, first prize $1,000, details at the bottom of this article.  Of course, given that you can't devote more than 100 words to the issue, and given that the war has been going on since 1945, in one way or another, and given that a lot of smart people have been trying to fix this thing…I somehow feel 100 words is not enough.

Or as my friend the divorce lawyer likes to say: "Imagine trying to fix a car.  Now try to imagine fixing that car while another party is actively trying to dismantle it."

Yeah.  Lots of luck, Pohl.

On to the stories!

The Beast That Shouted Love, by Harlan Ellison


by Jack Gaughan

Ever wonder why all people seem to go psycho all of sudden?  Why a race with countless religious texts devoted to peace, harmony, and brotherhood just goes buggy every so often?

What if some other planet, in order to preserve their peace, harmony, and brotherhood, is beaming all their psycho energy to us?  Sort of a bad emotions disposal process.

This is one of Ellison's lesser pieces.  It probably means a lot to him, but it's rather disjointed and vague and not as profound as he wants it to be.

Three stars.

How We Banned the Bombs, by Mack Reynolds


by Vaughn Bodé

Right now, the world population is 3.5 billion and rising.  Naturally, this has been the cause of concern and the topic of more than a few science fiction stories.  Bombs is one of the lesser efforts.

Reynolds posits a Reunited Nations government so powerful that, in response to the Population Explosion, it can enforce a ten-year ban on childbirth through mandatory provision of contraceptives to women.  At the end of the ban, it turns out that the contraceptive drug's effect was permanent, and all human women are completely sterile.

This, by the way, is the end of the story.  The rest of it involves characters talking to each other, telling tales they all know about how the world ended up in this predicament (which doesn't make for much of a story).

The whole premise is silly.  The population in this projected, not-too-distant future is 3.5 billion, same as it is now, yet resources are so scarce, they're banning the production of alcohol so as to husband their grain crops.  Somehow, the ReUN can sterilize EVERY woman on Earth, none slipping through the cracks.  And then, no one foresees or predetermines that the universal contraception has adverse effects.

In the words of Laugh-In's Joanne Worley: "Dummmmmb!"

One star.

Detour to Space, by Robin Scott Wilson


(uncredited artist)

Object 3574 is circling the Earth in a polar orbit.  Unannounced, the General is convinced it's a secret Russkie bomb.  NASA's long-hair thinks otherwise.  The majority decides to send up an Apollo to check it out.  The object is covered in green slime and pebbled with tektites, suggesting extraterrestrial origin…

There's a lot to like about this tale, especially the sting at the end of it.  Scott convincingly describes the apprehension with which we Americans greet the arrival of a new star in the heavens.  I know I scour the papers and call my Vandenberg buddies whenever anything goes up to get some insight into otherwise classified launches.

Where the story beggars credibility is the use of Apollo spacecraft, launched from Vandenberg, to intercept 3574.  You just can't do it–there's no way to get a Saturn there.  Much more likely would be to send up an Air Force Gemini (they're making them for the planned Manned Orbiting Laboratory).  But that would have killed the story.

This is what happens when you know too much about a subject, reviewing a story by someone who doesn't quite know enough… three stars.

Daisies Yet Ungrown, by Ross Rocklynne


Joe Wehrle, Jr.

After the big bombs created the time-space Rift, God told Rickert to jump through with Sears catalog robots and claim a new world 350,000 trillion light years from Earth.  But this is so far away that God's grace cannot reach, and Lucifer's tool, the newcomer Dorothy, has arrived to take his planet away from him.

This is an odd, poetic story that you, at first, think is going to be satirical, sort of a cross between Sheckley and Bunch.  Instead, it's kind of pretty and sweet, way different than I was expecting.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Jules Verne, Busy Lizzy and Hitler, by Willy Ley

This is a pretty interesting piece on attempts using a gun rather than a rocket to fire a projectile, if not into space, at least a terrific distance.  Essentially, it's like a rocket, but with the propellant on the outside.

Long story short: rockets are better.  Four stars.

Waiting Place, by Harry Harrison


(uncredited artist)

A man taking the matter transmitter home finds himself in the future version of Devil's Island, a colony for hardened criminals.  Surely, there has been some kind of malfunction, for he can remember no crime.  But the wheels of justice never make a mistake, or do they?

This would be a fairly slight tale if not for the execution.  Luckily, Harrison (who I understand has just retired from the editor helm of Fantastic and Amazing) is a master of execution.

Four stars.

The Garden of Ease, by Damon Knight


by Jack Gaughan

As expected, the first adventure of Thorinn, a human raised by trolls in a Nordic nightmare, has a sequel.  Last time, the resourceful Thorinn had been tossed into a deep well as an offering to the gods to end a ceaseless winter.  Making his way through the caves he found, Thorinn discovered a hatch that opened not onto but above a new world.  This story details what he finds below.

In an almost Oz-like setting, the people of the Vale enjoy a life of complete ease.  The grasshopper men and the doughwomen and the fancymen and the children, they eat the food that grows on trees and bushes, they frolic, they discuss, and when they want adventure, they seal themselves up in the pleasure pods for the night…or sometimes an eternity.

Thorinn is the snake in the garden, slowly poisoning the place with his foreignness and his willingness to kill.  Ultimately, he hatches an escape plan, but not before leaving his mark.

This is an interesting episode, but not as compelling or as clever as the first one.  Three stars.

Booth 13, by John Lutz

Here's a new author, or at least, new to me.  John paints a grim future in which populational ennui has settled in.  All that's left is war, the tranquilizer lysogene, and the death booths.  If life gets just a bit too monotonous, there's always a quick and easy exit–and now, people are taking it in ever-increasing numbers.

It's not badly done, but my biggest issue is not enough explanation is given as to why everyone is so melancholy.  Perhaps that's the point–if you give everyone an easy out, even the mildest inconveniences can trigger a snap decision.  Or maybe the author is simply extrapolating from the current, profound American despondency.

At the very least, I liked it better than Sales of a Deathman.

Three stars.

Goblin Reservation (Part 2 of 2), by Clifford D. Simak


by Gray Morrow

Last time, if you recall, Pete Maxwell has gone off to do research at the crystal planet, a world with the accumulated knowledge of two universes (it had lived through the last Big Crunch).  The fading intelligences of the planet offered all of its wisdom in exchange for The Artifact, a featureless black object dating back to the Jurassic period.  When Maxwell got back to Earth, he found that he'd already come back, duplicated by some quirk of matter transfer, and died.

This datum takes a back seat to bigger concerns–the Wheelers, bags of insect colonies bent on acquiring the lore of the crystal planet, have already purchased The Artifact, and once it is in their possession, plan to take over the universe.  It is up to Maxwell, his tentative ally Carol, her sabre-tooth tiger Sylvester, their Neanderthal pal Alley Oop, the Ghost, William Shakespeare, the librarian who sold The Artifact, the goblin O' Toole, and several bridge-dwelling trolls to somehow stop the transaction before it's too late.

I must say, Simak pulls off a large set of emotional tones very well.  You feel the sense of impending dread when it seems the Wheelers have clinched the deal.  The comedic scenes are genuinely amusing.  Yet, there is a grounding to the story that keeps it from being Laumerian or Anvilian lampoon.  The revelations of the true nature of the fairies, little people, banshees, and whatnot are pretty good, too, though a bit abrupt.  Perhaps they'll have more time to breathe in the novel version.

The only bit I had trouble with was The Wheelers, for whom I felt sympathy once I learned their motivation.  There's an undertone of unconscious racism where they're concerned–they're bad because they're icky, different.  When you learn what their status had been vis-à-vis the crystal planet, it all becomes a bit more unsettling.

Nevertheless, pleasant reading by a master.  Four stars.

Picking a Winner

Well.  It's obvious which story was the loser here (let's just call the Reynolds tale 'Harold Stassen').  But as to a winner, well that's a little harder.  Several of the three-stars are quite nice; my four-star to the Harrison may be arbitrary.  We can exclude the Simak because it's a serial, but it anchors this and the last issue well.

I suppose in an issue where (all but one of) the stories are good, the real winner is…us.

Happy reading!  And don't forget to write to Pohl…




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 12, 1968] Darkness (May 1968 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

These are dark days.

I need not remind you of the recent shocking murder of a genuinely great man who dedicated his life to nonviolence. Nor is it necessary to mention the wholesale slaughter of soldiers and civilians in Southeast Asia, which shows no signs of abating.

As if the heavens wish to mourn for the horrors humanity unleashes upon itself, there will be a total eclipse of the Moon tonight, visible from almost all parts of the Western Hemisphere.


An visual depiction of the phenomenon.

It is tragically appropriate that light reflected from Earth makes the eclipsed Moon appear reddish; an event known as a Blood Moon.

Even in the frivolous world of popular music, we are reminded of tragedy. At the top of the American music charts is the melancholy ballad (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay by the late Otis Redding, who died in a plane crash last December. It holds the unhappy distinction of being the first posthumous single to reach Number One.


Recorded just three days before Redding's death.

Better to Light One Candle Than to Curse the Darkness

It is tempting to sink into silence and depression. Instead, let us take what comfort we can from small pleasures. One such anodyne, at least for me, is reading science fiction and fantasy. Let's take a look at the latest issue of Fantastic and see if we can draw any solace from it.


Cover art by Johnny Bruck.

As has happened a few times before, the image on the cover comes from an issue of the popular German magazine Perry Rhodan.


That seems to mean The Little Men from Siga, presumably a fictional planet.

High Road to the East, by Christopher Anvil


Illustration by Gray Morrow.

In this trivial bagatelle an Admiral (clearly supposed to be Christopher Columbus) has a scheme to sail west from Europe to the Indies without bumping into the new continent in the way. He uses gunpowder to send his ship into the air.

Can you guess this won't work out the way he thinks?

This is a weak joke, hardly the outstanding new story promised on the cover. At least it's short and inoffensive.

Two stars.

The Little Creeps, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.

The December 1951 issue of Amazing Stories is the source of this tale of the Cold War turned Hot.


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

We start off with an odd scene in which a huge number of tiny glowing things invade the Tokyo home of an American General at night. Only light drives them away. They manage to talk to the officer by invading his phonograph and manipulating the needle. These are, of course, the Little Creeps.


Illustration by Leo Summers.

China and the USA are in a shooting war. The Soviet Union is supposedly neutral, but gives aid to its Red ally. The Little Creeps tell the General not to do three things.

1. Don't fire a Japanese servant.

2. Don't listen to a visiting General from the front lines.

3. Don't bomb Chinese installations along a river that serves as the border with the USSR.

You can probably predict that the General doesn't listen to the annoying Little Creeps, and things go from bad to worse.

This is a strange story, with a strong antiwar message mixed up with bizarre science fiction content. The latter never really made sense to me.

The visiting General is a loathsome character indeed. Not only does he love war, he also endlessly harasses a WAC Sergeant. I understand that he's the story's villain, but he really gives me the creeps (if you'll excuse the expression.)

Very mixed feelings about this one. The author has his heart in the right place, and the escalating tension of the situation creates a great deal of suspense, but the Little Creeps are kind of goofy.

Three Stars.

Dr. Immortelle, by Kathleen Ludwick

From the Fall 1930 issue of Amazing Stories Quarterly we have the only story, as far as I can tell, this author ever published. I managed to take a look at a copy of the yellowing pages of the old magazine, and the table of contents lists her name as Luckwick. The introduction to the story refers to her as Miss Ludwick. I don't know which one is correct.


Cover art by Leo Morey.

Anyway, this is a horror story about a Mad Scientist who discovered a way to extend his life way back in the 18th century. (Did the title give you a clue?)


Illustration also by Morey.

He and his mulatto slave have kept themselves alive and young by transfusing the blood of children into their bodies. Even more improbable, and embarrassing for the modern reader, the transfusion of blood from white children has made the mulatto completely Caucasian!

Sometimes the children don't survive the sinister procedure. Justice finally catches up with the evil scientist and his servant (who developed a conscience about what they were doing over the decades) in the form of the grown sister of a little boy who died because of the transfusion.

It's easy to tell this yarn is nearly four decades old. Besides the stuff about the mulatto turning white, there's a lot of flowery language. The author uses a narrative technique I've seen in other antique works. We start with a narrator, who then quotes at length from another narrator. (In this case, the dying servant.)

Thirty-odd years ago, this could have been very loosely adapted into a cheap Boris Karloff movie, of the kind I eagerly seek out on Shock Theater. In print form, the years have not been kind to it. Whatever became of Miss Ludwick/Luckwick, she does not appear to have been a major loss to the literary world.

Two stars.

Spawn of Darkness, by Craig Browning

Never heard of Craig Browning? That's because he's really Rog Phillips, who gave us this story in the May 1950 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by H. L. Blumenfeld.

Guess what? Gregg Conrad, whose name appears on the cover, is also Rog Phillips! The guy gets around!


Illustration by Edmond Swiatek.

In a future war, two death rays meet, causing an entity to appear out of nowhere. It takes the form imagined by a soldier; namely, a genie.

Forget the futuristic stuff. From this point on, we've just got a story about a guy and his genie. He might as well have found it in an old bottle in the desert.

Anyway, he wishes his way home. Things seem fine, but then the military sends his mother a telegram, stating that her son is missing in action and presumed dead. I guess the mother is pretty superstitious, because a self-proclaimed psychic convinces her the young man is a ghost. Complications ensue when the guy rather foolishly uses the genie to perform practical jokes that seem like the work of a poltergeist.

I don't know what to make of this thing. As I've indicated, the science fiction content is pointless. I guess the author is making fun of parapsychologists and such, but nothing particularly funny happens.

Two stars.

Spartan Planet (Part Two of Two), by A. Bertram Chandler


Illustration by Jeff Jones.

Let's recap. Chandler's series character John Grimes, a female ethologist, and a bunch of other folks have arrived on a planet without women, as far as the bulk of the population knows. The elite Doctors actually have a secret cache of women hidden away.

Our protagonist is a military police officer native to the planet. He becomes a secret agent for the head of Intelligence, assigned to keep an eye on the new arrivals while also investigating the Doctors.

In this installment, the officer finds himself strangely attracted to the ethologist, although he thinks of her as an alien. On a tour of the planet, they come across the place where girl babies (considered to be deformed) are left to be eaten by predators. Of course, the ethologist rescues the sole surviving infant.

Meanwhile, another woman from Grimes' spaceship is raped (blessedly, this is obliquely described) by a gang of locals. The implication is that men who have no idea that women exist, and who imagine the strange visitors to be bizarre creatures of another species, are irresistibly drawn to them.

Eventually, there's a huge mob of men trying to get at the women hidden by the Doctors. After the battle, Grimes offers a long speech explaining how the planet developed its unique society.

As you can see, this half of the novel is a lot darker in mood and a lot more violent than the first half. After plenty of action, Grimes' expository speech slows things down quite a bit. Overall, I didn't mind reading it once, though this segment is somewhat distasteful.

Three stars.

Something for the Woman, by Ivar Jorgensen

As you may know, Ivar Jorgensen is a name used by a whole bunch of different writers in various science fiction and fantasy books and magazines. In this case, my research tells me it's really Randall Garrett hiding behind the name, in the March/April 1953 issue of Fantastic.


Cover art by Richard Powers.

A family (Mom, Dad, and two little kids) go through the process of selling everything they own except the clothes on their backs and a few other small items. They're going on a long, long journey.


Illustration by Ed Emshwiller, often known as Emsh.

The story mostly deals with the woman's fear of leaving home for the unknown. A small gesture from her husband makes the impending voyage less terrifying.

I think I like this story more than it deserves. Yes, it supports the stereotype that women are timid creatures. (There's reference to a few rare women who are as eager for adventure as men.) But it's sensitively written, and it was a welcome novelty to read something that was unashamedly sentimental.

Four stars.

Brave Nude World, by Forrest J. Ackerman

A hint in the introduction to this reprinted article led me to track down the publication where it originally appeared. I hope you appreciate the effort and embarrassment it took to secure a copy of an old nudist magazine. Namely, the August 1961 issue of American Sunbather.


I have cut off the lower half of the cover, which features the young lady with the big smile completely unclad, in order to spare the delicate sensitivities of any Journeyers who might be offended.

Big Name Fan Ackerman chatters away about his experience of nudism, while also mentioning a few science fiction stories that deal with the topic. Notably, the original magazine featured drawings by another well-known fan, Betty JoAnne Trimble, universally known as Bjo.


Ackerman claims this is the title of a story by Spencer Strong (Ackerman himself), but I can find no reference to it. Maybe it appeared in a fanzine.


On the other hand, this is a famous story by Robert A. Heinlein. (Galaxy, March 1952.)

This tale appeared in the December 1956 issue of the girlie magazine Caper, attributed to Spencer Strong (Ackerman again) and Morgan Ives (Marion Zimmer Bradley.)

The author indulges his love of puns throughout. There's not really any point to this look at nudism in science fiction. It's kind of like Sam Moskowitz without the scholarship. Too bad Fantastic didn't reprint Bjo's cute cartoons, so I had to dig them out for you.

Two stars.

A Portfolio: H. G. Wells' When the Sleeper Wakes, by Anonymous

The magazine fills up a few pages with illustrations from the Winter 1928 issue of Amazing Stories Quarterly, which reprinted the famous novel in full.


Cover art by Frank R. Paul.

The drawings were themselves reprinted from the 1899 hardcover edition.


Cover art by . . . indulge me a while as I explain how I solved a mystery.


The introduction in Fantastic says the artist's identity was lost.


In fact, it says that even Amazing Stories Quarterly didn't know the artist's name.


I'm not sure I believe that. Maybe the magazine just didn't bother to give credit where credit was due.


Fantastic just attributes them to an English artist.


In fact, my research revealed that the artist was actually French, a fellow named Henri Lanos who often illustrated scientific romances.

Nice drawings, and the enigma of the artist's identity piqued my curiosity.

Three stars.

Fantasy Books, by Fritz Leiber

The master of sword and sorcery reviews books of that kind (Conan and King Kull) by Robert E. Howard, with much additional material by Lin Carter and L. Sprague de Camp. Leiber doesn't talk much about the two modern authors, and generally praises Howard while pointing out his poorest stories and offering an example of his worst prose.

No rating.

Light at the End of the Tunnel?

This issue offers only mild diversion from the terrors of the real world. Most of the stories were poor to mediocre, with only Jorgensen/Garrett rising a bit above that level. Maybe that's enough for now.




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 6, 1968] Trend-setter (April 1968 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Back in the saddle again

It's been a long time since the halcyon days of the early '50s, when Galaxy was setting the standard to beat, ushering in the Silver Age of Science Fiction (along with the more avante garde F&SF).  But now that editor Fred Pohl has collapsed his empire to just two mags, it seems he can afford to be more picky.  Indeed, IF is unusually good this month, and the April 1968 issue of Galaxy is by far the best I've read in a long time, and a strong contender for best magazine of March.


by Gray Morrow

Brave new worlds

Goblin Reservation (Part 1 of 2), by Clifford D. Simak

Simak is back with a odd brew of a story, perhaps in the same universe as Here Gather the Stars, as reference is made to a Wisconsin transit station.  Eschewing (for the most part) his usual pastoral motif, instead we get the first installment of the book-length adventure of Peter Maxwell, professor at the Time University in North America.  At least he was.  It seems that, while on the way to do fieldwork on the planet of Coonskin, Maxwell was duplicated.  One of him went on to his intended task.  The other ended up on a crystalline, roofed-over planet.  This world is some 50 billion years old, its inhabitants little more than ghosts, and they possess the knowledge of two universes since they lived through the last cosmological crunch and survived the most recent "Big Bang".

This latter Maxwell is the one we follow, since the other one died in a traffic accident upon arriving home.  Now, Maxwell is officially dead, out of work, and at loose ends.  Add to that there seems to be conspiracies, both human and alien, to get the secrets of the crystal planet from him, and things get very hot indeed.

That would be a twisty enough tale in and of itself.  Throw in the existence of fairies and ghosts (they've been around all along, but now they're acknowledged creatures who live on reservations) as well as working time travel (one of the main characters is Alley Oop, a brilliant Neanderthal), and things are complicated to the extreme!


by Gray Morrow

And yet, somehow Simak makes it all work.  It's an unusually humorous story, though the Morrow illustrations are perhaps too comic, and I tore through the half novel in short order.

I am looking forward to seeing where this all goes.  Four stars.

The Riches of Embarrassment, by H. L. Gold

Why does Miss McGiveney always seem to happen upon her neighbors at the most embarrassing moments?  It may just be her superpower.

This slight tale in particular feels like vintage Galaxy, perhaps because it's written by the magazine's first editor.  I hope Fred Pohl edited the story savagely…what's good for the goose is good for the gander.

Three stars.

Brain Drain, by Joseph P. Martino


by Dan Adkins

Tom Harrison, a field agent of Intelligence Imports Incorporated, is in Thailand searching for a particular kind of student, and he thinks he has his target in high school graduate Manob Suravit.  It turns out that Triple-I is on the hunt for brilliant PhD candidates, and apparently there aren't enough in America (and/or perhaps there is value in recruiting from beyond our shores).

At first, I thought it would turn out Harrison was looking for folks with psi powers–I was glad to find the object of his search was more mundane.  Most of the story is excellent, redolent with such authentic color that I have to think Martino has spent time in Thailand.

The problem is the ending, where Harrison convinces the local schoolmaster to be happy about the loss of promising students.  Not so much the reasoning, but the near-polemic way the reasoning is delivered.  What could be a thoughtful piece, with shades of gray woven in (as the story appeared to promise earlier on) becomes something more suited for Analog.  Along the lines of "Hey, sure we take your smart kids, but you weren't using them, and you've still got plenty."

A missed opportunity.  Three stars.

Sword Game, by H. H. Hollis

A bored middle-aged topologist and a grubby would-be Gypsy team up with their tessaract-based circus show.  Said mathematician shoves his partner into a cylinder of fuzzy time and space and stabs her vividly, but harmlessly, with a sword while the audience marvels.

But said topologist bores of this, too, and the result is truly macabre (though ultimately happy).

Three stars, but I could see someone going to four.

For Your Information: The Devil's Apples, by Willy Ley

Willy Ley offers up a short, but interesting piece on potatoes.  Not much to say, really.  Three stars.

Touch of the Moon, by Ross Rocklynne


by Dan Adkins

What an odd piece this is, about a romance broken when one of the partners goes to the moon.  Gravity has an irrevocable effect not only on the body, but also the psyche.  But happily, loosing one's ties to Earth is ultimately good for the species if it ever wants to claim the stars.

This could have been a good story, but it's written far too amateurishly and with too implausible a premise.  The former is surprising given that Rocklynne dates back to the Golden Age.  On the other hand, I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since I began reading SF regularly (1954), so perhaps he's out of practice.

Two stars.

The Deceivers, by Larry Niven


by Jack Gaughan

Our old pal Lucas Garner is back, this time with a shaggy dog story about the first fully automated restaurant that opened in 2025.

Niven has a real knack for creating whole worlds with a few strokes.  He also joins multiple time periods with ease: Lucas Garner was born in 1939, so he is our contemporary.  He lives in the 2100s, and he reminisces about the 2000s.  Thus, his stories have touches of the futuristic as well as the familiar.

Four stars.

Galaxy Bookshelf, by Algis Budrys

I don't often comment on Algis Budrys' column, but this time, he has some important things to say…and a friend named Brian Collins (who has his own commendable 'zine) did an excellent job of summing it up while adding his own observations:

Algis Budrys dedicates the whole review column to Dangerous Visions, giving us a review I'd say is about 1,500 to 2,000 words long. Budrys has shown us before that he's one of the more "literate" people in the field, but he has a unique challenge with Dangerous Visions, a book he both highly recommends but is highly mixed on as far as its content goes.

He argues pretty well as to why this is a major work in the field and why you should get yourself a copy, despite a lot of the stories therein not holding up to scrutiny. It helps that he and I mostly agree on what works and what doesn't (I'm admittedly one of the few people who liked the Farmer), and it pleases me in a morbid way to find that I'm not the only one who was incredibly disappointed by the Sturgeon. But Budrys notes that while the bloated pseudo-lecture from Sturgeon is a failure, and far under Sturgeon's caliber, it works as a sort of counter-piece to the Emshwiller, which, as Budrys says, feels more like a classic Sturgeon story than the Sturgeon we got. Taken together, these two contribute immensely to a narrative that Harlan Ellison is trying to put forth with the book.

Will Dangerous Visions kick off a new movement in SF? No. We had already seen stuff published in F&SF and New Worlds that would have made fine contributions to Dangerous Visions. This book does not present a brave new world like Ellison claims, but rather as Budrys argues it serves as an essential reminder that change is inevitable and that the field has been changing and will continue to change. No doubt 50 years from now Dangerous Visions will be remembered for the best stories between its covers, but also as a historical artifact—a portrait of a genre in the midst of change, and change is often violent and unpretty.

The World and Thorinn, by Damon Knight


by Jack Gaughan

Finally, Damon Knight begins what looks like the first part of serial in all but name.  Thorinn is a human raised by trolls in a primitive, Scandinavianesque, not-quite-fantasy world.  When calamity befalls his family, they throw him down a well to appease the god Snorri.  Thus begins the first of Thorinn's subterranean adventures.

The first few pages are a bit slow, particularly when scenes are repeated from two different viewpoints (I really dislike that style), but the rest makes for an excellent puzzle story, written in a fine, almost Vancean style.

Four stars, and the anticipated book may rate higher.

The Other Show

Between the Simak and the Knight (both fantasy-tinged pieces), we have a couple of open promises.  We also have something of a new style: there's a lot more sex in this issue than I've seen recently in Galaxy.  Is Pohl taking a page from F&SF's book?  Or has the New Wave simply caught up to the Guinn publishing enterprise?

Either way, I like it.  More, please!

Don't miss the news — a new episode of KGJ's weekly round-up is being broadcast right now!



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[March 2, 1968] Rules and Regulations (April 1968 IF)

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by David Levinson

New rules

Readers don’t need to be reminded that the Winter Olympics in Grenoble, France came to a close just two weeks ago. Of course, most of the attention has gone to French skier Jean-Claude Killy, who took all three gold medals in the Men’s Alpine events, and American Peggy Fleming’s absolutely dominating performance in the Ladies’ Figure Skating competition. But the Games also saw many firsts. Norway took the most medals with 14, taking the top spot from the Soviet Union for the first time since the latter began participating. Morocco fielded a team for the first time (believe it or not, there’s decent skiing in the Atlas Mountains), and East and West Germany participated as separate countries for the first time. This was also the first time the Winter Games were broadcast in color.

There were also some new rules. There has been growing concern over the last few years about athletes taking various drugs to improve their performance, commonly called doping. In 1967, the International Olympic Committee finally joined most other sport associations in instituting a ban on the practice. A total of 86 athletes were tested for various substances, and all tests came back negative. The IOC also began performing sex tests on female athletes this year in order to prevent intersex persons from competing in women’s competition. None were found, but after the policy was announced last year, several Eastern European athletes announced their retirement, which prompted a great deal of speculation.

The stars of the show. (l.) Jean-Claude Killy sporting his medals. (r.) Peggy Fleming in her spectacular performance.

Rules that bend, rules that break

Sometimes rules may be onerous, wrong, or perhaps just inconvenient. Maybe you need to bend them a little, maybe you need to break them and replace them with something better. The stories in this month’s IF offer several cases in point.

The Advanced Guard prepare to study the fauna of Chryseis. Art by Vaughn Bodé

The Man in the Maze, by Robert Silverberg

Richard Muller was one of Earth’s top diplomats when he was sent to make contact with the first aliens humanity had discovered. On his return, he discovered that no one could stand to be around him for more than a few minutes, for reasons that are not yet explained. In disgust, he retreated to the desolate planet Lemnos and the heart of a million-year-old city surrounded by deadly traps. Now his services are needed again. Charles Boardman, the man who sent Muller on the mission that gave him his affliction, and Ned Rawlins, the son of Muller’s late best friend, have come to recruit him. With the aid of robots to plan a safe route through the maze, they make their way deep into the city. As the installment ends, young Ned is about to find Muller. To be continued.

A robot seeks the next lethal trap. Art by Gaughan

If this sounds familiar, that’s because Silverberg is working with the myth of Philoctetes, the heir to the bow of Hercules whose festering wound caused the Greeks to maroon him on the way to Troy, but who is needed for their victory. More specifically, he’s using the play by Sophocles with a bit of Algis Budrys’s Rogue Moon thrown in for excitement. Muller is Philoctetes, Boardman is wily Odysseus, and Rawlins is the naive and honorable Neoptolemus, son of Achilles. This is all set-up, with Muller’s past revealed in flashbacks as the viewpoint shifts among the three main characters. It’s very good, but the meat will come in the next installment.

A very high four stars, with a probable five for the whole thing.

The Edward Salant Letters, by Jerry Juhl

A series of letters between a customer having trouble with his Phonotyper and the computerized service department of American Business Equipment.

Do not fold, spindle or mutilate. Art uncredited

Jerry Juhl is this month’s new author. More interestingly, he is a writer and puppeteer for the Muppets, which American readers may have seen on The Tonight Show, The Mike Douglas Show, or in commercials. Readers outside the U. S. are probably out of luck, but keep your eyes open for them. They’re very, very funny. As for the story, we’ve seen this a hundred times, but this one has an unusual twist that makes it fresh. I certainly didn’t see it coming.

A high three stars.

The Rim Gods, by A. Bertram Chandler

A group of Neo Calvinists from the planet Francisco has stopped at Lorn on their way to Kinsolving’s Planet. Around a century ago, a Stone Age man, an artist who made animals appear by making cave paintings of them, appeared there. He eventually found his way to Francisco and joined the Neo Calvinists. Also with them is the cave artist’s great-granddaughter, one of Francisco’s Blossom People, who practice a sort of hedonistic Zen. The Neo Calvinists believe she has inherited her ancestor’s power and want to use her to bring the Lord to Kinsolving’s Planet and make it a New Sinai. To his great dismay, Commodore John Grimes has been ordered to accompany them as an observer.

They look like fun. Art by Morrow

John Grimes is a man who enjoys his pipe and likes a good tipple. He’s the last person who should be locked in a small ship with this straitlaced bunch. Of course, that’s where this story gets its humor and most of its tension. It’s an enjoyable read if you’ve liked some of Grimes’ earlier adventures, but the ending is a bit confused and rushed.

Three stars.

Meanwhile, Back at the Worldcon…, by Lin Carter

Carter wraps up his report on last year’s Worldcon. It’s mostly more name-dropping, a brief mention of the costume ball, and an enumeration of the Hugo Awards. As I said last month, you're better off reading the Journey’s con report.

A low three stars.

The Product of the Masses, by John Brunner

An Advanced Guard unit under Commander Jeff Hook has been dispatched to the planet Chryseis to assist Dr. Leila Kunje and her team of biologists in studying the local fauna. Unfortunately, the loose, non-hierarchical style of the Advanced Guard are at odds with the extremely repressed (or uptight as the kids are saying these days) attitude of Dr. Kunje. An attitude so repressed it blinds her to some obvious facts, causing problems for everyone.

The local fauna to be studied. These are the smaller males. Art by Vaughn Bodé

They say John Brunner is two authors: the literary New Wave writer who sells to the British market and the outdated hack who writes for the American market. This is work even the hack ought to be ashamed of. Dr. Kunje is a character type that only British male authors seem to write: deeply, angrily sexually repressed to the point of denying the existence of sex, love or even affection. I’m reminded of the journalist in Arthur C. Clarke’s A Fall of Moondust who suffers from “impacted virginity.” No zoologist who is unable to see the glaringly obvious facts in this story would ever have risen to the level that would allow her to be chosen for this mission. It’s a pity, because this could have been a fun, if inconsequential adventure story.

Barely two stars, based only on Brunner being able to string together entertaining sentences.

Slowboat Cargo (Part 3 of 3), by Larry Niven

On the planet Plateau, Matt Keller has become involved with the Sons of Earth, who hope to overthrow the rule of the crew and become more than a labor force and source of organs. When the group was arrested, Matt managed to escape thanks to his strange ability to make people forget he exists. Meanwhile, a mysterious new technology has arrived from Earth via unmanned ramjet. Matt rescued the leadership of the Sons of Earth, and a bit of coincidence brought them into contact with planetary leader Millard Parlette. Together, they start work on a compromise that will put an end to the unjust treatment of the colonists and one day lead to the end of the organ banks. Unbeknownst to them, Matt and another rebel have entered the Hospital again on slightly different rescue missions.

Matt quickly learns to control his power and discovers a corollary power as well. He rescues the girl he fell for back in the first installment, but she proves either to have been driven insane by torture or to have been a fanatic all along. Meanwhile, the politicians come to the realization that there are more factions than just crew and colonist. Talk will have to be backed up by action.

And as the story ends, an Earth ramrobot bound for We Made It catches the attention of the space-dwelling alien merchants known as the Outsiders.

Matt takes a dive. Art by Adkins

Once again, the more interesting bits are people sitting around talking politics. The action verges on the repetitive, and while the actions of the young woman Matt rescues result in the main antagonist getting his just deserts, they felt unjustified by the story. Of course, we barely got to know her at all, so that could be part of the problem. Nevertheless it’s an enjoyable read. It’s also a reminder that the real work begins once the revolution ends. Plateau has a long way to go to become the equitable and just society we saw in The Ethics of Madness.

Three stars for this installment, but I think the whole is greater than the sum of its parts and might be worth four stars.

Summing up

When I finished the magazine, I thought it was the best issue of IF in over a year. After all, when the worst story is by John Brunner, it’s got to be pretty good, right? Unfortunately, that Brunner story really brings down the average. Still, it does hold the end of pretty good novel, the start of a novel that may be very, very good, and a couple of decent stories. I think I’d be happy if IF was this enjoyable every month.

Looks like MacApp may be investigating another alien society, and new Zelazny. Fingers crossed!

I have no idea what to make of tonight's episode of Star Trek

Come join us and help us figure it out!




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 16, 1968] Worthy programming (February 1968 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

On the small screen

A few weeks ago, President Johnson signed into effect the Public Broadcasting Act.  Its purpose, among other things, is to turn a decentralized constellation of educational stations and program producers into a government-funded network.  It's basically socialism vs. the vast wasteland.

Given the quality of programming I've seen produced by National Education Television, particularly on independent station KQED-San Francisco (e.g. "Jazz Casual" and "The Rejected"), I am all for this move.  Indeed, I've recently come across a show that has really sold me on public television.

NET Journal is a series on political matters of the day.  In December, they had a program that showed the results of a week-long workshop in which 12 affluent young men and women of a multitude of ethnicities lived together and discussed their prejudices.  What they determined was surprising to them, and maybe to us.  As we saw in the film Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, even in the most bleeding heart liberal, there is prejudice; and it's not just directed from whites to minorities.

This week, we caught an interview with four journalists in Saigon.  Recently, LBJ and General Westmoreland have been cheerleading the effort in Vietnam, saying that the three-year commitment of half a million troops is bearing fruit.  The South Vietnam-based journalists dispute this rosy view.  They say progress has been slow, that the South Vietnamese army is hopelessly corrupt and must be reformed from the head down if it is to operate effectively without American support, and that we are not engaged in "nation-building" because there is currently no nation.  The elections are meaningless so long as there be no real choices to be made, so long as bribes and payoffs accomplish more than the rule of law.

Withering stuff.  Next week, the program will be on draft-dodgers.

On the small page

Galaxy Science Fiction is also an exellent, long-running source of information and entertainment.  This month's issue is a particularly good example.


by Jack Gaughan

A Tragedy of Errors, by Poul Anderson

Anderson has established a reputation for producing some of the "hardest" SF around, laden with astrophysical tidbits.  On the other hand, his quality varies from sublime to threadbare.  Luckily, his latest novella lies far closer to the former end of the scale.

Tragedy takes place in what appears to be the far future of his Polysotechnic League history.  The loose interstellar confederation of planets became an empire and subsequently went into decline a la the worlds in H. Beam Piper's Space Viking universe and Asimov's Foundation setting.  I really like these "after the fall" stories of folks trying to patch a polity back together, maybe better than it was before.


by Gray Morrow

This particular story is the tale of Roan Tom, Dagny, and Yasmin, the crew of the merchant-pirate Firedrake.  Their ship is in desperate need of repairs, and the only planet within range of the married trio is a Mars-sized world around a swollen orange sun.  Luckily, said world was once a human colony of the Empire and thus may have the resources needed to fix a starship.

Unluckily, the planet has been recently plundered by pirates, and the inhabitants do not take kindly to strangers–especially ones that call themselves "friends."

There's a lot to like about this riproaring tale of aerial maneuvers, overland evasion, and fast-talking diplomacy.  For one, two of the main characters are women, and highly competent ones at that.  Moreover, it is an ensemble cast, with each of the three coming into the spotlight for extended periods of time.

There is also a mystery of sorts, here…or several, really, all woven together: how does this undersized planet have an atmosphere?  Indications are that this is a young world, but why, then, does the dense planet have so little surface metal?  And why is the star so unstable, prone to devastating solar storms that play hell with the planet's weather?  Solving this astronomical puzzle proves key to addressing the Firedrake crew's more immediate problems.

Of course, you have to like detailed explanations of stellar and planetary parameters and phenomena.  I personally love this sort of thing, but others may find their eyes glazing.  On the other hand, there's plenty to enjoy even if you decide to let the science wash over you.  The sanguine antics of Roan Tom, the determined toughness of Dagny, the more refined and tentative brilliance of Yasmin.  These are great characters, and I'd like to see more of them.

Four stars.

The Planet Slummers, by Terry Carr and Alexei Panshin

A pair of young thrift store bargain hunters are, in turn, scooped up by a pair of alien specimen collectors.  I think the story is supposed to be ironic, or symbolic, or something.

Forgettable.  Two stars.

Crazy Annaoj, by Fritz Leiber


by Jack Gaughan

Ah, but then we have the story of a different couple: a superannuated trillionaire and a dewy (but flinty) eyed young starlet.  There's is a love fated for the ages, but not the way you might think.

Just a terrific tale told the way only Leiber (or maybe Cordwainer Smith) could tell it.

Five stars.

Street of Dreams, Feet of Clay, by Robert Sheckley


by Vaughn Bodé

Imagine moving to the city of the future: clean, architecturally pleasing, smog-free, crammed with creature comforts.  Now imagine the city is run by a computer brain…with the personality of a Jewish mother.

Bob Sheckley is Jewish, so I suspect he didn't have to strain his imagination much for this one.  Droll, but a little too painful and one-note to be great.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Epitaph for a Lonely Olm, by Willy Ley

This is a pretty dandy story about a sightless cave salamander that lives its whole life in the water, thus eschewing the amphibian portion of its nature.  Thanks to this creature, we have the concept of "neoteny"–the retention of juvenile traits for evolutionary advantage.  The blind, pale beast also ensured the fame of Marie von Chauvin, a 19th Century zoologist.

Four stars.

Sales of a Deathman, by Robert Bloch


by Jack Gaughan

How do we combat the exploding birth rate?  By making suicide sexy, thus exploding the death rate!

Bloch's modest proposal would be better suited to a three line comedy routine than a several-page vignette.  Three stars.

Total Environment, by Brian W. Aldiss


by Jack Gaughan

Crammed into a ten-story self-contained habitat, 75,000 persons of Indian descent live a life of increasing desperation and squalor.  At first, we are given to believe that the settlement is a natural response to the crushing pressure of overpopulation.  As it turns out, the Ultra-High Density Research Establishment (UHDRE) is actually a deliberate experiment in inducing psychic abilities through exposure to unique pressures.  Just 25 years ago, the site had a population of only 1500.  Now, teeming to bursting, the hoped-for psionic adepts are appearing–and an empire in a teapot is arising on UHDRE's Top Deck to take advantage of them.

Aldiss writes a compelling story.  One thinks it's just the second coming of Harrison's Make Room!  Make Room! until it isn't.  In some ways, this actually hurts the story, causing it to lose focus.  On the other hand, the setting is so well-drawn, and the situation suspenseful enough, that it still engages and entertains.

Four stars.

How They Gave It Back, by R. A. Lafferty


by Gray Morrow

The last mayor of Manhattan finds The Big Apple isn't worth the bother, now that it's degenerated into a ruined, gangland state run by a quintet of bandits.  Thankfully, the original owners will buy it back–for its original fee.

Again, this might have made a humorous short bit.  As is, you see the punchline from the first words (the title and illo help), and the slog isn't worth the ending.

Two stars.

The Big Show, by Keith Laumer


by Wallace Wood

Last up, a frothy adventure featuring a TV star recruited to infilitrate the last cannibal island in the South Pacific to thwart a nefarious Soviet scheme.  This is yet another in the recent spate of stories involving total sensory television in which hundreds of millions viscerally experience the lives of actors.

Unlike Kate Wilhelm's or George Collyn's spin on the subject, Laumer doesn't do very much with the gimmick.  Instead, it's another of his midly amusing but eminently forgettable yarns.

Two stars.

Summing up

Despite a sprinkling of clunkers, the latest Galaxy delivers the goods.  Two good novellas, a fine nonfiction piece, and an excellent Lieber short would have filled F&SF nicely.  So just pretend that the other stories don't exist and enjoy the good stuff.

And then tune in to NET Journal the next few weeks while you wait for the next issue!



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Book, Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 14, 1968] As Is (February 1968 Amazing)

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by John Boston

The February 1968 Amazing, the second under Harry Harrison’s editorship, displays two themes on its face, both noted last issue.  The first is puffery: this issue says WORLD’S LEADING SCIENCE-FICTION MAGAZINE at the top of the cover, which also boasts “Katherine MacLean’s outstanding new novelet,” and the table of contents lists this “New Outstanding Novelet,” a “Classic Novelet,” and a “Special Novelet.” The second theme is protesting-too-much discomfort with the mostly-reprint fiction policy, evidenced by the prominent display of “New” on the cover: MacLean’s “Outstanding New Novelet,” “New Features,” “New Article,” “New Frank Herbert Novel.”


by Johnny Bruck

But there’s a third, more substantive theme: commendable initiative in the small amount of space left open by the reprint policy.  The “New Features” listed on the contents page include the first of a promised series of articles on the “Science of Man,” by Leon E. Stover, an anthropologist now at the Illinois Institute of Technology.  The book review column features a long and interesting essay-review by Fritz Leiber of a translation of a book by French author Claude Seignoll, with comments about the state of Gothic fiction generally.  (See below concerning both of these.) There is also the London Letter, said to be the first of a series to include a Milan Letter, a Munich Letter, etc.  This one is by Harrison’s pal Brian Aldiss, and it amounts to an extemporaneous stand-up routine which probably took Aldiss 20 minutes to write.  Parts of it are amusing.

These items are all touted by Harrison in his editorial, but they are not his main matter; the editorial is titled Amazing and the New Wave, and its first half amounts to a disappointingly smarmy exercise in having it both ways:

“There is no New Wave in science fiction.  Or, to put it another way, Amazing is the New Wave. . . .  Science fiction is the new wave that washed into existence in 1926 with the first issue of the magazine. . . .

“To me there are only two kinds of science fiction: the good and the bad. . . .  It is exactly what it says it is, and it is what I happen to be pointing to when I say the magic words ‘science fiction.’ And that is all the definition you are going to get out of me.

“The present New Wave is therefore two things: it is bad SF and it is good SF.  When bad it should be consigned to the nether cellars of our building with the rest of the cobwebbed debris of the years.  When it is good there are plenty of rooms it can slip into and feel comfortable.”

So Harrison spends a page on a subject of current controversy while ostentatiously saying nothing of substance about it.  This banal babble from an otherwise obviously intelligent editor is presumably his way of trying to ingratiate himself and the magazine with everyone while offending no one—a bad idea that will fool nobody and which one hopes is not repeated.

Meanwhile, the actual fiction content of the magazine, except for the above-average serial, is more or less what it has been since the departure of Cele Lalli and the advent of Sol Cohen.

Santaroga Barrier (Part 3 of 3), by Frank Herbert

Frank Herbert’s serial Santaroga Barrier, begun under the previous editor, concludes in this issue, and exits honorably.  To begin, the protagonist Gilbert Dasein, who teaches psychology at Berkeley, is driving to the isolated and reclusive California town Santaroga, hired by an investment company wanting to know why their chain stores were forced out of town.  In Santaroga, there is no reported juvenile delinquency or mental illness.  Cigarettes are purchased only by transients.  Nobody moves away; servicemen always return there upon discharge; and outsiders find no houses for rent or sale.  Jenny, Dasein’s not-so-old flame, moved back to Santaroga when she finished at Berkeley, telling him she couldn’t live anywhere else.  (The profs fooling around with the students?  Shocking!) There’s a dominant local industry, the Jaspers Cheese Cooperative, but it doesn’t produce for the outside market—the stuff “doesn’t travel.” Also, Dasein is the third investigator sent to Santaroga, the two predecessors having sustained accidental deaths.


by Gray Morrow

These cards dealt, Dasein arrives at the town’s sole inn, where he tries to call his handler in Berkeley, but the line goes out, and stays out afterwards.  He is then overcome in his room by a leak from an old gas jet, and rescued just in time.  Jenny, alerted to his presence, and seemingly very happy about it, shows up with breakfast.  It turns out she never received the letters he sent her after her return.

Dasein quickly learns that everyone seems to know who he is.  He encounters new manifestations of the town’s insularity.  Nobody has TV, except for a hidden room full of people whose job it is to monitor it.  There’s a local newspaper, but it’s subscription only, and its concept of reporting the news is unusual: “Those nuts are still killing each other in Southeast Asia.” All commerce appears to be local.  Dasein also learns that Jaspers is not just a brand name, but a substance, one which is near-omnipresent in food and drink.  And he notices a “vitality and a happy freedom” in the movements of people on the streets.

Meanwhile, the Jaspers (which is referred to later as “consciousness fuel”) is having an effect on him (“he had never felt more vital himself”), which he doesn’t entirely grasp.  He’s getting a little deranged, though hardly without cause, since he also keeps having near-fatal accidents—tripping over a carpet and being narrowly saved from a three-floor fall; a kid absent-mindedly loosing an arrow that barely misses him; a garage car lift collapsing; a waitress unknowingly poisoning his coffee; and more.  As for his derangement, shortly after the carpet incident, still suffering from a sprained shoulder, he takes a dangerous nighttime climb down into the Jaspers factory, clambering down and through its ventilation shafts despite his injury. Eventually he is questioning his own sanity.

It becomes apparent that consumption of Jaspers has created some sort of shared consciousness among the Santarogans, though Herbert remains vague about exactly how it works.  The people responsible for his “accidents” (poisoning his food, shooting an arrow at him) seem not to have consciously intended harm, but to have unknowingly acted out the hostility and fear of the Jaspers collectivity.  (Monsters from the id!) Jenny hysterically acknowledges that phenomenon: “Stay away from me! I love you!  Stay away!”

Dasein also begins to see some less attractive features of the Jaspers-permeated community.  On his first visit to the Jaspers factory, he finds that Jenny—trained as a clinical psychologist—works on the inspection line. Leaving, he sees through a door left open a line of people with their legs in stocks doing menial work, “oddly dull-eyed, slow in their actions.” He later learns these are the people who flunked the Jaspers initiation—about one in 500.  After wondering where all the children are, he finds them working in the greenhouses, marching and chanting.  Dr. Piaget, the designated spokesperson for the Santaroga way, says: “We must push back at the surface of childhood. . . .  It’s a brutal, animate thing.  But there’s food growing. . . .  There’s educating.  There’s useful energy.  Waste not; want not.”

At this point, Herbert’s thriller has become a philosophical novel, or at least a novel about philosophies.  Dr. Piaget elaborates on Santaroga’s child rearing practices, which reflect Santaroga’s departure from the usual human understandings about everything: “We take off the binding element.  Couple that with the brutality of childhood?  No!  We would have violence, chaos. . . .  We must superimpose a limiting order on the innate patterns of our nervous systems.” Hence, child labor; got to get 'em disciplined early."

Dr. Piaget continues: “We know the civilization culture-society outside is dying.  They do die, you know.  When this is about to happen, pieces break off from the parent body.  Pieces cut themselves free, Dasein.” And Dasein acknowledges the obvious: “Dasein knew then why he’d been sent here.  No mere market report had prompted this. . . .  He was here to break this up, smash it.” Piaget again: “Contending is too soft a word, Dasein.  There is a power struggle going on over control of the human consciousness.  We are a cell of health surrounded by plague. . . .  This isn’t a struggle over a market area. . . .  This is a struggle over what’s to be judged valuable in our universe.”

There is more denunciation of “outside” (another character says, with elaboration, “it’s all TV out there”), and much ambivalence on Dasein’s part about both outside and Santaroga, resolved in a final confrontation when the man who sent him to Santaroga comes looking for him.

This is a pretty solid SF novel, much better than Herbert's previous serial The Heaven Makers, with an interesting if somewhat vague idea capably revealed through a plot dense with incident, though there are minor points where things don’t hang together well.  Though talky, it’s much less of a turgid slog than some of his other work (Ahem, Dune).  The hive-mind idea is not entirely original, but Herbert takes a different angle and asks different questions than some of his predecessors.  In fact, the novel can be viewed almost as the anti-More Than Human—do you really want to give up your individuality and privacy for the comfort of such close and inescapable community?  Especially when you might end up acting violently without even realizing it?  Four stars, with a couple of planetoids thrown in.

Note the portentousness of some of the names in this novel.  An SF fan’s first thought about Gilbert Dasein is likely that it’s homage or satirical swipe at Gilbert Gosseyn, protagonist of van Vogt’s The World of Null-A.  But that’s probably wrong.  “Dasein” is German philosopher Martin Heidegger’s term for existence, as it is experienced by human beings.  Karl Jaspers is another German philosopher.  Jean Piaget is a Swiss psychologist famous for his studies of child development, some of whose work looks as much like philosophy as psychology.  A student of philosophy, which I am not, might make something of these names, but I’d suggest that the novel works well enough without that kind of gloss.

The Trouble with You Earth People, by Katherine MacLean


by Jeff Jones

Katherine MacLean contributed a number of incisive stories to the SF magazines from 1949 into the early ’50s (Defense Mechanism, —And Be Merry, Incommunicado, Contagion, etc.), and a few since then (mainly Unhuman Sacrifice).  Her novelet The Trouble with You Earth People isn’t on that level; it’s an amusing and mildly bawdy story of cultural misunderstanding between doggish alien visitors, whose understanding of humanity is based on watching television, and an easily scandalized elderly scientist.  It reads like it could have used another draft.  Three stars.

Remote Control, by Walter Kateley

To the reprints.  Walter Kateley’s Remote Control (from Amazing, April 1930), opens with the narrator’s friend Kingston showing him around a large construction project.  It is being carried out by animals—whales and sharks carrying heavy freight, apes and elephants unloading it, and as for the typing and computation required for such a project: “The machines were being operated at lightning speed, not by lady typists, as one might expect, but by bushy-tailed gray squirrels!”


by Hans Wessolowski

The author now flashes back to an earlier time, when Kingston has joined the narrator on his family farm, and assists with his observations of ants.  The two are puzzled by the ants’ efficiency in carrying out cooperative tasks without anything much resembling a brain and with no indication of how their activities are coordinated.  Then an accidental mixture of buttermilk and cedar oil gets on one of their lenses, and—revelation!  Now they can see tiny bright lines of energy leading from the ants back into the nest, which when followed to their source reveal a tiny brain that is apparently coordinating all their activity.  The possibilities are obvious, and it’s a short hop from these naturally manipulated ants to whales and elephants working construction, with squirrels on typewriters in the office, and human puppet masters somewhere off premises.

This one is amusing at first, but quickly gets tedious, since the story consists mostly of Kingston and narrator lecturing each other, with the narrator at one point reading aloud a passage from his favorite entomology text.  Fortunately this “novelet” runs only 18 pages of large print and is over quickly.  Two stars.

"You'll Die Yesterday!", by Rog Phillips

Rog Phillips’s “You’ll Die Yesterday!” (from the March 1951 Amazing) is a piece of yard goods by one of Ray Palmer’s stable of hacks—but a pretty capable one.  Phillips published some 44 stories in a little over six years before this one, mostly in Amazing and Fantastic Adventures, and clearly has the knack to meet Palmer’s famous editorial demand to “gimme bang-bang.” Protagonist Stevens, author of a successful book, is giving a lecture; an audience member asks a question but is shot before Stevens can answer; the killer runs out of the auditorium but inexplicably disappears.  Before the cops arrive, Stevens swipes some papers carried by the decedent, Fred Stone, and shows by home carbon-dating that they are from the future.  Also, Stone was carrying a “T.T.” permit (figure it out) and a printed copy of Stevens’s speech, which was extemporaneous, so it could only have been prepared later from a transcript.  Next day, Stevens’s girlfriend sees Stone, alive, on the street.  Turns out his body is missing from the morgue.


by Julian S. Krupa

More developments come thick and fast and there’s a revelation at the end which actually doesn’t resolve much, but might seem to if the reader wasn’t paying close attention, as I suspect was the case with much of the Palmer Amazing’s readership.  So it’s a clever if insubstantial riff on the time paradox theme.  Three stars for good workmanship.

The Great Invasion of 1955, by David Reid

The Great Invasion of 1955, by David Reid, from the October 1932 Amazing, is another tedious old story in which the Japanese are invading the United States and are vanquished by new technology based on now out-of-date science.  It may be of interest to those interested in speculative helicopter design.  Otherwise, one star.

Turnover Point, by Alfred Coppel

Alfred Coppel, author of Turnover Point (Amazing, April-May 1953), helped fill the SF pulps and lower-echelon digests with mostly forgettable material from the late ‘40s until the mid-‘50s, when he disappeared from the genre, briefly reappearing in 1960 with the well-received post-nuclear war novel Dark December.  This story is a bucket of cliches—a Bat Durston, i.e. a displaced Western—which is a surprise, since it appeared in the first issue of the magazine’s brief flirtation with high pay rates and higher quality content.  But here it is, alongside Heinlein, Sturgeon, and Bradbury.  A sample:

“The Patrol was on Kane’s trail and the blaster in his hand was still warm when he shoved it up against Pop Ganlon’s ribs and made his proposition.

“He wanted to get off Mars—out to Callisto.  To Blackwater, to Ley’s Landing, it didn’t matter too much.  Just off Mars, and quickly.  His eyes had a metallic glitter and his hand was rock-steady.  Pop knew he meant what he said when he told him life was cheap.  Someone else’s, not Kane’s.”


by Ed Emshwiller

The bad guy hiring Pop’s battered old spaceship turns out to be the one who killed Pop’s son, a Patrol officer who “was blasted to a cinder in a back alley in Lower Marsport.” Pop knows Kane is going to kill him after “turnover point”—the point at which the spaceship is turned around (a maneuver accomplished with a flywheel) so its business end faces the destination for deceleration and landing.  But Pop has the last laugh—he didn’t turn the ship around to decelerate for landing, but made a full 360 degree turn, so it continues on towards the outer reaches of the solar system, where Kane can starve, suffocate, and go crazy after it is too late to do anything about it.  Whoopee!  Two stars, barely, since it’s at least capably written for what it is.

Science of Man: Neanderthals, Rickets and Modern Technology, by Leon E. Stover

Prof. Leon Stover’s article suggests that the Neanderthals died out because they wore clothes, shielding themselves from sunlight and therefore from vitamin D.  Vitamin D deficiency causes rickets, which has serious enough consequences to affect evolutionary success.  Clothing was the Neanderthals’ technological solution to the glaciation of their habitat; what saved them then killed them off.  Vitamin D absorption, or lack of it, also accounts for the distribution of races: dark skin absorbs less than light skin, so dark-skinned peoples flourish in the tropics where there’s a surfeit of sunlight, while light-skinned people dominate at higher latitudes.  The moral: people must assess the consequences of their technological development, as the Neanderthals failed to, and we need a lot more technically trained people than we’ve got.

It all seems plausible and is lucidly enough written.  Is he right?  Beats me.  Three stars.

The Future in Books

Ordinarily I don’t rate the book review columns, but this one is unusual, containing Fritz Leiber’s review of French writer Claude Seignolle’s The Accursed: Two Diabolical Tales.  Leiber traces the current revival of “Gothic” fiction, recognizable by the paperback covers depicting an anxious-looking woman, with a large house in the background displaying a single lighted window, and notes the less formulaic older books being reprinted under cover of this new wave (excuse the expression) of yard goods. 

This brings us to Leiber’s typology of “the true Gothic or supernatural-horror story,” of which there are two flavors: “Can such things be?” and “Such things are!  So let’s go whole hog!” He continues: “The first type of story aims to make a sensitive, intelligent reader question for a deliciously scary moment the stable, science-proved foundations of the world in which he trusts.  The second provides a feast of grue for those who relish such banquets.” Seignolle’s two novellas (one featuring a young pyrotic, the other a young lycanthrope) are firmly in the second camp, as Leiber shows by judicious description and quotation.

This is all lively and informative, above and beyond the usual book review, though Leiber disappointingly fails to describe where Seignolle’s work fits into the fantastic tradition (or lack of it) in his native France.  Also, the book is introduced by Lawrence Durrell, a rather large noise in contemporary literature after his Alexandria Quartet; Leiber does not mention what Durrell has to say about the book, or about Seignolle generally.  So, three stars; a good piece that should have been better.  (And this rating in no way reflects the other review here, a distasteful hit job on Roger Zelazny’s Lord of Light bylined “Leroy Tanner,” well known as a pseudonym of Harrison’s.)

Summing Up

So, a good novel (though one begun under the previous regime), a decent new story, the usual uneven bunch of reprints, and some stirrings of life in the non-fiction departments.  I’m not sure that adds up to “promising”—more like “steady as she goes”—so we’ll have to leave it with a version of the baseball fans’ lament: “wait till next issue.”




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 2, 1968] The consequences of success (February 1968 IF)

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by David Levinson

A major medical advancement

On December 2nd, in Observatory, Cape Town, South Africa, a young woman named Denise Darvall was struck by a drunk driver. She was rushed to a nearby hospital, but doctors could do nothing for her and abandoned resuscitation attempts at 9:00 p. m. The doctors approached her father, informed him of his daughter’s death, and told him that it might be possible to save someone else’s life by transplanting her heart. After a few minutes of consideration, Mr. Darvall gave his permission.

The patient in question was 55-year-old grocer Louis Washkansky, whose own heart was giving out. Surgery began shortly after 1:00 in the morning of December 3rd under the leadership of Dr. Christiaan Barnard. Mr. Washkansky began his recovery in good spirits, and Dr. Barnard declared the operation a success, because the heart was doing its job without external assistance. Unfortunately, Mr. Washkansky contracted pneumonia – possibly as a result of the drugs he was given to suppress his immune system to prevent rejection of the new heart – and died of complications from that illness on December 21st.

Louis Washkansky talks to Dr. Barnard in the days following the surgery.

Nevertheless, this was a strong first step (I cannot accept the attempt a few years ago in Mississippi to transplant a chimpanzee heart into a human as serious), and we can add the heart to corneas and kidneys as a transplantable organ. Lung, liver, and pancreas transplants have all been attempted, but can still only be considered experimental at this point. However, it’s clear that great strides are being made, and one day in the not too distant future one person’s untimely death may allow many others to live full lives. Let’s just hope this doesn’t take us down the dark road Larry Niven imagines.

Considering the consequences

Larry Niven starts a new novel in this month’s IF in which he offers a warning about where successful organ transplants could take us. The characters in a couple other stories also have to ask themselves just where their actions might lead.

This dreamscape doesn’t appear in Robert Sheckley’s new story, but it could. Art by Vaughn Bodé

Slowboat Cargo (Part 1 of 3), by Larry Niven

Three hundred years after the colonization of Plateau, society is divided into crew, who enjoy all the privileges and leisure, and colonists, who do all the work and whose bodies go into the organ banks to keep the crew healthy. A new discovery delivered by automated spaceship from Earth may change all that. The story follows colonist Matt Keller, head of Implementation Jesus Pietro Castro, and occasionally Millard Parlette, the 190-year-old head of the government. Matt finds himself at a party that is cover for a meeting of the rebel group Sons of Earth, where they hope to discuss the delivery from Earth, which is then raided by Implementation under the lead of dread Castro himself. Matt is the only person to escape, because he has the strange psychic ability of making people forget he exists in moments of stress. Feeling guilty about the capture of his new friends, Matt decides he must break into the Hospital and free them. As this installment ends, he has managed to get in without being arrested. To be continued.

Implementation guards? To call this style “comic book” would insult fine artists like Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko. “Art” by Adkins

Niven continues to flesh out the universe in which he sets his stories, and not just at a single point in time. We’ve visited Plateau before, but that was obviously long after the events here, since society is very different. He’s also covering some of the same ground as his story in Dangerous Visions. This novel is probably part of how we get from there to the world of Beowulf Schaeffer.

I was particularly taken with Niven’s handling of exposition. While there are expository passages explaining things like the history of Plateau, they’re handled by the narrative. But it’s his use of little details that tell us a lot about the society in which his characters live, the things they take for granted, that impressed me. Very much a case of showing, not telling.

Originally, I was going to give this installment four stars, but on reflection I have to lower that score slightly. Matt’s power is just a little too over the top. I can see it working in social situations, such as we’re shown early on, but getting arrested and then having the guards just forget he’s there is too much.

A very high three stars.

The Petrified World, by Robert Sheckley

Lanigan suffers from a recurring nightmare. Maybe a visit with his therapist will help.

Does Lanigan wake or dream? Art uncredited, but Bodé’s signature is visible.

What a disappointment. It was obvious from the get-go and concludes with faux profundity. Sheckley may have written this under the influence of LSD. At least it was short.

A high two stars, only because Sheckley writes well.

Star Bike, by B. K. Filer

Ed Lamb is a mechanic and occasional motorcycle racer who loves nothing more than tearing up the backroads of Nova Scotia on his old Norton. He encounters a couple of strange men who say they’re American astronauts and their ship needs a quick repair. Ed helps them out and they reward him with some motor oil. That might not have been a good idea.

Ed on his beloved Norton. Art by Gaughan

I’m not one for motorcycles, and the story’s nothing special, but I quite enjoyed this one. Ed is a big improvement as a character over any in Filer’s first two stories. Third time’s the charm–or maybe it’s because he wasn’t trying to be funny this time.

Three stars.

The Courteous of Ghoor, by Robert Lory

Archie Pholpher has been chosen by the people of Ghoor to save Earth from the sun going nova by moving the planet to inside the Veil of the Federation. His only contact is the Courteous, who trains him in teleporting things and keeps the Federation from finding out.

This nothing of a story has a plot right out of the Pulp Era, modernized to fit the post-War era. It’s still 25 years out of date. Right on the line between two and three stars, but really not good enough to cross it.

A high two stars.

The Selchey Kids, by Laurence Yep

Duke (short for Deucalion) Gunnar is a survivor of the great earthquake and tidal wave that drowned San Francisco. After several years inland, he returned to the City, where he met Pryn, daughter of oceanographer Noe Selchey, who once worked with Duke’s parents. Together with a pair of trained dolphins, Duke and Pryn are sent to look for some data that should still be in the underwater wreckage of Selchey’s Institute. Duke will learn a lot about his past.

The Selchey Kids encounter danger in the ruins of San Francisco. Art by Gaughan

Yep is this month’s new author, and this is an impressive debut, especially for a 19-year-old college sophomore. Some of the character names are a little too apt, and the climax felt a bit rushed, but there’s a lot to like. The writing is otherwise strong, and I found the characters well-drawn. This is a solid foundation for the author to build on.

A high three stars.

All Judgment Fled (Part 3 of 3), by James White

After a mysterious object entered the solar system from interstellar space and took up orbit between Mars and Jupiter, an expedition was hastily cobbled together to investigate. The six men discover life aboard the alien ship, but the aliens may not be intelligent. After several hostile encounters, the commander is dead, and there are only two functional spacesuits for the four men aboard the alien ship. As the last installment ended, the ship’s engines were warming up to leave the solar system.

The astronauts manage to disable one of the engines, preventing the ship from leaving. Things gradually go from bad to worse, thanks to the ineffectual leadership of the new commander and interference from Earth based on incomplete information and political concerns. Eventually, the men disregard orders from Earth and launch a war of extermination against the starfish-like aliens. More will die, but with any luck they’ll attract the attention of the intelligent alien they believe is aboard.

Has first contact finally been made? Art by Gray Morrow

A thrilling conclusion to a novel that started out cramped and tense. I’m not sure I can really accept Earth command coming to some of the conclusions they do or the decisions they make, and some of White’s descriptions of places could be clearer, but this was a fine ending. I’d also be interested in what happens next.

Four stars for this installment and a high three for the novel as a whole.

Summing up

A good start to a new serial and a strong finish to the old. Too bad about the stuff in the middle. Maybe that’s too harsh. “The Selchey Kids” is an impressive debut, and “Star Bike” was decent. But, oh, that Sheckley story was disappointing.

Last month, editor Fred Pohl promised some new features coming this year. This issue gives us the SF Calendar, offering dates and details of upcoming science fiction events (mostly conventions). Half a page of information that looks like an ad isn’t really something to blow your horn about, even if it is a good idea. Conspicuous by its absence is Our Man in Fandom (with a promised report on last year’s World Con). Maybe it gave way to make room for the long beginning to Niven’s serial, or maybe it’s on its way out. It has felt like Carter was running out of things to say. Time will tell.

New Ellison is always welcome, and Redd has been interesting. Fingers crossed.




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[December 2, 1967] Women and Men (January 1968 IF)

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by David Levinson

Small steps towards equality

It’s been almost 50 years since women in the United States were given the right to vote. But while things have come a long way, there’s still a long way to go for real equality for women, especially economically and financially. For example, it’s extremely difficult, if not impossible in some places, for a woman to have a bank account in her own name. It’s like that in most of the First World, so imagine how much worse off women are elsewhere. On November 7th, the United Nations General Assembly unanimously approved the Declaration on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women. It’s non-binding, but it has set the U. N. on the path towards improving the rights of women around the globe.

Closer to home, the Johnson administration has been taking steps to do something about the economic inequality of women. In October, the president issued an executive order which adds sex as a category that cannot be used as a basis for discrimination. This affects the federal government and contractors that work for the government and is much broader than the Equal Pay Act of 1963 and other civil rights legislation regarding sex discrimination. Then on November 8th, President Johnson signed a law which allows women in the military to be promoted to flag rank (generals and admirals) and eliminates caps on the number of women officers at all levels.

President Johnson signing the law allowing women to rise in the ranks.

Women actually doing things

Time was, lots of women wrote science fiction, and not all of them hid their sex behind their initials. In 1967, IF has published a grand total of four stories by women. Two were by fans with no or very few previous professional sales, and neither was all that good. The third was an average story by Andre Norton. The fourth is in this month’s issue (and that’s dated 1968). How was it? Read on to find out.

What are these people doing in these blobs? Art by Pederson

The Peacemakers, by John Rankine

Dag Fletcher is the new captain of the Inter-Galactic Organization corvette Petrel and a bit of a maverick. The group his ship has been assigned to is on its way to the neutral world of Garamas, ostensibly on a diplomatic visit, but intending to free some I. G. O. nationals who are interned there, one of whom is a spy. Since Petrel isn’t expected, it falls to Fletcher to sabotage the planet’s power grid and then get the spy off the planet. Fletcher’s skill at improvisation will stand him in good stead.

Not the sort of spy you expect to find behind enemy lines. Art by Virgil Finlay

Rankine writes primarily for the British market, and I’m not really familiar with his work. The first two-thirds of this story could have come from someone like A. Bertram Chandler, though written at a level Chandler rarely achieves. Things go a little off the rails once the spy enters the story, particularly since I’m not convinced Fletcher would undertake the side mission she suggests. On the other hand, she’s a good character who’s more than just a reward for the hero. I especially liked the way Rankine dealt with her ability to read the surface thoughts of the men around her (looking like she does) and how she handled them.

A very high three stars.

From Distant Earth, by Basil Wells

Mal Harker has been betrayed by Dorn Tate, who has kidnapped Mal’s wife and marooned Mal and Tate’s own wife Esme. They manage to reach the planet Naron, which seems to be a desert. Strangely, they can feel vegetation around them, and there are invisible creatures, both prey and predator, around them. Eventually, much that was hidden will be revealed.

I’m not keen on the way IF is integrating the art into the titles lately. Art by Morrow

Wells has been around since the ‘40s, and the bones of this story could easily be from back then. He’s tacked on a couple of bits and bobs to make it seem more modern, but has largely failed in that endeavor. At least the writing is serviceable.

Barely three stars.

The Taste of Money, by R. V. Humphrey

Eminent biologist Charles Darwin Skroot has been sent to the planet Gloomer by the Planetrade Corporation to figure out why Tastybushes are dying out. Tastybush-blossom extract is the hottest new taste since chocolate was introduced to Europe, and if it vanishes, it will take the company with it. Skroot’s fee is exorbitant, but the conditions on the planet are difficult at best.

Are these caterpillars part of the problem or the solution? Art by Gaughan

Humphrey is this month’s new author. This is in some ways a fairly standard problem story, though stories that involve entire ecological systems are rare. As in a lot of problem stories, the situation is contrived, but the telling is mostly well done. Where it really fails for me is in the attempt to be funny. Humor is subjective, but I think a seasoned pro could have made this funnier with all of the same elements. Humphrey shows skill, but he would have been better served by telling this one straight.

A low three stars.

Foreign Fandom, by Lin Carter

Our Man in Fandom continues his world tour. After a quick look at fandom in Japan and South America, he drops in on the annual science fiction film festival in Trieste and a fan club in Calcutta, India with 1,500 fans. Then it’s off to Bristol for a look at the big convention in the United Kingdom over Easter weekend. Finally, grieve for poor Denmark, which has a single active fan who can’t find anybody else.

Three stars.

Rogue’s Gambit, by Phyllis Gotlieb

Spacelights perform a vital service, receiving and relaying messages and calls for aid. Out on the edge of nowhere, Spacelight 599 has gone silent, messages are backing up, and the Hendrickses, the couple who maintain the remote station, can’t be raised. Full time maintenance engineer and part-time policeman Stannard has been sent to investigate. With him is Dr. Ramcharan and nervous pilot Bugasz. They find Cornelius Hendricks dead and no sign of his wife Iris, much to the distress of Bugasz. Worse, the station computer appears to have been imprinted with Hendricks’ personality and gone mad.

Stannard and the others confront the computer. Art by Gaughan

This is a very well done story. Dr. Ramcharan could have been given a bit more to do than just be a highly competent woman. Bugasz, meanwhile, is clearly modeled on Peter Lorre in one of his more nervous roles. But Gotlieb brings it all together and somehow makes it work, even the insane computer. That said, the story didn’t really stick with me or make me think, which are part of my criteria for a four-star story. I think this is as close as is possible to get to four without achieving it.

A very high three stars.

Starsong, by Fred Saberhagen

They call it Hell, a Berserker research station deep within the Taynarus nebula. There, the anti-life robots study the brains of captured humans. Ordell Callison was the most famous musician in the systems near the Taynarus nebula until his new bride was captured by the Berserkers during a game of spaceship tag. Mad with grief, Ordell entered Hell in an attempt to get his beloved back.

Ordell confronts a three-headed monster in Hell. Art by Gaughan

The writing is lovely, but Saberhagen makes mistakes I wouldn’t have expected from him. First and foremost, he clings much too tightly to the Orpheus myth. This results in some strained attempts to shoehorn in various elements that don’t really fit.

Three stars.

Interstellar Travel and Eternal Life, by E. C. Ettinger

America’s preeminent supporter of freezing as a means of beating death offers some maundering thoughts on the greater implications of immortality and human expansion into interstellar space. Said thoughts are disorganized at best and head in some strange directions.

Two stars, barely.

All Judgment Fled (Part 2 of 3), by James White

After a mysterious object entered the solar system from interstellar space and took up orbit between Mars and Jupiter, an expedition was hastily cobbled together to investigate. The six men discover life aboard the alien ship, but one’s suit was destroyed in an encounter. Exploration of the ship continues until an attack by the starfish-like Type Two aliens results in one alien dead, one man injured, and three spacesuits rendered unusable. As a result, they are no longer able to recycle water. More is sent from Earth along with one suit (which is damaged in transit), but the men will have to spend days aboard the ship.

McCullough, the expedition doctor, becomes convinced that the Type Two aliens aren’t intelligent, but isn’t sure what to do with that information. Eventually, it is decided to explore deeper into the ship. As this installment draws to a close, the commander is killed, leaving the indecisive McCullough in charge. As he tries to deal with his new responsibility, word comes that the engines are starting up. The ship is preparing to leave, with four of the five survivors trapped aboard. To be concluded.

Things begin to go very wrong. Art by Morrow

The tension that cramped the first installment is largely gone here, but without any real release. I suppose it’s due to the men having more room to move around, but something to break that tension would have been nice. We get an interesting look at more of the ship and the aliens aboard it, with the intriguing idea that those we’ve seen so far aren’t intelligent. It’s even possible that the language-like sounds coming from loudspeakers are recorded. White has gone out of his way to heap troubles on the heads of his characters, maybe too far. I’m not clear why McCullough is now in command, even though he was subordinate to the man captaining the probe he was on. In any case, I’m eager to see where this finishes.

He That Moves, by Roger Zelazny

Humanity is dead, wiped out in an atomic war. The great and famous from throughout history were revived by another race, itself now dead. Yet another race is deciding what to do with the humans, whom they believe were the gods of the first race. An escape artist named Eric Weiss discusses all this with a woman named Sappho while they await the outcome of that decision.

More boring title art. Art by Gaughan

Another one that’s very pretty and full of allusion and misses the mark. This is Zelazny trying too hard to be artistic. I usually have a pretty high tolerance for that, but this one just didn’t work for me.

Three empty stars.

Summing up

And so IF returns to the mean once more, maybe a little improved. If nothing else, we’re given a few good woman characters and a good story from a woman writer. In the final tale, editor Fred Pohl also gives us exactly the sort of New Wave/Thing story he railed against just a few months ago. The times they are a-changing. Fred also teases us with some new features coming in 1968. I’ll settle for better stories.

A new Niven novel and the return of Bob Sheckley. That’s promising.




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 20, 1967] Fresh Air? (December 1967 Amazing)

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by John Boston

A Fresh Heir

We have been harbinged.  When Harry Harrison, recently departed as editor of SF Impulse and suddenly appeared as book reviewer in this magazine that seemed to have eschewed features entirely, I wondered whether it was an omen of a larger change. 

And here that change is, in big letters at the top of the cover of this December Amazing: “HARRY HARRISON New Editor.” Joseph Ross is gone from the masthead and his departure is unheralded elsewhere in the magazine, though Harrison is quite gracious to him in his book review of Ross’s anthology The Best of Amazing.


by Johnny Bruck

Otherwise, the kudos are reserved for the recently-deceased Hugo Gernsback.  Harrison’s editorial is a tribute to him, and Science Fiction That Endures, Gernsback’s own guest editorial from the April 1961 anniversary issue, is reprinted.  Gernsback says among other things that enduring SF stories are those that “have as their wonder ingredient true or prophetic science,” and notes that Jules Verne and H.G. Wells wrote most of their notable SF early in their careers, later succumbing to “science fiction fatigue—the creative science distillate of the mind had been exhausted.” That sounds scientific!

But does this change in masthead mean any actual material change in this too frequently lackluster magazine?

The most visible difference is that the cover and title page have suddenly become more crowded.  Nine items are touted on the cover, five of them touted as “NEW” and others as “SPECIAL” or even “XTRA SPECIAL.” There’s so much puffery going on that the cover illustration, by Johnny Bruck from the German Perry Rhodan periodical, is confined to the bottom third of the cover, though little harm is done, since it’s quite horizontal in orientation, depicting a spaceship traveling very low and being pursued by flying snakes.  Beat that, Frank R. Paul! 

Other aspects of the magazine’s presentation represent both continuity and change.  The proofreading is still terrible; look no farther than the misspelling “Lester del Ray” on the title page of his story.  And curiously, part of the magazine—pages 90 through 125—is in a different, smaller typeface than the rest, though this increase in wordage is not touted on the cover or elsewhere.

As to the contents, the balance is shifted only a little.  Two short stories and the serial installment are original, one story is probably reprinted but this is its first appearance in English, and four short stories are reprinted from earlier issues of Amazing and Fantastic.  And of course we don’t know whether Harrison actually had much of a hand in selecting what went into this first issue of his incumbency.  But the question of reprints versus new material seems to be a continuing sore point.  Note the column on the left side of the cover—five iterations of "NEW"—which musters everything in the magazine that's not a reprint, including the book review column.

So, too early to tell, but promising—it almost has to be, given Amazing’s doldrums of mediocrity to date under Sol Cohen.  As Bob Dylan, the alleged troubadour of my generation, put it:

I wish I was on some Australian mountain range.
I wish I was on some Australian mountain range.
I got no reason to be there, but I imagine it would be some kind of change. 

Santaroga Barrier (Part 2 of 3), by Frank Herbert


by Gray Morrow

First, to the non-reprinted fiction.  The longest piece of fiction here is the second installment of Frank Herbert’s serial Santaroga Barrier, in which the suggestively named Gilbert Dasein tries to unlock the secret of the reclusive town of Santaroga, which seems to involve a psychoactive substance called Jaspers that the locals all consume.  As usual I’ll hold my comments until the story is complete.

The Forest of Zil, by Kris Neville


by Jeff Jones

Kris Neville, who contributed prolifically to the SF magazines during the early 1950s but slowed down considerably thereafter, opens the issue with The Forest of Zil, a cryptic story of space explorers who land on a planet entirely covered in forest and begin to make plans to clear trees to make space for human activities.  The forest begs leave to differ, and its response can be read either as an epic in brief of raising the ante exponentially, like A.E. van Vogt but not as noisy, or as a weary parody of the entire conceptual armamentarium of SF.  Or maybe something else!  How many faces can you find lurking in the coffee shop placemat?  Four stars for this subtly memorable piece.

The Million Year Patent, by Charles L. Harness


by Jeff Jones

Charles L. Harness, a patent lawyer by day, is present with The Million Year Patent, in which the technicalities of patent law collide with those of relativity, not very interestingly to this lay person.  Two stars.

An Unusual Case, by Gennadiy Gor

The “Sensational Story from behind the Iron Curtain” per the cover is Gennadiy Gor’s An Unusual Case, translated from Russian by one Stanley Frye.  Gor, born to a family exiled to Siberia by the Tsar, was apparently part of the avant-garde in the Soviet Union in the 1920s, but survived to write popular science texts as well, and to start writing SF in 1961.  There’s no indication where this story was previously published, if at all.  It’s a first-person account by the creator of an artificial intelligence (apparently at least humanoid; a hand is mentioned) of his rearing of this pseudo-child, which is cut short when representatives of the corporation that financed the project come to take it away, as it protests piteously.  It’s short and poignant, though blunted a bit by not making much sense; the ingenue develops detailed memories of human life that its creator didn’t put there.  Three stars, and I hope we see more of Gor’s work here (or anywhere).

The Smile, by Ray Bradbury


by L. Sterne Stevens

The ”Ray Bradbury Masterpiece” touted on the cover is The Smile, from the Summer 1952 Fantastic, set in what seems like an American town after a nuclear war has mostly destroyed civilization and left everyone who survived destitute.  People of course respond in the only logical way—by destroying or defiling any available relics of the former civilization.  A while back it was smashing an old car with sledgehammers; today everyone is lining up to spit on a fragment of a famous painting (clue: the title).  But young Tom just can’t get with the program.  It’s a bit overdone, but Bradbury’s overdone is better than many writers’ perfectly-baked.  Or something like that.  Three stars.

Stacked Deck, by Lester del Rey

Our Journeyer-in-Chief recently had occasion to mention “the sort of inferior stuff that filled the lesser mags of the ’50s.” Here’s the real article, Lester del Rey’s Stacked Deck from the November 1952 Amazing.  Del Rey is one of SF’s hardy journeyman professionals, in the game since 1937 as writer, first for John Campbell’s Astounding and Unknown, then for everyone in sight during the 1950s’ efflorescence of SF magazines.  In the ‘50s he edited magazines and anthologies and wrote novels as well as stories, including a prodigious ten of them under various pseudonyms for the Winston series of juvenile SF.  Occasionally he excelled, and his work almost always maintained a basic level of competence.

Almost always.  Sometimes a working writer just has to crank it out, inspiration or no, as in this excruciatingly contrived piece.  Before it opens, a man flew to the moon, without enough fuel to get back, expecting to be rescued in time by a later expedition.  (This already makes no sense.) But that rocketeer, inexplicably, showed up again on Earth, talking about entities he encountered on the moon but claiming scrambled memory.  So a better-equipped expedition sets out, only to discover that the Russians are neck and neck with them.  All this is told in an annoyingly jaunty, I’m-just-a-regular-guy first person style, as in the opening sentence: “The bright boys with their pep talks about space and the lack of gravity should try it once!”


by Ed Emshwiller

Upon landing, our heroes find a building with an airlock, and inside, a nice lounge with red leather chairs, a cigarette machine, and plenty of alcohol and food, along with a machine shop and a lot of electronic gear, with signs and manuals in English and Russian—and a vault full of missiles, ready to be armed with warheads.  They surmise the Russians are finding something similar.

So what gives?  All along there have been passing references to gambling, such as the protagonist’s having bought a sweepstakes ticket, and racing magazines lying around, some inside the mysterious building.  Our hero picks up one of the latter and finds a note in it written by the aliens who set up the building, explaining that they are all betting on whether the Earthfolk will blow themselves up in short order, or avoid extermination and come calling on the aliens a bit later.  Narrator ruminates: “I don’t like being the booby prize in a cosmic lottery.  And that’s all the human race is now, I guess.”

And that arid gimmick is the story, with no other redeeming feature.  Del Rey must have been short on the rent that month.  One star. 

Luvver, by Mack Reynolds

Speaking of gimmicks, arid ones that is, Mack Reynolds’s Luvver (Fantastic Adventures, June 1950) is about as contrived as Stacked Deck.  Old Donald Macbride and his flirtatious daughter Patricia are having spaceship problems and make an emergency landing on a handy planet despite the “RESTRICTED ZONE.  LANDING FORBIDDEN” warning that comes over the radio. The local garrison, consisting of Steve and Dave, hustles them off their ship—blindfolded—and into their quarters, warning them not to look around, not to go outside, not to open the windows, without explaining why. 

But Patricia, of course, goes outside, and before Steve can drag her in, she sees a little animal–a luvver.  He knocks her out and the guys shoot her up with “the lethe drug,” since wiping her memory is her only hope.  Steve explains to the old man that all animals have means of defense—speed, size, venom, scent, etc.  The luvvers’ defense is eliciting undying love—“a stronger force than the most vicious narcotic”—in anyone or anything that sees them.  If Patricia retains her memories, she will “die of melancholy” if kept away from them, and if they escaped their world, pandemonium would ensue.

The gimmick is slightly less inane than del Rey’s, and Reynolds writes in a style more facile and natural than del Rey’s artificial and irritating voice, so two stars, barely.

Sub-Satellite, by Charles Cloukey

The gem of the issue, remarkably, is Charles L. Cloukey’s Sub-Satellite, from the March 1928 Amazing.  It recounts a great inventor’s construction of a spaceship and his voyage to the Moon in it, and the attempt on his life there by a disgruntled and demented former employee who has stowed away.  It is well told in an agreeable, slightly stilted but very plain style with a good balance of narration and exposition, reminding me of (my old memories of) Jules Verne.  It too ends with a gimmick—one that has been used in later decades by better-known writers—but there’s much more of a story here than in del Rey’s or Reynolds’s efforts, so it doesn’t detract from the whole.  Four stars.

So who’s this Cloukey?  Never heard of him, though I’m familiar with most of Gernsback’s repeat contributors.  Turns out he died in 1931, at age 19, of typhoid fever, after publishing eight stories, a poem, and a serial novel in Gernsback’s magazines.  Sub-Satellite was his first story, and he was not quite 16 when it was published.  Forget G. Peyton Wertenbaker, whose The Man from the Atom, done when he was 16, was pretty terrible—Cloukey is the real prodigy of the Gernsback years.  Too bad he didn’t last.

Summing Up

So, not a bad issue, with a couple of four-star stories, and some evidence (mainly the cover and table of contents) that the new regime at least wants to make the magazine look a bit livelier.  Whether a sustained improvement is in process of course remains to be seen.




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