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Magazine, Serial

[August 2, 1965] Expansion and Contraction (September 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

It seems like the world gets a little smaller every day. Jet planes are gradually replacing larger propeller-driven planes in the passenger market, reducing the time it takes to get from one place to another. As they become more ubiquitous even the middle class may be able to travel like the jet set. Communications satellites are making it possible for news to spread faster, and we can even see some events on television as they happen on the other side of the world.

On the other hand, the world seems to be getting bigger, too. We hear constantly about remote places where this conflict or that independence is taking place. The wealth of human knowledge is growing so fast, it’s almost impossible to keep up. Growing, shrinking, let’s look at some things that have done one or the other lately.

A long shortcut

France and Italy are now closer. Not diplomatically, and it’s not conclusive proof of continental drift, but the time to travel between them has shrunk thanks to the opening of a tunnel underneath Mont Blanc. The two countries agreed on building the tunnel in 1949, but excavation didn’t begin until a full decade later, with a company from each country drilling from their own side. The excavations met on August 4th, 1962, with an axis variation of a mere 5 inches. The tunnel was inaugurated at a ceremony on July 16th, attended by French President Charles de Gaulle and Italian President Giuseppe Saragat, and opened to traffic three days later.

At 8,140 feet below the surface, the two-lane highway tunnel is the deepest operational tunnel in the world, and at 7.2 miles, it is also the longest highway tunnel, some three times longer than the previous record holder, the Honshu-Kyushu tunnel in Japan. The travel distance from France to Turin is now 30 miles shorter, and the distance to Milan is 60 miles shorter.


Presidents de Gaulle and Saragat in front of the Mont Blanc tunnel connecting Chamonix to Courmayeur during the official inauguration

Flash!

Kodak made a big splash when they introduced the Instamatic camera two years ago. Like the venerable Brownie, the Instamatic makes it easy for amateurs to take snapshots. There’s even a model with a built-in flashgun that takes so-called peanut bulbs. The problem with those is that bulbs have to be removed before you can take another shot with the flash, and they get very, very hot. Kodak, working together with Sylvania Electronics, has come up with a solution: the flashcube.

As the name suggests, it’s a cube with a mount that connects to the camera on the bottom, and four flashbulbs around the sides. Trigger the shutter, the flash goes off, the cube rotates 90° and it’s ready for another picture immediately. Plus, by the time you’ve taken the fourth picture, parts of the cube should be cool enough to touch, so you can replace it right away. This should mean lots more candid snaps and a lot less dragging everybody outside to squint into the sun at family gatherings. A big innovation in a very small package.


$100 is a little pricey, but there are less expensive models, and we are talking about a lifetime of memories

An electrifying performance

The folk world had their horizons expanded last week, perhaps to their dismay. Despite his bad boy antics off stage last year, Bob Dylan was the most eagerly anticipated act at this year’s Newport Folk Festival, but his performance was met with a chorus of boos. It seems young Mr. Dylan felt that Alan Lomax was rather condescending when introducing the Paul Butterfield Blues Band at a workshop on Saturday the 24th and decided he would play electric to prove to the organizers they couldn’t keep it out. He hastily assembled a band from a couple of members of the Butterfield Band and some others and spent Sunday afternoon rehearsing. The crowd was shocked at the sight of Dylan accompanied by an electric band, and the short set of “Maggie’s Farm”, “Like a Rolling Stone” and “Phantom Engineer” was met with both boos and cheers. MC Peter Yarrow (of Peter, Paul and Mary) dragged Dylan out for a quick acoustic encore of “Mr. Tambourine Man” and “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue”. The crowd exploded and begged for another encore.

So why the booing? Ask three different people and you’ll get four different answers. Some say it was folkies mortally offended at the mere presence of electric instruments or a rock sound, others that fans were upset at the shortness of the set and the fact that the band used most of their allotted 15 minutes for tuning and switching instruments and/or poor sound quality. Some will tell you it was definitely the fans booing, others blame the press or even the organizers. We may never know the truth of the matter, but there’s no question that Bob Dylan has made another big impact on music.

Dylan with electric guitar and harmonica. Completely different from his usual acoustic guitar and harmonica. (Band not shown)

The Mysterious Doctor X

If you drop by your local library and take a look at the Sunday New York Times for July 25th (assuming they carry it and it has already come in) and flip to the list of best sellers, you’ll see a new title, Intern by Doctor X. It is, by all reports, a rather harrowing account of a young doctor’s period of interning at a hospital a few years ago, taken from his daily journal. The names, as Jack Webb would say, have been changed to protect the innocent, and the doctor has chosen a pseudonym to further protect confidentiality. “What has that got to do with science fiction,” you ask. Well, a little bird told me that Doctor X is in fact a reasonably well-known science fiction writer. Since he has good reasons for concealing his identity, I won’t give it away, but I will say that I once thought he was a pseudonym for Andre Norton and that his last name closely resembles a different medical profession mostly practiced by women.

Another hint: It’s not Murray Leinster or James White

It’s bigger, but is it better?

As promised last month, IF is now 32 pages longer, making it the same size as its bi-monthly sister publication Worlds of Tomorrow. Fred Pohl claimed that’s enough for two more novelettes, four or five short stories, a complete short novel, or an extra serial installment. How well did the editorial team make use of that extra room this month? Let’s take a look.


A deadly duel begins. Art by McKenna

Under Two Moons, by Frederik Pohl

We open in medias res in a seedy corner of Marsport. Secret agent Johan Gull is tied to a pillar in a room full of gunpowder as a beautiful woman sticks a lit matchcord in his mouth and then declares her love for him. After escaping, he goes for a shave and retrieves a jacket not his own, but which holds a key that lets him access headquarters behind the barber shop. A seemingly reasonable bit of spycraft, until he has to go for a shave every time he needs to go to a different department. He meets with .5, the head of the agency, who speaks only through his personal secretary. His new assignment is to go to Syrtis Major and investigate a couple of prospectors who claim to have been granted powers by beings from a flying saucer. Are the Black Hats behind it, or something more?

Aboard the submarine taking him to his destination, he once again meets the mysterious woman. She helps him escape from the submarine when it is sabotaged, and together they struggle through the Martian desert. They’re saved by the appearance of Tars Tarkas riding a thoat. It seems they’ve stumbled into Barsoomland, and Tars is a robot. Eventually, they make their way to Heliopolis. Further spy shenanigans take place, culminating in a big showdown in a casino.


I love you Meestah Gull. I expect you to die. Art by Wallace Wood

It’s quite the zany – at times bordering on insane – send-up of James Bond, more so the movies than the books. Gull is a drunk, a womanizer, and unbelievably stupid. Only a few hours pass between the first scene and the woman’s appearance on the submarine, yet he has no idea who she is, and she has to remind him several times throughout the story.

While it isn’t bad, the humor really isn’t to my taste. There’s a sort of overly arch cleverness to it that grates. Worse, the first thing we get with 32 extra pages is a 32 page story by the editor. Admittedly, Fred has a problem in that the best market for the kind of thing he writes is the trio of magazines he oversees, and I’m sure there’s a process for deciding whether or not to buy one of the boss’s stories, but it’s not a good look. It might have been better to wait a couple of months before running this one. The flying saucer aspects of the story probably also prompted the longish editorial. Three stars, at the low end for me, maybe higher for you.

Moon Duel, by Fritz Leiber

On the rim of Gioja crater, the unnamed narrator and his partner Pete are setting up a miniradar when Pete is killed by a sniper on the other side of the crater. The killer is a “crusoe”, one the many aliens marooned on Earth’s moon, all of whom fight and kill each other and the growing number of humans for the scarce resources that allow them to survive. The narrator manages to get off a few quick shots and a mayday signal. What follows is a deadly game of cat and mouse for the hours it will take for help to arrive. But at one point the antagonists begin an attempt at communication.

This is a very atypical story for Fritz Leiber. Even though I tend to think of him primarily as a writer of fantasy and horror, he’s no stranger to science fiction. “A Pail of Air” is one of my favorite stories. But the science comes on very strongly here, often shouldering aside character, which is Leiber’s real strength. It’s also shoehorned in at times, such as the clumsy footnote about the muzzle velocity of the narrator’s weapon. The climax also shares a factor with the rather poor Men of Good Will by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis, although Leiber is far more scientifically rigorous. Still, I’m not sure Leiber can write a bad sentence, and there is some genuine tension. To be honest, I probably would have liked this more if someone else’s name had been on it and I’d come in with a different set of expectations. Three stars.

The Planet Player, by E. Clayton McCarty

Archaeologist Charles Maxwell has joined the expedition to planet S-60 to investigate signs of a lost civilization. He gets off to a poor start with Litzanov, the expedition’s director. The director is a prickly authoritarian, who as it turns out is completely tone deaf and greatly annoyed by “sound in a measured tempo”. Maxwell, on the other hand, had dreams of being a concert pianist, has brought his guitar along, and reacts badly to being pushed around. Early in the journey, a stowaway is discovered, a fifteen-year-old deaf-mute known to the crew as Binky, the son of an early space scout. Bothered by the way the crew handles the boy, Maxwell takes him under his wing.

When they arrive at the planet, Litzanov proves to be a glory-hound. All photographic and video records are carefully rehearsed and staged to put him front and center, depicted as a wise man of science. The team also discovers massive structures made of a crystalline material which resonates to slight touches, though not to hard blows. At the heart of the alien complex, they find a theater with the remains of the dead in every seat. Spot checks all around the world find evidence that every single inhabitant of the planet died at the same instant, utterly without warning. The team probes the mystery, and as we are warned at the beginning, not everyone will survive.

Talk about a dead audience. Art by David A. Kyle

What a beautiful story. It’s not without its flaws; the reader figures out what destroyed this civilization and what is going to happen to the expedition fairly quickly, and the rather quick and easy decoding of the written language is highly improbable. But that all gets washed away by the ending, especially the final paragraph. This is McCarty’s second story. His first, Small One, was overly long and lacked subtlety, though Gideon rather liked it. This one however is excellent. A solid four stars.

M’Lord Is the Shepherd, by Leigh Richmond and Walt Richmond

From Moonbase One, M’Lord oversees the development of the people of Alterra. Although they are 50,000 to 100,000 years from being ready to be contacted by the Galactics, M'Lord has received orders to get them to that stage within 200. The Korm’aans are predicted to sweep through that spiral arm of the galaxy and the Galactics need an ally. That sort of forced stimulation usually destroys those subjected to it, but while a weak ally is preferable, a planet that can be used without interference from a native race is acceptable.

M’Lord decides that electric current is the ideal way to carry out his orders. First, he introduces the battery. After 75 years have passed, he sends his chief teslar down to the planet to get them to use 60 cycle alternating current. The results are astonishing. After only a few decades, the Alterrans are reclassified from “Sheep” to “Predator”. In fact, they represent a greater threat than Korm’aan. The solution is to fill the atmosphere with ultra-high frequency, ultra-short wave broadcasts. This attempt fails and he is ordered to apply hypnotic stupidifiers. This too fails, and the Alterrans are predicted to take over the galaxy within 500 years. The Galactics and Korm’aans have made common cause, and M’Lord must now act as ambassador and plead for no retribution.

Great Ghu, the Richmonds have escaped from Analog! The whole thing is ridiculously obvious, with the possible exception of the teslar. Unless you’ve read up on the early days of electricity, remember some of the articles Hugo Gernsback wrote back in the 1910s and 1920s, or have some reason to measure magnetic flux, you’ve likely not heard of Nikola Tesla. In any case, the question is why Campbell didn’t want this one. I mean, it has humans as the biggest, meanest, fiercest thing the galaxy has ever seen. Maybe he was put off by the scientific advancement of the last century or so coming from aliens rather than the natural superiority of northwestern Europeans. I should also note that it was only during the writing of this review that I realized the M’Lord is not a contraction such as one would use to address an English judge, but rather an alien name with obligatory apostrophe. A very low 2 stars.

Giant Killer, by Keith Laumer

On the planet Rockamorra, the CDT mission under Ambassador Splitwhistle is about to become the first formally credentialed embassy on the planet – a veritable coup over the Groaci – when Retief arrives late and tries to persuade the ambassador not to go through with it. He fails, but Splitwhistle really should have listened. It seems he has committed himself and his people (except Retief, who refused to go through the ceremony) to slaying a dragon. After the ambassador gets everybody thrown in jail by refusing to carry out his duly appointed task, it’s up to Retief, with a slight assist from Ben Magnan, to save the day.


The ambassador is supposed to kill it with a sword. Retief has a different plan. Art by Gaughan

I said last month that Retief’s shtick is getting stale. All the usual beats are here: the mission gets in trouble because no one listens to Retief, Retief enlists the aid of a slick talking local, Ben Magnan blunders about and accidentally helps, Retief saves the day. The only thing missing is a pulchritudinous female to offer her affections as a reward. Laumer seems to just be going through the motions in order to turn out one of these every month. I suppose it’s an easy, guaranteed sale. We’re promised the start of a Retief novel next month. We’ll see if the extra room for development of plot and character is a good thing or not. A low three stars, but probably a firm three if you’re new to the series.

Alien Artifact, by Dannie Plachta

A billion miles beyond the orbit of Pluto, the patrol ship Solar Sea picks up a large object on radar. It proves to be a giant ship, the alien artifact of the title. The crew explores and makes a shocking discovery.

Dannie Plachta is this month’s new writer. This short tale is afflicted with the desire for a Twilight Zone shock ending. While not a poor representative of the form, it’s not all that shocking either. And even at 2 and a half pages, the story is a bit long for what’s in it. On the other hand, it’s a decent freshman effort. I vacillated between two and three stars. The writing isn’t bad, and I wouldn’t immediately roll my eyes on seeing Plachta’s name again in the table of contents. Plus, it’s short. So, three stars, I guess.

Gree’s Damned Ones, by C. C. MacApp

Steve Duke has been infiltrated into a Gree punishment detail. The others aboard the transport have sinned against Gree, but are being given a chance to redeem themselves. Steve is here to find out why Gree and its slaves are showing great interest in a planet near the center of the galaxy.

Placed in charge of a large unit, Steve is ordered to make his way to an enormous cliff in some distant mountains and find a way to report back. The first night out, he finally activates the device that will give him his orders from the Birds of Effogus. Unfortunately, he left the device containing the means to let the Birds know exactly where he is so they can null in back in camp. He’ll just have to complete his mission and get back.

After a long and dangerous journey, Steve’s group meets up with another, under the leadership of Fazool, the B’Lant Steve befriended and betrayed in the first Gree story. Fortunately, Fazool was brain-burned and doesn’t recognize Steve, though in moments of distraction he does call him Jen. Ultimately, the two of them are the only ones to penetrate to the final mystery of the planet.


Steve and one of the B’Lants under his command encounter some dangerous plant life. Art by Giunta

I’m getting tired of these Gree stories. After a couple of dismal outings, the last couple have been better, but it’s time for MacApp to wrap this saga up. This one offers some interesting mysteries, and most of it is taken up by a sort of Arthur C. Clarke travelogue melded with a pulp jungle adventure. The end is rather perfunctory and raises as many questions as it answers, while seeming to move the war against Gree at least to the end of the mid-game. Still, it’s readable for the most part. A low three stars.

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 4 of 5), by E. E. Smith

The revolution on Ray-See-Nee in the Chloran galaxy is a success, but the locals whom Dick Seaton has put in power are worried about their first report back to the Chloran headquarters. The daily report shouldn’t be a problem, but the change in government will be closely scrutinized, and the reporter will likely die or have his mind shattered and will certainly give the game away. Fortunately, Seaton once went frontal lobe to frontal lobe against the Supreme Great One of the Chlorans and won. (Ignore the fact that that was halfway across the universe. Chlorans are Chlorans everywhere.) So Seaton makes the call and successfully dupes the bad guys. That taken care of, the Skylarkers head off to more familiar regions to repair the Valeron and come up with a way to improve coordination and reaction times on a planet-sized vessel.

Cut to the Jelmi. After some friendly political maneuvering, Mergon is now in charge. He picks out an uninhabited Tellus-type planet, and the Jelmi set about created an armed and well-defended base. Contact is made with the Llurdi, and after the Jelmi demand independence, the Llurdi throw everything they have at their former slaves. Holding out by the skin of their teeth, the Jelmi then contact the Llurdi, give them the teleporter, and restate their desire to live in peaceful independence. Being supremely logical, the Llurdi agree.

Meanwhile, repairs to the Valeron are complete, but Seaton is extremely fidgety. He only calms down once they start heading back to their new friends in the Chloran galaxy. It seems the woman who aided him in the revolution and her mother are witches, and they put a spell on him to summon him back. The new government is trying to weed out corruption, but are facing a lot of resistance from corrupt elements that are left over and new corrupt elements who want a piece of the graft. There’s a big shoot-out and the problem is resolved.

The Fenachrone are withering in Llurdi captivity. On his deathbed, their leader sends out a mental distress signal and makes contact with DuQuesne. The latter offers to help them and teleports their leader and a couple of others to his ship. He then heads for the Llurdi galaxy, as are the Skylarkers, who have figured out how DuQuesne tricked them and where the Jelmi must have come from. The leader of the Llurdi detects the Valeron (the DQ is shielded to the point of invisibility) and sends out a powerful mental probe. The Skylarkers read the probe as an attack and throw up their shields. The Llurdi decide they must attack and so throw everything at the Valeron. Seaton counterattacks and as the two forces are nearing mutual destruction, Seaton is mentally contacted by Mergon of the Jelmi. To be concluded.


Dick Seaton takes a call. Art by Morrow

Only one more installment to go. I must admit there is a certain crude vigor here that… well, it hasn’t grown on me, but I’m less offended by it than I was. It still doesn’t make a lot of sense, it’s still badly plotted, Smith still starts paragraphs with “wherefore”, but I guess I can see the nostalgic appeal if you first read Smith at an impressionable and less discerning age. Two stars.

Summing up

Before wrapping this up, let’s talk about the art. At least since I took on reviewing IF the interior art has been provided by a steady stable of four: Gray Morrow, Norman Nodel, Jack Gaughan and John Giunta. For me, Morrow is far and away the best of them, but he’s been tied up with Skylark for four issues now. I’m also not a big fan of Nodel’s smudgy look or Gaughan’s abstract elements. Still, all four are good, but there’s been a lack of freshness. This month saw two new additions. Wally Wood, of course, is primarily a comic artist (and former studio partner of Harry Harrison), but he’s done some illo work for IF’s sister publications, although we haven’t seen him for a couple of years. David Kyle is a long-time fan (he’s the man who got his fellow Futurians banned from the first Worldcon), occasional artist and rarely author. While there’s really nothing stylistically all that different, both artists have injected enough of a difference to seem fresh.

So, has IF made good use of its expanded space? It’s hard to say. Skylark DuQuesne continues to weigh the magazine down, and I think we’ll have to wait a couple of months to see what Fred Pohl does once it’s gone. As I noted above, no matter what you might think of the story, running a piece written by the editor which is exactly as long as number of new pages is not really the best way to start. On the other hand, we have eight titles this month, which increases the chances of there being something for everybody. And next month, Pohl is trying out another innovation. As one serial ends, we’ll also start another. If the typical serial is three parts, that’s an increase from four a year to six. That also raises the chances of more good work. Only time will tell.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 18, 1965] The Prodigal Returneth (September 1965 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

It's Great To Be Back

Those of you who keep track of minutiae may have noticed that I haven't been around these parts for a while. Blame it on seismic changes in the world of magazine publishing. To wit, the fact that Fantastic will now be published bimonthly removed that magazine from the newsstands for a couple of months, in order to have it alternate with sister publication Amazing. I had to wait until the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow arrived on my doorstep before I could get back to the typewriter and churn out a review. Let's get started, shall we?

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder


Cover art by George Schelling, illustrating a macabre scene from Fritz Leiber's story

Maybe it's only because I haven't done this for a while, but I look forward to analyzing this issue with more enthusiasm than usual. Let's see if I retain my critical passion as we make our way through the crisp white pages of the youngest member of Frederik Pohl's family of publications.

Catch a Tartar, by Gordon R. Dickson

The hero of this lighthearted romp through the cosmos is one Hank Shallo, a jolly giant of a man, fond of beer and singing. When he's not belting out a tune or quaffing a brew, he works as a deep space scout, seeking out new planets for humanity. The woman who gives him his assignments is a certain Janifa Williams, a statuesque blonde who would like him to settle down on Earth with her.


Illustrations by Norman Nodel. This is not Janifa, by the way, but a no-nonsense physician who treats our hero for a hangover.

Janifa arranges to meet Hank on a colony world with a serious problem. It seems that the computer that controls the planet's environment, so people can live there, thinks it's a god. It demands a human sacrifice before it will go back to work. Hank is the lucky fellow who's supposed to be offered up to the mechanical deity. There's an escape plan, but Hank has a scheme of his own.


Hank arrives.

Complicating matters is the presence of the guy who created the computer, a mad genius who is in love with Janifa. Hank has to figure out a way to defeat the computer, save Janifa from the unwelcome advances of the scientist, and retain his happy-go-lucky lifestyle.


The madman, Janifa, and a few of her many admirers.

Hank is a likable rogue and something of a con artist, as he uses his wits to get the better of everyone. I found the story to be more enjoyable than most attempts at science fiction comedy, which tend to be full of sophomoric slapstick. The female characters are decorative, to be sure, but also intelligent, competent, and professional. It's not the most profound tale in the world, but worth reading.

An amused three stars.

The Light Outside, by C. C. MacApp

This strange little story consists of a series of messages, ranging from prayers to scholarly articles, over a very long period of time. (That's true in one sense, but not in another. Confused? That's how I felt when I started reading.) We eventually figure out that the beings responsible for these writings live at a much faster pace than those who are observing them, known as the Watchers. At the end we learn something more about the Watchers, and those who are watched.

The narrative structure tends to have a cold, distant feeling to it, so it's hard to connect with the story on an emotional level. On the other hand, the premise is original and interesting.

An intrigued three stars.

The Tinplate Teleologist, by Arthur Sellings


Illustration by Brock. I have been unable to find out anything about this artist, not even his or her full name.

Davie — more formally, DA 38341 — is an obsolete household robot, kicked out of his home when a more advanced model takes his place. He has a limited amount of time to find somebody to purchase him, at a price hardly anybody is willing to pay for an old machine. If he fails, he goes back to the factory to be turned into scrap metal.

The episodic plot follows Davie as he meets a sympathetic but powerless dealer in used robots, a bitter robot who plans to rob a human being, the elderly inhabitants of a retirement community who welcome his help, but can't afford to pay for him, and an impoverished painter who finally gives him the opportunity to save himself from the junkyard.

This sentimental yarn feels like a science fiction fairy tale. Davie is one of those meek, gentle characters who overcome all obstacles with quiet bravery. Mix a little Asimov with a little Bradbury and you might have something like this slick tearjerker.

A wistful three stars.

Theories Wanted, by Robert S. Richardson

The author presents various astronomical mysteries, offers hypothetical solutions, and suggests that amateurs might be able to help professionals figure things out.

I had to let out a weary sigh when the article began with the hoary old chestnut of trying to account for the Star of Bethlehem in scientific terms. To nobody's surprise, Richardson thinks a nova is the most plausible explanation, if any is needed. (I guess he's read Arthur C. Clarke's decade-old story The Star.)

I was more interested in the peculiar star Mira Ceti, which varies in brightness in irregular ways. It also has a much fainter companion star, difficult to observe, which presents a similar enigma. I would have preferred an entire article about Mira Ceti.

Other subjects include the Trojan asteroids, which occupy a stable point in Jupiter's orbit, and a comet known as P/1925 II. Like a smorgasbord, there are several items to choose from, and not all of them are tasty.

A highly variable three stars.

At the Institute, by Norman Kagan


Illustrations by Gray Morrow

This razor-sharp satire takes the narrator through the halls of a research institute full of eccentric scientists involved in outrageous projects. We get our first hint of how wild things are going to get when he has to ride a tank (see above) through a ring of solid uranium to get into the place. After encountering a number of researchers working on experiments as bizarre as anything found in Jonathan Swift's Balnibarbi and Laputa, he meets the director of the place.


The infantile director and the narrator, facing the institute's defense system. Please excuse the way I had to fold the magazine to show you the whole picture.

Although the narrator seems at first to be the voice of sanity, exposing the madness of so-called pure research, it turns out that his own more practical studies are equally insane. The author casts a jaundiced eye at all aspects of science and government.

The story moves at a breakneck pace, with jokes, puns, paradoxes, and lampoons of human foibles in nearly every sentence. The tone reminds me of the recent novel Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, in the way it mixes surreal comedy with a dark view of humanity's tendency to destroy itself.

A sardonic four stars.

Cyclops, by Fritz Leiber

Three astronauts set out on a journey to investigate why an interstellar vessel, under construction in orbit around the Moon, is out of communication with Earth. Similar problems in the past turned out to be minor, so the spacemen aren't too worried. During the voyage, they discuss the possibility of life existing in empty space. Since one of the astronauts is psychic, it's not a big surprise that their speculations turn out to be all too real.

Although the plot is predictable, this is an effective science fiction horror story, full of striking images. As you'd expect from Leiber, it's very well written. A minor work from a major author.

A frightened three stars.

Of Godlike Power (Part Two of Two), by Mack Reynolds


Illustrations by Jack Gaughan

Let's recap. Part One of the novel took us to a near future United States of flying cars and automated bars. More importantly, it's a place where most people are unemployed, but enjoy a reasonably comfortable life in a prosperous welfare state. The protagonist is the host of a radio talk show dealing with UFO's and other speculative stuff. His job leads him to an eccentric preacher who has the ability to prevent people all over the world from enjoying certain pleasures of which he does not approve. His miraculous power strikes first at female vanity, eliminating makeup, fancy hairdos, and fashionable clothing. The next targets are radio, television, and movies. The lack of entertainment for the jobless masses leads to chaos.

In Part Two, the radio host, one of the few people who know the reason for these sweeping changes, is forced to join a massive government project designed to investigate and solve the problem.


Forced, as in men with guns come to get him.

The guy manages to convince the authorities that the preacher is responsible. Meanwhile, almost all fiction and comic strips become unreadable, another sign of his power. (He leaves certain things alone, such as The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Pogo, proving he has good taste.)


An example of a distorted text. I think it says something like He took aim right at her . . .. I can't read the last word.

Our hero visits the preacher's rural community, which proves to be almost entirely self-sufficient. He is reunited with the preacher's daughter, whom he met in Part One, and romance blooms.


Her real name is Sue, and she's got other secrets.

When the real story reaches the public, the radio host has to save the preacher from an angry mob, then work out a compromise with him. In return for undoing at least some of his miracles, he'll get the chance to broadcast his socioeconomic message to the world.


Rescuing his future father-in-law.

Beneath the surface of a semi-comic plot, the author deals with a lot of serious issues. He considers overproduction, excessive consumerism, waste of natural resources, automation, shallow media, lack of meaningful work, mob violence, authoritarianism, and a bunch of other things. It takes a special kind of skill to mix all this stuff into an entertaining novel.

A thoughtful four stars.

Feasting on the Fatted Calf

(That's just a metaphor. I don't eat meat.)

I'm delighted to see that I came back to write about an above-average issue of the magazine. Everything was worth reading, even if not all of it was outstanding. There was a welcome variety, from comedy to horror, with a large serving of satire. You can choose among the breezy style of Dickson, the savage bite of Kagan, and the elegance of Leiber, to name just a few. All in all, it made for a very pleasant homecoming.


The first novel about Captain Horatio Hornblower. Good stuff.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 2, 1965] Gallimaufry (August 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

A gallimaufry is a kind of stew. Like any stew, it’s composed of a bunch of things thrown together and so has also come to mean any sort of hodge-podge. Since I haven’t been able to come up with some sort of overarching theme this month (and perhaps because, as I write this, I skipped lunch and it’s a couple of hours until dinner), let’s just look at the mish-mash of things that caught my eye (and ear) this month.

The British Invasion continues

On June 12th, the Beatles were named Members of the British Empire. That’s the lowest level of honor granted by the British government, but unsurprisingly a lot of old fuddy-duddies are unhappy with popular musicians being so honored. Member of the Canadian House of Commons Hector Dupuis complained, “British royalty has put me on the same level as a bunch of vulgar numbskulls.” According to my research, apart from seven and a half years in the Canadian Parliament, Mr. Dupuis’ main contribution to society is selling insurance. I’m not sure he’s the one who ought to be complaining about the comparison.


James P. McCartney, George Harrison, John W. Lennon and Richard Starkey showing their medals. You didn’t think his parents named him Ringo, did you?

Sticking with music for the moment, lately I’ve really been enjoying For Your Love by the Yardbirds. It’s a catchy little number that’s been moving up the charts the last few weeks and unusually features a harpsichord. The band took over as the house band at the Crawdaddy Club in Richmond, England when the Rolling Stones went on to bigger things and then acted as the backing band for Sonny Boy Williamson when he toured Great Britain in early 1964. They’ve had a bit of airplay with some old blues numbers, but this is their first real hit. Alas, one man’s meat is another man’s poison. One of their guitarists, a young man by the name of Eric Clapton, has left the band, unhappy with the move to a more commercial sound. He’s since been replaced by Jeff Beck. Let’s hope that Mr. Clapton is content with the relative obscurity of the blues scene.

The Miracles of Technology

On June 14th, a test planned by American and French doctors and communications experts sent an electrocardiogram from a ship at sea to a hospital in France. The ECG was taken from a passenger aboard the SS France in the Atlantic Ocean and transmitted via facsimile machine first to Cornell University hospital, then RCA Communications, Intelsat, D'Liaisons Radiotelephotographiques de France and then to Boucicaut Hospital in Paris. The image that arrived in France was clear enough for doctors to use for diagnosis. Look for this technique to be used in earnest in the future.


Facsimile technology has been used in meteorology for several years. Its use in remote diagnostic medicine shows promise.

Eppur si muove

The British journal Nature dated June 19th included a paper by astronomers Gordon Pettengill and Rolf Dyce titled "A Radar Determination of the Rotation of the Planet Mercury". They have determined that the planet Mercury is not tidally locked to the sun, but rather has a rotation period of approximately 59 days. That means a day on Mercury is about two-thirds as long as its year. Bad news for Larry Niven, whose very first story, “The Coldest Place”, hinged on the planet always showing the same face to the sun, but those are the breaks in the science fiction game.

An IFfy stew

Speaking of science fiction (and the magazine Niven first appeared in) what is Fred Pohl putting on our plate in this month’s IF? Let’s take a look at the ingredients.


Retief makes his way across town. Art by Gaughan

Trick or Treaty, by Keith Laumer

Things are looking grim for the Terran cause on the planet Gaspierre. The planetary parliament is set to decide if they’re going to be neutral, on the side of the Terries, or support the warlike Krultch, and the presence of a Krultch warship heavily outweighs that of the CDT mission under Ambassador Sheepshorn. Anti-Terry riots are blowing up all over, and Krultch soldiers walk the streets with impunity.

We open with Retief using his usual good relations with the locals to get lodgings for a troupe of Terran entertainers (if four people can be said to constitute a troupe). On his way back to the embassy, Retief cripples a couple of Krultch soldiers (they did start it) and learns from the local police that the Terrans are confined to their embassy until the ambassador is due to make his speech to parliament. After a brief consultation with the ambassador, Retief escapes the embassy, makes his way across town and enlists the aid of the entertainers in tossing a monkey wrench in the Krultch plans. Will he succeed in tipping the balance in Earth’s favor? Of course, the only question is how. Will he win the favors of the lovely, red-headed acrobat with the tattoo? Unusually, no, or at least not on the page.


The Krultch captain gets the drop on Retief. Right where Retief wants him. Art by Gaughan

I’m on record as a fan of Retief, but even I have to admit that things are getting a little stale. To carry on with the stew analogy, this is an onion that’s gone a little spongy or a rubbery carrot. The means by which Retief and friends take the wind from the Krultch’s sails are deeply improbable, bordering on the ridiculous. On the plus side, Ambassador Sheepshorn is one of the best names Laumer has come up with in ages. Is that Sheeps-horn or Sheep-shorn? I suspect that the ambassador and the author have very different opinions on that. In any case, long-time readers of the series will likely find this one a bit dull, though newcomers might enjoy it more. However, it’s not the best entry point for the series. A low three stars.

Against the Odds, by John Brunner

On the planet Galrex, an apparent crank is making a scene outside the office of the Superintendent of Galactic Records, warning that the human race is in danger. Superintendent Motice Bain emerges from his office and agrees to listen to the man’s concerns.

Falkirk, as his name proves to be, once planned to make a career in archaeology studying the vanished civilization of the planet Gorgon. The story goes that the natives of Gorgon had learned to manipulate luck and ultimately bored themselves to death. The planet was originally found three or four hundred years earlier by one of the pioneering starscouts, Morgan Wade, who supposedly figured out the lost secret and ultimately became extremely wealthy. Eight or nine years before the time of the story and before Falkirk could go to Gorgon and begin digging, a starship made an emergency landing on the planet. It took several weeks for a needed spare part to arrive, but once the ship was repaired the crew managed to destroy all that was left of the ancient civilization when taking off. Now every member of that crew is the ruler of a planet. Falkirk is convinced that these ten men are going to take over the galaxy.

Using the example of the birthday problem, which shows that it takes a remarkably small number of people to ensure that two members of the group share a birthday, Bain points out to Falkirk that in a galaxy of two trillion people, it isn’t that unlikely for ten of them to become important. After a despondent Falkirk leaves, Bain gets down to business.

There’s a twist at the end of this tale that anybody who has been reading science fiction for more than a handful of years can see coming. It’s a reasonably well told story, but a far cry from the more modern sort of stories that Brunner is capable of writing. Apparently, IF is where he sends his more old-fashioned work. It’s not bad, it’s just not anything special. Three stars.

We Hunters of Men, by Bruce McAllister

Edmond Reud is out hunting scalps when he is attacked by another hunter. He kills the attacker and takes the other man’s scalp. Ignoring the “mind-prickling” that urges him to go toward the Minced Mountain, which touches the ocher-colored sky, he returns to the underground city to exchange his scalps for pellets. Eventually, he reaches the Minced Mountain and meets an old man trapped there by a broken leg. Without pellets, the old man has had his long-term memory return. Together, they solve the mystery of the “mind-prickling”.

Interspersed throughout this are naval communiques between a ship orbiting the planet Tinni and Base Roquefort. It seems that Tinni was one of twelve planets beset by the Judicians, who managed to close the planet in a charge field when they lost the war. The navy believes that the Judicans’ weapons were destroyed, but because they are physically weak they must have found some way to control the human population. They did manage to get a device through the field which will home in on charge field generators and send out cortex wave emissions to get humans to come and tinker with the generators.


The scalper scalped. Art by Giunta

This is McAllister’s second story, and it’s not very good. Clearly the pellets affect memory and are addictive, giving the Judicians a way to get the humans to kill each other, but I fail to see how the system was originally imposed. Further the tonal shift between the two narratives is rather jarring. That on the planet is somewhat grim and rather fitting to the circumstances, while the naval communiques are rather light and a bit jokey. On the other hand, McAllister is only 18 and does show some raw talent. If he spends some time working at his craft and honing his skills he could be a decent writer down the line. But this story? Two stars.

The Crater, by J. M. McFadden

Insurance investigator Johnny Andrews appears to be on vacation in Hawaii. Actually, he’s on the trail of a group that has hijacked two shipments of irillium somewhere between the asteroids (at a guess, it’s never specified) and landing at the docks in North Africa. Waikiki is a good spot to observe the ships entering parking orbit and firing their retrorockets for landing. He figures he’s on the right track, since a couple of suspicious characters have started watching him.

After observing the next hijacking from out beyond the surf line, he manages to get pictures of the two goons, but they grab him before he can contact his home office. He’s bundled into an interisland subway and taken to Wailuku, the main city on the rather rural island of Maui. Johnny escapes and takes refuge in Fenner’s Grill, the best Mexican restaurant in the islands run by a fellow of Chinese extraction who goes by the name Manuel. From Manuel (who is seemingly related to everyone on the island), Johnny learns of the mysterious group which has taken over the ranch in Haleakala crater. With Manuel’s help, he infiltrates the ranch and sets out to thwart the hijackers for good.


Manuel and Johnny discover some really high tech cattle ranching. Art by Nodel

McFadden is this month’s first-time author. According to Fred Pohl, he’s a former naval officer and has already sold another story to IF. Beginning authors are often advised “Write what you know.” I’d bet that McFadden spent a fair amount of time stationed in Hawaii and was likely a radar officer. Anyway, this one was a rather fun adventure tale with a good dose of humor. Maybe a bit of Keith Laumer influence here. Also Manuel is a great sidekick who feels like a real islander without being an offensive stereotype. Three stars.

Patron of the Arts, by Fred Saberhagen

As the Berserker fleet closed in on Sol, the artistic treasures of Earth were loaded aboard the museum ship Franz Hals to be carried to safety at Tau Epsilon. Aboard are a two man crew and famous artist Piers Herron, a man who has lost all interest in living and with it his ability to create. The ship is captured by a Berserker and the crew killed, but Herron is kept alive for observation. He attempts to paint the Berserker and he and the Berserker, using one of its smaller remote units, discuss the meaning of art on the basis of Titian’s Man with a Glove.

Herron tries to capture his captor, while the subject looks on. Art by Gaughan

I mentioned above that Retief is getting stale. Saberhagen has certainly avoided that problem in his Berserker series. Each of the stories has been very different, even when the settings have been similar, such as one or more people being held captive by the great killing machines. That’s most likely because these stories are really about people. In the hands of many other authors, this series would be one massive space battle after another, while with Saberhagen the one story that actually was about a space battle had a tight focus on some of the people involved.

This is an ambitious story, and while that ambition carries it a long way, it doesn’t quite hit the mark. There’s a subplot about a stowaway that really doesn’t work. If Roger Zelazny wrote a Berserker story, this might well be it, and he might have gotten all the way to where Saberhagen was trying to take it. A high three stars, and I mourn what could have given it that fourth.

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 3 of 5), by E. E. Smith

As DuQuesne watches, Dick Seaton launches a brutal counterattack against the mysterious force that struck at the end of the last episode. The Skylark of Valeron, grievously damaged, beats a hasty retreat, and DuQuesne slinks away toward Earth. Seaton has identified their attackers as Chlorans, the bad guys from the last book. Apparently, intelligent life which develops on any Earthlike (or Tellus-type, as Smith would have it) world will be human. They might be green or squat and hairless, but still human. Any intelligent life that develops on a world with a chlorine atmosphere will be Chlorans, and so on. Look, if you shout at every bit of nonsense science in this thing, you’ll lose your voice and probably frighten your neighbors. Just go with it.


The Skylark of Valeron takes a licking and keeps on ticking. Art by Gray Morrow

Seaton hatches a plan to find an enslaved human world in the Chloran controlled galaxy and find or create a resistance. That will give the Skylarkers a base of operations to fight the Chlorans. Naturally, all of the men volunteer to be the one to go down and carry out the plan while all of their wives object. They leave the choice of the best person to the ship’s Brain. It, of course, chooses Seaton. He goes down to the planet chosen by the Brain, meets the resistance, turns them into an effective fighting force and snatches the planet from the clutches of those humans who willingly serve their Chloran masters.

Meanwhile, DuQuesne returns to Earth and looks up Stephanie “Hunkie” de Marigny, brilliant scientist and the one woman who can come close to piercing the armor of cynicism and disdain he’s wrapped himself in. While his agents buy up all the materials he needs to build his own Valeron, Blackie and Hunkie go on a date (Dutch at her insistence). Afterwards, he hotfoots it off to the opposite side of the universe from the Chloran galaxy, finds an uninhabited Earthlike world and, using the plans he got from Seaton, builds his new ship, which he dubs the DQ.


Dick Seaton settles a labor dispute with his foreman. Art by Gray Morrow

Although the “wherefores” continue to fly, this installment is a small step up from last month. In fact, the stuff involving Seaton setting up his resistance movement actually isn’t all that bad. Of course, Smith crams a novel’s worth (or at least a novella’s) of material into 15 or 20 pages. DuQuesne also moves back toward being a slightly more complex villain than he was last time. Two stars.

Summing Up

So, what does the dish that Fred Pohl has given us look like overall? A couple of ingredients that aren’t as fresh as they might be, but are still acceptable; a couple of tasty morsels, not quite gourmet but good; one that’s not very good, but under normal circumstances would be drowned out by the other ingredients; and then there’s the giant lump of meat that’s really gone off at the end. Outside of Skylark, there does seem to be a slight uptick in quality over the way things have been over the last year or so. That or Skylark is making the rest of the stuff look good by comparison.

Every cloud, so they say, has a silver lining. Skylark has been a big black cloud lowering over IF for a while and will continue to do so for a couple of months. The demands it has made on space (originally intended to be just three installments) has made the editorial team take a look at some of their production procedures. Starting next month IF will have 32 more pages in every issue. Fred says that’s enough for two more novelettes, four or five short stories, a complete short novel, or an extra serial installment. Best of all, the price is staying at 50¢. Five months of Doc Smith is a heavy price to pay, and 32 pages isn’t going to make up for Amazing and Fantastic going bimonthly and running more reprints, but it’s a step in the right direction.




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Magazine

[June 18, 1965] Galactic Doppleganger (July 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Those of you who have been following the Journey over the past several years know that my appraisal of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has changed a few times.  Back in the days when Anthony Boucher and then Robert Mills were editing F&SF, it was my favorite magazine, a dessert I saved for reviewing last.

Then Avram Davidson took over in 1962, and while there were still standout issues, Davidson's whimsical, somewhat obtuse preferences led to a pretty rough couple of years.  Recently, Joe Ferman, son of the owner of the magazine, took over, and quality has been on a slow but perceptible rise.

One thing about F&SF is that it has always been unique amongst its SFF magazine brethren (which once numbered 40 and now less than ten).  It was the literary sibling, the most highfalutin.  Composed largely of vignettes and short stories, it contrasted sharply with the crunchier digests like Analog.

Which is why the current July 1965 issue is so unusual.  It's not bad; indeed, it's pretty good.  But it reads much like an issue of Galaxy or IF, one of the more mainstream mags.  I'm not disappointed.  It's just odd is all.  Read on and see what I mean.


by Jack Gaughan (he likes dragons — he did the illos for Vance's The Dragon Masters too!

Rogue Dragon, by Avram Davidson

Last year, Davidson left editing to go back to writing full time, and Rogue Dragon is his first major work since his departure from the helm of F&SF.  From the title, I expected a fantasy piece, or perhaps the dragon would even turn out to be metaphorical.  Both suppositions were wrong: Rogue Dragon is pure science fiction set on a far future Earth, one that had been conquered and then abandoned by the merciless insectoid Kar-chee.

Now simply called Prime World, humanity's original home has devolved to a handful of city-states. The planet's economy is based on Hunts, wherein the dragons introduced by the Kar-chee are slain by off-world big game hunters.  These dragons are nigh invulnerable things, their chest armor only pierceable in a weak spot identified with a painted white cross.

Enter Jan-Joras, the Private Man (representative) of the great off-world leader, Por Paulo.  Sent to arrange a vacation for the elected king he serves, Jan-Joras quickly gets caught up in a political struggle between the aristocratic Gentlemen class, who raise the dragons, the base-born (known pejoratively as dogcatchers and potato-growers), and the outlaws, who have hatched a scheme that will strike at the very foundation of the Hunt system.

But Rogue Dragon is no political thriller.  Rather, after a slightly difficult to read opening act (Davidson introduces many concepts and an abundance of idiomatic language in a short space), Rogue Dragon is an adventure story filled with derring-do, great escapes, and much traveling across increasingly hot frying pans — and we all know what destination lies at the end of that trail.

I found that I liked the story quite a bit, although it is perhaps less substantial than it might have been.  I waver between giving it three stars (perfectly adequate entertainment) and four stars (there's creative worldbuilding here).

Generosity wins.  Four stars it is, and welcome back to where you belong, Avram.

Computer Diagnosis, by Theodore L. Thomas

For his latest science fact vignette, Thomas discusses computer-assisted medical diagnosis — feed the data in, get a determination of malady and a life expectancy out.  Expanded, this could have made a nice article.  As is…

Three stars for being harmless.

The Expendables, by Miriam Allen deFord

In this odd bird of a story, the first astronauts sent to Mars are senior citizens.  The logic is that the mission is so hazardous, with so remote a chance of returning, that it is kinder to send folks with fewer years remaining in their lives.

It doesn't make a great deal of sense, and the story is hampered by some clunky "as you know" dialogue.  On the other hand, I thought the characters were pretty well drawn, and I appreciated the non-standard protagonists (two men, two women, all over 68).

Three stars.

The Eight Billion, by Richard Wilson

Many have made the dire prediction that Earth is heading toward massive overpopulation.  Indeed, the tremendous-sounding number, "Eight Billion", may well be reached by the end of the century.  Now imagine that crowding was such that eight thousand thousand thousands were crammed just into the island of Manhattan!

Wilson's story is mostly humorous fluff supporting a twist ending, but I enjoyed it.

Three stars.

Becalmed in Hell, by Larry Niven

Niven continues to impress with his fourth tale, sequel to The Coldest Place, which appeared in IF.  In his hard as nails variation on McCaffrey's The Ship who Sang, Howie and Eric-the-cyborg-ship explore the boiling planet of Venus.  There, floating twenty miles above the molten surface, Eric develops a fault and is unable to blast back into orbit.  Is the problem mechanical or psychosomatic?

This is the first story set on post-Mariner 2 Venus, and what a delight it is to see what is probably a much more accurate representation of the Planet of Love.  I do balk at the notion that it would be pitch black under Venus' clouds — it's not under an equivalent pressure of ocean, after all.  On the other hand, perhaps they were exploring the night side.

In any event, it's a neat story (albeit one I might have expected to find in Analog).  Four stars.

Exclamation Point!, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor continues his streak of turning his frivolous meanderings through mathematics into readable but not particularly momentous articles.  In this latest, he expounds on the "Asimov series", a cute way he has developed to approximate the value of the special constant, e.

An enjoyable ride, I suppose.  Three stars.

A Murkle For Jesse, by Gary Jennings

Gary Jennings last appeared in print in this very magazine, some three years ago, with the story Myrrha.  It was nominated for the Hugo, though I didn't think it merited such acclaim.

In any event, I think I liked Murkle better.  It stars an eight-year-old boy, a section of the rural Northeast, a little lost girl, and a 400-year old Irish fairy who is most certainly not lost.

If Clifford Simak and R.A. Lafferty were put in a blender, this piece might pour out.  Three stars.

The Pterodactyl, by Philip José Farmer

The book concludes with a short poem about the wing-fingered flying reptiles of the Mesozoic.  A difficult read, it also seems to suggest that pterodactyls were the evolutionary precursors of birds.

The weakest piece of the issue; two stars.

Wrapping up

And there you have it: a pleasant, above-average issue, but with stories that seem slightly odd fits for F&SF.  I'm not really complaining, though. 

Unless, of course, it means the other mags suffer…

[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring singer-songwriter Harry Seldon.  He'll be playing a mix of Dylan, Simon, and some unique original compositions!]




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Magazine, Serial

[June 2, 1965] Heck in a Handbasket (July 1965 IF)

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You don't want to miss this week's episode of The Journey Show, with a panel of professional space historians while Gemini 4 orbits overhead! Register now!


by David Levinson

May has been a chaotic month. War – and not just in the places you might be aware of – unrest, political ups and downs. I’ve frequently found myself thinking of the opening stanza of W. B. Yeats’s marvelous The Second Coming. Hopefully, no rough beasts are slouching anywhere.

Signs of War

The month got off to a bad start in the wee hours of the first when Communist and Nationalist Chinese naval forces clashed off the coast of Tungyin Island. The next day, President Johnson went on television to explain the American invasion of the Dominican Republic. There, at least, American troops have since begun to be replaced by OAS forces.

Less well-known to American readers, though perhaps known to our British audience and certainly to those in Australia, is the ongoing conflict on the island of Borneo. For the last couple of years as part of granting former colonies their independence, the United Kingdom has been working to establish the nation of Malaysia on the Malay Peninsula and nearby islands which have been under British control. Some of those areas are in northern Borneo, and President Sukarno of Indonesia would prefer that all of Borneo, at the very least, go to his country. There have been several skirmishes between British and Malaysian forces on the one side and the Indonesian army on the other. Australian forces have borne the brunt of much of the fighting. Just last week, units of the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment crossed into Indonesian territory and clashed with Indonesian troops along the Sungei Koemba river. This looks to be the first move in a larger effort, and we can expect further fighting through the summer.


Private Neville Ferguson of the 3RAR patrols near the Sarawak-Kalimantan border

Signs of Unrest

On May 5th, several hundred people carried a black coffin to the draft board in Berkeley, California in a protest march against U.S. involvement in the Dominican Republic. Once there, 40 young men, mostly students at the university, burned their draft cards. On May 22nd, another protest march descended on the Berkeley draft board. This time, 19 men burned their draft cards, and LBJ was hanged in effigy. This second march was likely protesting American involvement in Viet Nam.

Another form of protest has been sweeping American university campuses: the teach-in. Back in March, some 50 professors at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor planned a one day strike to protest the war in Viet Nam. Facing opposition from Governor George Romney and the legislature, they turned it into an all-night event featuring debates, lectures, films and music. It was dubbed a “teach-in,” the name being modeled on the sit-ins of the civil rights movement.

Several more of these events have taken place on college campuses around the country since then. A teach-in at the University of California at Berkeley on May 21st-22nd drew a crowd estimated at 30,000 people. (Honestly, if they’re not careful, that town’s going to get a reputation.) Speakers included Dr. Benjamin Spock, Norman Mailer, comedian Dick Gregory, several members of the California Assembly, journalist I. F. Stone, Mario Saavio of the Free Speech Movement (as you might expect), and many others. Expect to see more of these when people go back to university in the fall.


Folk singer Phil Ochs performs at the Berkeley teach-in

Signs of Peace?

Paraphrasing Winston Churchill, Harold Macmillan once said, “Jaw, jaw is better than war, war.” As ineffective as the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne might be, even Retief would probably agree with the sentiment. There has been good and bad news on the diplomatic front in the last month. West Germany formally established diplomatic relations with Israel on May 12th. Of course, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Iraq promptly broke off relations with West Germany in retaliation. Cambodia also broke off diplomatic relations with the United States on May 3rd. Detractors say it was because Newsweek ran an article accusing Prince Sihanouk’s mother of engaging in various money-making schemes. It probably had more to do with American bombing raids on North Vietnamese supply lines running through Cambodian territory. Hmmm, I guess that’s mostly bad news.

Signs of Improvement

And in the realm of science fiction, particularly my little corner of the Journey, I have good news: while the quality of IF had shown a noticeable decline of late, there’s quite an uptick with this month's issue.


Abe Lincoln goes spearfishing in “The Last Earthman”. Art by McKenna

Research Alpha, by A. E. van Vogt and James H. Schmitz

Barbara Ellington is a typist at Research Alpha, a private research and development firm. She works directly for the number two man at the company, John Hammond, as an assistant to his secretary Helen Wendell. While she is getting some water from a drinking fountain, Dr. Henry Gloge, head of the biology division, secretly injects her with his current project, the Omega serum. Gloge also injects her boyfriend, Vince Strather, a hot-headed young man who is pressuring her towards “premarital intimacy”.

Through a meeting between Hammond and Gloge, we learn that the Omega Point Stimulation project is intended to push an organism through a million years of evolution over a course of four injections. Thus far, none of the test subjects – all giant salamanders known as hellbenders – has survived the third injection, and very few have survived even the second. Gloge is convinced that he would have more success with higher order animals. That is the reason he has abandoned proper research protocols and injected Barbara and Vince, both of whom he is ready to kill if either of them reacts badly.

Barbara responds well, while Vince does not. Hammond and Wendell begin to notice strange readings on a scale the reader is not privy to. There is clearly more to these two than meets the eye, and they appear to have connections around the world. Meanwhile, Barbara figures out what’s going on and begins to take control of her fate.


Does anyone else expect to see James Bond walk into that circle, turn and shoot? Art by Gaughan

The blurb on the cover claims this story is written by “[t]wo of science fiction’s greatest writers”. That’s overstating the case to the point of outright falsehood. Van Vogt is a fairly polarizing writer. Some writers (Phil Dick and Harlan Ellison come to mind) and a segment of the fan community love his work, others hate it. Damon Knight, for example, absolutely savaged him back in 1945 in a review of The World of Null-A. His plots are flimsy and his characters paper thin. On top of that, he spent the better part of a decade selling Dianetics to gullible Angelenos, rather than writing. He kept his name in front of the fans through reprints and fix-ups and has only recently started writing again. Schmitz, on the other hand, is a sound writer who does very good characters and isn’t afraid to put women front and center. But somehow he doesn’t seem to stay on anyone’s radar between stories.

So, I came to this rather long piece with a great deal of trepidation. But I liked it a lot. At a guess, I’d say the basic plot is van Vogt’s and most of the writing is Schmitz’s. Sure, evolution absolutely doesn’t work that way, but this sort of thing has been a part of science fiction since at least Edmond Hamilton’s “The Man Who Evolved,” and we saw it not too long ago on The Outer Limits. Barbara could easily have been a victim who eventually drops the unworthy Vince for the handsome and charismatic John Hammond, the man who actually solves the problem. But she isn’t and she doesn’t. She takes charge, out-thinks the superman and wraps things up the way she wants. I wavered between giving this a high 3 or a low 4. After thinking about it, I decided that Barbara’s characterization is enough to put the story over the top. Four stars.

The Last Earthman, by Lester del Rey

A thousand years after the discovery of faster-than-light travel, the Earth is relegated to a myth, its name largely forgotten. That is because, soon after the human Diaspora into the galaxy, a war was fought on Earth that devastated the environment, leaving behind a few tens of thousands of survivors, whose fertility has gradually decayed.

Twenty years before the start of the story, Egon from the planet Dale crashed on Earth, finding a mere handful of survivors, though the planet itself is again bountiful. While traveling with them to the Ember Stake for one of their rituals, he fixed an ancient mechanism and awoke Herndon, a man who had been placed in suspended animation during the war. He was supposed to have awakened after a time to help put civilization back together, but something went wrong. Now, Egon, Herndon, and Cala, a sterile young woman, are the only ones left. They are returning to the Ember Stake so that Herndon can be placed back in suspended animation when he dies. As they approach, a ship appears in the sky.

This is a melancholy piece, but one tinged with hope. It’s also a reminder that del Rey can really write when he puts his mind to it. It’s hard to say more without giving the whole story away. A solid three stars.

The Fur People, by D. M. Melton

On Mars, there is enough air in the deep canyons and ancient seabeds to support life. The most important life form is a lichen from which it is possible to derive an anti-aging drug. This has brought the moss hunters. As in any gold rush, some men make their fortune, some manage to make enough to get by, while others barely scrape by and still others disappear entirely. The other life form of note is the rock puppies, cute and sociable little creatures that some find endearing and share food and water with, and others find annoying and use for target practice.

Moss hunter Bart “Lucky” Hansen, traveling with an orphaned rock puppy, is contemplating his route when he decides on a whim to take a risky shortcut across a high plateau. On the way, he encounters a young woman, clearly fresh from Earth, staggering across the desert. He rescues her and gets her to safety in a deep canyon. After explaining that she was attacked by a group of moss hunters, she hijacks Hansen’s sand car and heads for the nearest dome. Hansen is picked up by the group chasing her and travels with them until they catch up with the woman. Hansen then manages to get to her side, and the two of them try to figure out a way to escape.


The girl and Hansen meet again. Art by Giunta

Melton is this month’s first time author. It shows. The title, along with Hansen wondering why fur people are always nicer than skin people, really gives the game away. There’s also the fact that the young woman at the heart of this story never gets a name and is always referred to as “the girl”. (From this, I infer that the D in the author’s name is more likely to stand for Daniel than Dorothy.) Still, it’s not a bad first effort, and I wouldn’t mind seeing more from this author. A low three stars.

In Our Block, by R. A. Lafferty

Intrigued by the shanties that have sprung up on a dead-end block and the fact that a shack seven feet on a side put out enough 8” x 8” x 3’ cartons to fill a 40 foot trailer in one morning, Art Slick and Jim Boomer take a walk around the block. On the way, they meet several odd people.

That’s it. That’s the whole story. But it’s quintessential Lafferty. If you like Lafferty, you’ll like this story; if you don’t, you won’t. Three stars.

Wow, this is turning out to be a pretty good issue. What could possibly spoil it?

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 2 of 5), by E. E. Smith

Oh. Right. Sigh.

Seaton and Crane have commandeered the output of hundreds of planets and set up a production area covering ten thousand square miles to create defenses. Against one man. Seaton then interacts with several characters I presume are from the earlier novels. No point to it, just old familiar faces for the fans. Following all that, Seaton receives the message sent out by DuQuesne at the end of the last installment. After being filled in on DuQuesne’s encounter with the Llurdi, Seaton invites him to the Skylark of Valeron for further consultation.

Cut to the Jelmi, still fleeing the Llurdi. On the way, their senior scientist just happens to invent teleportation (as you do). Now they need to find a solar system emanating enough sixth-order energy to screen them from their enemies. After nearly a month of searching, the finally find the Earth’s solar system. Finding the Moon uninhabited, with only a couple of abandoned American and Russian outposts, they deem it suitable for their purposes, land in secret, and begin building a superdreadnaught (sic) to be called the Mallidaxian.

Then they kidnap an exotic dancer and a man she keeps running into by accident from a Florida beach. Why? Because they’re puzzled by her job and the Earth concept of shame. Then the Jelmi pat the couple on the heads, promise them a couple of quarts of diamonds as compensation, and send them home. After going on a bender, the two of them decide to contact a Norlaminian Observer, who kicks the problem upstairs until it reaches Dick Seaton. Now he knows about the Jelmi.

DuQuesne arrives at the Skylark of Valeron and is stunned by its size. Overcome with jealousy, he plans once again to destroy the Skylarkers and set himself up as emperor of a galaxy. Seaton hands over plans of his ship so that DuQuesne can build his own. Then DuQuesne uses a bit of subterfuge to send Seaton and company off to Galaxy DW-427-LU, which the Llurdi are worried about, while he runs off to make contact with the Jelmi.

Having done so, DuQuesne cons the Jelmi, who blithely hand over their plans for the teleporter and ask him to contribute to their genetic diversity (the old-fashioned way). Then it’s back to Earth where he hires half a dozen assassins. Finally, he catches up with the Skylark of Valeron and teleports his killers aboard. Fortunately for the good guys, the gravity aboard is set low for the comfort of some visitors. The killers are killed, and Seaton dives for a control helmet, suspecting rightly that DuQuesne is behind the attack. But at that moment a klaxon sounds. The Skylark of Valeron is under an attack so massive that its defensive screens will surely fail in a matter of seconds. To be continued.


Probably the Mallidaxian, but it could be DuQuesne’s Capital D. Art by Morrow

Last month, I said there was some decent line-by-line writing. Not this time. It’s full of lengthy and pointless digressions. That whole episode with the dancer goes on forever and is only there so that Seaton and DuQuesne can find out about the Jelmi without Seaton actually contacting them. Worse still, Marc DuQuesne goes from a marginally complex figure to an absolute mustache-twirling villain motivated entirely by jealousy and megalomania. But the thing that annoyed me most was the excessive use of the word “wherefore”. It crops up at least half a dozen times in the sense of “as a result” or “knowing that” and it limps badly. I stumbled over it every time. I think it’s a bit of antiquated slang usage and it’s bad. I still haven’t thrown the magazine across the room, so I guess this gets a very, very low two stars.

Summing Up

Other than the toxic exercise in nostalgia that pollutes the end, this is a pretty good issue. If we’re lucky, it’s an indication that IF is coming out of the doldrums. If we aren’t, it’s an indication that Fred Pohl knows how bad Skylark DuQuesne is and that a lot of readers aren’t going to be happy with the pages it’s taking up, wherefore and as a result he’s pulling out all the stops and running the very best stuff he has in the barrel as compensation. That could mean once this is over, he’ll have a lot of mediocrity that needs to run.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 14, 1965] Keep A Civil Tongue In Your Head (July 1965 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The Four Forbidden Topics

Gathered around the dinner table with the family, or just chatting with friends, it's generally a good idea to avoid controversial subjects. Religion and politics, for example, are likely to lead to unpleasant arguments. Maybe Uncle Fred is a Goldwater buff, and Cousin Sue goes all the way with LBJ. Possibly you've got buddies who belong to different faiths, or none at all. Better to let sleeping dogs lie, and talk about something else.

The topic of money, or economics in general, may not be as controversial, but talking about how much you've got, or what somebody else earns, is generally considered to be in bad taste. As for sex, well, that's usually too personal to discuss, particularly if the kiddies are around.

Maybe it's a sign of the times, or maybe it's the influence of the British New Wave on science fiction, but the lead serial in the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow deals with religion, politics, and economics. That leaves sex, which shows up at the end of the magazine, like a tempting dessert.


Cover art by John Pederson, Jr.

Of Godlike Power (Part One of Two), by Mack Reynolds


Illustrations by Jack Gaughan

As indicated in the picture above, this novel takes place in a world of flying cars and other futuristic stuff. More relevant to the plot is the fact that automation results in a majority of folks being unemployed, but enjoying a reasonably comfortable existence in an affluent welfare society.

The protagonist hosts a radio show dealing with flying saucers, reincarnation, and other weird stuff. He's dating the daughter of the tycoon who owns the station, mostly in an attempt to move up to a position in television. Dad, daughter, and the station manager all belong to a right-wing organization dedicated to ferreting out commies and pinkos. (To give you some idea of this group, they think of the John Birch Society as too liberal.)

The manager asks our hero to check out the revival meetings of a preacher whom they suspect of subversion. He's supposed to be on a date with his wealthy girlfriend, so she reluctantly tags along.

The preacher speaks in vaguely religious language of an eccentric sort, frequently making reference to something called the All-Mother. What he really talks about, however, is the world's economic system, condemning wasteful practices such as pointless changes in car design, fads and fashions that come and go, planned obsolescence, and conspicuous consumption.

This is too much for the rich woman, so she heckles him. The preacher loses his temper and rants against makeup, fancy clothing, and elaborate hairdos. The next thing you know, the woman changes her ways, dressing simply and avoiding cosmetics. Not that she agrees with the guy, you understand; it's just that those things make her itch unbearably. Pretty soon the same thing happens to women all over the world, ushering in an era of down home, farm girl fashions.


Crisis in the radio studio!

The preacher winds up on the protagonist's radio show. Things get out of control, so the fellow goes into another tirade, this time against radio and, by extension, television.

The reader is way ahead of the characters by this point, so it's not a big surprise when all broadcasting goes haywire, forcing people to abandon their favorite forms of entertainment. With all those unemployed folks desperate for something to fill their hours, there's a sudden shortage of comic books and magazines. Bars and movie theaters are packed to overflowing. Even the preacher's revival meetings attract huge crowds, just because they have nothing else to do.


Would you buy a used car from this man?

Although not comic in tone, the novel has a strong satiric edge to it. The setting may be some years from now, but the author is really talking about today. The targets of his barbed examination of modern society are overproduction and excess consumption, as well as the seductive power of the electronic media.

The style is very readable, carrying you along as you follow the misadventures of the hapless hero. The preacher's astonishing ability to transform the world may not be particularly plausible, but once you swallow the premise the way it plays out is enjoyable.

Reynolds likes to play games with politics, and perform thought experiments with different economic systems, so I predict the second half of the novel will portray a new society, possibly a utopian one. We'll see if I'm right a couple of months from now.

Four stars.

Coming Out Party, by Robert Lory


Illustration by Norman Nodel

This brief tale begins with a young woman getting ready for the event mentioned in the title. Our first hint that something strange is going on is the fact that she's stark naked in front of her parents. The ceremony is also full of nude women. (Sorry, ladies, all the erotic content of this issue is obviously aimed at a male audience.)

I dare not say anything else about what happens, except to mention that the shock ending is an effective one. This is one of those stories that depends entirely on the twist in its tail. It succeeds at the modest goal it sets for itself.

Three stars.

The Shape of Us to Come, by Michael Girsdansky

Let's take a break from controversial topics of discussion and learn something about the way people might alter their bodies in the future. The author considers the fact that viruses inject their genetic information into the cells of other organisms, using the biological machinery of their hosts to reproduce themselves. The article speculates about the possibility of harnessing this ability to alter the genetics of humans in desirable ways.

Using this technique to treat diseases such as cancer seems reasonably plausible. The suggestion that the body might be changed in radical ways, to ensure survival on alien worlds, is a little less so. In any case, it's an interesting subject, and I learned something about viruses.

Three stars.

World of the Spectrum, by Emil Petaja


Illustrations by John Giunta

Take a look at that picture. We've got a muscular hero with a bladed weapon and a big, ugly monster. Am I reading the wrong magazine? Is this a sword-and-sorcery yarn, rescued from the yellowing pages of Weird Tales?

That's what it seems like at first, but we soon find out that this world of mighty barbarians fighting bizarre creatures exists for the amusement of the upper class on Earth, who vicariously experience the thrill of battle through a kind of telepathic sensory television.

The hero is in mental communication with a woman he thinks of as a princess in a castle located at the top of a cliff that nobody can climb. Naturally, he overcomes impossible odds and reaches the place, only to discover that things are not what they seem.


Don't look down!

The woman is actually a member of the upper class, who secretly belongs to a group of folks working to overthrow their repressive society. She uses a teleportation device to bring the man to Earth, teaching him about the place and enlisting him in her struggle. After many adventures, she confronts the ruler of the world, who turns out to be truly grotesque.


The heroine is shocked by what she sees.

Despite the science fiction explanation for everything, the story feels more like a fantasy adventure. The ruler of Earth might as well be another hideous monster for the hero to destroy. At first, the woman seems to be nothing more than a sexually provocative nitwit, but this is only a role she plays in order to further her plans. The main flaw is the need for a lot of expository dialogue to explain the complex background, with people telling each other things they should already know.

Three stars.

Lunar Weapons Tomorrow, by Joseph Wesley

Before we move on to sex, let's talk about something much less shocking, like war. (There's something wrong with that sentence, but I'll think about it later.)

The author starts this piece about military use of the Moon by dismissing the idea that it could be used to launch missiles at an enemy on Earth. He points out that this method is more difficult, more expensive, less effective, and less defensible than other ways of destroying the planet. Somehow I'm not reassured.

He goes on to imagine lunar military installations, assuming that these will be common in about twenty years or so. His prediction is that these will engage in a kind of lukewarm war, neither one completely destroying the other lest it be wiped out as well. Instead, the opposing forces make relatively minor forays against each other, fighting for territory in a futuristic version of the trench warfare of World War One.

The dry and rather frightening subject of this article is made more readable through the use of a fictional soldier on the Moon. We follow him as he watches for an enemy advance, and even engages in hand-to-hand combat, of a sort, in a spacesuit.

Three stars.

A Glass of Mars, by Robert F. Young


Illustrations by Gray Morrow

The version of the Red Planet depicted in this story is closer to the imaginings of Ray Bradbury than what most scientists believe. Maybe the Mariner 4 spacecraft, now on its way to Mars, will tell us who's right. Anyway, the plot takes place at least a full generation after people colonized the planet, building on the ancient ruins of the long-vanished Martians.

The main character is a new arrival, with romantic ideas about the distant past. In sharp contrast, his secretary, born on Mars, is all about the present. Like other women native to the planet, she is sexually assertive, openly boasting about her measurements, calling herself a sex machine, and offering to sleep with her boss (with the assumption that they will be married soon after.)

While commuting across the surface of Mars, the fellow is miraculously transported to the past. He meets a Martian woman, as delicately beautiful and demure as he imagined.

(In just about all ways except language, the Martian is completely human. We're told, more than once, that she has hyacinth hair. This rather obscure metaphor is taken from Edgar Allan Poe's ode To Helen, and it's not much clearer in the original. The allusion seems designed to suggest the man's dreamy vision of the ancient Martian woman, as romantic as Poe's poem.)


The ancient Martian and the modern human. Gentlemen, which one would you pick?

Without giving too much away, let's just say that the man's assumptions aren't completely accurate. I expected this to be a simple fable about the superiority of the past over the vulgarity of the present, but it's a little more complex than that. The author, no stranger to sentimental love stories and idealization of women, almost seems to be chiding himself for his romantic tendencies. The plot is pure fantasy, of course, but if you can get past that, it's worth a look.

Three stars.

Shall We Talk About It?

Overall, this was a pretty decent issue. Nothing was less than average, and the serialized novel was a high point. Maybe I'm just in a good mood. In any case, I would caution you to make sure that you discuss the themes raised in the magazine only under the right circumstances. Remember what Mom told you!


She didn't mention money or sex. Two out of four ain't bad.





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Book, Magazine

[May 8, 1965] Skip to the end (June 1965 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Impatience

Normally, I'd open up with a discussion at length of the news of the day.  Like how the United States is still knee-deep in the Dominican Republic, losing soldiers to snipers every day despite the ceasefire between the current military-civilian junta government and the supporters of ousted President Bosch.

Or that Collie Wilkins Jr. was acquitted by a 10-2 hung jury in a trial for the murder of civil rights activist Viola Liuzzo, shot in her car after the Selma rallies.  Wilkins' defense attorney's statements included language so profane and racist that I cannot transcribe them here.

Or that the comedy/news show, That was the Week that Was, had its final show on May 4th.

And then, having given my report, I'd tie it pithily to the subject at hand, namely the June 1965 Galaxy science fiction digest.  But the fact is, there's lots to cover and I'm anxious to get it all down while it's still fresh in my mind.  So, you'll just have to pretend that I was clever and comprehensive in my introduction.  On to the important stuff:

Bob Sheckley and friends


by George Schelling

As is happening more and more often, the king-sized bi-monthly, Galaxy, is dominated by a short novel this month.  This time, it's by a fellow who probably was the best SF short story writer of the 1950s.  Bob Sheckley has turned to novels of late with something less than (to my mind) great success. The Journey of Joenes, The Status Civilization, Time Killer — none of them were triumphs, though some disagree.  Will this time be different?

Mindswap, by Robert Sheckley

Young Marvin Flynn is bored to death of living in the bucolic New York town of Stanhope, desperate enough to risk "mindswap."  And so, Marvin exchanges minds with the Martian, Aigeler Thrus.  Unfortunately, Thrus' body was currently occupied by the unscrupulous Ze Kraggash, who had taken residency to elude the police after a crime.  Thrus is entitled to his body; Kraggash has Flynn's.  This leaves Flynn six hours to find a body, any body, or be extinguished forever.


by George Schelling

An increasingly frantic Flynn ends up bopping across the galaxy, first as a collector of sentient ganzer-eggs on Melde, somewhere near Aldeberan; then on to Celsus for a stint as a professional victim wearing a ticking time bomb gift; and ultimately to a reality-bending place called The Twisted World.

It's complete fluff, vaguely satirical and fun-pointing, but for the most part, pointless.  I went along with it, mildly amused for about 60 pages, before my tolerance ran out and I skimmed the rest.  Unlike Harrison's brilliant and cutting Starsloggers, Mindswap is just self-indulgent…and far too long. 

Two stars.

Servant Problem, by Otis Kidwell Burger

On the dreary, sandstorm-plagued planet of Dexter, there's little for the married couples to do but drink and kvetch about their house-servants, a race of off-putting aliens that only look like middle-aged spinsters.  After an endless seven pages of this stuff, we learn that the servants are actually the masters, and the humans are being evaluated for their level of social development.  Turns out they're in the emotional equivalent of kindergarten.

Yeah, I didn't get it either.  Two stars.

Blue Fire, by Robert Silverberg

Nat Weiner, visitor from newly terraformed Mars, the "Sparta of space," arrives on Earth to sample the luxuries of an overcrowded, decadent world.  Assigned to escort him is Reynolds Kirby, a "major bureacrat who gets paid like a minor one."  Together, they attend a spiritual gathering of the devotees of Vorster, a pseudo-scientific cult that preaches the unity of humanity and worships at the altar of the cobalt reactor. 

Vorsterism is just one of many avenues of relief against the physical and mental crush of living amongst 10 billions; hallucinogens are also popular, and the upperclassmen, like Kirby, favor the sensory deprivation "Nothing Chambers".  Cosmetic replacement of external features with metal and plastic substitutes is popular. 


by Jack Gaughan

As the tour of the once-proud homeworld progresses, Weiner becomes increasingly belligerent, resolved to steal a Vorster nuke and put it to "worthwhile use" as an energy-generating reactor on Mars.  Through Kirby's interactions with Weiner, and with the Vanna, a Vorsterian with a face modifed to inhuman grotesqueness, Kirby comes to see his own life as a hollow shell of an existence and reconsiders all of his carefully created precepts.

Blue Fire is a day-in-the-life of a fellow on the edge of a midlife crisis in a tired world.  With deft writing and vivid imagery, Silverberg accomplishes in 25 pages what usually takes Philip K. Dick a full novel.

Five stars.

Think of a Man, by Karen Anderson

Poetess Anderson offers up a latter-day space shanty.  It might make a decent filk, but it will likely leave no great impression on you.

Three stars.

For Your Information: The Observatory on the Moon, by Willy Ley

Observatory on the Moon, by Donald H. Menzel

An Eye For Selene, by R. S. Richardson

The idea that astronomy is better conducted on the Moon than Earth is an old one.  Not only is Earth's celestial neighbor airless, but its slow rotation makes it much easier to do long film exposures.

This should be a fascinating topic; instead, this is probably the least interesting article Ley's ever written.  A truly disappointing development for a column that was a major selling point when I first began my subscription to Galaxy 15 years ago. 

The short counterpoint following the main article is equally undistinguished.  Richardson's comments, on the other hand, are interesting. 

Barely three stars for the lot.

Devil Car, by Roger Zelazny

Sam Murdock speeds across the Great Central Plain of a post-apocalyptic United States in his sentient car, name of Jenny.  His monomaniacal mission: to destroy the black Devil Car and his minions, who have been savaging the continent.  Though Murdock's conviction never wavers, Jenny is torn between her programmed loyalty to her driver, and to the Devil Car's sirensong call to join his pack.

Plausible?  Not for a second.  Slick and enjoyable?  Absolutely.  Four stars, and I'll bet this gets optioned for a movie or episode of a Twilight Zone revival.

One Face, by Larry Niven


by Nodel

Last up is the third short story from this promising new writer, which may or may not take place in the same universe as his recent short novel, World of Ptavvs.  The passenger liner, Hogan's Goat, has an accident in hyperspace on the way to Earth.  It ends up at the right place but billions of years in the future.  The Sun is a burned out husk, and humanity's home is an airless world with one face permanently locked toward its star.  With no way home and nowhere to go, Verd Spacercaptain, his crew and passengers, and their increasingly debilitated computer Brain must find a way to survive.

I'm not entirely sold on the science of this piece, but Niven has a way of creating a very rich world in just a few pages.  It's also obvious that Niven is a new writer: his cohort has no problem with presenting women as equal partners and in roughly equal numbers to men; moreover, he displays no preference in terms of skin tone or ethnicity.

Four stars.

Satisfaction

How to judge the latest Galaxy?  It contains a full issue's worth of slag, but then again, it contains almost a full issue's worth of gold.  Perhaps it needs to be a regular length bi-monthly?

Especially since editor Pohl is crowing about how next month's novel will be even longer, and by Frank Herbert.

God help us all…

Our last three Journey shows were a gas!  You can watch the kinescope reruns here).  You don't want to miss the next episode, May 9 at 1PM PDT, a special Arts and Entertainment edition featuring Arel Lucas, Cora Buhlert, Erica Frank…and Dr. Who producer, Verity Lambert! Register today and we'll make sure you don't forget.




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Magazine, Serial

[May 2, 1965] FORWARD INTO THE PAST (June 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

Science fiction is generally considered to be literature that looks ahead. Much of Western culture also seems to be fairly obsessed with the miracles of progress and moving into a brighter future. Even communism, though less materially oriented, talks a good game about a better tomorrow. But there are also those who look to the past for better times, longing for the “good old days.” We can see the clash of these two world views in one form or another nearly every day in the newspapers. Perhaps the most obvious example can be seen in the Old South, where progress is resisted with fire hoses and police dogs. There, at least, we can hope that the moral arc of the universe is rather shorter than is its wont.

Looking Backwards

Details are still sketchy, but it appears that a coup was prevented last month in Bulgaria. Emboldened by the fall of Nikita Khrushchev and possibly influenced by the rhetoric of Mao Tse Tung, hardliners in the Bulgarian military and Communist Party denounced General-Secretary Todor Zhivkov for revisionism and opportunism due to his de-Stalinization of Bulgarian communism. Arrests between April 8th and 12th, as well as at least one suicide by a high-ranking general, seem to have prevented a major step back into the bad old days of Stalinism in Bulgaria. State-controlled media, of course, are denying the whole thing, but rumors abound.

Inside Baseball

On April 9th, the Houston Astros inaugurated their new stadium in an exhibition game against the Yankees. “Who?” you ask. For the last three seasons, they’ve been known as the Colt .45s. Now the sole owner, Judge Roy Hofheinz changed the name to the Astros to reflect Houston’s important role in America’s space program, and the new stadium will be called the Astrodome. What’s so noteworthy about all this? As you might have gathered from the name, the Astrodome has a roof. Over 700 feet in diameter, the dome consists a grid of semi-transparent panes of Lucite, and the field is covered with grass specially bred to be able to grow under the lower light conditions.


The Eighth Wonder of the World may be Texan hyperbole, but it is impressive

As any science fiction fan will tell you, innovations often produce unexpected consequences. That’s what half the stories in the field are about. As Victoria Silverwolf reported a couple of weeks ago, the problem in this case is that on bright, sunny days – and Houston has a lot of those – the glare from the roof panels and the grid of shadows caused by the support structure are causing players to lose routine fly balls. The decision has been made to paint the Lucite panes white, and a couple of sections have already been covered. The question now is if the grass will still get enough light to grow.

There was another experiment at the Astrodome that seems unlikely to be repeated. A catwalk structure hangs from the top of the dome. I don’t know how far above the field it is, but the peak of the dome is 208 feet above the playing surface. On April 28th, Mets radio broadcaster Lindsey Nelson was persuaded to call the game from the gondola. He was too scared to stand up until the seventh inning, getting the play-by-play via walkie-talkie from his producer. When he finally did get to his feet, he realized he couldn’t tell one player from another or a pop fly from a line drive. He refused to go up again, and it seems unlikely that anybody will follow in his footsteps. It might offer an interesting angle for a television camera, though.

Space Opera and Superscience

Lately, it has felt like science fiction has been doing a fair bit of looking back, too, what with the Edgar Rice Burroughs revival, Sprague de Camp putting Conan back in print, John Jakes’ Conan pastiche Brak, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth. The three magazines under Fred Pohl’s leadership, in particular, seem to have been on a real space opera kick for a while. This month’s IF is no exception.


This supposedly illustrates Skylark DuQuesne. If so, it’s not a scene in this month’s installment. Art by Pederson

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 1 of 5), by E. E. Smith, Ph. D.

Dick Seaton, hero of the previous three Skylark books, is enjoying an evening at home with his family, when they are interrupted by the thought-projected simulacra of the ablest thinkers of the galaxy. It seems that the clever ploy which he used to imprison the evil thought entities and the disembodied mind of the villainous Dr. Marc C. “Blackie” DuQuesne at the end of Skylark of Valeron is doomed to imminent failure. Seaton’s partner Mart Crane is brought in, and a plan is hatched in which a thought message is sent out, which can only be received by beings who are of good will can help in the situation.

The scene shifts to the home world of the “monstrous” Llurdi on the edge of the universe. The leaders are discussing Project University, in which the best minds of their human slaves the Jelmi are given everything they could need or want in the hopes that they will produce new technologies for the Llurdi. The proceedings are interrupted by a suicide attack by 30 Jelmi attempting to give their fellows the opportunity to escape. They fail. No one is even killed on either side. Supremely logical, the Llurdi pack the revolting Jelmi into a spaceship and allow them to “escape”.


The Jelmi (background) confront their oppressors, the Llurdi. Art by Gray Morrow

Aboard the ship, the Jelmi deduce that they are being tracked, and that the Llurdi will give them free rein for a couple of generations, then swoop in, re-enslave their descendants and gather up anything new that’s been invented. They decide to seek out a world with sufficient sixth-order (I believe that means thought energy) forces to screen them from Llurdi scanning. The planet they choose: Earth.

Next, the scene jumps to a previously unknown Fenachrone fleet. The Fenachrone were the bad guys of Skylark Three, and Dick Seaton vaporized their home world at the end of that book. In Skylark of Valeron, Seaton learns of a secret colony ship, which he then hunts down and destroys. Now we find out that there’s yet another secret fleet composed of the evilest evil-doers of an evil people. In any case, the Fenachrone stumble upon a system containing two inhabited planets, one Llurdi and one Jelmi, whereupon the Fenachrone leader orders the vaporization of those two worlds. This draws the attention of the Llurdi, who proceed to destroy 16 of the 17 Fenachrone ships and capture the flagship.

Cut lastly to the ship containing the disembodied minds mentioned earlier. They have decided that Blackie DuQuesne doesn’t have what it takes to be one of them. They set him up with a ship capable of getting him to Earth and stick him back into his body. After a brief interlude in which the Seatons and the Cranes (both with infant children) as well as Crane’s former manservant Shiro and his new wife Lotus Blossom board the Skylark of Valeron, we cut back to DuQuesne. He is somehow detected by the Llurdi, but manages to evade them with his powerful mind blocks. Realizing how formidable the Llurdi are, DuQuesne sends out a call to Dick Seaton. To be continued.

Disclaimer: I do not care for the works of Doc Smith. I tried rereading the original Skylark five or six years ago, and flung it across the room in disgust about a quarter of the way through. On the other hand, I did rather enjoy The Imperial Stars last year, so I tried to approach this with an open mind.

When an English teacher, a critic, or even an author who has written what is very obviously science fiction condemns the genre with a wave of the hand, this is the kind of stuff they’re talking about. At best, it’s the genre’s juvenilia and is utterly unrepresentative of what science fiction is today. Line by line, there is some decent writing here. The opening paragraph is lovely. Too bad nothing that follows is worthy of it.

But my biggest problem is with the main protagonist. Firstly, Dick Seaton is racist. He would no doubt be shocked by this statement and point out that some of his best friends are green. I don’t mean he’d be likely to burn a cross on anyone’s lawn or join the Friends of Bull Connor, but the casual ease with which he tosses out phrases like “a Chinaman’s chance” or “If that’s true, then I’m a Digger Indian” (and what do you want to bet that phrase was cleaned up for publication) say a lot about how he views fellow humans who aren’t quite like him. Secondly and more importantly, Dick Seaton is a war criminal. He turned the Fenachrone world into a ball of expanding incandescent gas, and when he found out there were survivors, he hunted them down and killed them, too. When the Fenachrone leader destroyed those two worlds, we’re told he did it without remorse. If Seaton felt a twinge of remorse, that doesn’t make what he did any better.

Anyway, it’s hard to judge this as a whole, since the whole thing is really Smith just setting up the pieces, but it’s pretty bad. A low two stars, just because of that opening paragraph and the fact that I was able to get through the whole thing without too much effort. Even if you’re overcome with nostalgia, I doubt it could get all the way to three.

Simon Says, by Lawrence S. Todd

Lieutenant Nestil Lagotilom, an eight-foot tall reptilian (it’s not clear if he’s a mutant or an alien), is a member of the Terran armed forces, serving in a war against the Birds. Thanks to his brilliant tactical mind, he’s been ordered to take part in an experimental operation involving a new device called SIMO (Subelectronic Integrator for the Manipulation of Objects). Contrary to what it sounds like, it’s not a robot arm, but rather a device that will allow Nestil’s mind to be imprinted on some 2,000 Terran soldiers, and, once the action is over, all their experiences will be pumped back into his head so he can write a detailed after-action report. Thanks to a series of mishaps, Nestil’s consciousness winds up imprinted not only on the Terran troops, but the Birds and the local natives who aren’t happy about either group being there. Chaos ensues.


Lt. Nestil about to have his consciousness expanded. Art by Giunta

We go from the man who’s been at the science fiction game the longest to the newest. Larry Todd is this month’s IF first, though he’s not a complete newcomer. He’s had a few cartoons published, mostly in the late Imagination, but this is his first story. It shows. It rambles a bit, and the tone is a little too light for some of the things that happen. Even so, it was decent up to the final paragraph, where the author wrecked the whole thing by explicitly comparing events to the game Simon Says, and Nestil saying that he used to rig the game as a child (how does that work when you aren’t Simon?). He’s telling, not showing. Fix that and drop the “N” from the title and it’s a good story. As it is, a high two stars.

High G, by Christopher Anvil

James Heyden, head of the Advanced Research Projects Division at the Continental Multitechnikon Corporation, has just received a memo from his boss telling him to cut back on projects that might interest the government and focus on science kits for kids. Congress isn’t willing to pay for anything revolutionary at the moment. This is part of a fairly regular pendulum swing on his boss’s part between gung-ho government research and piddling commercial stuff. Makes it hard to keep good research engineers working for the company. Just then, one of his engineers comes in with a working anti-gravity device. Throwing caution to the winds, Heyden decides that the only way to convince his boss and a stingy Congress that this thing needs to be built is for him and his engineers to fly to the Moon. Through massive misappropriation of company funds and tons of overtime, the race is on to get to the Moon before the boss gets back from a company trip.


Engineers call something cobbled together like this spaceship a “kluge.” Art by Gaughan

Christopher Anvil tends to be a very uneven writer, sometimes up, sometimes down. This one is right in the middle of his range. Sadly, he tends to be down a little more often than he’s up. For the second month in a row, I find myself wondering why a story is here rather than in Analog. Anvil often writes for Campbell, and this one is right up the editor’s alley: stupid bureaucrats stupidly getting in the way of progress. It might have fared better there, but here it’s too long and filled with pointless minutiae. Do we really need to follow lengthy discussions about the pricing of those kiddie science kits? A high two stars.

The Followers, by Basil Wells

Balt Donner is part of the three-man crew of the exploration ship Avalon. Small, plain and timid in real life, his job calls for him to take mental control of a seven-foot tall robot covered in bronzed pseudoflesh. The ship is currently on the planet Hald, which is inhabited by a people who, though noseless and with elongated ears, are otherwise quite human. Each Halden has a twin, an oddly doglike, eight-limbed creature known as a Follower. The crew of the Avalon is trying to figure out the odd lifecycle of the planet which allows such disparate beings to be born from the same mother.

Their time in space is getting to the crew. Senior crewman Ernest Lytte fights off space madness with ever increasing doses of drugs, while Jeff Carney gets by with alcohol and forbidden carousing on planets with humanoid races. Up to now, Balt has managed to stay sane, but he has begun to fall for a native woman named Alno. She is an outcast, because her Follower died, and has fallen for Balt (in the form of the robot Cass), who appears to her to be an outcast as well. As the other crewmen squabble over procedure, Balt learns that Alno is going to be given a new Follower. Eventually, the biology of Hald is explained, and the ship lifts for the next stop on their long journey back to Earth.

This one is pretty good, though rather dark. Basil Wells has been cranking out stories in a variety of genres for a quarter century, and his prose style reflects that. It’s a little pedestrian, without being pulpy, but the story he tells here is neither. It’s much more in a modern mode, and an author more attuned to that mode – a Brunner or a Zelazny, say – could have turned this into a four, maybe a five star story. As it is, it’s a solid three stars and the best in the issue.

No Friend of Gree, by C. C. MacApp

Steve Duke is trying to figure out why a Gree ship-of-the-line and a small exploration ship are in a backwater binary system. There is a single planet, Terrestrial in nature, but too close to the blue-white companion of the red giant. It is also tidally locked to the star it orbits, always showing one face to its star. There are no signs of technology, so when the Gree ships fire a salvo of missiles to sterilize the planet, Steve wants to know what’s going on. He diverts the missiles and produces enough fake evidence to convince the Gree ships that their mission is accomplished.

Once the Gree slaves leave, Steve lands with two B’lant crewmen to investigate. Searching the Gree camp, they find the hastily dug grave of a Gree slave and are interrupted by the arrival of a vaguely humanoid creature covered in mud and debris. The three of them go wandering across the world, struggling through dense grass that grows higher than their heads and encountering a variety of enormous insectoids. First, one B’lant goes missing and then the other. Eventually, the answers to the puzzles he’s found are revealed to Steve (through no doing of his own). Will he follow the Gree’s lead and sterilize the planet, or has he found a potential weapon for the war against the Gree?


Steve and one of the B’lant see something strange and disgusting. Art by Nodel

When I saw there was a Gree story in this issue, I made a bet with myself that Steve would go behind enemy lines and infiltrate a Gree base by pretending to be walking wounded. Rarely have I been so glad to lose a bet. This is a darn sight better than the previous two stories in this series, though not as good as the first. However, it could probably have been cut by a third. A lot of the difficult slog through the dense vegetation is, well, a difficult slog for the reader. Also, Steve continues to be little more than a cardboard cut-out of a character. A high two stars.

Summing Up

Returning to the beginning, science fiction is, ostensibly, the literature of tomorrow. (Of course, it’s really about today or, at most, later this afternoon, but I digress.) But as I noted above, we’re seeing a lot of revivals, rehashes and regressive pastiches. Fred Pohl, in particular, seems to be on something of a space opera kick of late. Don’t get me wrong. It’s certainly possible to tell a good, modern sort of story within the framework of space opera. Fred Saberhagen certainly pulls it off with his Berserker stories; John Brunner does it quite often (though not always); Roger Zelazny has turned out some beautiful work in the old planetary romance settings.

Most of the time, though, that’s not what Pohl is serving us. We’re getting stuff that could easily have appeared back before the War. Sometimes it seems like a problem story in the good, old Campbellian style is the most modern thing we can hope for. And now we’re going to be saddled with the great-granddaddy of them all for months (and don’t be fooled by that “Part 1 of 3” in the table of contents; a contact at Galaxy Publishing says to expect more like 5). Judging from the comments in the letter col, lots of readers have been eagerly awaiting this Doc Smith novel ever since Fred announced it a year or so ago. Maybe it’s a fit of nostalgia. After all, they say the Golden Age of science fiction is 12. But it’s a sad day when a professional baseball team is more forward-thinking that one of the leading science fiction magazines.


Van Vogt and Schmitz seems like an… odd pairing

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 16, 1965] Browsing the Stacks (May 1965 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Did You Check the Card Catalog First?

If you're like me, when you enter a public or school library, or a bookstore, or any other place where volumes of written material are available for perusal, you wander around from place to place without any particular goal in mind. Of course, sooner or later you're going to wind up at the science fiction section. But along the way, you might find other kinds of fiction and nonfiction to pique your curiosity.


Students hard at work at Brigham Young University.They're probably not reading science fiction.

I thought about this pleasant little habit of mine when I looked at the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow. The stories and articles reminded me of other categories of writing. Take my hand, and we'll stroll through the paper corridors of this miniature book depository and find out what wonders await us.


Cover art by George Schelling.

What Size Are Giants?, by Alexei Panshin

Category: Westerns

We start off near novels by Zane Grey and other chroniclers of the Old West. This rootin', tootin' yarn begins with a gal settin' by herself readin' a book (appropriately enough) and not realizin' that she's about to be run over by a stampedin' herd of wild critters. Luckily for her, a fella in a covered wagon comes by and saves her. He's sort of a medicine show kind of city slicker, of the type that the local settlers don't cotton to.


Drawin' by Norman Nodel. That's a mighty funny lookin' horse you got there, friend.

OK, let me knock it off with the dialect before I drive both of us crazy. We're really on a colony planet, one of many settled about a century ago, when a large number of gigantic starships fled Earth just before a global war destroyed all of humanity. The colonists survive at a low level of technology, while the people who remain aboard the ships enjoy much more advanced devices. The colonists envy and resent the starship folk, and the people on the vessels look down on the settlers as peasants.

Our hero sneaks off one of the ships and lands on the planet, intending to help the colonists with better goods, and to encourage trade between isolated communities. Along for the ride is his buddy, an intelligent, talking bird. (The only explanation for this animal is that it's a one-of-a-kind mutant, which is a little hard to swallow.)

Things don't work out too well. Not only do the settlers figure out the man is one of the hated people from the starships, but he is also tracked down by an enforcer from the vessel, because interfering with a colony is a serious crime.


A very accurate rendition of the author's description of this unpleasant character.

Complicating matters is the fact that the stampeding beasts are about to go on the rampage again, threatening to destroy the local village and everyone in it. It all builds up to an exciting climax, as our tomboy heroine comes to the rescue.


Ride 'em, cowgirl!

This is a decent enough adventure story, if not particularly outstanding in any way. The author's style is plain but serviceable. It'll give ya somethin' to look at while you're sittin' around the campfire, waitin' for Cooky to rustle up some coffee and beans.

Three stars.

The Effectives, by Zenna Henderson

Category: Religion

Not far away from the Bibles, Korans, Torahs, and other sacred texts, we find this work of inspirational fiction from a skilled author known for the use of spiritual themes in her tales of the People.


Illustration by John Giunta.

KVIN (as shown above) is a devastating illness of unknown origin. Those who suffer from it die very quickly after feeling the first symptoms, which vary from person to person. The only treatment is to completely replace the victim's blood with donations from healthy volunteers. This doesn't always work, however.

There's a peculiar geographic pattern to the cure rate. It never works in the San Francisco area; works half the time near Denver; and is always effective at a particular area near a medical research center. A troubleshooter arrives at the place and tries to figure out what's going on.

The center is near a religious community that has turned its back on the modern world, something like the Amish. They supply the blood donations. There is no such community in the San Francisco region, and half of the blood donations at the Denver area come from such a community. Could there be a connection with the cure rates? The troubleshooter, a hardcore skeptic, performs a risky experiment in order to find out.

How you react to this fable may depend on your religious beliefs. You may think that the author has stacked the cards too much in favor of faith over materialism. The troubleshooter is something of a stereotype of the stubborn atheist, although I'll have to give the writer credit for depicting him as a man with the courage of his convictions, but willing to change his mind when presented with strong evidence.

Considered just as a work of science fiction, this story is very well-written, with interesting speculative content. It may not change anyone's opinions, but it's definitely worth reading.

Four stars.

The Alien Psyche, by Tom Purdom

Category: Psychology

Strolling over to the nonfiction, we find this article next to a large volume of Freud. The author wonders about the ways in which biological differences between human beings and the sentient inhabitants of other worlds may lead to differences in their minds. What kind of neuroses would be found among aliens that reproduce by fission, or are hermaphroditic?

The piece mostly deals with traditional Freudian analysis, although the author has to admit that there are many other schools of psychology, and that none of them are anywhere near an exact science. Maybe someday we'll know more about the workings of the mind, but for now this is all idle speculation.

Two stars.

Bond of Brothers, by Michael Kurland

Category: Spy Fiction


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

Stuck between books by Ian Fleming and John le Carré is this tale of Cold War espionage. A fellow arrives at the secret headquarters of a US government agency, where his identical twin brother works. The brother is currently in a Soviet prison, after the Reds caught him spying. The only reason the protagonist knows about the headquarters, and his brother's location, is the fact that the twins have a telepathic link.

The hero manages to convince the head of the agency of this psychic connection, and volunteers to rescue his brother from the Commies. He goes undercover and faces many challenges in his quest to free his twin from their clutches.


Parachuting into the USSR.

The ESP gimmick isn't really relevant to the plot, which is a straightforward secret agent story. Some of Fleming's books, such as Thunderball and Moonraker, have more of a speculative feeling to them than this tale. I suppose it's an acceptable example of this sort of thing, but I felt a bit cheated by its appearance in a science fiction magazine.

Two stars.

Explosions in Space, by Ben Bova

Category: Astronomy

Passing by star charts and maps of the Moon, we arrive at the section of this tiny library dealing with the cosmos. We find an article dealing with things that go BOOM! in the heavens.

We begin with solar flares, and build up to entire exploding galaxies, with discussions of novae and supernovae along the way. The piece concludes with theories about the recently discovered, mysterious things known as quasars (quasi-stellar objects.) The author may not have the charm of Asimov, or the obscure knowledge of Ley, but he explains an interesting subject very clearly.

Four stars.

Dem of Redrock Seven, by John Sutherland

Category: Detective Stories

Leaning on some volumes of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett — we'll ignore the bestselling works of Mickey Spillane and stick with the classics — is this hardboiled yarn about a tough investigator and his sexy secretary, working on a case that could spell disaster for civilization.

Oh, did I mention the fact that these characters aren't human beings? In fact, they're the mutated descendants of insects, long after people contaminated Earth with radiation and nearly died off. The giant, intelligent insects now have their own sophisticated society, and the few remaining humans are living like savages in uncontaminated areas. They're only a minor nuisance, until the mysterious death of a government worker leads the hero to a hidden threat that could mean the end of the insects.

Clearly meant as a parody of private eye stories, this tongue-in-cheek tale is kind of silly — giving the secretary a lisp is particularly goofy and pointless — but amusing at times. I'll admit that the author does a good job writing from the insect point of view, and you may find yourself cheering for the hero over those dastardly humans. Like the first story in this issue, this one features the female lead coming to the rescue of the hero, which is a nice touch.

Three stars.

Bogeymen, by Dick Moore

Category: War Stories


Illustrations by Jack Gaughan.

We'll head to the shelf that holds accounts of naval battles for this tale of combat with an enemy that remains unseen most of the time, like a submarine. Instead of sailing the seven seas, we're out in space, on a routine patrol of the inner solar system. The current situation between two vaguely defined rivals is hotter than a Cold War, although both sides refer to their violent encounters as accidents.


The patrol vessel, and that might be Mars at the top.

Word reaches the ship that a large force of enemy vessels is on its way to Mars from a base in the asteroid belt. Its target seems to be the friendly base on Phobos. Because it's extremely difficult to detect ships in the vastness of space, it's a matter of guesswork as to where the good guys should intercept the bad guys. It boils down to heading to the most likely place for them to appear and then waiting.


I have no idea what this is supposed to be.

Meanwhile, the crew alters its armed missiles, turning them into devices they can launch into space in order to increase the chances of detecting the enemy. The main character rather foolishly comes up with his own scheme for the armaments removed from the missiles, which lands him in very hot water indeed. He winds up having to go out in a one-person vessel in order to retrieve the arms, while risking own skin against the approaching enemy.


The hero in the small ship, I think, although this doesn't match the way I pictured it at all.

To be honest, I'm not sure if my brief synopsis is accurate at all. I found the technical aspects of the plot very hard to follow. The hero's actions are extremely unprofessional, putting the ship and crew in great danger just so he can play a hunch. The story also seemed quite long, as I slogged my way to the ending.

Two stars.

Have Your Library Card Ready

Is it worth a trip to the stacks? Maybe, maybe not. You've got one good story (although that judgement may be controversial) and one good article, along with other works ranging from poor to fair. I wouldn't go digging through musty old volumes to seek it out, but if it happens to be close, you might as well take a look. You might see something interesting.


She's only the librarian's daughter, but you really should check her out.




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Magazine

[March 8, 1965] An Alien Perspective (April 1965 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Understanding the Other

Civilization is about building a society out of disparate units.  It has to go beyond the family and clan.  The key to organizing a civilization is empathy, recognizing that we are all different yet we share common values and rights.  Once we understand each other, even if we don't agree on everything, then we can truly create "from many, one."

Science fiction allows the exploration of cutting edge sociological subjects, one of them being the understanding of the "other".  That's because the genre has a ready-made stand-in for the concept: the alien.  Indeed, many science fiction stories are allegorical; they address colonialism, the Cold War, societal taboos, in ways that might currently be too touchy or on-the-nose for conventional fiction.  We can hope that, with the bottle uncorked, less allegorical stories will be required in the future. 

Of all the science fiction magazines that come out every month, I think Fred Pohl's trio of Galaxy, IF, and Worlds of Tomorrow has the strongest tradition of incorporating aliens (Analog also has aliens, but thanks to its editor's sensibilities, they are almost invariably both more evil and inferior to human beings; Campbell likes a certain kind of allegory…)

Meeting the Minds


by George Schelling (it says it illustates War Against the Yukks, but it doesn't)

This month's Galaxy is a case in point, with six of its nine tales involving aliens of one kind or another.  There's some good stuff in here, as well as a number of slog stories.  Let's look, shall we?

Committee of the Whole, by Frank Herbert


by Nodel

Watch your step — there's a rough patch right at the start. 

Whole is a meandering preach piece about an inventor who appears before a Congressional committee with news of a new, revolutionary invention.  I'll just tell you about it because the first two thirds of the story are less suspenseful than obtusely annoying: it's a ray gun.  Its applications are infinite, but the one most of the Congressmen are worried about is that every owner has a weapon more powerful than the atom bomb at their disposal.  And, because of the way the invention has been disseminated, everyone in the world has access to them.

The result, the inventor opines, is going to be a world of true libertarian equality.  "An armed society is a polite society" is how the expression goes.  It's the kind of naive sentiment that would go over well at Analog, but for adults, it's just ridiculous.  In equalizing humanity through armed neutrality, the inventor has made aliens of us all.  I'll wager that Earth's population of humans will be dead inside a week…and probably most of the animals. 

One star, and yet more disdain for the Herbert byline.

Wrong-Way Street, by Larry Niven

Ah, but then our fortunes truly turn around.  Wrong Way Street gives us the unplanned adventure of Mike Capoferri, a scientist stationed on the Moon late this century to investigate an alien base and space ship.  They have lain on the lunar plain for countless millions of years, and their provenance and function are completely unknown.  That is, until Mike unwittingly not only discerns the motive force for the space ship, but also activates it.  Here, understanding the alien way of thinking proved hazardous to Mike's health.  Can he get home?  Will the human race survive his journey?

This is author Niven's third story, and he continues with the same deftness he displayed with his recent short novel, World of Ptavvs.  I guarantee that the ending of Street will stay with you.

Four stars.

Death and Birth of the Angakok, by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Peterluk is a young Eskimo out hunting when a horrifying bunch of one-eyed Seal People arrive.  He panics and entreats his powerful Grandfather, holed up in Peterluk's igloo, to aid him with his mystical powers.  But Grandfather is too weak to assist and, in the end, Peterluk is left to defeat one of the aliens with a conventional rifle.

When the Seal People ship surfaces from beneath the ice, much to Peterluk's surprise, it disgorges not aliens but white people in uniform.  And Peterluk begins to doubt the power, and even the human nature, of his strangely humped, ever demanding Grandfather.

Confusing at first, Angakok is actually a pretty neat tale of two types of aliens (human and truly extraterrestrial) as seen from the point of view of one completely naive to other cultures.  While the bones of the plot are fairly conventional, I appreciated the novel viewpoint.

Three stars.

Symbolically Speaking, by Willy Ley

Any meeting of the minds between human and alien will require a common symbology to convey ideas.  A science fiction writer looking for inspiration for such a symbol set could do worse than to read Willy Ley's latest science article for Galaxy, in which he discusses the evolution of symbols for the planets, alchemical substances, numbers, etc.

Fairly dry, but there's interesting information here.  Three stars.

A Wobble in Wockii Futures, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Gray Morrow, channeling Bill Gaines

Tom and Lucy Reasoner are a recurring pair in a series of stories, this being the fourth.  Sort of a "Nick and Nora" meets Retief, the stories of the Reasoners began charmingly enough, with Tom an interstellar diplomat with a mystery to solve, and Lucy his sometimes discerning assistant.

Last time around, Tom had not only gotten inducted into the interstellar assassin's guild, but he'd also catapulted Earth onto the galactic scene, dramatically increasing his home planet's clout.  Now the humans have gotten themselves hip-deep in a planetary investment that made turn out to be completely worthless.  Tom must find out who hoodwinked the Terrans and why before humanity is bankrupted.

This installation has the same problem as the last one — Lucy is sidelined and played for stupid, and the humor of the tale just isn't funny.  Dickson can, and usually does, do better.

Two stars.

Wasted on the Young, by John Brunner

The concept of the "teenager" is a fairly recent one.  It used to be that kids enjoyed a relatively short childhood before transitioning to the labor force and/or marriage.  Now there is an intermediate phase before adulthood during which a youngster can learn the ropes of grown-up society.

Brunner's latest story posits an even longer period of immaturity, one in which kids are given free credit until age thirty to do whatever they want.  The catch: once they reach their fourth decade, they have to pay back what they've spent by being productive members of society.  Thus, the wastrels find themselves indebted indefinitely, while those who lived a spartan life get to be free agents.

Hal Page, age 32, believes he knows a way to cheat the system…but in the end, society has use for people who have spent it all, even their life.

There's a great idea here, but I feel it was somewhat wasted on the gimmick (and not particularly logical) ending.  Still, three stars.

The Decision Makers, by Joseph Green


by Jack Gaughan

Allan Odegaard is a Practical Philosopher, a kind of emissary for humanity to other worlds.  His job is to judge whether a planet is inhabited by intelligent life or not; if so, Terran policy is to keep hands off.  As one would expect, such a determination is often strongly opposed by financial interests.

Capella G Eight is an ocean planet, though during times of Ice Age, three continents emerge from the sea as the water level drops.  Its dominant life form is a seal-like creature.  Though it possesses a relatively tiny brain pan, somehow it lives in a communal society and can use tools.  Is it intelligent?  Does the fact that these creatures live near a rich uranium deposit factor into Odegaard's decision?

We've seen this kind of story before — H. Beam Piper's Fuzzy series is probably the purest example, though J.F. Bone's The Lani People should also be noted.  It's a worthy subject, and Green does a pretty good job, though the ending is abrupt and not quite as momentous as I would have liked.

All in all, it's the best story I've seen from Green in an American publication (he tends to stick to the English side of the Atlantic.) Three stars.

Slow Tuesday Night, by R. A. Lafferty

We're back to Earth for this one.  We all know that the pace of life has only quickened over the generations.  Lafferty, whose middle name would be "whimsy" if the initial were a W. and not an A., writes of a future society in which society is speeded up a hundred-fold compared to now.  Fortunes are made and lost in minutes.  Marriages last an hour on a good night.  And a lifetime can be lived in a week.

It's cute, but the satire wears thin about halfway through.  Also, there are only two female characters, and their sole goal appears to be competing for the earliest wedding of the evening.

A low three, I guess.

Sculptor, by C. C. MacApp

Eight years ago, a disgraced spaceman abandoned his crewmates on an alien world, rushing home with a set of invaluable statues — and a hole in his memory about the affair.  Now he has been shanghaied by a criminal bent on returning to this world and plundering it for more of the exquisite figurines.

What race made these wrought-diamond minatures?  And why does the amnesiac spaceman feel such dread on the planet's surface?

This is another "they looked like us" yarn that has been around since Campbell kick-started the genre with Who Goes There (and Heinlein made it popular with The Puppet Masters).  It's so prevalent, in fact, that there's another example of it in this very issue! (Angakok) Despite not really treading on new ground, it may well be the best work I've seen from C. C. MacApp, a fairly recent author who never fails to never quite succeed.

Three stars.

War Against the Yukks, by Keith Laumer


by Gray Morrow

Six years ago, the Journey had the (dubious) pleasure of reviewing Missile to the Moon.  It was one of a long line of movies involving a man-less society, run by a bunch of sex-starved female beauties just waiting for a hunk to tip the order on its ear.

Laumer's latest is the same old story: this time, the men are an anthropologist and his stereotypically British assistant, who are whisked to Callisto where they encounter the last remnants of an ante-diluvian war between the sexes.  High Jinks ensue(s?)

Only the author's puissance at writing elevates this story above the level of dreck.  Even then, it's a disappointment.  I understand that satirizing a hoary cliche can be fun, but the whole point of Galaxy is that the magazine doesn't even acknowledge the existence of said cliches, much less indulge in them.

It really deserves two stars.  I'll probably give it three anyway.

Summit's End

This month's Galaxy was as alien-heavy as usual, and there was a broad variety of stories.  On the other hand, with the exception of the Niven, there were no stand-outs.  Indeed, the issue read more like an overlong issue of IF (which has also dipped in quality) than Galaxy of old.

Nevertheless, Ad Astra per Aspera.  What goes down must come up again, and when humanity finally does meet the alien denizens of the stars, should they exist, our starship crews will doubtless have been inculcated with the lessons learned in SF, particularly in magazines like Galaxy.




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