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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 14, 1965] Furious Time Travel (April Galactoscope)

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This month's Galactoscope features a triplet of tales, all of which have something to recommend them…

The Fury Out of Time , by Lloyd Biggle Jr.


By Jason Sacks

The Fury Out of Time is an fun page turner, with some clever ideas and some wacky plot machinations. It's a delight to read author Lloyd Biggle, Jr. playfully juggle interesting ideas around time paradoxes, odd alien creatures and the Mesozoic era while keeping his story roaring and skidding through the clouds like a runaway UFO.

The book focuses on Bowden Karvel, a retired Air Force Major,  discharged from the astronaut corps because of his artificial leg and organically confrontational attitude. Karvel lives just outside the gates of his former Air Force Base, quietly drinking and marking time. One day Karvel wanders down to Whistler’s Country Tavern to bend his elbow. As Karvel is sitting on the tavern patio looking over the nearby valley, something very strange happens. Trees start being knocked down in a widening spiral and Karvel is mildly injured in what feels like a natural disaster but actually is far from that simple idea.

Taking on efforts to lead the recovery effort after this apparent hurricane hits, Karvel begins barking out orders, and finds himself becoming inexorably dragged into a mystery which will take him to the moon and across tens of thousands of years of history. He will literally become a new version of himself, emotionally, physically and spiritually, will encounter creatures he scarcely could have imagined existing, and will uncover the mystery which knocked him off his feet in the first place. By being knocked off his feet, Bowden Karvel eventually finds himself able to truly stand on his own two feet once again.

The cause of the disaster is a flying saucer, which Biggle cleverly calls a UO (as opposed to a UFO), which readers slowly learn was created by time travelers from the future – though those travelers may actually be from the past. It’s complicated, and we get to learn how complicated as we dig further into this wacky book.

Part of the fun of this novel comes from Biggle’s clever depictions of different societies in this book. It seems obvious that the author served in the military based on his humorous depictions of the crazily dysfunctional Air Force leadership. Biggle's strong imagination is also on display in the future world in which the bodies of mankind's descendants have evolved in clever ways. In that future world, people are taller and balder than people today, have flatter feet and they even an odd fetish about beards, of all things. I enjoyed Karvel’s inner monologues about that world, and how he wonders about standards of beauty and enslavement.

Similarly, when Karvel travels to a past era when dinosaurs walk the earth, he encounters a race of Hras,  very strange creatures with six arms, no faces and stomachs in their bellies. These creatures become Karvel’s allies, but their relationship is complicated. That relationship is surprisingly three-dimensional compared with the classic imperialist-styled science fiction of the past.  The way Biggle depicts the relationship between Karvel and the Hras, it’s not clear who the wiser hero is – the one who charges into the middle of a group of dinosaurs or the one who’s too scared to journey far into a world full of predators.

Since we see everything through Karvel’s eyes, I suppose it’s a little wrongheaded to complain the book feels a bit shallow at times. There’s a decided focus on action, and it’s fun to see a middle-aged, slightly disabled guy at the center of trying to figure out the strange worlds in which he finds himself. The thing is, Karvel is smart and clever. He’s not a headstrong James Bond type, always ready for action. He’s an older, slightly broken man who constantly finds his basic value system challenged by the strange circumstances in which he finds himself. It's in the way Karvel reacts that we readers see ourselves and which ultimately pushes this novel ahead.

I didn’t expect to enjoy this book as much as I did. I wasn’t familiar with Biggle's work and was concerned that a book with a UFO at its center would be full of clichés. Instead this book was a light, breezy, and fun ride, a delightful little book which moves along like the Road Runner.

Three stars.

A Man of Double Deed, by Leonard Daventry


by Gideon Marcus

A fringe benefit of having so many fellow writers on the Journey is the ability to read more of the science fiction that's coming out every month.  Contrary to forlorn declarations of the doom-sayers, the genre is far from dead.  Moreover, new authors are coming into SF all the time.

To wit, Leonard Daventry has just released his first book, A Man of Double Deed, and it's surprisingly mature for a first effort. 

Here is the plot, in brief:

Claus Coman is a "keyman," part of a network of powerful telepaths living on Earth in the year 2090.  In this far-future time, humanity has already had and recovered from an atomic conflagration that left the planet in ruins.  We have spread among the stars, meeting several alien races, though they do not figure in this story.  What does figure is a burgeoning plague of violence spreading among the young and disaffected populace.  Whether it is a genuine biological malaise or simply a reaction to a society that has become too staid to endure is not known.  Coman supports a proposal to emigrate these malcontents to a new world, one where they can create a society to their liking.

But there are forces that strongly oppose this proposal, and keymen in general.  Forces with murderous intent.  Coman must navigate attempts on his life as well as bigger political currents to see the proposal through.

What makes Deed so distinctive is its unique vision of the future.  It's definitely a "New Wave" book with unorthodox depictions of romance and sexuality.  In the future, "free love" is the norm, and committed relationships viewed as quaint aberrations.  Coman's polyamory, involving two women, is particularly deviant.  On the other hand, same-sex pairings are not so much as blinked at. 

Daventry does an excellent job of incorporating the third-person omniscient viewpoint, subtly sliding into many characters' minds.  This is a trick that doesn't usually work, particularly in Frank Herbert's Dune, where it simply comes off as amateurish.  But it's effective in Deed, suggestive of the telepathic contact Comay has with everyone he interacts with.  I also appreciate how Daventry describes in a sentence or two scenes of violence and/or sexual relations, conveying a subject vividly but not luridly, effectively invoking the reader's imagination.

Deed is by no means a perfect book.  It starts well but loses steam in the final third.  Worse, it doesn't really have an ending; the plot is left open only halfway through its course.  On a more personal note, as progressive as some aspects of the depicted future may be, it still seems a highly male-dominated world.  Women are definitely in a second class, both in their agency, and screen-time.  Part of that seems intentional, underscoring the conservative nature of 2090's Earth, but part of it also seems to be the result of Daventry's own instincts. 

On the other hand, if Deed be part of a series, like Delany's Toron trilogy, then I may have to revise my opinion.  For the nonce, I give it three and a half stars.

And here's a special entry submitted by a fan of the Journey.  The book dates back to 1959, but I understand it has been recently reprinted.  Since the Journey did not cover it upon first release, we are remedying this omission…

Ossian's Ride, by Fred Hoyle


by Chuck Litka

I happened on Ossian's Ride in the drug store’s spinning book rack. I will occasionally find a science fiction book there, but Neldner’s Card Shop in the Point Loomis shopping center is my go to place for the latest sf books from Ace, Pyramid, Ballantine, and Berkley. The cover of Ossian's Ride showed a hand with an open pocket watch. Inside the watch is a rather artsy illustration of a fellow about to throw a flaming molotov cocktail at a cottage with two silhouettes in the window. And oh, yes, there appears to be a body at his feet. In fact, the only science fiction thing about the cover, is “Fred Hoyle the author of A For Andromeda.” Still, having read his The Black Cloud, I picked it up to see what this one was about.

The back blurb read:

“…breathtaking in its suspense… romantic adventure in the true grand manner”
– New York Herald Tribune

The time is 1970. Thomas Sherwood, a young Cambridge scientist, is recruited by British Intelligence to go to western Ireland to learn the origin, nature, and purpose of I.C.E., the mysterious and powerful Industrial Corporation of Eire. I.C.E., hidden behind its own Iron Curtain, is an elite industrial complex that in only ten years has solved many of the major scientific problems the rest of the world is still grappling with. The great nations fear I.C.E. as a menace to the delicate balance of world power and must discover whatever they can about it. Sherwood is immediately caught up in a world of desperate violence among spies and counterspies, the pursued and the pursuing. So, should I gamble 50¢ on Ossian's Ride? Now, 50¢ is not an insignificant amount of cash when living on a three figure allowance – counting both sides of the decimal place. 1970 is only five years from now, and there didn’t seem to be a lot of science fiction in the description either. Still, it’s Fred Hoyle. Oh, why not?

Ride is interestingly framed, beginning with the British prime minister, who has Thomas Sherwood’s report on his desk. It appears that Sherwood reached the heart of the mystery, but then defected to I.C.E. And yet, he has sent this report that purports to reveal the deepest secret of I.C.E. The P.M. wonders if he should believe it. Well, we can read Sherwood’s report for ourselves, and draw our own conclusions. The story then becomes the first person narrative of the amateur secret agent, Thomas Sherwood. With a forged visa, he sets out for Ireland posing as a student on a holiday with £15 (all that a real student on a holiday would carry), a rucksack and some books. Things don’t go well right from the start. But Sherwood is a resourceful fellow, with a streak of James Bond in his makeup, so we are treated to a nonstop series of mysteries, murders, captures, and escapes across a countryside overrun with ruthless agents of all sorts. Against all odds, and with an unwavering determination to get to the heart of the mystery, Sherwood works himself into I.C.E. And once inside, into its secret heart. Only to joint them, as we knew from page one. Having read his full report, do you believe him? Do you blame him?

I wasn’t disappointed with the book — well worth my two quarters. Perhaps what I liked most about the story is its air of being an authentic true life adventure. It feels like it was written by someone who has put on a rucksack and tramped the Irish countryside himself. And because of that, it remained believable despite the rush of life and death adventures that fill its 182 pages. Like the book’s cover, there is not, however, a lot of science fiction in Ossian's Ride. Five pages worth, maybe. And I have to say that the ending left me with questions, questions that could have been more satisfactorily answered with another page or two. Still, all in all, it was an exhilarating ride. And since I read science fiction more for adventure than as explorations of a future world shaped by some marvelous scientific invention, I would rate Ossian's Ride 4 stars.

That's all for today, folks! Join us next month for another exciting Galactoscope!




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Comics, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 14, 1965] The Old Order Changeth!

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by Jason Sacks

Longtime readers of this magazine may remember the hatred I shared a year or two ago for the fledgling super-hero line published by upstart Marvel Comics. At the time I felt the stories published in such comic book series as Fantastic Four, Spider-Man and Tales to Astonish were crude, unsophisticated and just plain bad. This was especially true when those shambolic comics were compared to the smart, sophisticated science-hero comics published by their chief competitor, National Comics.

It’s shocking how much that equation has changed. National Comics like Flash, Green Lantern and Batman definitely outdo their competition in terms of slickness and a firm basis in pseudo-science. But Marvel has come a long way to making themselves into a modern comic book publisher which embraces the unpredictable 1960s.

The latest proof Marvel’s surprising unpredictability can be found in the current issue of The Avengers.

The Avengers are Marvel’s version of National’s Justice League. They’re a team of the company’s finest super-heroes gathered together to fight evil. Just as the JLA stars headliners like Batman, Hawkman, the Atom and Green Lantern, the Avengers have included in their corps such august members as Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Giant-Man and the Wasp.

Emphasis in my previous sentence should definitely be on the word have, because as this title of Avengers #16 tells us, “the old order changeth!”

Shockingly, writer Stan Lee has decided to shake up what seemed like a winning formula, removing all but one of those headliners from his super-team. Even more surprising, Lee doesn’t replace Thor or Iron Man with the likes of Spider-Man or Daredevil, who likewise star in their own comic books. No, Lee replaced his stars with a trio of former bad guys now reformed and ready to fight for justice. Only Captain America remains from the former team to lead the villains, so now Cap’s kooky quartet is made up of Captain America, Hawkeye, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch.

I hear you readers saying, who?

Lee is making an odd, audacious decision by adding these third-rate villains-turned-heroes. That change in the status quo is almost shocking in its brazen rejection of super-hero tradition. Very few super-teams have existed, and even fewer have had their entire lineup shaken up in one fell swoop. And even more shocking is the reason the heroes leave. As the Wasp declares in one memorable panel:

National’s Justice League fight for right and never get tired. Marvel’s Avengers get tired of the fighting, need time off and even casually think about disbanding the team! Who does this stuff? And how can they get away with such a revolutionary take on super-heroes?

Even the reasons the new Avengers join is strange. Okay, so Hawkeye basically walks into the Avengers HQ and demands to become a member (who needs building security when you have super powers, I suppose).

But consider how the mutant siblings Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch come to join the team – by seeing a note in a newspaper that makes its way to their isolated Swiss chalet. Seeing a chance to change their lives, the Witch writes a letter to the Avengers requesting membership (!) – and out of a full bag of applications they are chosen! Just like out of a talent search TV program.

An adoring press meets the mutants as they arrive on the New York City docks, and they are quickly pressed to don their uniforms and announce their Avengers membership to the world. Never mind their previous membership in the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and their former sworn fealty to the evil Magneto. They suddenly are members of the team Thor and Iron Man have left.

Shockingly, there is not even the slightest implication that one or more of these new Avengers may be trojan horses, infiltrating the team in order to defeat them. No, this is all played straight and seriously, and it appears Lee and his artists are committed to this startling change.

What in the world was Stan Lee thinking? Will sales plunge without the stars or will sales surge as Marvel blazes their own trail? This is just one of a number of moves from a company which seems to be pulling out all the stops to be decidedly different.

I know I’m on the edge of my seat trying to figure out what happens next. It’s as if Bonanza added a whole new cast and just kept Hoss. I may not be ready to join the Merry Marvel Marching Society just yet, but I do know I can’t wait to see what other shocking twists Stan Lee and his pals come up with.




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 4, 1965] Madness: 2, Sanity: 1 (January Galactoscope)

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[January's edition of the Galactoscope offers three novels in two books.  Be warned — there's madness afoot!]


by Victoria Silverwolf

Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun

Now that you've got the Doublemint Gum jingle running through your head, allow me to explain my reason for annoying you. The Ace Double Series has been going for more than a decade, offering two novels in one. Two short novels, to be sure; some are really novellas. Others are short story collections, as we'll see in today's review. The pair of mini-books are bound in what the printing industry calls dos-a-dos. (Sounds like a square dancing term to me.) That is, each half of the volume is upside down, compared to the other half. Sometimes both parts are by the same writer, sometimes not.

Let's take a look at Ace Double M-109, featuring G. C. Edmondson's first novel, as well as several briefer pieces from the same pen.

Mister Edmondson or Señor Edmondson y Cotton?

I can come up with no better way to introduce the author than by allowing him to speak for himself, in the blurb that comes with the book in question.

I don't know how seriously to take all of that, but it certainly makes for interesting reading. I hope the novel (yes, I'll get around to it eventually) proves to be at least as fascinating.

Appetizers Before the Main Course


Cover art by Jack Gaughan

Stranger Than You Think is a collection of all the Mad Friend stories that have appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction to date. Because our Noble Host has already reviewed these tales, I won't go into detail.

Suffice to say that they all feature the narrator and his Mad Friend in rural Mexico, and deal with time travel, alien probes, reincarnation, and such things. The tone is very light, and the stories are about ten percent plot and ninety percent local color. They remind me, a bit, of R. A. Lafferty and Avram Davidson. In general, the series is inoffensive but forgettable.

The Ship That Sailed the Time Stream


Also by Gaughan

I told you I'd get around to it.

Our hero is Ensign Joseph Rate, commander of the good ship Alice, a unique vessel in the United States Navy of the modern era. You see, Alice is a wooden sailing ship, although she also has a diesel engine for emergency use. The idea is that she can engage in countermeasures against enemy submarines without making sounds that would reveal her position.

At the moment, Alice is engaged in testing new equipment, requiring the presence of an elderly meteorologist and his young assistant. Unknown to his motley crew, Rate is also supposed to investigate criminal activities aboard her.

All of this fades into insignificance, when lighting strikes Alice at the same time the ship's cook is messing around with a new way to distill illicit booze. (Believe it or not, this plays an important part in the plot.)

Full Speed Backwards

If you've read the title of the novel, it won't come as a big surprise to discover that Alice gets zapped back in time a millennium or so, as well as leaving the warm ocean area near San Diego for colder waters, somewhere between Ireland and Iceland. A battle with a Viking raider ensues, followed by a slightly less violent meeting with a merchant ship. Among the cargo she's carrying is a Spanish Gypsy, enslaved by the Norsemen. She winds up aboard Alice, and serves as the novel's main source of sex appeal. Besides that, she's also clever and a tough cookie, so I'll give the author some credit for that.

Here We Go Again

Skipping over most of the first half of the novel, we reach a point where Rate tries to duplicate the circumstances that led to this situation. This doesn't work out very well, because Alice doesn't return to her home, but instead jumps back another thousand years, and winds up somewhere in the Mediterranean.

After encountering Arab slave traders who temporarily take control of Alice, the time travelers eventually wind up on a rocky island, populated by goats and several naked young women, who are more than willing to supply the crew with plenty of wine and other carnal pleasures. There's an explanation for what seems like a sailor's fantasy, which involves another inadvertent visitor from the future, this time the madame of a brothel/speakeasy in 1920's Chicago.

A lot more happens before we reach the end of the novel, including battles with Roman warships and the misadventures of the only religious fanatic aboard Alice, a male virgin who finds himself in intimate situations with more than one alluring lady.

Worth the Voyage?

Although it's impossible to take the novel's version of time travel seriously, the plot doesn't stop for a second, always keeping the reader's interest. As you may have guessed, there's quite a bit of sexual content, which tends to be more teasing than explicit. There's also a lot of violence, given the constant attacks on Alice by just about every vessel that meets her.

The tone of the book ranges from darkly comic to intensely dramatic, with a bit of satire in the form of the religious fanatic. This character may raise some eyebrows among readers of faith, although his version of Christianity is clearly of the extremist variety. The ending raises the possibility of a sequel, but whether such a book will ever appear is up to the tides of time.

Three stars.

A Little Mental Illness for the New Year (The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldrich by Philip K. Dick)


by Jason Sacks

This is the fourth Philip K. Dick novel released in the last several months, and I’ve read them all. Clearly science fiction’s most surrealistic writer is in the midst of an unusually fecund period, one in which his astounding fiction seems channeled directly from the writer’s brain onto the printed page. And while that unfiltered creativity makes for fascinating reading, Dick’s latest fiction shows him to be wrestling with some intense personal issues, including dislocation and mental health concerns.

Those recent works (The Penultimate Truth, The Clans of the Alphane Moon, Martian Time-Slip and his most recently published novel, The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldrich) share a lot in common with each other. All three books demonstrate a mind in constant motion, continually distracted and probing, with ideas seeming to spark from every page in a cascade which starts out as thrilling, becomes tiring, and ultimately proves to be overwhelming. Ideas, interesting and odd, bonkers and basic, philosophical and dully grounded, seem to flow from Mr. Dick as freely as the sweat which constantly seems to be on the foreheads of each and every one of his neurotic protagonists.

Eldrich starts from a template similar to his Dick’s other novels. Most Dick novels feature a neurotic protagonist, and this book is no exception. This time he is named Barney Mayerson and he is a wealthy man in a low-numbered conapt building (a major sign of status) with a great job as the New York Pre-Fash consultant at influential company P.P. Layouts. But Mayerson has problems – oh nellie does he have problems. As the book begins, the businessman wakes up with a hangover, a strange woman in his bed and, most frightening of all, a draft notice which will cause the UN to send him to Mars. That sounds like the beginning of a film noir, but as we follow Mayerson, he slips into a different sort of darkness than the doomed protagonists of our darkest films.

To help him escape the draft, Barney has purchased a robot named Dr. Smile, intended to help Mayerson avoid the draft by making him even more neurotic than he seems. But even the robot isn’t perfect; it calls him by the wrong name and doesn’t seem to pay close attention to Barney, adding to the seemingly endless list of degrading events Barney experiences in the first few pages — and far from the final humiliation he experiences in the book.

Like so many lead characters in recent Dick novels – poor doomed Norbert Steiner in Time-Slip and lovelorn, oblivious Chuck Rittersdorf in Alphane pop immediately to mind – Barney Mayerson is a confused man. He is neurotic, uncertain, perhaps mentally ill. He has tremendous problems relating to the women most important to him, especially his wife. He even gives up all hope of avoiding the draft and instead volunteers to go to Mars, simply to get away from a source of tangled neurotic pain. It is tough to spend time with Steiner, Rittersdorf or Mayerson, because they are so uncertain of themselves despite their apparent success. These are so conscious of their own flaws, their own massive insecurities, that we can understand why these feel rejected by the worlds which surround them. As readers, we want to reject them as well, want to follow characters with some measure of self-assurance, like Trade Minister Tagomi in Dick’s 1963 masterpiece The Man in the High Castle.

Taken one at a time, each of the recent Dick books provide an intriguing portrait of men whose own demons sabotage their own best aspirations. Seen together as a collection of books, it’s hard not to see some authorial autobiography flowing through these characters. After all, if Mr. Dick is writing his books so quickly, how can he avoid writing himself into his stories?

If we take that assertion as fact as part of my essay (and I would be delighted to hear counterarguments in the letters page), then Palmer Eldrich is the most frightening of all Dick’s novels so far. Because at its heart, and in the great thrust of its cataclysmic conclusion, is a break with peaceful reality that actually makes me worry about the author.

Without going too deep into the reasons why – part of the joy of this fascinating book lies in the ways Dick explores his shambolic but complex plot – Barney ends up on Mars and discovers that nearly all the Martian colonists are miserable and drug-addled. Their experience on Mars is so wretched and soul-crushing that only psychedelic drugs, shared among groups of colonists, provide a brief break from their mind-numbing lives.

Barney is responsible for helping a new drug to come to Mars, cleverly called Chew-Z, which promises better highs and more transcendent experiences. But as readers soon discover, the new drug also creates a schizophrenic experience, one in which the terrifying Palmer Eldrich comes to dominate Martian society – and much more – in a way that terrifies everyone who considers it. Eldrich is a terrifying creature, with steel teeth, a damaged arm, and an approach to the world which builds misery.

In truth, Barney Mayerson has unleashed a demon, and it’s not spoiling much in this book to say that by the end you will feel the same fear Barney and the rest of society begin to feel.

Eldrich, thus, is a deeply unsettling book, and fits Dick’s recent output in a way which makes me feel concerned for the author. It is the third out of the four recent novels to deal explicitly with mental illness (in fact, mental illness provides the central storyline of Alphane and a key secondary storyline in Martian Time-Slip). It’s intriguing that Dick sees in science fiction the opportunity to put the readers in the mindset of a man experiencing a schizophrenic break, a psychotic episode, or battling debilitating depression, but the continual presence of such ideas suggests a man whose life is also battling similar breaks.

If Mr. Dick is obsessed with mental illness, does he see that illness in himself when he looks in the mirror? And if we readers purchase Mr. Dick’s books in which mental illness takes a central role, are we aiding his therapy or abetting his continual wallowing?

Palmer Eldrich is not an easy book to read, not once it gets going and we start to realize the depths of Meyerson’s, and Dick’s problems. The plot ambles and wanders and is dense with philosophy and allusion. For a 200-page book, this is no quick Tarzan or Conan yarn. Instead, it is a deeply upsetting, deeply complex look into the disturbed psychology of both its lead character and its author. After consuming so many Dick novels all in succession, I’m craving something much lighter. Neuroses are exhausting.

4 stars




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Comics

[October 22, 1964] Introducing a "New Look" for Batman

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[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age. If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!) ]


by Jason Sacks

I have some good news for those of you who haven’t been paying close attention to comic books: Batman comics are finally readable!

That’s a major change from the puerile adventures which editor Jack Schiff has been presenting in the pages of Batman and Detective Comics. For all too many years, Schiff and his team of seemingly subpar creators have delivered a never-ending stream of absurdly juvenile tales of the Caped Crusader and his steadfast sidekick. He gave us ridiculous and dumb tales in which Batman gallivanted in outer space, Robin was romantically pursued by the pre-teen Bat-Girl, and the absurdly awful Bat-Mite showed up at random times to add chaos to Batman's life. Even adventures which featured classic Batman villains (such as last fall’s Batman #159, “the Great Clayface-Joker Feud,”) fell far short of even the most basic standards of quality. Great they were not.

Though rather surreal, this page from "The Joker-Clayface feud" is ridiculously juvenile.

Those stories weren’t just bad. They were embarrassing to see on the newsstand next to better titles from National. Heck, most months even Archie’s idiotic Adventures of the Fly and The Jaguar were better than Schiff's schlock.

Apparently, National Comics agreed with my assessment. And though the ignominious run concluded with perhaps the worst Batman story of the 1960s so far (Detective Comics #326, “Captives of the Alien Zoo”), readers haunting newsstands in March 1964  discovered a brand new look for the Caped Crusader.

In fact, the cover of the very comic professed its newness.

The cover of Detective Comics #327 was a clear statement of freshness. In classy lettering focused behind beneath a slick new logo (logo and caption chosen deliberately, no doubt, to make a clear declaration that the past was prologue), the cover announced Introducing a “New Look” BATMAN and ROBIN in “Mystery of the Menacing Mask. Below those fateful words was a three-panel sequence which ends with Robin demanding, “Batman – your mask – quick! Take it off!” Below that triptych was yet another vignette professing to newness as readers are introduced to a new back-up strip starring popular Flash supporting character The Elongated Man.

Everything about this cover – from its logo to the new character introduced – screams that this is a new era in Batman comics.

In one bright, bold statement, readers were informed that Batman had left the alien zoo behind, hopefully forever.

And in fact, the connection to Flash was right on target: the new team included Flash editor Julius Schwartz, artist Carmine Infantino and (as revealed on the letters page) writer John Broome. It should be no surprise I love this new run since Flash is consistently my favorite title from National Comics. And though Broome and Infantino have only delivered three of the twelve "new look" stories thus far in both Detective and Batman, each subsequent issue has delivered a stepped-up level of thrills and excitement — as well as (as promised) a new look for Batman.

First and foremost, the artwork has improved. Infantino is perhaps the finest cartoonist working at National today, and every panel in his Batman and the new backup Elongated Man stories show why that is so. And though stories in Batman are still drawn under the "Bob Kane" pen-name, they seem to have taken a step up as the artists seem more inspired by their work.

Maybe the most obvious change illuminated by the artwork is with Batman's chest emblem. Where once the artists would lazily draw a bat on the hero's chest, now they draw it safely ensconced inside a yellow circle which seems to draw attention to the freshness of the new character.

Another major change is perhaps the most shocking. Just one month after the New Look debut, the April-released issue of Detective revealed the death of Batman and Robin's long-time butler Alfred! Yes, Alfred, the faithful friend and companion whose whole life seemed devoted to helping his Master Bruce and Master Dick, was brutally slain when saving the lives of our heroes at the hands of the Tri-State Gang. And what's more, there's no sign thus far that the faithful servant will return. He will remain an outsider to this major change.

Alfred is dead — and it seems he will stay dead.

Bruce Wayne created a charity called the Alfred Foundation to memorialize his friend; hopefully that Foundation will also act as a springboard for new storylines as this run proceeds. In place of Alfred, Bruce's Aunt Harriet has moved into stately Wayne Manor to take care of the boys. We will see if she starts to take on a Lois Lane approach to her charges and begins to suspect their second lives.

Maybe a fateful phone call will kick off that suspicion. The Gotham City Police installed a hotline at Wayne Manor, another change which will bring our hero closer to the action. If a hotline works for Presidents Johnson and Khrushchev, it should work for Commissioner Gordon and Batman.

As Batman becomes more connected to Gotham City, he also becomes more connected to his roots as a detective rather than space explorer or battler of corny villains. July's Detective featured a tale called "Mystery of the Mixed-Up Men," pairing Elongated Man with Batman and Robin for a delightful tale of changed faces, confused identity and strange jewel thieves. Similarly, September's Batman #167 is a tale seemingly inspired by James Bond involving Interpol agents, a world-spanning plot, and a core mystery which kept me guessing as to its resolution.

With all these changes, it should be no surprise my fellow fans are over the moon. I just received a fanzine by someone with the improbable name Biljo White called Batmania which enthusiastically endorses the new editorial direction Mr. Schwartz has introduced. Look below for the thrilling cover to his first issue.

Biljo White's Batmania celebrates the New Look Batman!

As well, according to the letters pages (another long-overdue change Schwartz introduced to these comics) fan response has been over the moon on these changes.

As for me, I am also ecstatic about these changes. Finally National has turned around their most moribund character and given him new life. It's as if the New York Mets somehow won the World Series by the end of the decade!

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 20, 1964] Apocalypses and other trivia (Galactoscope)

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[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age.  If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)]

[This month's Galactoscope features two global catastrophes, two collections, and four authors you've almost certainly heard of!]


by Jason Sacks

The Penultimate Truth, by Philip K. Dick

Like many fans, I first became really aware of Philip K. Dick after he won the 1963 Hugo Award for Best Novel for his remarkable The Man in the High Castle. That book dazzled in its chronicle of an alternate history in which the Nazis and Japanese won World War II (which opened up many areas of thought and conversation for me and my friends) as well as in its brilliant world-building and the fascinating, multifaceted characters at the heart of Dick's award-winner.

High Castle was also an amazingly tight novel, packing a dense plot into its mere 240 pages. As many of us Dick fans have learned, not all of his works are quite so tightly plotted. I adored his Martian Time-Slip and Dr. Bloodmoney from last year, but those books tended to both delight and annoy in their meandering, nearly stream-of-consciousness styles.

The newest Philip K. Dick novel, The Penultimate Truth (just out in paperback from Belmont) fills a bit of the gap between his ’62 masterpiece and the challenging ’63 books. This thoroughly delightful book wanders a bit but always held me in its comforting grasp.

The Penultimate Truth is shambolic and episodic, but that approach serves the work well. Its main characters are living shambolic lives, which Dick depicts as full of odd episodes which occasionally have great and beautiful moments of transcendence, even in the post-apocalyptic wasteland in which the book is set.

Note that this review will reveal elements of the book, comments that "spoil", if you will, so skip down to the next review if you love surprises in your fiction.

In the future world of this book, much of humanity lives in massive underground bunkers, nicknamed anthills, in which they build weapons and medical devices for the nuclear war they believe is ravaging the surface of the Earth. When Nick St. James, the president of one anthill, makes his way to the surface, St. James discovers his people have been lied to. The world on the surface has survived nuclear devastation and has emerged into a unique and odd civilization. Needless to say, the revelation of the relatively peaceful world surface changes nearly everything.

What makes this novel so special, though, is that those revelations don't change the way St. James views his world. He doesn’t become a noble crusader for truth or a vengeful destroyer of the new civilization. Instead our protagonist goes the opposite way of most heroic leads. Instead of rebelling, he goes out of his way to allow the world to stay in its current state. He will not let the truth of his world change life in the anthill. The penultimate truth of the story is the truth behind the nuclear war. But the ultimate truth is more powerful: it is the special bond society creates, the relationships created and enduring for decades, and the lies and half-truths that are necessary to perpetuate that society.

This description makes The Penultimate Truth sound heady and brainy, and it is filled with a intriguing level of intelligence and wisdom about human nature. But it is also has the several elements we have come to expect from Dick’s finest work.

First and foremost, this is an exciting story, with scenes of high adventure, escapes and shootouts which keep the reader turning the page. There are mysteries piled upon mysteries, characters who shift and change as the story proceeds only to have them revealed in ways for which the reader was foreshadowed but for which he likely could not have anticipated.

Secondly, this is a wise and fascinating study of human nature. The Penultimate Truth is about jealousy and lust for power balanced with trust and love for family and friends. It sets stability and chaos in opposite sides of the metaphorical coin in ways few other novels of any type have explored, and in doing so shows the power of novelistic science fiction in the hands of a master of the medium.

Thirdly, this book seems to explode with ideas, from the anthills (an idea Dick has explored in some of his short fiction such as “Second Variety”) to the vast demesnes in which the surface dwellers live, to the vast conspiracies used to keep ordinary people following their leaders. In fact, it is in that last set of ideas that Dick falls down a bit for me. I had trouble imagining a government systematically lying to its people in the way described here. In a world in which leaders are elected by the governed, there is no reason for leaders to lie to their people. [Oh, my sweet country mouse…(Ed.)]

And the last element I’ve come to love in Dick’s work comes from the very end of the book. In my mind there are two endings to this novel, and in fact I won’t reveal them here so you can experience them yourself. But I’m curious how many readers wish The Penultimate Truth had ended with the deeply ironic penultimate chapter as its conclusion as opposed to those who preferred the redemptive final chapter.

Throw in some gorgeously descriptive language and you have one of the finest science fiction novels of 1964. I hope Mr. Dick brings home another Hugo next year from London.

4.5 stars


by Gideon Marcus

Tongues of the Moon, by Philip J. Farmer

Three years ago, just before John Boston started reviewing Amazing for us, Philip Jose Farmer had a short story called Tongues of the Moon.  The tale began with a literal bang: the Axis of southern nations launched a preemptive strike on the Communist Northern Hemisphere (including a subjugated United States kept pacified with skull-mounted pain inducers!), and the entire world was destroyed.  At the same time, the "Axes" attacked their enemies throughout the solar system — from Mercury to the Mars, Copernicus to Callisto.  Our hero, a scientist named Broward, is caught in a crossfire at what was supposed to be a lunar peace conference.  Together with the monomaniacal American, Scone, he manages to escape the fight and deactivate the central pain induction center on the Moon.  Now free agents, Scone finds himself the leader of some of the very few human beings left alive.  Can he knit together a new human race from the four hundred survivors representing dozens of nations and ideologies?  Can a viable culture be created when men outnumber women 4:1?

These are all excellent questions, and I'm not surprised that Farmer decided to expand his novelette into a full novel.  Unfortunately, what could have been a fascinating sociological study is subverted in favor of a fairly pedestrian adventure story and a series of treasure hunts.

In the expanded portion of the book, Broward is dispatched to the ruined Earth to find a planet-destroying bomb.  The plan is to destroy the last significant Axis presence in the system, their colony on Mars, so that the Moon is safe.  But Broward recognizes paranoia when he sees it, and he is reluctant to carry out Scone's plan, which will cause yet more decimation of the human population.  He also, understandably so, has issues with Scone's plan to condemn the remaining women to forced multiple marriages.  And so begins a merry excursion — to the caves of Siberia, the undersea domes of the Mediterranean, the vastness of outerspace, the tunnels of Mars.  Tongues never stops to take a breath, and each sequence is more or less self-contained.  The most interesting bit involves the Siberian expedition, when Broward takes along as co-pilot the last Jew in the world (and probably the last person of Japanese extraction, too).  In this section are tantalizing hints of what the story might have been.  Alas, all development is tossed for more running and chasing.

It has been said of Farmer that he is "always almost good", which is not nearly as nice as "almost always good."  This latest book continues the trend.  Someday he'll make a masterpiece.  Until then, he's just a decent writer who can never quite deliver.

3.5 stars


by Rosemary Benton

Ace Double: "The Million Year Hunt" by Kenneth Bulmer and "Ships to the Stars" by Fritz Leiber

Ace Double novels are always a treat. Even though they are largely reprints of stories from the 1950s I always feel like I have rediscovered something special when I pick up one of these books at the bookstore. This month's release features titles by veteran authors Fritz Leiber and Kenneth Bulmer. Given the styles of each author I was intrigued to see how they would read back to back. Sadly to say, this was not one of the better lineups from Ace.

"The Million Year Hunt" by Kenneth Bulmer

Kenneth Bulmer's contribution to this month's Ace Double follows the adventures of a scrap yard worker turned savior of the human race. The story begins as we drop in on the aftermath of a prank pulled by protagonist Arthur Ross Carson, a mischievous young colonist on a back-water planet with few prospects. In short order he finds himself contending with the unjust killing of his fiancé Lucy, startling news of his parentage, and the piteous million-year mission of an alien conscious that enters his body. This is a lot to unwrap within less than 150 pages, and that's not even the full extent of the plot. Bulmer goes on to reveal a slew of converging political schemes to control the universe, including a program to selectively breed a successor to lead the intergalactic police force known as the Galactic Guard.

I felt like I was reading a much larger story that had been brutally and awkwardly chopped down to fit a page count limit. Up to the very last sentence the story is rife with major plot points that are not resolved, gawky transitions of emotion within the cast of characters, and plot twists that feel last minute and cheap. I can't overstate the issue that lies with the jerking sensation the reader gets as the story shifts from scene to scene. So awkward and halting was the pace that I just couldn't believe Bulmer was the one to give it a final proof read before sending it to publication. There was just no way a man as prolific as him could have been satisfied with this story, a public presentation by which he would be judged as a writer, going to press in the state it's in.

If "The Million Year Hunt" is indeed the butchered result of a much larger manuscript, then the most tragic victims of its murder were the emotional transitions of the characters and the quirky, adventurous and lighthearted atmosphere that was so desperately trying to take hold. The easy and funny dialogue between Arthur Ross Carson and the alien conscious that strapped itself to him nervous system is very entertaining to read. Their banter actually comprises some of the best scenes in this story. Instead of clunky exposition their conversations dynamically teased out information on their respective pasts, personalities, and surroundings.

If only Bulmer could have let the characters be themselves stumbling through space on adventures loosely tied to an end goal, specifically Carson's mission of revenge and his origin as the "savior" of the Galactic Guard, then this would have been a fantastic story. Unfortunately in its current state "The Million Year Hunt" is not a story that should have made it to print.

[Apparently, The Million Year Hunt is a fix-up of sorts, created from Scarlet Denial in Science Fiction Adventures No. 26, and Scarlet Dawn in Science Fiction Adventures No. 28. Both came out in 1962, published in the United Kingdom. The text is unchanged from the originals. (ed)]

"Ships to the Stars" by Fritz Leiber

On the other side of this Ace Double is a collection of six short stories by power house actor and novelist Fritz Leiber. In contrast to Bulmer's story, Leiber's "Dr. Kometevsky's Day", "The Big Trek", "The Enchanted Forest", "Deadly Moon", "The Snowbank Orbit", and "The Ship Sails at Midnight" are all well structured with tight plots and developed characters. Leiber's writing also demonstrates a more measured understanding of how to maintain the flow of a story. The tendency of his characters to repeatedly ponder the effects fear has on them makes them fragile, fallible, and very true to the duality of human nature. They want to know and see everything, but there are limits to what they can understand and what their eyes have access to. Leiber's inclusion of these relatable and basic human failings forms a tension in his stories that would be otherwise missing if he had held full faith in humanity's ability to rationalize everything with science.

The strongest short stories in this small selection were "The Big Trek" and "The Ship Sails at Midnight". In these two tales the reader can really see Leiber's deep connection with the gothic authors whom he draws inspiration from. In "The Big Trek" Leiber writes from the first-person perspective of a man joining a feverish march of bizarre beings from across the universe. The employment of fluctuating space and loose concepts of time's passage echoes William Hope Hodgson's "The House on the Borderland" (1908) and pretty much any piece by Edgar Allan Poe. The narrator's awe and trepidation touched with excitement are also very similar to Arthur Machen's inner voice within "The White People" (1904).

Like H. P. Lovecraft and Lord Dunsany, Leiber's strongest talent as a writer is keeping his characters grounded by the weighty truth that humans are far from the most powerful forces in the universe. All of Leiber's stories have humans sprinting to stay out of the way of some larger, stronger entity charging through with little interest in our species’ plight. "The Ship Sails at Midnight" best encapsulates this with its accompanying message that humans have such potential but are so readily self-sabotaging.

The joy of reading Fritz Leiber’s short stories greatly made up for my disappointment in Kenneth Bulmer’s novella. Fast paced, thoughtful and touching, they make this Ace Double a worthwhile purchase. I will absolutely be looking forward to reading more of his work in the future.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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[June 18, 1964] Bad Comic Book Style and Good Comic Book Style (Galactoscope)

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[This month's Galactoscope features a trio of books by two authors filled with riproar and comic-style adventure. We think you'll enjoy this foray into the past…and future!]

The Valley of Creation, by Edmond Hamilton


by Cora Buhlert

The Valley of Creation by Edmond Hamilton

Captain Future was the first science fiction I encountered, therefore I will always have a soft spot for Edmond Hamilton. And so I was happy to find a new Edmond Hamilton novel in the spinner rack of my local import bookshop, even if The Valley of Creation is quite different from Captain Future. The latter is space opera, the former is an earthbound adventure in the style of the "lost world" stories that were popular around the turn of the century.

The Valley of Creation follows the adventures of Eric Nelson, an American soldier of fortune (as he euphemistically calls himself) who got stuck in Asia after the Korean war. Together with a motley multinational crew of mercenaries – a Dutchman, an Englishman, a Chinaman and a fellow American (and a black man, at that) – Eric is fighting in the Chinese civil war, offering his guns and skills to whatever local warlord is willing to pay.

But Eric and his merry band of mercenaries are in a tight spot. Their latest employer is dead, the People's Liberation Army is encroaching and the mercenaries are about to find themselves on the wrong end of a firing squad. Luckily, a man called Shan Kar shows up and hires them to fight his private little war in a hidden valley in the Himalayas, far from the reach of the PLA. A hidden valley where platinum worth millions is just lying around for the taking.

If you're reminded of James Hilton's novel Lost Horizon at this point, you're not alone. Alas, L'Lan, the titular valley, is no peaceful Shangri-La. It is a troubled paradise, where the conflict between Shan Kar's faction, the Humanites, and their enemies, the so-called Brotherhood, is about the escalate.

You'd think that a group calling themselves the Humanites would be the good guys. But you'd be wrong, because the Humanites are bigoted supremacists. The Brotherhood, on the other hand, is committed to equality between humans and non-humans. Non-humans in this case meaning sentient and intelligent animals, who happen to be telepathic as well.

Shan Kar hopes that the mercenaries and their modern weapons will turn the tide in his favour. But their attempt to infiltrate the Brotherhood's stronghold quickly goes wrong. Eric is taken prisoner and finds himself at the mercy of the Brotherhood. As "punishment", he has his consciousness transferred into the body of a wolf via quasi-magic technology.

Forced to literally walk in the paws of his enemy, Eric realises that he is fighting on the wrong side and vows to aid the Brotherhood against his former comrades. And just in time, too, because – quelle surprise – Eric's surviving mercenary pals reveal themselves to be murderous thugs willing to do anything in order to get to the platinum.

Startling Stories July 1948The Valley of Creation is an action-packed science fantasy adventure that feels like a throwback to the pulp era, probably because it is. For The Valley of Creation is an expanded version of a story first published in the July 1948 issue of Startling Stories. This has caused some anachronisms, e.g. at one point Eric remarks that he has been in Asia for ten years, which would set the story in 1960. However, the Chinese Civil War and the annexation of Tibet and the East Turkestan Republic, which are the reason why Eric and his comrades are in the Himalayas in the first place, happened in 1949 and 1950, i.e. shortly after the story was originally published.

The chapters that Eric spends in the body of a wolf are the highlight of the novel, for Hamilton makes a serious attempt to describe what the world would look, smell and feel like through the senses of a wolf. The other animals are characters in their own right as well, though the Brotherhood's commitment to equality between man and beast is undermined by the fact that their hereditary leader is human. But then, making the leader anything other than human would have been problematic, considering the plot requires Eric to fall in love with his beautiful daughter.

One can view the novel as a plea for animal rights. Or one can view it as an analogy for racial equality – after all, Eric muses at one point that equality between humans and animals seems as natural in L'Lan as equality between different races is in the outer world. That's an optimistic statement to make even in 1964, let alone in 1948. Furthermore, the Chinese mercenary Li Kin is a wholly sympathetic character, in a genre that is still all too often suffused with yellow peril rhetoric. Another member of the mercenary band is a black man, but unfortunately he is the main villain.

An entertaining novel that's well worth reading, even if it belongs to an earlier era of science fiction. 3.5 stars.

Outside the Universe, by Edmond Hamilton


by Jason Sacks

As the Journey’s resident comic book fan, I try to broaden my understanding of the industry’s creators by checking out some of their text-only work. This month brought two novels by prominent comic book writers. The contrast between the two works is strong.

First up is Outside the Universe by Edmond Hamilton, an Ace reprint of Hamilton’s final Galactic Patrol book. First published in a quartet of 1929 Weird Tales pulps, alongside work by Robert E. Howard, August Derleth, and — I kid you not — Lois Lane — Hamilton’s epic tale of titanic space battles, courageous heroes and intergalactic alliances is a breathless, often overwhelming weird tale.

Written in a long-winded style which reads like Hamilton was desperate to allow the words to tumble from his typewriter lest they find a stray period, Outside the Universe is a wild and wooly journey which involves a million-ship battle between a mighty galactic empire and evil space serpents. Battles are enormous and seemingly endless, and space seems filled with astonishing dangers which imperil every space ship which passes through them. Our heroes and villains fight their ways through bizarre radiation clouds and unexplained hot areas, stars arranged geometrically and people transformed into statues.

It’s a humdinger of a tale, a rousing yarn which throws the reader from cliffhanger to cliffhanger with scarcely a moment to catch their breath — unless they stop to diagram one of the hundreds (thousands?) of 50-word sentences in this book. Hamilton seems to have never internalized the idea of varying sentence length to keep his readers engaged. Perhaps this is an artifact of 1920s pulp writing, but I found I couldn’t keep focus on this book for too long without desperately getting impatient for a quick breather from all Hamilton’s verbosity.

Hamilton moved to comics, where he often wrote for his friend Mort Weisinger on the Superman family of comics. Notably, Hamilton's run on the "Legion of Super-Heroes" tales in Adventure Comics is well known for its breakneck pace — “a new planet every page”, as one critical wag labeled it — and complete paucity of characterization. Apparently Mr. Hamilton changed little as he aged, as this early work reflects those tendencies. Outside the Universe is a hoot but this story has no teeth.

Rating: 2.5

Escape Across the Cosmos, by Gardner Fox

Meanwhile, Gardner Fox has released his newest through the Paperback Library. Escape Across the Cosmos reads at times like a print version of Mr. Fox’s comic book work. In this volume, he delivers a novel about a kind of extradimensional space superhero.

That’s appropriate for the man who has written many classic tales for National Comics’ heroes line, including the memorable “Flash of Two Worlds”, in which the super speedster met his cross-dimensional counterpart. In fact, rumor has it that Fox will be assuming the reins on Batman later this year, taking over the moribund Batman and Detective Comics titles from a team which includes Edmond Hamilton.

Escape Across the Cosmos is the tale of Kael Carrack, a war-ravaged man whose body has been rebuilt to be nearly indestructible. His silicon skin, cybernetic strength and superhuman abilities are urgently needed to defeat the dreaded Ylth’yl, a Lovecraftian monster from another dimension who has killed nearly everybody of importance in his dimension and who hungers to transport his evil to our dimension. In fact, as the story unfolds, it seems Kael has a special connection to the evil creature, one which may save — or doom — our dimension.

In contrast with the Hamilton novel, Fox doesn’t squander characterization for adventure. He takes pains to show readers Kael’s confusion and allows us to become willing and excited participants in the hero’s journey to self-realization. As he and we do so, Kael finds true romance with a human woman, grows into a more perfected version of himself. It will betray any surprises to say that Kael begins to fulfill his destiny by the end of this short book.

This short novel is a clever, quick read. It shines in comparison with Hamilton’s overcrowded prose, as Fox takes pains to allow the reader to move ahead at his own pace. I would have loved to see more depth on the hero and his universe, but perhaps we’ll learn more about him at some point in the future when Fox delivers a sequel in one form or another.

Escape Across the Cosmos reads like an origin story for a new superhero, and for all I know Kael may appear in the pages of National’s Showcase try-out book in the next several months. Maybe Kael will be their next great sci-fi hero. I would certainly welcome him in my comics stack each month.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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[May 16, 1964] A Mirror to Progress (Chester Anderson and Michael Kurland's Ten Years to Doomsday)

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by Jason Sacks

These days, our world is undergoing a sudden and dramatic transformation. Starting immediately after the War, and accelerating since, many former colonies are becoming free nations, ready to embrace their potential and individuality. As these new countries find their own ways toward futures separate from their former masters, we in the Western world are able to experience life from different perspectives. These perspectives show the exquisite diversity of the human race. We are given the rare privilege to experience perspectives different from our own, perspectives sometimes frightening, sometimes exciting, but always intriguing. In doing so, we provide these nations the ultimate freedom: they can dream big. They can embrace new technologies and different ways of looking at the world. They can shake off the repressive yoke of colonialism and allow themselves to achieve their true potential.

Ten Years to Doomsday, the delightful new novel by the writing team of Chester Anderson and Michael Kurland, is a charming exploration of many of these themes using a mix of farce and drama.

As the book begins, an evil race of aliens threatens the star-spanning Terran Alliance. The aliens’ path to Earth leads through a human-colonized world that seems particularly hapless. As we meet them, the settlers on the planet Lyff seem a quiet people. They have a rigid society which revolves around their king and petty nobility. Even after thousands of years of civilization, the people of Lyff haven’t passed beyond an agrarian lifestyle which barely provides greater than subsistence living.

After their initial reconnaissance, the aliens plan be back in ten years to conquer Lyff and then begin their implacable march through the Terran empire. A stand needs to be taken on this small world, and quickly. But the aliens have astounding technology. How can a tiny planet like Lyff possibly defend itself?

Thankfully the Terrans have a plan: send a team of three scientists to Lyff to help jumpstart the world’s technology. These men start with the introduction of the telegraph but very quickly things begin to take their own momentum and the colonials soon prove to be much more sophisticated than the Terran colonizers expected. What at first seems like indolence or a lack of ambition soon proves to provide a pattern for technological innovation far beyond what anyone could have expected. The arrogant Terrans learn there are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in their philosophy

Our late, lamented President Kennedy said 18 months ago that we chose to go to the moon because it is hard. But what if journeying through space was easy — if you applied the right approach to solving the problems?

Anderson and Kurland deliver a novelette which reflects our world back to us in a clever and satirical manner, spotlighting the often arrogant and dismissive attitudes of our post-colonial world. Just as with many former colonies in our world, the colonists on Lyff have far more potential than the Terrans could possibly imagine. It’s a heady and humbling idea that would translate to a variety of media. As a comic book fan, I would love to see this theme brought to my favorite medium, perhaps portraying a small country, maybe in Africa, that proves to be much more technologically advanced even than the United States.

In tone and style, this slim book — less than 160 pages — reminded me of The Mouse that Roared, one of my favorite films from about five years ago and a clever take on the arrogance rich countries bring to our discussion of smaller countries. Just as Grand Fenwick proves to be a stronger adversary than the rest of the world is ready to deal with, so Lyff proves to be a formidable foil.

And as with The Mouse that Roared, I was reminded again of the fallacy of underestimating those who seem on the bottom…because they may soon reach the top. Heck, maybe even my beloved Mets can crawl out of 10th place in the National League before the end of the decade!

4 stars.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!  Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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[March 29, 1964] Five by Five (March Galactoscope)

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For your reading pleasure, Galactic Journey presents a quintet of the newest books in this month's Galactoscope…


by Victoria Silverwolf

The Prodigal Sun, by Philip E. High

I'm sitting here sipping some Earl Grey tea, nibbling a Bendicks Bittermint, listening to the Beatles on the radio; am I still in Tennessee?  I must be, because I'm holding Ace paperback F-255 in my hand, and that's an American publisher.  Then I take a closer look, and notice that the author is British.  I guess there's no way of getting around it; I'm a walking anglophile.

Philip E. High may not be very well known to those of us on this side of the Atlantic, but his stories have appeared in UK publications for about a decade.  I've had a chance to read a handful of them in New Worlds, thanks to fellow Traveler Mark Yon, who is very generous with lending copies of the magazine to Yanks. 

High also had the story Fallen Angel published in the June 1961 issue of Analog.  Our host was not impressed by it.  Overall, High seems to be a competent, if undistinguished, writer of science fiction.  Will his first novel confirm that opinion?  Is it worth forty cents?  Let's find out, starting with the front cover.

Was he there to teach Earth – or to rule it?

Well, that's a fairly interesting teaser.  The cover art is all right, I suppose, although it doesn't really grab me.  Let's take a look inside.

They wanted his secrets, but feared his presents

That should say presence, I think. 

Next we have a cast of characters.  That's a nice touch, as it allows me to flip back to the front when I forget who somebody is.  My only complaint is that it leaves out some important names.  Anyway, let's move on to the text.  Like most science fiction novels, it's well under two hundred pages long, so it's not a major investment in time.

The background is complex, requiring a lot of expository narration and dialogue.  Long before the novel begins, Earthlings settled a few extra-solar planets.  They ran into aliens, at about the same level of technology, who wanted one of these worlds for themselves, and a long and bloody interstellar war followed.  Eventually the humans won, but only at the cost of turning Earth into a brutal dictatorship.  Anyone suspected of disloyalty undergoes involuntary psychological conditioning, so that rebellious thoughts cause intense physical pain.

Into this dystopian world comes our hero, a young man named Peter Duncan.  As an infant, he was the only survivor of an accident in space, and was rescued by highly advanced aliens.  The rulers of Earth see him as a potential threat, but also as a possible source of technological secrets.  He has plans of his own, which I won't describe here, as they are not fully revealed until the end of the book.

The complicated, fast-moving plot also involves a bodyguard, a reporter, and a businessman who undergo important changes in their relationship with Duncan.  Thrown into the mix are enemy aliens, held as prisoners of war after hostilities end.  There is also a secret underground civilization, a love interest for the hero, and yet another set of aliens.  The novel shifts point of view often, sometimes several times within a single scene.

Near the end, developments come at a furious pace.  The revelation of Duncan's scheme, and the explanation of the novel's punning title, go beyond the limits of credulity. 

The book is full of interesting ideas; maybe too many.  Its basic theme can be expressed as Love Conquers All, which is not what you expect from a science fiction adventure story.  Many of the secondary characters are intriguing, although the protagonist is rather bland.  Often a villain turns out to be more complex than first thought, and earns the reader's sympathy.  The author's style is serviceable at best, with some clumsy phrasings.  Overall, it's a mixed bag, worth reading once, if you can spare a quarter, dime, and nickel, but not destined to become a timeless classic.

Three stars.

The Wanderer, by Fritz Leiber


by Jason Sacks


Cover by Bob Abbett

The Wanderer by Fritz Leiber is an odd book, a combination of two disparate elements which never quite come together for me.

The core plot of the story is that a new planet, nicknamed the Wanderer, has appeared in our solar system — and in fact appears in almost exactly the same spot as our moon. At first nobody knows what to make of this new celestial body, but most people feel a combination of awe and confusion about what this new interstellar visitor might mean and what its impact might be on our world.

Quickly, though, a tragedy which once was unimaginable becomes inevitable. The moon begins to disintegrate under the gravity of The Wanderer, which unleashes a devastating level of natural destruction. Because The Wanderer has a higher gravity than the moon, ocean tides increase geometrically in power, terrible tidal waves hit all oceans, earthquakes strike in California, rising ocean currents open Lake Nicaragua to the ocean, and floods strike much of the United Kingdom.

In the midst of this utter destruction, Leiber shows us the hearty survivors who battle the effects of the devastation. We follow a band of travelers in Florida who encounter unexpected racism, a group of UFO enthusiasts in California who battle tsunamis, violence and some actual flying saucers, a lunar explorer who sees the crisis up front, and a panoply of other ordinary and extraordinary people, from South Africa to Vietnam to New York to a lone sailor piloting a ship across the Atlantic.

The scenes with these characters provide The Wanderer with much of its power and momentum, as readers are swept up in the terrifying and all-too-human adventures of these hearty and terrified people. In fact, if Leiber had focused exclusively on the people and left the reason for the destruction a mystery, this might have been an even more satisfying book.

Instead, Leiber shows us the reason for the Wanderer’s presence. In those sections, the book falters. The reason the Wanderer journeys to our solar system is that the Earth is one of the remaining backwaters in the universe that’s not yet settled by a group of extraterrestrial beings looking to civilize nearly all of known space. Those beings need to use our solar system as a kind of refueling station.

The Wanderer is actually an artificial planet, filled with hundreds of levels of civilizations inhabited by creatures and cultures nearly unimaginable to most humans. Piloting the ship is a super-brilliant catlike creature named Tigerishka who captures one of the lunar explorers and explains to him the background of the plot. A rebel against the civilizers, Tigerishka is soon captured and put on trial before she runs away from her fate — but not before she and the human have some extraterrestrial intercourse.

Leiber spins up an epic tale with some memorable characters and startling situations, but the work feels a bit undercooked to me. The two key elements of the plot never quite connect with each other and the space trial comes from out of nowhere. There is precious little foreshadowing of Tigerishka’s presence, and I found the idea and execution of her to be a bit pulpy. I kept imagining the cover being similar to a Gernsback pulp with an attractive human body attached to a mysterious feline face.

Still, this is the kind of epic novel which would make for a fine film and likely a nomination for the award named for Mr. Gernsback. While I won’t be voting for it in next year’s Hugos, it’s easy see Mr. Leiber’s entertaining though flawed creation taking home honors.

Rating: three stars

[you can purchase this book or check it out at the library]

Marooned, by Martin Caidin


by Gideon Marcus

Some science fiction propels us to the farthest futures and remotest settings.  The latest book by Martin Caidin, better known by his aeronautical and space nonfiction, takes place on the very edge of tomorrow.  When the Soviets stun the world early in 1964 with the launch and docking of a pair of multi-crew spacecraft, NASA is directed to fill the space between Gordo Cooper's last Mercury flight and the increasingly delayed Gemini program.  Major Richard Pruett, a (fictional) member of the second cadre of astronauts, is tapped for a 49 orbit Mercury endurance mission, launched in July.

For three days, all goes perfectly, but at the moment of deceleration, Pruett's retrorockets refuse to fire, stranding the fellow in space.  Now, with just enough oxygen to last two more days, the hapless astronaut must somehow find a way to last three days — until the drag of the upper atmosphere seizes Mercury 7 and sends it plunging toward the Earth.

There is no question but that Caidin did his homework for the book.  Undoubtedly, the author has enough material for a lengthy reference on the Mercury program and the astronaut training process in general.  But within the gears and hard science, Caidin manages to draw a compelling profile of Pruett, sort of an amalgam of the seven Mercury astronauts.  From his first flight in a propeller plane, through a bloody stint in Korea, and past the rigorous astronaut indoctrination, Pruett gives the reader a first-person view of the experiences that make up the humans beneath the silver sheen of the spacesuit.

Marooned shines most brightly in the first and last thirds of the book.  The solitude and hopelessness Pruett's plight is vividly portrayed, and the pages fly up through about page 100.  The journey through astronaut training is more clinical, with few dramatizations to liven it up.  It will be interesting to neophytes, but any of us who read the Time Life series on the Mercury 7 (or the compilation We Seven) will find it dry.  Things pick up again when we learn of the daring rescue attempts being assembled to save Pruett from being America's first casualty in space.

With Marooned, Caidin accomplishes two goals in one book, delivering an exciting read and providing perhaps the most detailed summary of the Mercury program for the layman yet put to paper.

Four stars.

ace double F-261

The Lunar Eye, by Robert Moore Williams


Cover by Ed Valigursky

It is the year 1973, and Art Harper owns a service station on the freeway to the launch pad where soon a giant rocket will take the first twelve men to the moon.  His life had hitherto been one of complete and deliberate normality.  But then, a woman appears claiming to be one of the Tuantha, a society of humans that had gone to the moon millennia before and established a secret, highly advanced civilization.  She insists that Art is Tuanthan, too, placed with a human family like a changeling, and that he must come home.  Further complicating the mix is Art's brother, Gecko, who, while human, managed to sneak into the Tuanthan moon city during one of the frequent inter-planet teleport trips.  Now he wants to live in their lovely settlement, too.

The fly in the ointment is the upcoming lunar shot.  The Tuanthans are convinced that, should the two societies ever meet, the Earthers will dominate and ultimately exterminate them, just as the Europeans slaughtered the American Indians.  And so, the Tuanthans plan to sabotage the American lunar effort before the moon city is discovered. 

This latest book by Robert Moore Williams stands in stark contrast to Caidin's hyer-realistic Marooned.  Moore has been producing adventure stories since the '30s, and it shows.  Eye reads like something written in 1948, lacking any comprehension of technological improvements since then.  But the real flaws of the book are in its execution.  It starts out excitingly enough, and the first half reads quite quickly.  But then Art, Gecko, and the Tuanthan, Lecia, end up on the moon, and the whole thing becomes a slog of speeches and redundant scenes as the three are put on trial for treason for wanting to stop the destruction of the American moon rocket.

In fact, Williams' fiction production consists almost exclusively of novellas.  It's pretty clear he has no heart or endurance for longer works, and the padding required to cross the novel-length finish line is tiresome and obvious.  Finally, Eye is riddled with plot holes and story threads that go nowhere. 

A promising but ultimately sloppy piece: Two and a half stars.

The Towers of Toron, by Samuel R. Delany


Cover by Ed Emshwiller

On the other hand, Chip Delany's new work, a sequel to last year's Captives of the Flame, reflects an upward trend.  In the first book of the series, he introduced us to Toromon, capital of an island empire situated on Earth long after an atomic cataclysm.  The cast of characters was bewilderingly large: the decadent and young King Uske, his cousin; Prince Let, who was smuggled into the custody of the smarter, psionically gifted forest people; the capable and canny Duchess Petra; the noble and former prisoner, Jon, who along with Petra had been rendered invisible in dim light by the radiations that girdle Toron's imperial boundaries; the paternal forest person, Arkor; Tel, a poor fisherman's son; Alter, a thief and acrobat; Clea, a brilliant mathematician…

It was all a bit much, but now that I see the author is planning on doing more with the world, I can understand why he introduced so many players.  Towers does a fine job of continuing their stories, and I feel like I have a good handle on them all now.

Towers is set three years after Flame.  The empire has rediscovered the technology of matter transfer and is busy exploring the devastated planet.  A war has already been fought and won against the mutant insectoid tranu, and another is in progress against the mysterious ketzis.  It is a strange war, fought in nearly impenetrable mists thousands of miles from home.  The enemy is never seen, and its combatants (who include Tel, the fisherman's son), seem almost in a daze, unable to dwell much upon their pasts or their futures.  Meanwhile, Toromon is in increasing turmoil.  Prime Minister Chargill is assassinated.  The evil seed of the fiery enemy from the first book is discovered hidden in the mind of King Uske.  And Clea, seeking refuge in arcane mathematics after the death of her fiancee (that occurred in Flame), discovers a secret that could tear the entire empire asunder.

Tower is a significant improvement on Flame: better paced, more skillfully written, exciting.  It is no mean feat to juggle all of these viewpoints and still maintain a coherent whole.  Moreover, I appreciate the sheer variety of characters, including the prominence of several women.

I did find both fascinating and a little disturbing Delany's depiction of the three races of people that inhabit future Earth, with greater divergence than the paltry skin tone differences humanity has today.  They are practically different species, with the baseline humans being seeming to be more imaginative (though not necessarily smarter) than the "neo-neanderthals," and the forest people occupying a mental rung above the humans.  The neo-neanderthals are referred to as 'apes', and though they don't ever object, I can only imagine that the author (who is Black) is making a point.

If there's a down-side to the book, it's that it is a clear bridge to the next novel in the series, which has not yet come out.  All the threads do come to a satisfying resolution at the book's end, but the aftermath, and the coming (final?) battle with the cosmic Lord of the Flames is left for later.

Three and a half stars, and kinder disposition toward the first book.

[(this book and the others in the series can be purchased here)]

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!  Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Comics

[March 7, 1964] Look both ways (Marvel and National Comics round-up)

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


by Gideon Marcus

Overcoming prejudice

Once, I was a snob.

For the most part, I was raised on a steady diet of L. Frank Baum, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and H.P. Lovecraft.  I devoured the complete canons of each.  I also enjoyed the superhero comics of the war years — who doesn't like watching Captain America slug Nazis?  But after the war, I was getting tired of the pulps, and comics were getting tired.  I wanted something new.

Then, 'round 1950, I discovered science fiction digests — grown-up mags like Galaxy and Fantasy and Science Fiction — and my snobbish attitude was firmly established.  It didn't help that comics had entered a real slump by the 1950s, with National Comics (DC to the hep kids) in a rut and Atlas running Westerns and half-bit anthologies.  With the demise of the American News Company, Atlas went the way of the dodo, along with most of the inferior digests.  Survival of the fittest, right?

So I certainly didn't expect that I would find myself getting into those very same comics I'd once turned my nose at.  I first took notice when Marvel Comics arose from the ashes of Atlas Comics and started publication of The Fantastic Four.  Not only did this mag showcase the talents of Jack Kirby, the fellow who invented Captain America, but it featured a more realistic team dynamic than I'd ever seen before.  Why, these folks hardly even liked each other sometimes.  I appreciated the dilemma of The Thing, a hideous rock monster who nevertheless wasn't keen on returning to his human form, lest he give up his evil-clobbering powers.

Then came The Amazing Spiderman and The X-Men, and I was hooked.  I sang Marvel's virtues and scoffed at the kiddie fare that DC was peddling.  Around that time, I picked up an adversary, a Mr. Jason Sacks who delighted in telling me how wrong-headed my tastes were.

Late last year, Jason and I decided, unlike Tareyton smokers, that we'd rather switch than fight.  You see, Jason had discovered the charm of the new line-up of Marvel superheroes, and I was taken with D.C.'s new X-men-like group, the Doom Patrol.  Instead of picking a side, why not enjoy the virtues of both?

State of the Union

Here in March 1964 (May on the comics I buy at the news stand), Marvel's line-up has fully flowered.  The newest member of the superhero pantheon is Matt Murdock, a blind attorney whose other senses have compensated to such a degree (sounds inspired by Galouye's Dark Universe doesn't it?) that he is able to fight crime as The Daredevil!  The debut issue of this hero, written by Stan Lee and drawn by Bill Everett, was a hoot, and I look forward to the next.

Sidebar: I'm impressed that both comics houses are exploring the idea of handicapped heroes: Daredevil is blind, Professor X and The Chief (leaders of the X-Men and the Doom Patrol) both use wheelchairs, Thor's human form requires a cane, The Thing, Doom Patrol's Automaton and Negative Man and X-Men's Angel all have obvious physical peculiarities that make them stand out.  This makes for more mature storylines, and those of us with some kind of disability find a measure of comfort in having these folks with whom to identify.

Spiderman, a Stan Lee/Steve Ditko effort, continues to entertain.  This month's issue, #8, features the return of Dr. Octopus and spotlights the problem of recidivism amongst supervillains.

Both Fantastic Four (Lee/Kirby) and Spiderman demonstrate Marvel's increasing reliance on multi-book story arcs.  It's funny to think that two stories per issue used to be the norm — now it might take several issues to wrap up a plotline.  Speaking of Fantastic Four, in issue #24, the Thing goes toe to toe with the Hulk in a match-up every bit as exciting as the recent Heavyweight Championship between Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston. 

Avengers (Lee/Kirby) is a bi-monthly, like X-Men; in the last issue (#4), Captain America was thawed from the ice in which he's been frozen since World War 2.  I can't tell you how excited I am to have Cap back, and I urge you to check it out.

As for the "anthologies," these are increasingly becoming character books, and I have to wonder if they will just get renamed for the hero that stars in them.  For instance, Strange Tales has become the home of the mysterious Dr. Strange, although this issue also features a popular rivalry/team-up: the flaming Torch and the frozen Turd…er… Ice Man!

Journey into Mystery #103 is Thor's mag.

Tales of Suspense #52 stars Iron Man fighting the Black Widow, and an immortal alien called The Watcher.

I'm always happy to see the Wasp, and she got an outing with her beaux, Giant Man, in Tales to Astonish #54. 

And then there is the host of girls comics featuring the latest in fashion:

Let's not forget the western titles, which I don't bother with, but which still linger on.

For the WW2 buffs who don't get enough from DC's Sgt. Rock, this month's Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos is a riveting courtmartial drama.

Finally, I want to give recognition to the fellows who most often go unsung, the Letterers: Sol Rosen and Art Simek.  Without them, comics would be just a bunch of pictures.

Oh, and what do we have here?  Mr. Sacks is invoking the Fairness Doctrine and wants to tell us all about the state of National Comics.  Well, why not?

Better Read than Dead


by Jason Sacks

The big comic news for me in ‘64 is that the Doom Patrol have finally emerged into their own title. Moving out from an anthology slot in My Greatest Adventure, these oddball adventurers continue to delight. Thankfully National has identified the artist on this sterling series as Bruno Premiani, and the Italian master delivers fascinating tales of “The world’s strangest heroes.” For a change such a blurb is accurate, as the weird Negative Man, charmingly acerbic Robotman and enchanting Elasti-Girl continue working for the mysterious chief.  It’s similar to Marvel’s much duller X-Men — though the similarities are apparently an accident of timing, if you believe the fanzines — but more insightful and stranger.

Recently, Hawkman debuted his own solo comic after a series of showcase appearances in  Mystery In Space. National editor Julius Schwartz’s latest resurrection of a long-forgotten Golden Age character, the new Hawkman is an alien from the delightfully named Thanagar, working on Earth as a museum manager and in the stars as a great space policeman. The art, most likely by Murphy Anderson, is all National Comics smoothness and ease, making the winged wonder’s adventures a thorough delight.

With Hawkman moving out from Mystery in Space, that anthology series is now devoted to full-length tales featuring the hero of Rann, Adam Strange. With sleek, moderne art by Carmine Infantino, well known for his fabulous Flash, this thrilling series mixes astounding adventure with a smart space romance for a surprisingly heady mix that even adults can enjoy.

It’s not all greatness for National in ‘64, though. Editor Mort Weisinger continues his stultifyingly stale children’s stories in the Superman titles, while Metal Men is seldom as clever as it wants to be and Wonder Woman is so dull even my kid sister won’t pick it up. Worst of all are Batman and Detective Comics. A recent issue of Detective, issue #326, shows the nadir of this abysmal series with the pathetically stupid “Captives of the Alien Zoo,” a story so dumb and so contrived that it should result in the immediate firing of everyone responsible for its creation. Compared to that, even Archie Comics’ idiotic Adventures of The Fly seems like the work of a genius.

Overall DC is following some of the same trends Marvel has embraced recently. For one thing, a reader has to wonder if anthology series are on their way out. My Greatest Adventure disappeared while others, like Mystery in Space and House of Secrets (with the intriguing Eclipso), are going full action hero. In other ways National blazes their own trail. That company continues to have a wider diversity of titles than Marvel – hardly a surprise with the larger set of titles they deliver each month. Humor and romance still have their place with the likes of Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, Girls’ Love Stories and Secret Hearts. As usual with National all their titles demonstrate that traditional sheen of professionalism Marvel often lacks. Will kids go for smoothness over unpredictability in ‘64? Only time will tell.

[And that's our comics round-up for San Diego Comic Fest!  If I met any of you folk this weekend, please drop me a line.  I'd love to hear from you.]




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Book

[January 10, 1964] Journey to the Stars, Journey into the Self (Starswarm, by Brian Aldiss)

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by Jason Sacks

From many, one

Few things are more of a mixed blessing to a science fiction fan than a themed collection.

In the right hands – as with the epochal Foundation, The City and Martian Chronicles – the single-author themed collection tells a fascinating story in three dimensions, providing heft to an impact that even a full novel can’t always attain. Brian Aldiss’s new offering Starswarm doesn’t quite reach the levels of Asimov, Simak, or Bradbury but it is nevertheless an intriguing collection well worth reading.

With Starswarm, Aldiss delivers a different type of anthology than the above authors delivered. He explores inner landscapes as much as he does the alien worlds his characters inhabit. While each of these stories seems widely diverse in terms of exploring the complexity of the Starswarm, they nevertheless explore common themes of the dream of freedom, the need to break away from family, and the joy of exploration. In doing so, he makes the alien familiar. No matter how odd these characters may seem on the outside, Aldiss seems to be saying, they nevertheless share very human characteristics. This book helps bolster the assertion that Aldiss has grown into one of the foremost science fiction authors of ideas.

In Aldiss’s imagining, the Starswarm is a confederation of “two hundred and fifteen thousand planets” (as he says) and has lasted for eternities — long enough, in fact, for societies to have evolved in unique and unpredictable ways. This imaginative back-story promises a myriad of intriguing setups for readers, such as the complexities of managing such a diverse collection of planets and the unique biological imperatives of each one.

A look inside

“A Kind of Artistry” is written in a dense, ornate style which aims to approximate its alien argot. I often found the tale tough wading due to the large number of obscure words, but I responded to its powerful themes. This story tells the tale of Derek Ende, who hopes to stay with his Mistress (later shown to also be his mother) in his ancestral home but who is forced to explore the sentient planet the Cliff. In one key moment, the Cliff metaphorically takes Derek into its womb. In his emergence, Derek experiences a metaphorical rebirth made manifest in the story’s haunting final lines. The story can thus be read as a parable about the breakaway to adulthood as much as a tale of space exploration.

“Hearts and Engines” is a story of military conquering, as a brutal invading military force gives its soldiers drugs which turn them into a kind of berserker force abe to fight until their hearts burst. The other twist to this tale is that, as Aldiss writes, “they allow no weapon that cannot be carried by one man.” These warriors transform into other beings, but in doing so they brutalize their planet, their enemy and themselves. This is a thrilling tale which kept me on the edge of my seat as it went along, straight to its tragic ending.

“The Underprivileged” seemed the most clichéd story in the collection to me, a tale whose twist I figured out long before Aldiss turned the metaphorical tiger’s tale. Yet despite that, I found this story powerful. Tinged with disappointment yet with an odd level of sweetness and naïveté, this tale had an oddly intriguing resonance in light of our current post-colonial era in Africa.

“The Game of God” inverts the classic story of an explorer who has gone native with the story of “Daddy” Dangerfield, a man whose rocket ship crashes onto a primitive planet and who has been portrayed in popular fiction of the era as a kind of Tarzan-style adventurer. But Dangerfield is far from the hero people want him to be. This interesting story adroitly contrasts the myths of the heroic adventurer with the reality of a scared, scrawny man who refuses to learn anything about the planet he chooses to inhabit. A reader has to wonder if Aldiss is playing with the cliché of the great explorer, attempting to show that Western man is not fated to be the savior of every culture which seems inferior — a powerful and subtle statement. Aldiss also does an excellent job in this tale of creating a complex alien culture which feels very different from anything most readers can imagine — exactly what science fiction is great at.

“Shards” is easily the most dissonant and difficult story in this collection, a deliberately obscure and off-putting tale with a tiger’s tale ending that aims to redeem it. Though the story didn’t work for me, I admired Aldiss’s commitment to his narrative and the experimental way he explores the nature of human freedom in a world where genetic engineering transforms people into beings God could never have created.

“Legends of Smith’s Burst” is an odyssey of sorts, almost heroic fantasy, encompassing hidden castles, dogged heroes and endless wandering. Interestingly there is no female character at the center of this tale begging to be saved from the arch-villain, but the hero’s drive to succeed permeates everything. There are echoes of Tolkien and Lieber in this tale, though with an interesting science fiction twist.

“A Moon of my Delight” also highlights the selfishness of its protagonists, a ragged band of landholders and traders on a barren moon who are much more concerned with their sexual fulfillment than more spiritual ends. Though not at all sexually explicit, this is a story about adults — how they use and discard each other, how they ignore the things that don’t help them, and how they reluctantly find themselves forced into unwanted heroism. There’s a shocking death near the end of this story which took my breath away with its casual unfeeling style — a powerful moment in a subtly powerful story.

This collection wraps up with “Old Hundredth”, a meditative tale of mentors and mentees, end of lives and the power of music. It’s metaphorical and oddly powerful despite its sometimes obscure style.

Greater than the sum of its parts?

Several years ago my fellow writer Gideon Marcus wrote on this site about Brian Aldiss’s prior themed collection, Galaxies like Grains of Sand. He declared that “the style is inconsistent” and the book “[not] a complete success.” Several GJ commentators wrote in response to Mr. Marcus’s review, “there’s just something missing for me” and “I want to like this collection, and Brian Aldiss as a writer, more than I actually do.”

Perhaps this slim new volume, weak in physical coherence but strong in thematic power, will change the minds of some of my companions on this Galactic Journey. Aldiss takes us on a different journey than Simak, Asimov or Bradbury followed. I found my trip to the Starswarm to be fascinating.

4 stars.




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