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[November 4, 1967] Conflicts (December 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

Conflicts at home over the conflict abroad

It seems like scarcely a day goes by without images of young people protesting showing up on the evening news and landing on our doorsteps. These days, it’s usually about the war in Vietnam as President Johnson ratchets up the number of troops involved yet again. Monday, October 16th saw the start of Stop the Draft week. Induction centers in cities all over the country were blockaded by protesters, while many young men either burned their draft cards or attempted to hand them in to authorities, which is now a criminal offense. Arrests were plentiful. In Oakland alone, 125 people (including singer Joan Baez) were arrested, and I’ve seen estimates that as many as 1,000 draft cards were either burned or turned in. The week culminated in a march on the Pentagon. Check back later this month for an eyewitness account from the Journey’s Vickie Lucas.

Joan Baez is arrested in Oakland.

Of course, the protests didn’t end there. On October 27th, Father Philip Berrigan, Rev. James Mengel and two other men, forced their way into Selective Service office in Baltimore, Maryland and poured blood into several file drawers containing draft records. The men have refused bail and are being held awaiting trial.

Fr. Berrigan pouring blood into a file drawer.

Conflicts big and small

When we study literature in school, we’re usually taught that conflict is one of the most important elements in narrative and drama. It’s often broken down into three types: man against man, man against nature and man against self. The December issue of IF has them all.

Futuristic combat in The City of Yesterday. Art by Chaffee

Herbert George Morley Roberts Wells, Esq., by Arthur C. Clarke

A guest editorial from Clarke regarding a literary mystery. In a story in the October 1966 Galaxy, he referred to a short story called “The Anticipator” which he attributed to H. G. Wells, but which no one could find. You can probably figure out the real author from the title of this piece. I’m sure the puzzle was very interesting for Arthur, but for most readers it’s rather pointless.

Barely three stars.

All Judgment Fled (Part 1 of 3), by James White

When a mysterious object enters the solar system and places itself in orbit around the sun between Mars and Jupiter, two ships, each containing three men, are sent to investigate. Both have two astronaut pilots and a supernumerary: a physicist aboard Prometheus-1 and a psychologist aboard Prometheus-2.

The trip is psychologically taxing. At one point, physicist Hollis suffers a breakdown and psychologist McCullough (our viewpoint character) must make a dangerous trip between the ships to treat him. Hollis appears to have grown paranoid, claiming that P-2 has been declared expendable and that P-1 is carrying a Dirty Annie, a highly destructive atomic bomb. McCullough manages to calm him down, and the journey continues.

When they reach the alien ship, it appears to be abandoned. McCullough and Walters (second in command of P-2) manage to get inside, but don’t get the chance to explore. They are attacked by a starfish-like, tentacled alien and then trapped in the compartment where they first entered by two of the starfish aliens and another that looks like a dumbbell. As they leave, McCullough gets a glimpse of something covered in white fur or maybe clothing. To be continued.

McCullough helps Walters deal with a tear in his suit. Art by Morrow

I’m of two minds about this one. The premise is excellent, and the decision to devote roughly half of this installment to the difficulties of the journey is interesting. Most authors would probably have rushed the narrative to get the characters to the ship as quickly as possible and focused on the mystery of the alien object. But that’s also where the problem lies. White is so thorough at describing the pressures and interpersonal problems these six men face that the tension creeps into his style and never goes away. That makes for a sometimes difficult read. You would also expect a mission like this to be much more international than six guys with English-sounding names.

Three stars.

On Conquered Earth, by Jay Kay Klein

The Hiroku are keeping a close eye on the backwards world of Earth. Their real focus is on expansion towards the galactic center, but a small, steady decrease in the human population has them worried. It might be necessary to bring in a fleet to smash the system to prevent a threat arising at their back. What’s really going on?

If you’re going to use art to boost the title, it should be more interesting than this. Art by Gaughan

Jay Kay Klein and his camera are a common sight at science fiction conventions, where he’s practically the official photographer. Here we have his first story sold, and it leaves a lot to be desired. The truth behind the population decline is questionable (though it might have qualified it for Dangerous Visions). I’m more bothered, though, by the description of the Hiroku as looking like Asian humans and having such Japanese sounding names (Admiral Ikara, Ambassador Sushi). That’s enough for me to knock off a star.

Two stars.

Answering Service, by Fritz Leiber

Unable to contact her doctor, a vicious old woman takes out her frustrations on his answering service. After all, it’s just a bunch of computer-controlled tapes on the other end.

Pay attention to me! Art by Gaughan

Fritz Leiber reminds us that he can write very effective horror. You can see where it’s going, but this is Leiber at the top of his game.

Four stars.

Fandom in Europe Today, by Lin Carter

Carter continues his world tour and looks at the state of European fandom. Much of what we read also appears in Europe in translation. Galaxy has a number of current and former foreign-language editions. In Germany, Perry Rhodan has come a long way since our own Cora Buhlert first wrote about him. And Gerfandom is exploring a Worldcon bid for 1970 or 1971. We get a brief look at the state of SF publishing in Britain and Italy, and then Carter talks about the Trans-Atlantic Fan Fund, which helps one deserving American fan visit an overseas convention or vice versa.

Three stars.

When Sea is Born Again, by C. C. MacApp

Latpur is the apprentice to Prognosticator Deeoon, who has seen signs that Sea will be born again soon and in their area. This happens every few years in some coastal area and well inland, destroying all life that fails to reach high ground. Matters are complicated by a foreign shaman trying to steal business from the scientific prognosticator and the arrival of aliens in a metal cylinder.

Latpur running errands for the Prognosticator. Art by Vaughn Bodé

MacApp continues his recent theme of looking at alien societies from the inside. Like the others, this one is enjoyable, if not particularly memorable.

Three stars.

City of Yesterday, by Terry Carr

J-1001011 has been awakened for an attack on a city on the planet Rhinstruk. The reason for the attack and the nature of the enemy are unimportant. Our protagonist was born human, and if he can survive enough missions, he’ll get to go to a home he no longer really remembers.

J-1001011 begins an attack run. Art by Gaughan.

Terry Carr is a familiar name as both writer and editor. He’s usually fairly reliable, but while I can see what he was trying to say, I don’t feel like he really achieved his goal. The story is competently written, but I never engaged with it.

A low three stars.

Swordsmen of the Stars, by Robert E. Margroff and Andrew J. Offutt

Varn is a rising gladiator for the Greenback team on the planet Solitos. Two high-ranking spectators seem to have taken an interest in his performance, one supporting him and the other backing the Bluechips. Varn decides he must be the secret son of a godling and will do whatever it takes to find out the truth.

This is actually one of the less ridiculous moments of combat. Art by Gaughan

Margroff and Offutt have produced a number of substandard stories alone and in collaboration. This might not be the worst, but it’s also not their best. Much here is borrowed from Mack Reynolds’ Joe Mauser stories with a large helping of Gladiator-at-Law by Fred Pohl and C. M. Kornbluth. Unlike either of its inspirations, this story is not a scathing criticism of modern capitalism; it’s just a bad adventure story with combat scenes that the worst hack of the Pulp Era would dismiss as unrealistic.

Two stars.

The Time Trollers, by Roger Deeley

Time travel is imprecise. While aiming for the United States in the mid-twentieth century, one man has found himself on St. Helena in the early nineteenth. And l’empereur has some surprising information for him.

Art uncredited

Mildly entertaining, but rather forgettable.

A low three stars.

Ocean on Top (Part 3 of 3), by Hal Clement

Searching for three vanished investigators for the global Power Board, our unnamed protagonist has discovered a thriving, power-wasting group of people living on the sea floor. In this installment, he learns the history of the ocean-dwelling people, the Board’s motives for ignoring the settlement, and resolves his unrequited crush.

The protagonist has found someone who doesn’t care about his hated name. Art by Castellon

Despite the slightly darker tone, this is a reasonably typical Clement tale. There’s a scientifically plausible basis, and almost all the characters are fundamentally good people. But this is not one of his better works. A lot of the pieces don’t really hang together. I don’t consider the Board’s stated reasoning for ignoring the power generation method used by the people here to be at all valid, although the reason for ignoring the people themselves makes some sense. The protagonist’s absolute hatred for his name (we learn of the nickname Tummy, but that’s it) is probably meant to give him some incentive to stay, but the whole business feels silly.

It’s a so-so read, at best, if you like Clement. When it eventually comes out as a novel, my tip is either to club together with some friends to buy a copy or encourage your local library to buy it and then check it out. It’s not worth the 60-75 cents it will assuredly cost.

Barely three stars.

Summing up

We finally got a stand-out story this month. This is the first time since May that I’ve rated a story higher than 3 stars, and that’s a long slog of mediocrity and worse. IF is proudly proclaiming their two consecutive Best Magazine Hugos. An overall grade of C- isn’t going to get them a third. The new serial has some promise, but White is going to have to release the psychological tension that is cramping the narrative. All I can suggest for Fred Pohl is more Delany, more Zelazny, lean on Saberhagen and Niven to polish their work a little more, and try to get some better novels to serialize.

A new Zelazny is a good sign, and Saberhagen could be good.




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

[October 2, 1967] Switching Sides (November 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

Crossing the road

You probably know that, while much of the world drives on the right-hand side of the road with steering wheels on the left side of the vehicle, Great Britain and most of her former colonies do things the other way around, steering wheel on the right and driving on the left. A few other countries follow the British example, such as Japan, Indonesia, and Thailand. Up until a month ago, Sweden was among them.

A switch has been considered for a while and, although Swedes voted overwhelmingly against the change in 1955, it has now gone through. All of Sweden’s neighbors drive on the right, with something like 5 million vehicles crossing the borders with Norway and Finland (not to mention Danish and German tourists arriving with their cars by ferry). On top of that, roughly 90 percent of the cars in Sweden have their steering wheel on the left, which means that Swedish automakers have been building their cars that way for a long time.

The logo for the traffic changeover.

After four years of preparation and education, H-day (Dagen H for Högertrafik, which means right-hand traffic) came in the wee hours of Sunday, September 3rd. Road signs had to be moved or remade, new lines had to be painted on the roads, intersections had to be reshaped. Just as much effort went into educating the public. The logo was plastered on everything from milk cartons to underwear. There was even a catchy tune written for the event, “Håll dig till höger, Svensson” (Keep to the Right, Svensson). Everything seems to have gone off without a hitch, and traffic accidents have been down, probably because everyone is being extra careful. Iceland is planning on following suit next year.

This photo was staged several months ago as part of the education campaign. The real thing was much less chaotic.

Turncoats and breakthroughs

This month’s IF begins and ends with characters changing sides (or appearing to) while elsewhere the crew of a spaceship breaks on through to the other side.

A newcomer gets the cover. Does he deserve it? Art by Vaughn Bodé

Brother Berserker, by Fred Saberhagen

The time war against the deadly berserkers on the planet Sirgol comes to a head. The enemy will try to stop Vincent Vincento (a Galileo analogue) from recanting his belief in heliocentrism, thus preventing him from writing an important scientific treatise. Feeling guilt over sending his rival to his death, Derron Odegard volunteers to go back and try to stop the berserkers. If he succeeds, Time Ops will be able to locate their staging area and lock them out of the time stream. But what happens when a berserker meets the equivalent of St. Francis of Assisi?

Can a Foucault pendulum keep Vencento from recanting?. Art by Gaughan

This is a direct sequel to Stone Man and The Winged Helmet and wraps the story up nicely. That said, I’ve never been completely satisfied with the time war stories. Saberhagen continues to show some range, though, and I will always be glad to see his name on the cover.

Three stars.

Mail Drop, by C. C. MacApp

Klonit-41-Z-Bih is the director of the mail center on Galkbar. Things are stressful enough, but when the first manned mission to Mars stumbles into a long-forgotten mail transporter, war may break out between the Selidae and Medanjians over the Live Unclaimed Mail – a war that will claim the mail center as its first victim.

Klonit does his best to soothe the rival claimants. Art by Vaughn Bodé

I’ve noted before that MacApp tends to be unsuccessful when he tries to be funny. Here, he’s going more for general humor than a real knee-slapper and gets closer to the mark. Like a lot of what he’s put out lately, it’s reasonably entertaining, but forgettable.

Three stars just for not being Gree.

The Shadow of Space, by Philip José Farmer

The Sleipnir under Captain Grettir is scheduled to test the first faster-than-light drive. Before starting the test, the crew pick up the sole survivor of a wrecked ship. Unfortunately, she is distraught and becomes convinced the captain is her husband. Upset by his rejection of her, she commandeers the drive and sends the ship to speeds much faster than planned before stripping naked and walking out the airlock. Meanwhile, the ship and the body have burst out of the universe to find it is just an electron orbiting an atomic nucleus. Then things get weird.

The Sleipnir in orbit around the body of Mrs. Wellington. Art by Morrow

If the timing didn’t make it nearly impossible, I’d say Farmer wrote this as a parody or pastiche of Poul Anderson’s To Outlive Eternity, what with the Nordic names of the ship and captain. Farmer’s been on a losing streak lately; even his latest Riverworld story was a little off. This story does nothing to end that streak.

A high two stars.

Thus Spake Marco Polo, by James Stevens

The MARK-40 PLO Command Computer, which oversees America’s nuclear armaments, has gained sentience, dubbed itself Marco Polo, and linked up with the Russian IVAN-812 Command Computer. It also lisps. Now General Emerito Sandez has 24 hours to defeat the computer in a war game, or humanity will be wiped out.

This month’s new author is a 22-year-old graduate student in drama at the University of Illinois, originally from Puerto Rico. (I hope Fred keeps doing these mini-biographies for new authors; they’re handy.) Giving the computer a childish lisp may not be the most successful way of showing that its sentience is brand-new, but it’s not too distracting. On the other hand, it’s unusual to have a Latin protagonist, particularly one so high-ranking, and I approve. Overall, this is a fine debut, and I look forward to more from Mr. Stevens.

A solid three stars.

Dreamhouse, by Gary Wright

The planet of New Kansas is very, very flat. It also has no violent crime. However, it’s not without its sins, like the Dreamhouse, which offers patrons the chance to experience almost anything as though it were real. Maybe there’s a connection.

Adam’s dreams keep going disastrously wrong. Art by Wood

Gary Wright has turned out some sound, middle-of-the-road stories, frequently about sports. Alas, this is none of those things. The writing is fine, but the protagonist (such as he is) is unpleasant, and much of the story hinges on him being unable or unwilling to communicate his problems. The conclusion also doesn’t hold up if you give it even a passing thought. Wright is capable of much better than this.

Barely three stars.

In the Jaws of Danger, by Piers Anthony

Dr. Dillingham is a dentist who has been kidnapped by aliens, because he did such a good job fixing one of their dental problems. Now he’s been loaned out to deal with a cavity in an alien the size of a whale.

Dr. Dillingham asks his new patient to say “Aaah.” Art by Vaughn Bodé

Piers Anthony is a Cele Lalli discovery, and she seems to be the only editor to get the best out of him. Under other editors, he’s produced some mediocre stories (alone and in collaboration) and an execrable novel. This humorous piece is… fine, I guess (cue Señor Wences again). It also feels like there might be a story before this one that has gone missing somewhere.

Three stars.

Ocean on Top (Part 2 of 3), by Hal Clement

In Part 1, an unnamed investigator for the Power Board, which rations energy for the whole world, is looking into the disappearance of three other investigators over the last year. On the ocean floor, he discovers a vast area being illuminated in a criminal waste of energy. Eventually he is captured and taken into an underwater base. Still underwater, his captors removed their helmets.

After a while, he is visited by Bert Wehlstrahl, the first investigator to go missing. Communicating by writing, Bert explains that the 15,000 people down here aren’t stealing power, and that he has joined them. He has no news about Joey Elfven, the second investigator, but they do have Marie Wladetzky, who refuses to believe anything Bert says.

Our protagonist agrees to undergo the process to allow him to live in the underwater base, secretly planning to find out as much as he can before returning to surface. The people down there want him to go back with a message to the Power Board, but he wants as much information as possible. He meets with Marie and explains his plan and then takes a tour of the facility. Following a visit to the power plant, Bert claims that he is also not planning to stay and that the Power Board knows, or at least knew, about this base. He then takes the protagonist to see the supposedly missing Joey. To be concluded.

One of the locals shows the protagonist where to get lunch. Art by Castellon

Clement just keeps piling mystery upon mystery, without offering us any real answers. Most importantly, he hasn’t explained how these people breathe; the protagonist thinks they get their oxygen from special food. After remembering reading about some experiments done after the First World War with oxygenated saline to help soldiers whose lungs were devastated by gas and a trip to the library where I learned about some very recent breakthroughs, I think I know how the breathing works, at least.

The tour of the base is the most Clement-esque part of this installment, but the rest still has a darker, more “grown-up” feel than is usual for his work. If I have a real quibble, it’s that the dialogue is too involved and flowing for being done in writing on a letter-sized board.

Three stars for now.

Summing up

Last month at Worldcon, IF was awarded Best Professional Magazine for the second year in a row. In his con report, the Traveler suggested that voters were rewarding the magazine for its standouts. It’s true that the magazine has been lackluster of late, but the award was for last year, a year dominated by the serialization of Best Novel winner The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. And while the magazine was only in the middle of the pack in last year’s Galactic Stars, it did tie for second in most Stars nominees, as well as running the Best Novel and Best Short Fiction Hugo winners. Up through the June issue of this year, every issue has had at least one truly outstanding story, and of course, there was the wonderful Hugo winners issue

Speaking of the Hugo winners issue, will Fred try to put out another one next year? I’m not hopeful. There were four potential authors last year, thanks to the tie for Best Novel and the one-time Best Series award. For next year, there are only three, even with the addition of another category in short fiction, and Heinlein hasn’t written a short story in almost a decade. Although, Best Fan Writer (and occasional Journey contributer) Alexei Panshin does have some professional sales… No, I’m not getting my hopes up.

Okay, new Leiber is promising, and James White is usually pretty good.




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 14, 1967] Stuck in the Past (October 1967 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

The deuce, you say!

The other day, a BNF opined that I was kind of a sourpuss, not really liking anything I reviewed.  Moreover, he contended that my perspective is irretrievably tainted, and that I cannot appreciate fiction of the '60s with an objective eye.  Indeed, sometimes it seems like I don't like '60s science fiction much at all.

Well, he's right.

Sort of.  The thing is, I sometimes don't like the science fiction of the '60s…at least, not as consistently as I enjoyed the science fiction of the 1950s.

Perhaps it is a subjective thing.  After all, what can contend with the thrill I felt opening up my first issue of Galaxy (way back in Fall 1950!) and being bowled over by this new magazine's quality.  I had dabbled in SF before, but the age of the digest, what I like to term “The Silver Age” (if Campbell's Astounding heyday was “The Golden Age”) really sold the genre to me.

What a rush that first half decade was.  The efflorescence of magazines (at one point, there were forty SFF periodicals in print), the wide range of subjects.  Sure, there was a lot of crap.  After all, 90% of everything is crap.  But there was so much science fiction in the mags that if you stuck to the cream, you could be assured of month after month of nothing but quality readings.

And there were women.  After a swell in feminine participation in the 'zines of the late '40s and early '50s, there was a subsequent surge in women writing in the mid '50s—most notably in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, but lots of other mags, too.  SF has never been so eclectic.

What have we got these days?  Well, the paperback is putting paid to the mags, which means (as Spinrad noted recently) short form is drying up.  Paperback anthologies might remedy that situation someday, but they haven't yet.

As for the magazines, there are just six English-language ones left, two of them mostly reprints and one, Galaxy, a bimonthly since 1959.  You'd think with so many fewer slots for stories, the fiction would be better.  That turns out not to be the case.  I think the really good writers are saving their typing fingers for the sure bucks—the novels and the screenplays.  Or, at least their good stuff.

Case in point: this month's Galaxy.  It's got some big names, but is this the best they can offer what was once scientifiction's premier magazine?


by Gray Morrow, illustrating Transmogrification

A long slog

Damnation Alley, Roger Zelazny

About half of the mag is taken up with Zelazny's novella, Damnation Alley, about a trip across war-savaged America sometime in the near future.  Hell Tanner is a hellraiser, a criminal, a motorcycle enthusiast…and the best driver in the Western Hemisphere.  On the way to the Big House, he's offered a deal: take a vital shipment of drugs across the country from San Diego to Boston in an armored car; in return, he gets a full pardon.

Hell takes the deal, leading a three-car convoy into “damnation alley”, a scenic tour of blighted USA.  We're treated to violent storms that drop frogs and sharks from hundreds of miles away, giant mutant Gila lizards, radiated hellscapes, bandits, marauding biker gangs, and the occasional stretch of considerate humanity.  Now that I write this, it occurs to me it might make a pretty movie, at least of the B Class.


by Jack Gaughan

But B Class is all it would be.  Zelazny has written some of this field's best work recently, garnering well-deserved Hugo nominations and wins.  But Alley is lesser Zelazny, a mildly engaging but prosaic trip across a wild world.  Several times, I found my eyes unfocusing and a voice in the back of my mind muttering, “Why do I care?” The story doesn't say anything, feature anyone particularly interesting, nor really justify the Roger Corman monstrosities Tanner encounters.  What's left is competent writing.  It's not enough.

Three stars.

Poulfinch's Mythology, Poul Anderson


by Virgil Finlay

I always enjoy the conceit of aliens or far-future anthropologists examining current culture (and often coming to ridiculous conclusions).  One of my favorite examples was Horace Coon's 43,000 AD, where three alien archaeologists try to make sense of pre-nuclear America.

Poul Anderson, aided by the exquisite Virgil Finlay, has taken another stab at things, reducing the principal values of mid-century United States (at least as Anderson sees them) to a pantheon of idealized beings.

Some of the entries are funny, but I feel Anderson is going beyond satire to sell his own spin on America, one I'm not entirely on board with.  In particular, I can't agree with his unalloyed exaltation of “Keen”, God of Money, nor his lumping of the Klan with civil rights marchers in the form of “Brothergood” (whom he asserts “raped” Lady Liberty repeatedly).

Two or three stars, depending on your tastes.

For Your Information: The Worst of All Comets, Willy Ley

Ley's science article, on comets, is serviceable.  It's been a long time since his column has been the highlight of the magazine, though, as it was in the earlier part of the 1950s.

Three stars.

The Transmogrification of Wamba's Revenge, H. L. Gold


by Gray Morrow

How's this for a throwback?  H.L. Gold was Galaxy's first editor, helming the magazine through its first, most glorious decade.  But he started as a writer, and now he's back with this strange novelette.  Told from the viewpoint of an African “Pigmy” princess, it involves a western scientist, his treacherous wife, and an unscrupulous big game hunter.  When the hunter and wife start an amorous liaison, Princess Wamba mickeys them with a shrinking potion, reducing them to one tenth their normal size.

The scientist sees Nobel Prize written all over this development, and he undertakes a study of the Pigmy invention, which shrinks all animals except for Pigmies themselves.  Mildly droll high jinks ensue, followed by a surprisingly happy ending.

Very slight stuff, probably better suited for F&SF, but I appreciated the heroine and the sentiment, if not the science.

Three stars.

Understanding, George O. Smith


by R. Dorfman

Every so often, a story comes along with nothing overtly wrong with it, yet with such a profound soporific effect that multiple sessions are required.  Such is the case with this novelette, about an adolescent trapped in an alien city, being herded by the city government toward an unknown destination for an unknown purpose.  Only the appearance of an intelligent, talking dog named Beauregarde may prove an unanticipated wrinkle in their plans.

It's forty pages, and it induced four naps.  'Nuph said.  Two stars.

A Galaxy of Fashion, Frederik Pohl and Carol Pohl

Those who went to Nycon 3 or last year's Tricon were treated to Carol Pohl's “Galaxy of Fashion” at the annual costume ball.  For those who couldn't attend, here's an accompanying set of illustrations.  It's hard to imagine these styles catching on or being at all practical, but who knows?  Maybe mismatched pantleg length will be all the rage in a century.

Galaxy Bookshelf, Algis Budrys

Capping out the issue, the always literate Algis talks about the New Wave.  He notes that there is plenty good stuff coming out now, and it's not your grandpa's (or at least your father's) science fiction.  In particular, he praises the quartet of Aldiss, Ballard, Zelazny, and Delany.  He describes Aldiss as “the least talented” and Ballard “the least intelligent”, saving most of his praise for Delany, who he calls “less disciplined than Ellison”.

I suppose that's the price we pay, right?  The old scene is dead, and what's left is folks either picking its bones or forging something completely new.  The new stuff isn't always a success (I have no real use for Ballard), but it often is.  I guess the real problem is there just isn't enough being produced right now.  In the old days, you could skip the dross and still have plenty to read all the time.  Nowadays, there's only enough to read including the dross.

Which is why my articles haven't been quite so glowing lately.  Sorry about that.  It'd help if other people didn't always get the Delany stories…

But I still love what I do, and I still often love what I read.  Really.  Certainly, our Galactic Stars, our annual list of the year's best SF, are a testament to that.  Also, women seem to be coming back, to the benefit of our genre.  And if we leave the printed word, well, I've been unreserved in my adoration for Star Trek, what Campbell calls “the first adult science fiction show on television.”

So, my dear BNF friend, please understand that if I sometimes appear grumpy or overly critical of this genre we both love, it's because I have to sift through the kaka to get to the rose. And hey, it's not just me: Ted White, Joanna Russ, Algis Budrys, Judy Merril…they all have their grumpy days too, for the same reason.

Nevertheless, of course I still find gems, and I'm always delighted when I do.  And if you want more cheerful news that'll bring more folks to our field, well, tune in to the Galactic Stars.  I guarantee that slew of greatness will be a tonic for any doldrums!

Speaking of Star Trek, the new season starts TOMORROW!  Hope you'll join us, tiger…

Here's the invitation!



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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[September 2, 1967] Of Genies and Bottles (October 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

The radiant genie

They say that, once you let the genie out of the bottle, it can be very hard to get him back in. Twenty-two years ago, we unleashed the genie of atomic warfare, and it has loomed ominously over humanity ever since. Most of us remember the tension of the Cuban Missile Crisis just five years ago (though it seems both farther in the past and more recent) and probably still feel a little uneasy whenever a warning siren goes off. Current predictions estimate as many as 25-30 nuclear-armed countries within 20 years.

William C. Foster, the chief American representative to the Eighteen Nation Committee on Disarmament.

Is this an inevitability? Perhaps not. In 1960, the Ten Nation Committee on Disarmament, composed of five Western and five Eastern countries, met briefly in the spring and early summer, but adjourned indefinitely in the face of the U-2 incident and the collapse of the planned Paris summit. Toward the end of the following year, the U. N. created the Eighteen Nation Committee on Disarmament, composed of the original ten countries and another eight non-aligned nations, which has been meeting regularly in Geneva since March of 1962. On August 11th, William C. Foster, the chief American representative on the committee, announced that the United States and the Soviet Union have agreed in principle on the terms of a nuclear non-proliferation treaty. The two nations submitted identical drafts to the U. N. on the 24th. These will (hopefully) form the basis of a treaty to be voted on by the General Assembly, that will at least rein in the genie.

A bottle of jinn

There are a couple of metaphorical genies out of the bottle in this month’s IF, not to mention all the demons of Hell. Let’s pop the cork.

The art is intriguing, but none of this happens in Hal Clement’s new novel. Art by Castellon

Ocean on Top (Part 1 of 3), by Hal Clement

Our unnamed narrator (he hates his name and won’t say what it is) is an investigator for the Power Board looking into the disappearance of three other investigators near Easter Island. Stealthily sinking to the bottom of the sea, he discovers lights shining on the sea floor – a massive and criminal waste of power – and what seems to be an entire settlement of people. After being found out, he nearly escapes, but is ultimately captured and brought into the base. There he is astonished as he observes his captors removing their helmets, regardless of not only the tremendous pressure, but also the fact that they are still in a watery environment. To be continued.

These underwater criminals ought to be crushed before they have the chance to drown. Art by Castellon

Since this is Hal Clement, there’s undoubtedly some scientific principle at work, but this is otherwise an unusual story for him. This first installment is almost all action (albeit in slow motion, as befits the underwater setting) and has a much darker tone than he usually uses. At this point, we’re left mostly with questions.

Three stars.

Conqueror, by Larry Eisenberg

Joe is a member of the occupying forces on an alien planet. Command keeps careful control on soldiers’ access to booze and sex in order to maintain peaceful relations with the locals, and Joe is getting desperate for the latter. He’s not willing to use one of the androids the natives use, and local women willing to offer themselves to the occupiers are few and far between. So when he runs into a woman willing to go with him in exchange for food, he jumps at the chance.

Eisenberg’s output has been fairly hit or miss thus far. This tale doesn’t quite have the punch he’d like it to have, but it’s reasonably well done and has a sting in its tail.

A high three stars.

Fans Down Under, by Lin Carter

Science fiction fandom isn’t just an American phenomenon, so Our Man in Fandom has decided to take a world tour. First stop is Australia, which seems to be a real hotbed of SF activity, with Melbourne the apparent center. Despite its name, the Australian Science Fiction Review is not a serious, literary fanzine, but one that looks at SF as entertainment and offers lively criticism that pulls no punches. Meanwhile, the Melbourne Science Fiction Club has come up with the idea of holding regular screenings of SF movies and also maintains a lending library. I imagine both are the consequence of the difficulty of finding SF from the rest of the world.

Three stars.

Enemy of the Silkies, by A. E. van Vogt

Silkies were thought to be genetically engineered humans capable of living underwater and in space as easily as on land. In the last story, it was revealed that they are actually aliens, and at the end the Earth was orbiting a giant sun along with thousands of other worlds. When contact is made with the ancient enemies of the Silkies, it is once again up to Nat Cemp to solve the problems of his people and planet.The Nijjan and Silkies are ancient enemies. Art by Gaughan

All three Silkie stories follow the same pattern: Nat encounters an alien threat, learns a new mental ability from the alien, and uses it to defeat the enemy. If you liked the others, you’ll probably like this one.

Barely three stars.

The Food of Mars, by Max H. Flindt

There may be lichen on Mars. Some lichens are edible. Therefore, astronauts who go to Mars will be able to eat lichen.

Never have I seen so many errors of fact in a science article, not even in an Analog article on the Dean drive or using astrology to predict the weather. The author begins with the assertion that there are obviously artificial canals on Mars, thus the areas of color change sometimes observed there must be lichen. This was written before the Mariner photos came out, but even then the idea of Martian canals was a dying, minority opinion. He then discusses lichen in the diets of some human populations (true) and details his own experiences eating Spanish Moss (not a lichen) and Ear of the Wood and Ear of the Rock bought in Chinatown (both are mushrooms).

One star.

Winter of the Llangs, by C. C. MacApp

Chimmuh is an adolescent krote whose herd has been caught in their summering place by early snows. The elderly and weak will be left behind, likely to fall prey to the vicious llangs. As tradition demands, he will remain with his mother, who will deliver a new calf soon. His ingenuity finds the group a place to camp that is easily defended against the llangs, and with luck they can hold out until the return of a hunting party under the command of his father. But that party might pass them by unaware, so it is up to Chimmuh to venture out alone to try to make contact.

Chimmuh fights a pair of llangs. Art by Virgil Finlay

This is a fine little adventure story. Not exceptional, but a decent read. This is the kind of thing MacApp can do right.

Three stars.

Mu Panther, by Donald J. Walsh

A century or so after a couple of major nuclear power plant accidents resulted in mutant predators roaming the American west, Barry Everett and his partners are hired to track down a panther that’s raiding a large ranch in Wyoming. At over 35 feet from nose to tail, this wily creature will demand all their skill and perfect coordination.

This is a standard big game adventure tale – complete with rich idiot who refuses to listen to the experts – all with a science fiction spin. It’s fairly well-written for a freshman effort, even if it’s nothing special.

Three stars.

Faust Aleph-Null (Part 3 of 3), by James Blish

Arms-dealer Baines has hired the black sorcerer Theron Ware to grant a number of high-ranking demons free reign upon the Earth for 24 hours. It goes about as well as you might expect.

Baphomet drops by for some exposition. Art by Gray Morrow

James Blish appears to have been possessed by Philip José Farmer. There’s an interesting story here, but it comes to an unsatisfying and abrupt halt. The story’s end should be the end of the second act. Worse, there’s, at most, enough here for a novelette. Much of the previous installments had subplots and character introductions that serve no purpose to the story. This time, a full page is given to rattling off the names of several white monks, who are just inserts of various science fiction authors (my favorite: Fr. Anson, “a brusque engineer-type who specialized in unclouding the minds of politicians”–note that the "A" in Robert A. Heinlein stands for "Anson"). Six pages are dedicated to the summoning, five of them just for the names and descriptions of several of the demons. This isn’t a story, it’s Blish showing off his research. Much like I said last month, interesting but not necessary. And then everything hits a brick wall and just stops.

Barely three stars for this part and only two for the whole (which is less than the sum of its parts).

Summing up

Another march down the path of mediocrity. There’s some decent stuff here, and some that could be better. Particularly the Blish. It’s a decent setting without the gem it needs. I’ve been saying I’d settle for something really bad, and I certainly got it with the “fact” article. I should be careful what I wish for. As it is, I’d be happy if, for once, I can say more than Señor Wences’ Pedro. “’S all right.”

At least a new Berserker story sounds promising.




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[August 2, 1967] The Bounds of Good Taste (September 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

A diplomatic incident

In the Treaty of Paris of 1763, which ended the Seven Years War, France abandoned her claims to territory in what is today Canada (among others) in order to keep richer colonies in the Caribbean. Britain allowed her new subjects in Quebec to keep their language and religion, likely to keep them from making common cause with the fractious colonies along the Atlantic seaboard. Since then, there has been a strong undercurrent of nationalism among the French-speaking Québécois. Enter French President Charles de Gaulle.

Canada has extended an open invitation to representatives of countries exhibiting at the Expo 67 world’s fair. Last month, de Gaulle came to visit. The Canadian government was a little concerned. France hadn’t sent a representative to the funeral of Governor General Georges Vanier, who had been a personal friend of de Gaulle, or to the 50th anniversary ceremonies commemorating the Canadian victory at Vimy in the Great War. Rather than flying in to the Canadian capital Ottawa, de Gaulle arrived directly in Quebec City aboard a French naval vessel and went on to Montreal from there, with crowds cheering him along the way. He arrived on July 24th, and delivered an unscheduled speech from the balcony of the Montreal City Hall. He concluded by shouting “Vive le Québec libre!” (“Long live free Québec!”) and the crowd roared in approval.

President de Gaulle with foot firmly in mouth.

The next day, Prime Minister Lester Pearson issued an official rebuke, declaring that “Canadians do not need to be liberated” and pointing out that many Canadians died in the liberation of France. Justice Minister Pierre Trudeau wondered what the French reaction would be to the Canadian Prime Minister shouting “Brittany to the Bretons!” Even the French papers were critical. Meanwhile, de Gaulle visited the Expo and hosted a banquet at the French pavilion. The following day, he boarded a French military jet and flew home rather than making his scheduled visit to Ottawa. Whether this was deliberate interference in another country’s domestic affairs or just de Gaulle being de Gaulle, we’ll have to wait to see what the fallout may be.

Walking the line

Apropos of today's lede, at least one story in this month’s IF is about crossing or challenging the lines of what is in good taste. A couple more do that themselves.

This alien dude ranch has become a popular honeymoon spot. Art by Gray Morrow

The Fortunes of Peace, by C. C. MacApp

“Taintless” Wend, Earthborn but now stateless, is a trader operating just past the edge of human space. He’s been captured by the Kyshan pirate Junnabl, who has a plan to get his hands on an abandoned Terran Space Force cache. Wend doesn’t expect Junnabl to let him go with his share, but he has a few connections that might help.

Wend is in trouble, but ready for Junnabl’s men. Art by Virgil Finlay

When he’s not writing about Gree or trying to be funny, MacApp is a decent writer. This is basically an adventure story, but there’s some science-fictional stuff with a monstrous gravity well caused by the “bone” of a dead star, and the protagonist is more of an antihero. It’s not a story that will stick with you, but it’s a good read.

Three stars.

Bride Ninety-One, by Robert Silverberg

In Silverberg's newest piece, contract marriages are the norm, and marriages with aliens are the fad, so Paul Clay has entered a six-month marriage to Landy, a Suvornese. They’ve agreed to follow Terran mores, which leads to more than a few misunderstandings.

This silly piece of fluff seems to exist solely for its mildly suggestive “humorous” ending. The accepted Terran mores feel like they’re from a decade or more ago, not the far future. Some of that may be due to Landy using bad sources, since Paul is often confused by her, but even his attitudes feel a bit old-fashioned. Well-written but pointless.

A low three stars.

To Serve the Masters, by Perry A. Chapdelaine

'Genetic' (the character's name–people are known only by their function) is the end product of over 200 generations of selective breeding by the Masters. We follow his career from childhood to being taken to the Masters’ homeworld for the fulfillment of his millennia of breeding. Maybe the Masters should have couched their request more carefully.

Genetic receives the high honor of conferring directly with a Master. Art by Gaughan

Here is this month’s offering from a new author. It’s not bad, though it is overly long. We could have done with less detail about the alien genetics that inspire our protagonist, and I’m not sure I can really accept most of the premise. But Chapdelaine shows promise and more from him would not be amiss.

A very low three stars.

Venus Smiles, by J. G. Ballard

The community of Vermilion Sands has commissioned a sonic sculpture from a local artist. Unfortunately, everyone hates it; it’s ugly and plays eastern-style quarter tones nobody likes. A member of the Fine Arts Committee moves it to his garden, where it eventually starts playing late Romantic composers. But then it starts to grow.

As I understand it, this is largely a rewrite of Ballard’s “Mobile”, which appeared in Science Fantasy a decade ago, moving the action to Vermilion Sands and maybe adding some other things. By Ballard’s standards, this is a much more conventional story than he tends to produce these days, with only the unexplained growth of the statue being truly weird. I’m not a fan of Ballard, but others may get more out of this than I did.

Three stars.

Friday at the Fanoclasts, by Lin Carter

Our Man in Fandom takes us to a “typical” meeting of his club, though it sounds more like a party. There’s a lot of namedropping, though I was interested to hear that Alexei Panshin is looking for a publisher for a critical study of the works of Robert Heinlein. Carter also tells us that the Fanoclasts aren’t big on organization and structure. Given they’re the ones putting on this year’s Worldcon, I’m not sure that bodes well.

Three stars.

A Bowl Bigger Than Earth, by Philip José Farmer

Awakening from his deathbed, Morfiks finds himself in a hairless, sexless body sliding down the frictionless slope of a gigantic brass bowl. He is flung out the other side and lands in a river, from which he is fished out and taken to a city of brass. There, no one has a name, all are equal, and all are punished for any infraction unless the wrongdoer confesses. Everyone also studiously avoids mentioning just where it is they are.

A typical Gaughan abstract for a typical Farmer story. Art by Gaughan

As usual, Farmer gives us an interesting set-up and no real pay-off. I found the ending unpleasant and rather tasteless. In my review of Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream”, I noted that Harlan didn’t wallow in the ugliness he showed us. Farmer wallows.

Two stars.

Faust Aleph-Null (Part 2 of 3), by James Blish

Weapons manufacturer Baines has contracted the services of black magician Theron Ware. Following the successful death of Governor Rogan of California, Baines has arrived at Ware’s Italian villa at Christmas time, along with his executive assistant Jack Ginsberg and company scientist Adolph Hess. Also present is Father Domenico of the white monks of Monte Albano, sent by his superiors as an observer in accordance with the Grand Covenant.

Baines’ next target is scientist Albert Stockhausen. Because Stockhausen is a good man, his death will require greater magic than Rogan’s. Ware enlists Baines and his two companions to aid in the summoning of the demon Marchosias. Once the scientist is dead, Baines reveals his true goal: he wants all the demons of Hell released to walk the Earth for 24 hours. That’s more than Ware can manage, but he should be able to produce 50 or so. However, he will need the help not only of Baines and his men, but also Fr. Domenico. The date of the experiment is set for Easter. To be concluded.

Marchosias appears in the first of several forms. Art by Gray Morrow.

Not much happens here. There’s a subplot about Ginsberg and a succubus, but apart from the summoning, this installment consists of more people sitting around talking than a Heinlein novel. And while a lot of it is interesting, I’m not sure it’s necessary. The first two installments could easily have been condensed to a medium-length story. Much of the rest feels like Blish showing off the depth of his research.

Three stars.

Invader, by Harl Vincent

Chuck Radford awakens to the sensation of something attaching itself to the back of his neck. Meanwhile on Tau Ceti II, the mind of Princess Arla has fled, and Prince Bor’s mind must be sent after her. Chuck and his partner receive an unexpected windfall and decide on sudden vacations, with Chuck uncharacteristically picking Las Vegas as his destination. After an incredible run of luck, he wins just enough to pay off the debts of the troubled Jan Jones, whom he then rescues from a mysterious gunman.

Chuck’s most amazing skill is the ability to deliver a roundhouse kick in an elevator. Art by Vaughn Bodé

Harl Vincent was a pretty big name before the War, big enough to be chosen to do a round-robin story with the likes of Murray Leinster, Doc Smith and Stanley Weinbaum. As you can tell from the recap, the bones of this story are pretty pulpy. The writing, on the other hand, feels more modern; nothing special, just not the heavy slog of something from 30 years ago. If I have a real complaint, it’s that the gunman is never adequately explained. It was otherwise an enjoyable trifle.

Three stars.

Summing up

Another C to C- issue. There’s some forgettable fun and some stuff that’s sure to upset Mrs. Grundy and maybe even those less easily offended. (I certainly didn’t expect to find a term for an artificial phallus in IF, and I’m not sure that’s what Blish meant.) I miss the heady days of the March issue or wish for at least one stand-out story.

An oceanic theme from Clement. I wonder if this is related to Raindrop or The Mechanic.




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

[July 8, 1967] Family lines (August 1967 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Royal Families

The news always likes to focus on heads of state, especially when they are flashy or glamorous in some way.  From Princess Grace of Monaco to Crown Prince Akihito of Japan, these leaders are instant idols, somehow more compelling for having the reins (and reigns) of nations even though they presumably put their pants/skirts/obis on the same way as the common folk.

This week scored a triplet of spotlights.  For instance, in the island nation of Tonga, Taufaʻahau Tupou IV was crowned monarch in a ceremony that included a feast of 71,000 suckling pigs!  And that, by itself, tells you all you need to know about the current Jewish/Moslem population of Tonga…

Closer to home, El BJ, chief of the United States, has got his first grandson.  Patrick Lyndon Nugent is the newborn child of First Daughter Luci Nugent (neé Johnson).  There is no word, as yet, whether his toddler status will grant him deferment in the lastest draft lottery.

Finally, junta chairman General Nguyen Cao Ky, the flamboyant leader of South Vietnam since 1965, has decided not to run for President in the upcoming democratic (perhaps) September elections.  Premier Thiệu has been backed by the junta for the top role, instead, with Ky getting the Vice Presidential nod.  It's all a lot of musical chairs, anyway. After all, Ky has asserted that the only politician he admires is Hitler, which tells you all you need to know about the state of democracy in that country (and its current Jewish population…)

Watching Big Brother

Fred Pohl, one of the original Futurians and a pillar of the SF community, has had his hands full for nearly a decade.  After he took over the reins of Galaxy and the newly acquired IF from H. L. Gold, rather than sit on his laurels, he looked for new worlds to conquer.  Thus, Worlds of Tomorrow was launched in 1963.  But juggling three mags (plus a few reprint-only titles) was a challenging job, often resulting in uneven quality and occasionally right-out flubs.  For instance, last year's issue of Worlds of Tomorrow where the pages got all mixed up.

One would think, with WoT going out of publication, that things might be less hectic over at the Guinn Co. mags.  But, in fact, this month's issue of Galaxy is even more higgledy-piggledy, making reading a real challenge.


by Sol Dember

Which is a shame, because there's some quite good stuff in here (mixed with some mediocre stuff, to be sure).  Thankfully, you've got me to be your guide.  Just grab your compass, or you might get lost.

Hawksbill Station, by Robert Silverberg


by Virgil Finlay

One-way time travel is developed in the early 21st Century.  Since humanity is deathly afraid of creating paradoxes, the new portals are used by the totalitarian regime for just one purpose: shipping undesirables into the far past, a sort of Paleozoic Botany Bay.

Hawksbill Station is the one reserved for male subversives, established sometime in the late Cambrian (Silverberg repeatedly gives a date of two billion years ago, but of course, the Cambrian went from about 600-500 million B.C.) Our perspective is that of Barrett, the de facto head of the more than 100 settler/prisoners on the coast of what will one day be the Atlantic Ocean.  It is a community slowly decaying as its denizens age along with no greater purpose in life.  That is, until a new young convict arrives from the future, one who appears to be a government spy…

This is more of a travelogue than a story, and the ending comes on a bit abruptly.  But the characterization, the details, the setting are all so gripping that I tore through the novella in no time, despite the labyrinthine page distribution.

Four stars, and if it ever gets expanded into a novel, it could make five.

Angel, Dark Angel, by Roger Zelazny

In another future-set tale, society is maintained by a sort of corporate Angel of Death who, with the help of ten thousand teleporting assistants, brings death to citizens after they have made sufficient contribution to humanity (and are, perhaps, on the verge of being detrimental).

One noteworthy woman has cultivated the aesthetic race of spirules (depicted on the cover) as an antidote to the cold, mechanistic technology of her time.  A subordinate angel is sent to dispatch her, but things prove more complicated.

This is a middlin' Zelazny story, not an empty poetic suit like some, but not a near masterpiece like some of his other works.  Three stars.

We're Coming Through the Window, by K. M. O'donnell

Throwaway vignette about a fellow who keeps duplicating himself due to time travel and needs Fred Pohl's help to get out of it.

Cute.  Three stars.

Ginny Wrapped in the Sun, by R. A. Lafferty

Ginny seems to be a precocious four year old, but in fact, is actually just a baseline human, maturing at age 4 and going on as an upright monkey.  It's the rest of us who are evolutionary aberrations, having five times as many heartbeats that a creature our mass should have.  Inevitably, Lafferty suggests, we'll all go ape.

This tale doesn't really work, and it's a bit more impenetrable than Lafferty's usual fare.  Two stars.

For Your Information: A Pangolin Is a Pangolin, by Willy Ley

Ley's article on the strange mammal that is neither aardvark nor anteater nor armadillo is interesting, but not much more than you might get from a rather good encyclopedia entry.

Three stars.

9-9-99, by Richard Wilson

Two wizened old characters are determined to settle an old score since both have outlived their wagered death dates, the bet having been made back in the 30s.

Whether it is even possible for them to collect given the state of the Earth in the late '90s is another matter…

Good enough, I guess.  Three stars.


by Wally Wood

Travelers Guide to Megahouston, by H. H. Hollis


by Wally Wood

This is a very long, somewhat farcical account of a 21st Century evolution of the Astrodome, in which domes enclose whole cities.

Pretty dull stuff.  Two stars.

The Being in the Tank, by Theodore L. Thomas

An alien being materializes in the heart of a hellish hydrazine factory and demands to speak to the President.  But is he the real deal?

Forgettable, but inoffensive.  A low three stars.

Hide and Seek, by Linda Marlowe

A childhood game is adapted into a method of population control.  It has shock value, but little else.

Two stars.

The Great Stupids, by Miriam Allen deFord

Mad scientist makes everyone under 50 a mental moron, all in service of a rather lame joke at the end.  DeFord was once one of the stars of the genre, but her light has waned over the years.  Here's hoping she's a Cepheid variable and not a dying dwarf.

To Outlive Eternity (Part 2 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by Jack Gaughan

It is fitting that the final long piece of the issue is a sort of mirror image of Silverberg's novella in terms of strengths and weaknesses.  As we read in last month's installment, the ramscoop colony ship Leonora Christine suffered damage to its decelerators while traveling at near light speed on the way to Beta Virginis.  The solution: to accelerate to terrific velocities instead, plunging through the heart of the galaxy and out into the comparative emptiness of intergalactic space where repairs might be effected.

In this half, event after event conspires to force the Christine to travel ever faster and faster, ultimately spanning the lifespan of the universe and beyond in a matter of months.  The story is told as a series of problem-solving conversations spread out over the weeks, and each character largely exists solely to have these conversations.  Except for the women, of course, who are almost universally hysterics or hangers-on…except for the First Officer who ultimately whores herself out for the good of the crew.

In short, the setup and ideas are really neat, but its a plot outline, not a novel.  And where Poul Anderson does try to characterize, it's with quick stereotypes, and usually not agreeable ones.  As for setting, there really isn't one.  The crew of the Christine might as well be floating heads in blank spaces for all we really get to experience the ship.

Readable, but badly flawed.  Three stars.

Matrix Goose, by Jack Sharkey

Last up, some very familiar nursery rhymes as they might be rendered by robots–after the demise of humanity.  It's cute.  Three stars.


Perhaps my favorite example, art by Gray Morrow

Cross-eyed Kin

And so, Galaxy ends up a largely enjoyable, but unremarkable read — just under 3 stars in ranking.  Perhaps, with the demise of Worlds of Tomorrow further in the rear-view mirror, Pohl will be able to concentrate on (and concentrate the best stories into) his remaining mags.

On the other hand, perhaps he hasn't learned his lesson.  He's got a new magazine is coming out next month…



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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 4, 1967] Angels and Demons (August 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

The angels of our better nature…

It all started in January with a day of music and speeches called the Human Be-In in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. Young people came from all over, and as many as 30,000 people attended. When spring break rolled around, more and more descended on the city’s Haight-Ashbury district and other places around the Bay Area. Alarmed by the growing “hippie problem”, the Mayor and Board of Supervisors tried to stem the tide, but only drew greater attention to the mass migration. The trickle has become a flood, and tens of thousands of “flower children” have come to San Francisco. In response to the city’s inaction, various groups and organizations formed the Council for the Summer of Love, creating a free clinic and helping newcomers to find food and housing.

The official poster created by Bob Schnepf

Music is important to the youth movement, and two events in the Bay Area proved very popular. On June 10th and 11th, radio station KFRC held the Fantasy Fair and Magic Mountain Music Festival in the Cushing Memorial Amphitheater on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County, with all proceeds going to the Hunter’s Point Child Care Center. Bands from the region and farther afield performed on two stages, while visitors could also wander through the arts and crafts fair in the woods around the theater. Some of the bigger names included Dionne Warwick, the Byrds, Jefferson Airplane and the Doors. The event appears to have gone off without incident.

The festival was delayed one week due to bad weather.

One week later, the Monterey International Pop Festival took place down the coast. Inspired by the Monterey Jazz Festival and the Big Sur Folk Festival, this brainchild of John Phillips (of the Mamas and the Papas) and record producer Lou Adler was put together in just seven weeks. There was some overlap with the Fantasy Fair (Jefferson Airplane and the Byrds, for example), but there were some really big names as well, such as Simon and Garfunkel, the Animals, the Who, and of course the Mamas and the Papas. Sunday afternoon was given over to sitar player Ravi Shankar. The Who and Jimi Hendrix were afraid of being upstaged by the other, so they flipped a coin. Hendrix got to go second on Sunday evening, and after the Who finished their set by smashing their instruments, Hendrix topped them by setting his guitar on fire, smashing it and tossing the pieces into the audience.

This poster is a good example of the new psychedelic art style.

Summer officially begins with the solstice, when the sun reaches its northernmost point. In the pre-dawn hours on the 21st, a thousand or so hippies climbed the Twin Peaks in the heart of San Francisco to greet the sunrise with chants, drums and incense to inaugurate their hoped for Summer of Love. The sun even managed to burn through the fog around 7:00. Whether it really will be a summer of love or another long, hot summer like last year remains to be seen.

Hippie Randall DeLeon greets the sun and makes the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle.

… and the demons of our worst

This month’s IF is full of demons: personal, metaphorical and literal. But first, editor Fred Pohl makes the death of Worlds of Tomorrow official. The problem was distribution. Not enough news stands carried the magazine, and digests (unlike the slicks and their high ad rates) can’t get by on just subscription sales. So some of the features exclusive to Worlds of Tomorrow have been rolled into IF and the price is going up, both of which are reflected on the cover.

That’s not quite how black magic works in the new Blish novel, but it ought to be. Art by Morrow

Faust Aleph-Null (Part 1 of 3), by James Blish

Arms dealer Baines has come to Italy to meet with Theron Ware, a magician specializing in crimes of violence, whose power comes from trafficking with demons. Baines is naturally skeptical and asks Ware to prove his abilities by causing the apparently natural death of Governor Rogan of California. Meanwhile, the monks of Monte Albano, who derive their powers from dealing with angels, have learned through divination that something serious will come of this meeting. In accordance with ancient agreements, they send an observer, Father Domenico. Following the death of Governor Rogan, Fr. Domenico and Baines arrive at Ware’s villa on Christmas Day. To be continued.

Ware has set a demon to follow Baines around, probably until his check clears. Art by Morrow

Interesting. This is our world, but magic works, though not openly. I suspect this may have been inspired by Blish’s research for his novel about Roger Bacon a few years ago. In any case, the writing is sound, much better than The Hour Before Earthrise, although none of the characters – not even the white monks – are terribly pleasant. I’m curious to see where this is going.

A solid three stars.

The Trouble With Vegans, by Roger Deeley

Vegans are inveterate smugglers, aided by their unusual biology. The former Chief Customs Officer of Newyorkport explains how he lost his job.

Here is this month’s new author. It’s not bad for a freshman effort, but it’s also rather contrived. Acceptable, but the author has a lot of room to grow.

Barely three stars.

Clear as Mud, by Keith Laumer

Retief is Vice-consul of the Terran envoy to Slunch, a planet beset by massive mudflows. He has a plan for fixing the problem, but is interrupted by the arrival of a trade mission. Rainsinger, the head of the mission, proceeds to make things much worse.

Retief and Magnan head for the source of the mud. Art by Gaughan

While this is a lesser Retief story, a couple of things do set it apart. For one thing, Retief is barely in it outside of the action scenes. Most of the focus is on his usual immediate superior, Ben Magnan. For another, the high-ranking diplomat recognizes and acknowledges his mistake, apologizes for it, and then helps Retief set things right. Very unusual.

A low three stars.

Fan Into Pro, by Lin Carter

Picking up where he left off last month, Our Man in Fandom talks about fans who have become writers. After name-checking a few older writers like Ray Bradbury and Fred Pohl, he looks at some newer writers to come out of fandom, with people like Ted White, Tom Purdom or Terry Carr. Artists also come out of fandom, like Frazetta and Morrow.

Three stars.

The Winged Helmet, by Fred Saberhagen

On a world where a quirk of physics has humanity fighting the deadly Berserkers across time, the life-hating machines have killed the semi-legendary King Ay. In the present, Time Ops has only a few days to find the keyhole that will let them correct the disaster before the ripples of the change in history catch up to them. The only person who can go back to Ay’s day and not lose his memory is the Stone Age man Matt. Has time operative Derron suggested Matt’s name because that’s the man for the job or because the girl he loves is in love with Matt?

Matt, posing as Ay, fights a “demon”. Art by Wood

This is a direct sequel to Stone Man from the final issue of Worlds of Tomorrow. The main characters here are all from that story, but this reads well enough without knowing the other tale. Saberhagen continues to keep this series fresh, especially because they’re really about the people in them, not the war against the machines. The parts set in the past read like a decent fantasy story, so I wonder if it might not be time for Mr. Saberhagen to branch out and write about something else.

Three stars.

Paint ‘em Green, by Burt K. Filer

Ambrija (America, Britain, Japan) and Russia are locked into a Cold War race to come up with a non-nuclear superweapon. Junk dealer Jack Booth might be able to help engineer Charlie come up with something, but it’s going to be expensive.

Filer’s sophomore outing is slightly better than his debut, but only slightly. The writing is fine, but the story has little internal logic and is hurt by leading to a “humorous” conclusion.

Two stars.

When Women Rule, by Sam Moskowitz

Moving over from Worlds of Tomorrow, Sam Moskowitz takes a look at the long fascination with stories in which women are in charge, with or without the presence of men. He traces those stories from the Greek myths of the Amazons, through the Spanish novel which gave California its name, and on through the Pulp Era to today (his most recent example is Amazon Planet, which I’m not sure he actually understood). As usual, his knowledge is encyclopedic, but he doesn’t do much with it beyond reciting a catalogue. He also fails to engage with the question of why the women are of enormous size in so many of these stories. The best he can do for a conclusion is that society needs both men and women, but he seems content with the status quo.

Barely three stars.

The Felled Star (Part 2 of 2), by Philip José Farmer

On the Riverworld, Samuel Clemens, aided by the ape-man Joe Miller and Lothar von Richtofen, has joined forces with a group of vikings led by Erik Bloodaxe to find a large source of iron. Bloodaxe wants power, Sam wants a steamboat. Having survived the fall of a giant meteor, they’ve landed where they think it fell, but have no luck finding it. One night, Sam is visited by a Mysterious Stranger claiming to be a high-ranking member of the Ethicals, the people responsible for calling humanity back from death. The Stranger is opposed to the goals of his compatriots and is recruiting a group to thwart their aims. He tells Sam where to find the resources he needs and promises to find Sam’s wife Livy. Sam puts the whole thing down to a drug-induced dream, but Joe says he can smell the Stranger and reveals that he encountered people who smell like that in his original life back on Earth. But first, Sam is going to have to betray Bloodaxe before Bloodaxe betrays him.

The Mysterious Stranger sends a fellow by the name of Odysseus to help Sam. Art by Gaughan

There’s a story here, but it’s awfully incomplete. Most of it is Sam wrestling with his inner demons and some exposition about the overarching story of why the Riverworld exists. Farmer drops the bombshell of Joe encountering Ethicals hundreds of thousands of years ago, but its only purpose is to get Sam to believe in the Mysterious Stranger. And the whole thing ends on a huge cliffhanger. There’s obviously much more to come, and I can only hope Farmer gets to it soon. Unfortunately, we all know he has problems with endings.

Still, three stars for this and the serial as a whole (pending a real conclusion).

Summing up

Another stroll through the garden of mediocrity. The new Blish serial certainly looks promising, but he’s not an author I necessarily trust. The Farmer could have been a lot more than it is, if only he’d written the rest of the story. But then, he’s another author I don’t really trust to get things right. I don’t mind middle of the road if there’s also something that really stands out. At this point, I’d take a really bad story, just to enjoy ripping it apart. Better luck next month.

Harl Vincent. Now that’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time.




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[June 20, 1967] Yours sincerely, wasting away (July 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

When I get older, losing my hair

Age afflicts us all.  I remember once having a beautiful mop of curly hair with a line that was two inches from my brows.  Now, the front is racing toward the back, and my only compsensation is the flourishing stuff coming out my ears.

Of course, people age in different ways.  Robert Preston sang in last year's musical hit, I do! I do!–"Men of forty go to town. Women go to pot," but in my experience, it's quite the opposite. I'd like to think that I'm "entering my prime," but who knows?

Science fiction magazines are going through a midlife crisis, too.  The oldest of them, Amazing, turned 41 this year.  But is it "delightfully witty" and "wise"? Has it "stood the test of time"?  In fact, the magazine that Gernsback built is consistently the lowest rated of the SF digests, packed mostly with cheap reprints.  How about Analog, neé Astounding, rapidly approaching its Jack Benny birthday (he's eternally 39, you see)?  Well, I suppose it depends on whom you ask, but I think it's safe to say that Campbell's mag is definitely in a rut, fossilized into the features it had some fifteen years ago.

Even the newer crop has had a stormy adolescence.  Galaxy is 17.  Once a brilliant child, it is now an often insipid teenager.  If it stays this staid, it may not make it to voting age.  And how about Fantasy and Science Fiction, which just left its minority this year?  The venerable mag, the most literary of its kind, has had an unstable family life, with revolving editors through its teen years.  As a result, the wrinkles are already showing in this 18 year old.

Ed Ferman seems to be aware of his institution's aging.  Indeed, this month's issue, which begins and ends with (and devotes half its words to) the subject of growing old, seems a deliberate acknowledgement of the predicament.


by Jack Gaughan

The Day Before Forever, by Keith Laumer

Steve Dravek, late a denizen of the 20th Century, finds himself on a street near the end of the 21st.  Only shreds of memory remain, enough to give him a sense of identity, but no idea how he arrived in the future (young again, when he had been middle aged) nor why the black uniformed mooks of Eternity Incorporated (ETORP) are after him.

After being beset by "the lowest of the low" in a park, he is apprehended by "Jess", self-proclaimed "highest of the low", for purposes unknown.  Dravek uses force and wit to turn the situation around, making Jess take him to the heart of ETORP's facility on Long Island in pursuit of the truth…and himself.

Forever uses the latest gimmick everyone seems to have latched onto lately: cryonics.  That's the idea that one can be flash frozen before death in the hopes that any malady one is suffering from can be cured in the future.  Fred Pohl, editor of Galaxy and IF has gone into it in a big way, but now it's showing up here, too.

Anyway, there are more twists and turns than a new Los Angeles freeway interchange, and a lot of it gets explained in the end rather than shown as the story goes, but it's a readable potboiler, the kind Laumer can crank out in his sleep.

Three stars.

Balgrummo's Hell, by Russell Kirk

60+ years ago, Laird Balgrummo was sealed in his decaying manor house after committing an unspeakable crime against humanity and nature.  Now the world is waiting for him to shuffle off this mortal coil…save for Horgan, a greedy thief who would rob Balgrummo of his fortune of paintings while he sleeps.

Except Balgrummo sleeps not.  He lurks.

There are no surprises in this story, which reads like something out of Weird Tales' early days.  But the telling is delicious. 

My favorite story of the issue: four stars.

Alter Ego, by Hugo Correa

If you could make an identical new you, one unhindered by all of your life's wrong choices, who would be the better person?  You, or the android duplicate?

More a philosophical piece than science fiction, I found it stayed with me.  Three stars.

Encounter in the Past, by Robert Nathan

On the other hand, Nathan's story of the rediscovery of a Mesozoic human civilization doesn't make a lot of sense.  I reread the short piece a few times, and I still can't make heads or tails of it.

Two stars.

The Master's Thesis, by David Madden

Worse still is this pointless piece about a Professor Swinnard and the young man who insists on afflicting him with his master's thesis.  The story goes 'round in circles as Swinnard is increasingly disarmed and discomfited by the student's rudeness and the haste with which he finishes his project…yet I am at a loss to understand whence stems the horror, nor what the final thesis is actually about.

Am I stupid?  Is the point obvious to anyone else?

One star.

Flight Between Realities, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Buck's poem from the standpoint of an omniscient being sipping her sherry is a bit hard to parse, but seems to be of great moment.

Three stars.

The Sea Monster and the Mayor of New York City, by Gahan Wilson

On the perils to a monster's digestion due to the consumption of a fraught metropolis. 

Frivolous.  Two stars.

Twelve Point Three Six Nine, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor explains the foolishness of associating significance to chance juxtapositions of numbers by creating his own, tying together the relation of the lunar and solar calendars to the Bible.

It's cute, and I found some of the historical bits interesting.  Three stars.

The Vitanuls, by John Brunner

In the early 21st Century, the birthrate has slackened.  But new births are not unknown, and as a kind of medical immortality is introduced, more and more babies are born healthy but vacant.  Void of intellect or animus.  Could there be a connection?

This story has a lot of problems.  Not only is the piece structurally flawed, telegraphing its ending from the beginning but taking forever to get there, but it also doesn't seem to understand how souls work.  Set in India, there is much reference to Hindu reincarnation and such.  But the story suggests that there is a limited number of human souls, and by cheating death, we're robbing the young of life. 

I'd always understood that, per Hinduism, animals and plants and…everything…had souls, all of which could serve in a human form.  Even if that were not the case, I think Brunner's math is off.  Yes, it's true that half of the people who've ever lived are alive today, but if the living outnumber the dead, it won't be because of immortality, but simple birthrate.  And does the store of human souls grow over time, or was it fixed, like the memory store of a mainframe, at a specific number deemed sufficient a million years ago, but now inadequate?

Two stars for this poorly thought out shock tale.

Will you still need me?  Will you still read me?

I understand summer is when magazines put out all their inferior stuff since readership is at its lowest ebbs during the dog days.  Still, if this latest issue (which scores just 2.7 on the Starometer) be any indication of where the magazine is headed, quality-wise, I have distinct concerns that it may never make it to the ripe old age of 64…


by Gahan Wilson



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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 2, 1967] Uneasy Alliances (July 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

Persecution and division

It’s rarely discussed, but a major condition of the decolonization of Africa has been that the newly independent nations are expected to retain their old colonial boundaries. The stated reason is to prevent squabbling and even armed conflict over redrawing those boundaries, such as we’ve seen between Pakistan and India. It sounds good on paper; unfortunately, paper is where those boundaries were drawn, often with little regard for people living there and leaving major tribes and ethnic groups split by lines on a map. Add in the tendency of colonial administrations to favor one tribe over others and you have the basis for a lot of unrest.

Nigeria is proving to be a case in point. Economic problems, tensions between the Muslim north and Christian south, government corruption, and an election widely seen as fraudulent all came to a head in an attempted military coup at the beginning of last year. Although the coup failed, the military was left in charge, and military governors were placed in the four states. An attempt to create a more centralized government led to a counter-coup and the near dissolution of Nigeria. Under Western pressure, the new head of the government, Colonel Yakubu Gowon, restored the federal system.

Then pogroms in the north against the Igbo (a largely Christian tribe from Eastern Nigeria) and other eastern groups left as many as 30,000 dead and over a million refugees fled to the east. The strain on the east led to negotiations between Colonel Gowon and Eastern military governor Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu seemed promising, but have fallen apart. On May 27th, Gowon declared that Nigeria would be divided into 12 states (cutting the Igbo off from oil money). The same day Colonel Ojukwu declared the independence of Eastern Nigeria. As we go to press, it has been announced that the new country will be called the Republic of Biafra. Nigeria is unlikely to accept this assertion of independence.

l.: Colonel Yakubu Gowon of Nigeria. r.: Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu of Biafra.

Mediocrity strikes again

Similarly unstable is this month’s IF, full of shaky partnerships, from famous authors and vikings to complicated family politics. Some expect betrayal, others will find themselves surprised.

Joe Miller is the most fearsome warrior these vikings have ever seen. Art by Gaughan

The Felled Star (Part 1 of 2), by Philip José Farmer

Twenty years ago, everyone who ever lived and reached the age of five or so awoke on the Riverworld, brought back to life by someone for mysterious purposes. Samuel Clemens (better known to the world as Mark Twain) is traveling with a band of vikings led by Eric Bloodaxe. Also along is Sam’s best friend, Joe Miller, a “titanthrop” or ape-man with a nose like a proboscis monkey. They’re seeking a source of iron, which is almost non-existent. Bloodaxe carries an iron axe, most likely from meteoric iron, but he wants more for the power it will bring. Sam wants to build a steamboat (and find his beloved wife Livy). They also hope to reach the headwaters of the River, which Joe once visited and saw a mist-shrouded tower and flying boats.

The group is attacked by a settlement of 19th century Germans, equipped with gliders and bombs. The fall of a huge meteor several valleys away smashes everything with a massive wave, but the viking boat manages to ride out the destruction. They fish Lothar von Richthofen (the younger brother of the Red Baron) out of the wreckage, and he gladly joins their quest.

Curse you, Red Baron’s little brother! Art by Gaughan

This brief installment is largely set-up. Mostly, we get everyone’s motivations and witness a possible source of a lot of iron. The most interesting bit here is Joe Miller. His tale of the tower is very well done. The implication that this distant relative of Homo sapiens counts as human for whoever is behind the great resurrection also raises some fascinating questions. We’ll see what Farmer manages to do with all this.

Three stars.

Pelandra’s Husbands, by E. A. Walton

Pelandra is destined to become an immortal and marry the immortal leader of an expedition to a planet circling another star. Along the way, she is expected to marry a series of men selected for their compatibility as spare parts for the immortals. Unfortunately, she has fallen in love with husband Number Three, and he is scheduled for recycling very soon.

Walton is a British fan, making her first professional sale. Very little makes any sense. The whole situation is contrived just to create the problem and obvious ending.

Two stars.

Population Implosion, by Andrew J. Offutt

The oldest people are dropping dead for no apparent reason, and what constitutes oldest is getting younger every day. It turns out that the death rate now corresponds exactly with the birth rate. International efforts try to reduce the birth rate, but somebody’s cheating.

Bob Hope and (presumably) Bing Crosby starring in The Road to Armageddon. Art by Vaughn Bodé

Another story that makes no sense and has more holes than all the cheese in Switzerland. It’s an interesting “what if?”, but Offutt doesn’t do anything with it.

Two stars.

A Ticket to Zenner, by C. C. MacApp

Tom Larrow has worked on the planet Merob for several years, but a revolution means that all non-Merobans must leave. He was attacked and had his passport and ticket for Earth stolen. Lucky for him, since the ship blew up just as it entered space. His assailant also kindly left behind another passport and a ticket to Zenner. With the help of his employer, Tom gets away with a ring of little value and the name of a contact, but someone is still hunting for him.

Tom tries to smuggle himself off the starship. Art by Virgil Finlay

When he’s not writing about Gree or trying to be funny, MacApp is a decent writer. Somebody like Keith Laumer might have made this story (which owes more than a little to North by Northwest) a bit more exciting and tied things up a bit better, but MacApp’s rendition is serviceable.

Three stars.

The Tusk, by L. Sprague de Camp

A very short poem musing on a mammoth tusk in a museum.

Art by Gaughan

I have a poor sense of meter, but the rhythm here feels jarring and inconsistent. The punchline is also facile at best. Not Sprague’s best work.

Two stars.

The Purpose of Fandom, by Lin Carter

It doesn’t have a purpose, says Carter. But here he looks at how science fiction fandom differs from others. Notably, the large number of fans who become pros. This month, it’s those who became publishers and editors, next month will be writers.

Three stars.

Adam’s Eva, by Alan Dirkson

A minor mishap during his activation leaves Adam Pilot more ambitious and more prone to ask questions than most robots. His first day on the job, he meets Eva Hostess, who goes to great lengths to make everything perfect in the hopes that today there will be Passengers. But Passengers never come, and flights are often canceled due to fuel shortages. When Eva disappears, Adam does everything he can to find her, even going down to the Slag Heap, where he makes a big difference to the lives of the unfortunates there and eventually learns why there are never any Passengers.

Adam on the Slag Heap. Art by Virgil Finlay

Here is our second first-time author this month. Line by line, the writing is serviceable, though nothing special. But the whole thing is painfully obvious, and the title really gives away the ending. It’s also a bit long.

A very low three stars, though that might be generous.

Spaceman! (Part 3 of 3), by Keith Laumer

Billy Danger accidentally found himself aboard a spaceship where he committed himself to seeing to the safety of the beautiful Lady Raire. He lost her, found her and lost her again. Now he’s a slave. He befriends a fellow slave, the insect-like Fsha-Fsha, and they plan an escape. Before they can pull it off, Billy is sent to a punishment assignment. He’s rescued by Fsha-Fsha and Srat, whom he thought had betrayed him. Srat is killed, but Billy and Fsha-Fsha gradually work their way toward Raire’s home planet, having several adventures along the way. Eventually, he’ll have to rescue Raire one final time.

Billy became an expert swordsman by… sorting fruit. Laumer almost makes it believable. Art by Castellon

All in all, it’s a decent space adventure, but that’s all it is. Laumer is capable of much better. This also feels like it’s based on his notes for Earthblood and ideas he pitched to Rosel Brown that they didn’t use. It’s a fine novel, but if you have to choose between reading this or Earthblood, choose the latter. However, reading them together will give you a greater appreciation of Brown as an author.

Three stars for this installment and the novel as a whole.

Summing up

A pretty weak issue overall. Some stuff that’s okay and some that fails to reach that level. The Farmer has potential, but we all know he has problems with endings. There’s also a letter from James Blish, talking about his Star Trek book. Apparently, it’s done very well, and both he and the publisher have been deluged with fan mail. There’s a second volume due out towards the end of the year.

Speaking of Blish…




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 12, 1967] There and Back Again (June 1967 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Living in the Past


Dancing on the main stage

The Renaissance Pleasure Faire has really taken off since it first opened in 1963.  Sort of a reaction to modern society, it is several acres of the 16th Century surrounded by semi-arid modern Southern California.  And as a refuge from the horrors of today (and sanitized to be free of the horrors of yesterday), it has become a prime sanctuary for hippies and other counter-culture freaks to enjoy some solace.


A typical scene–we pretend the "mundanes" aren't there…

And the Journey is no exception!


Iacobus of Constantinople (left) confers with Lord Sir Basil, Count of Argent (me!)


Lorelei has found her chosen weapon.


Captain Clara Hawkins (time traveling from the 17th Century) and Lorelei ride unicorns.


Good writers don't grow on trees, but some, like Elijah, play in them.


The whole gang.  Note associates Elijah (purple, third from left), Joe (center, back), Abby (gold, center front), Lorelei (to her right), and Tam (second from right).

Living in the Future

The pages of this month's Galaxy also offer an escape, and for the most part, a pleasant one!


by Gray Morrow

To Outlive Eternity (pt 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson

Things open with a literal bang.  The Leonora Christine, zooming through space at relativistic velocities on a mission of colonization, rams into a small nebula at near light speed.  Though the 50 or so crew and scientists are unhurt, the ship has lost its ability to decelerate.  It is now doomed to travel through the galaxy and beyond, its tau (or time) compression factor ever increasing, such that the entire life of the universe might pass in a lifetime.

Earth is now long in the past; can the Leonora Christine's complement effect repairs such that they can at least someday cease being a cosmic Flying Dutchman?


by Jack Gaughan

Poul Anderson, when he's got his blood high, fuses science and character better than most (when he's in it for the paycheck, he gets the science right, but the rest is dull as dishwater).  The near-light Bussard ramjet concept was explored recently in Niven's The Ethics of Madness, but this gripping tale promises to reward the reader more fully.

Four stars.

Mirror of Ice, by Gary Wright

Gary must have recently watched Grand Prix, for his tale of high-speed bobsledding of the future, with its 10% fatality rate per race, strongly evokes that vivid movie.  Or the author is just a big racing fanatic.  After all, such was the topic of his last story.

Anyway, perfectly acceptable, if not too memorable; I wonder if he'd originally intended this for Playboy…or Sports Illustrated!

Three stars.

Polity and Custom of the Camiroi, by R. A. Lafferty

A three-person anthropological team investigates the highly libertarian planet of Camiroi.  Society there is highly advanced, seemingly utopian, and utterly decentralized.  Sounds like a Heinleinesque paradise.  However, there are indications that the Terrans are being put on, mostly in an attempt to just get them to leave.

The result is something like what might have happened if Cordwainer Smith and Robert Sheckley had a baby.  That'd be one weird tot…but an interesting one.

Four stars.

The Man Who Loved the Faioli, by Roger Zelazny

The Faioli are ethereal beauties who appear in a man's (or a woman's?) last month of life.  Or perhaps they are the cause of impending demise.  In any event, they pay for the quick mortality with the most pleasant company imaginable, perhaps feeding on the emotional feedback.

Here is the tale of a man living-in-death (or dead in living?) who romances a Faioli and remains to tell about it.

Zelazny is capable of beautiful, effective prose, but sometimes, it seems he just waxes purple and hopes his readers can't tell the difference.  This one feels like the latter.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Another Look at Atlantis, by Willy Ley

Mr. Ley, Galaxy's science columnist, is back to form with this quite interesting article on all we know for certain (and it's not much!) about the mythical continent of Atlantis.  Worth a read.

Four stars.

Spare That Tree, by C. C. MacApp


by Dennis M. Smith

Inspector Kruger of the Interstellar Division is back (we first saw him in the January issue of IF).  This time, he's on the trail of a kidnapped tree, prized possession of an Emperor whom the galactic federation wishes to keep on the good side.

David observed that Laumer or Goulart could do a better job with these tales, and they are, indeed, the authors I was reminded of while reading this piece.  It starts out genuinely interesting and funny, but the last half meanders into a whimper.

A high two (or a low three, depending on your mood).

Howling Day, by Jim Harmon

In this epistolary, an agent keeps sending a spec script to the wrong kinds of publishing houses.  They all appreciate the quality of the work, but it's not quite right for what they put out.  Which makes sense–turns out it's not a spec script at all…

I found this one a bit tedious and old-fashioned.  Two stars.

The Adults, by Larry Niven


by Virgil Finlay

From the center of the galaxy comes Phthsspok, a super-intelligent, highly determined alien looking for a long lost colony.  He has reason to believe it is Earth…or was, hundreds of thousands of years ago.  Phthsspok is a Protector, with armored hide and hyper-reflexes.  Utterly beyond human capabilities.

Except, when Phthsspok runs across and kidnaps Jack Brennan, a Belter in his middle-40s, the connection between Protectors and humanity turns out to be closer than anyone expected.

Set in the same time and setting as World of Ptavvs, and featuring Lucas Garner and Lit Schaeffer from that book, The Adults is a fascinating read.  And it offers the compelling question: would you trade your sex and your outward humanity at age 45 for the privilege of immortality and extreme intellect?

Forty-four year olds in the audience, are you reading?

Four stars.

Alien's Bequest, by Charles V. De Vet

Wrapping things up, we have a new twist on The Puppet Masters.  It's mildly intriguing, and I am always happy to see De Vet's name, but ultimately, the story doesn't quite go anywhere.

Three stars.

Return to Reality

What a nice weekend that was!  First centuries past, then centuries to come.  I'm not sure I'm ready to face Vietnam, another summer of protests, or a second season of The Invaders.

Oh look!  The June issuse of Fantasy and Science Fiction has arrived.  Just in time…



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