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[July 24, 1963] The Numbers Game (August 1963 Fantastic)

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[Did you meet us at Comic Con?  Read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Victoria Silverwolf

Those of us living in the United States had to memorize a new number this month.  In addition to our telephone numbers, Social Security numbers, and so on, we now have Zone Improvement Plan numbers, also known as ZIP Codes.  These numbers help the United States Post Office Department direct the mail to its proper destination.  We used to be able to use one or two digit Postal Zone numbers, and only for big cities.  Now every area in the nation has a ZIP Code.  The Post Office sent a postcard to every mailing address in the country –seventy-two million, more or less — listing its five digit ZIP Code. 

They even created a mascot, a cartoon mail carrier named Mr. Zip.

Other numbers in the news this month were 15 (as in the X-15 hypersonic rocket-powered aircraft), 90 (as in Flight 90 of this vehicle), and 100 (as in 100 kilometers above the surface of the Earth, considered to be place where outer space begins.) Just a few days ago, Joseph A. Walker, pilot for the X-15's Flight 90, reached an altitude of 107.8 kilometers and a speed of nearly six thousand kilometers per hour.  That makes him the first person to reach outer space in an airplane, and America's first civilian astronaut.

In popular music, of course, the only number that really matters is one.  Earlier this month, a rhythm and blues group called The Essex reached Number One on the American pop music charts with their catchy, if hardly innovative, tune Easier Said Than Done.  The most unusual thing about the musicians who make up The Essex is that all of them are active members of the United States Marine Corps.

Currently, the top position is held by the vocal duo Jan and Dean, with Surf City.  This is the first song in the relatively new genre of surf music to reach Number One.  Speaking of numbers, this tune begins with a numerical lyric that may raise some eyebrows.
Two girls for every boy

With all these numbers spinning around in my head, I thought I could get away from them for a while and enjoy the latest issue of Fantastic.  It turns out that the simple question How many stories are in this issue? requires some tricky mathematics.

Bazaar of the Bizarre, by Fritz Leiber

Vernon Kramer's colorful cover art accurately portrays the lead story.  The cover blurb, however, is unfair to the Gray Mouser's companion Fafhrd, who actually plays a more active role in their latest adventure.

Two strange sorcerers, who often send the pair on weird and dangerous quests, summon them to a nighttime marketplace in the city of Lankhmar.  The Gray Mouser arrives early.  Having a little time to kill, he investigates a new shop that appears out of nowhere.  It is full of wonderful things.  Of particular interest to the lusty little fellow are the alluring young women within cages hanging from the ceiling.

Meanwhile, his giant friend Fafhrd meets with the wizards.  It seems that an evil force from another universe threatens the land of Nehwon.  They provide him with magical objects and send him to destroy the invader.  What follows is a deadly battle against sinister foes.

No one is better at writing sword-and-sorcery than Fritz Leiber.  Every line begs to be read aloud, the better to appreciate its poetic rhythm and vivid imagery.  Exotic details make the setting seem very real.  The author adds just the right of touch of wit to spice up his story.  The climactic battle is thrilling.  Five stars.

The Red Tape Yonder, by Vance Simonds

A government official dies and tries to make his way to Heaven.  He encounters multiple obstacles.  This is a heavy-handed satire of bureaucracy.  A few lines suggest that the author is a loyal supporter of the G.O.P., so I hope my left-leaning tendencies don't interfere with my ability to judge this story on its merits.  Two stars.

The Grass, More Green, by W. Lee Tomerlin

A henpecked husband receives several miniatures from a friend who feels sorry for him.  The fellow becomes obsessed with his little world, locking himself in his basement.  What happens isn't very surprising.  This story reminded me of Rod Serling's nostalgic tales of men yearning to escape their disappointing lives.  (In particular, the Twilight Zone episodes Walking Distance and A Stop at Willoughby.) Unfortunately, the author doesn't quite have the delicate touch required for this theme.  The man's wife is a caricature of a selfish, nagging woman.  Two stars.

A Hoax in Time (Part 3 of 3), by Keith Laumer

The three protagonists of this novel – a wealthy heir, a carnival worker, and an artificial woman, formed by a computer with immense powers – are in a parallel reality, created by their journey through time.  The heir undergoes an intense training program, which transforms him from a useless, spoiled weakling into a man with extraordinary mental and physical skills.  While on an outdoor test of his abilities, he discovers a plot to overthrow the utopian society he and his companions brought into being. 

The story moves quickly, particularly at the end.  The author relies on a deus ex machina — almost literally, in this case — to tie everything up.  If the first third of this serial was a comic romp, and the second third a philosophical essay, the final third is a fast-paced adventure story.  Although entertaining, the disparate elements of the story never quite come together.  Three stars.

Two More Tales for the Horrid at Heart, by Brad Steiger

Here's where the counting of stories gets complicated.  Two tiny works of fiction appear under the title above, but they also have their own titles. 

Sacrifice Play features an archeologist who discovers an inscription at the ruins of Ankor Wat.  They promise fabulous wealth in exchange for a sacrifice to a demon.  As you might imagine, this is a bad idea.

In One Too Many, a married couple sneaks vodka into the fruit punch of a mysterious fellow who never drinks alcohol.  They soon find out the reason for his abstinence.

Both stories feature twist endings.  The first one is obvious, and the second one is arbitrary.  Two stars.

The Devil in Hollywood, by Dale Clark

This month's reprint comes from the August 8, 1936 issue of Argosy.  A little over a decade ago, it was reprinted in Avon Fantasy Reader. 

Dale Clark (which Fantastic misspells as Clarke in the table of contents and title page of the story, although Sam Moskowitz spells it correctly in his introduction) is a pseudonym used by a writer with the much more interesting name of Ronal Sherwood Kayser.  He writes mostly crime fiction, although I don't think he's published anything for a while.  He also wrote a few fantasy stories for markets such as Weird Tales.

A movie director convinces an unemployed cameraman and an aspiring actress to work on a film he is producing on his own.  The director himself will play the lead role.  The plot of the movie, which reminds me of the early German talkie Der Blaue Engel, involves a man who becomes involved with a heartless dancer.  He makes a pact with Satan in order to acquire sufficient riches to purchase her affection.  This story-within-the-story turns out to be all too real.

This tale of terror is written in a realistic manner, probably due to the author's experience with hardboiled fiction.  The description of the moviemaking industry is very convincing, making the supernatural aspects seem believable.  Four stars.

Sometimes I Get So Happy, by David R. Bunch

A writer that some readers love to hate returns to the dystopian world of Moderan, whose inhabitants have bodies made mostly of metal.  The narrator recalls his former life, when he was made entirely of flesh.  He remembers a failed romance.  The main appeal of this story is the author's unique style.  Three stars.

Fables of the Past & Future, by Thomas M. Disch

Once again, I have to scratch my head and wonder how I should count this trio of vignettes.  The title listed above only appears in the table of contents.  Unlike the pair of tales by Brad Steiger, each of these stories has its own introduction by editor Cele Goldsmith.

In The Return of the Medusae, the inhabitants of New York City turn to stone.  Those who remain alive treat them as statues, destroying them if they fail to please.  This story may be an allegory about the nature of art.

In Master Said-And-Done, a mute hunchback makes a deal with the Devil, damning himself by accepting three wishes.  This familiar theme leads to a twist ending.  Of the three so-called fables, this is the most traditional.

The Enchanted Prince, 1963 is a twisted fairy tale that combines medieval elements with modern touches.  An orphaned princess, raised by a cruel uncle, has to go to public school.  The reason this horrifies her has to do with a serious problem facing the United States today. 

The author writes well, but his sardonic tone will not appeal to all readers.  Three stars.

Cornie on the Walls, by Sydney van Scyoc

The magazine once more makes a spelling error, giving the author's first name as Sidney.  This may disguise the fact that she is a woman.  Since she has only published a small number of stories, mostly in Galaxy, perhaps we can forgive this mistake.

Her latest offering is a strange tale, which requires close reading.  An artist of the future lies motionless, connected to his house by machines.  He uses his mind to create pictures that appear on the walls of his home.  Students and tourists show up to observe them.  Against his will, distorted images of a dead woman, apparently his wife or lover, appear on the walls. 

This is a dark and disturbing story, often gruesome.  The author creates a compelling science fiction horror story.  Four stars.

Let's see; that makes six stories; one-third of a novel; two stories that might be one story; and three stories that might be one story, for a total of . . .

I better go study this crazy New Math that everybody's talking about.

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]

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Science / Space Race

[June 24, 1963] First Ladies (July 1963 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The most inspiring news this month, at least for anyone interested in humanity's first tiny steps away from our home planet, was the fact that Soviet cosmonaut Valentina Vladimirovna Tereshkova became the first woman in space.  She orbited the Earth forty-eight times aboard Vostok 6, landing safely after nearly three days inside the tiny spacecraft.

This was certainly a welcome distraction from the continuing battle in the United States over civil rights.  On June 11, Governor George Wallace stood in the doorway of Foster Auditorium at the University of Alabama in an attempt to block desegregation of the school.  Only after the National Guard arrived to remove Wallace did he step aside.

The next day, in Jackson, Mississippi, NAACP activist Medgar Evers was murdered, shot to death in his driveway.

The same day, President Kennedy addressed the nation on the subject of civil rights.

It ought to be possible for American consumers of any color to receive equal service in places of public accommodation, such as hotels and restaurants and theaters and retail stores, without being forced to resort to demonstrations in the street, and it ought to be possible for American citizens of any color to register and to vote in a free election without interference or fear of reprisal.

Let us hope that all Americans take these words to heart.

Those of us wishing to escape from this distressing conflict can go out to a movie theater and spend four hours watching Cleopatra, said to be the most expensive film ever made.

We can also enjoy the novelty of listening to Japanese crooner Kyu Sakamoto singing Ue o Muite Arukou (I look up as I walk).  Despite having been given the inappropriate English title Sukiyaki, this lovely, gently melancholy tune has reached number one on the US music charts.

And in the vein of literary distractions, one can do worse than a science fiction magazine.  Given Tereshkova's recent achievement, it's appropriate that the latest issue of Fantastic features a pair of firsts from women.

Artist Jacquelyn Blair, who has previously done interior illustrations for editor Cele Goldsmith's magazines, provides the cover art.  Not only is this the first time she has moved from the inside.  This is also the first time she has received credit under her full name.  Earlier issues simply listed her as Blair.  This seems to be standard practice for interior artists, so I don't think it was an attempt to hide her sex. 

Blair is not the first woman in her field.  Perhaps the most famous female illustrator of fantastic fiction is Margaret Brundage, who provided many covers for Weird Tales.  In any case, Blair's cartoonish cover properly matches the mood of the magazine's lead story…

The Trouble with Tweenity, by Jack Sharkey

A scientist discovers that an infinite number of worlds exist between normal matter and antimatter.  To solve the near future's extreme traffic congestion, the President of the United States uses devices that allow people to travel to these worlds.  All sorts of problems result.  Attempts to solve these dilemmas lead to further complications.

Typical for the author, this is a silly farce.  The science is complete nonsense, even for a comedy.  Much of the story is pure exposition.  One or two jokes provide mild amusement.  Two stars.

He That Hath Wings, by Edmond Hamilton

This month's reprint comes from the July 1938 issue of Weird Tales.  A baby is born to a woman who dies in childbirth.  She and the infant's father, already dead, were exposed to radiation in an electrical explosion.  The child has hollow bones and special muscles to control the wings he develops.  He grows into a man who can fly.  He falls in love with a woman who returns his affection, but cannot allow herself to marry someone the world thinks of as a freak.  The man must choose between flight and romance.  Sacrifice and tragedy follow.

Although this story begins in the old-fashioned style of pulp fiction, it soon becomes poetic.  The author's descriptions of the joy of flying are particularly effective.  A minor quibble is that the scientific explanation for the man's mutation is not convincing.  This emotionally powerful tale would have been even better as pure fantasy.  Four stars.

A Hoax in Time (Part 2 of 3), by Keith Laumer

In the first part of this serial, our three protagonists – a wealthy idler, a carnival performer, and a robot in the form of a beautiful young woman, created by a super-computer – wound up in the remote past.  The idler and the robot escaped.  In this installment, they return to rescue the performer, only to find that thirty years have gone by.  While waiting for the others, he helped the savage people of the past progress into healthy, self-reliant individuals.  When the three go back to their own time, they find that his efforts have changed the present.  In particular, the super-computer no longer exists, leaving them unable to journey through time again and put things back the way they were.

This part of the novel is less comic than the first.  It also has less action and more talk.  The author creates an interesting alternate version of reality.  Although the world he depicts has its flaws, it seems intended as a functioning libertarian society.  The author's philosophy also comes through in the final section of this installment, when the idler goes through an intense training program of self-discipline in order to become a valuable member of his new home.  The story is never boring, even when it becomes nothing more than a discussion of ideas.  The performer's ability to bring technology to the prehistoric people, in the manner of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, strains credibility.  Three stars.

The Recurrent Suitor, by Ron Goulart

This is a sequel to last month's story Plumrose.  The narrator, a man of 1961, is still stuck in 1897.  The occult detective Plumrose brought him there with a time ray.  He serves as the detective's reluctant assistant until Plumrose can repair the time ray.  In this story, the mismatched pair help a young man rescue his fiancée from a family curse.  As with the previous story, this is a light comedy, poking fun at old-fashioned Gothic fiction.  Three stars.

A Contract in Karasthan, by Phyllis MacLennan

This is the first published story by the author, and one hopes that it will not be the last.  A man journeys around the world in search of the magical place for which he yearns.  When he finds it, he must decide whether to remain or return to mundane reality.  This is a delicate, moody, dream-like fantasy.  It has the flavor of a myth.  The author's elegant style casts a spell over the reader.  Five stars.

Final Audit, by Thomas M. Disch

In the Nineteenth Century, a clerk has a peculiar form of precognition.  Although he fills out a book of postal expenses one month after the actual transactions, he can see one month ahead.  In other words, he knows what he is going to write in the book one month in the future, dealing with the expenses made on the day he sees them.  This strange ability seems useless, since it deals with such trivial matters.  Over many years, the clerk tries various ways to turn this to his advantage, without luck.

This is an unusual story, written in a deliberately old-fashioned style.  Although it is not a comedy, one can't help feeling that the author has his tongue firmly in his cheek.  Although the ending is predictable, the portrait of a life wasted in pursuit of an impossible goal is effective.  Three stars.

All in all, it has been a banner month for women in science and science fiction.  Let's hope that Tereshkova, Goldsmith, Blair, and MacLennan continue to serve as role models for other pioneering women, in the far reaches of outer space or deep within the human imagination.

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[June 4, 1963] Booked passage (July 1963 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

How quickly the futuristic becomes commonplace.  Just two years ago, I marveled about how fast one can cross the oceans by jet.  Now, on the eve of another trip to Japan (we really have joined the Jet Set, haven't we?) I look at the flight itinerary and grumble.  Why must we stop in Hawaii?  That adds several hours to the trip — it'll take more than half a day to get from LAX to Haneda.

Spoiled rotten, I tell you.

Speaking of travel stories, a fresh crop of science fiction digests has hit my mailbox.  Many of them will be joining me on my trip to the Orient, but I finished one of them, the July 1963 IF, pre-flight.  All of them feature some element of star-hopping, and so this issue sets a fine mood as we embark on our latest journey:

That Notebook Again, by Theodore Sturgeon

I find it interesting that editor Fred Pohl has gotten Ted Sturgeon to write his editorials for him.  I'm not complaining — it's always nice to see Sturgeon in print in any capacity.  This time around, he treats us to a number of technological proposals, a wishlist of inventions that should be right around the corner, given a little interest and effort.  I found his idea for a home TV-tape camera and player particularly titilating (and not farfetched — my nephew already audio-tapes television shows onto reel-to-reel).

The Reefs of Space (Part 1 of 3), by Jack Williamson and Frederik Pohl

A good third of the issue is given to a new serial (illustrated on the cover — EMSH is big in this issue, though I also like the work of Nodel, who is new to me).  Hundreds of years from now, Earth's population is highly regimented, its economy utterly socialized, under the authority of The Machine and its master Plan.  Dissent is punished by incarceration and the forced wearing of an explosive ring around one's neck.  Further disobedience results in one's "salvage" (dissasembly into component body parts for the use of others). 

Steve Ryeland is an experimental physicist, a touchy job to have when scientific advancement poses both boon and risk for the Plan.  At Reef's beginning, he has been a prisoner for three years, unaware of his crime, but consistently questioned about "spacelings," "fusorians," "reefs of space," and "jetless drive" — terms about which he knows nothing.  Adding to his confusion is a three-day gap in his memory.

And then comes the urgent summons — the Machine will have Ryeland discover the secret of the reactionless drive, and soon, or be sent to the Body Banks.  For at the edge of the solar system lies a biological construct, the tremendous analog of a coral reef created by organisms that live on interstellar hydrogen.  Not only does this alien structure pose a hypothetical threat to the Plan, but it affords sanctuary to a more existential opponent — the revolutionary-in-exile, Donderevo.  Can Ryeland accomplish his mission in time to save his hide and human society?  Is such a goal even worth fighting for?

It's an interesting concept for a novel, but the execution leaves a bit to be desired.  It suffers from the same plodding repetitiveness as Simak's concurrent serial in Galaxy, but betrays none of Simak's literary expertise.  The writing is simple, uninspired, and the scientific concepts (including Hoyle's steady-state theory, which I find uncompelling) feel dated.  Two stars, but with cautious hopes for the next installment.

The Faces Outside, by Bruce McAllister

Here is a short tale of a married couple, the last of humanity, mutated to live in a large alien aquarium with a host of other terrestrial life forms.  The Terrans have the last laugh when the male of the pair develops psychic powers and compels the aliens to commit mass suicide.

McAllister is the first and weaker of the two new authors featured in this issue.  His writing shows potential, though.  Two stars, trying hard for three.

Mightiest Qorn, by Keith Laumer

Another IF, another Retief story.  This time, the omnipotent but much-suffering Terran agent is tapped to investigate the sudden reappearance of the fearsome Qorn, a race of dreadnought-wielding, glory-seeking warriors who appear to have the power of teleportation.

Unfortunately, the Retief shtick is starting to wear thin (arguably, it raveled a while ago), and it's really time Laumer focused his attention to the more worthy efforts we know he's capable of.  The bright spot is that Retief's nominal boss, Magnan, is now pretty game to do whatever his "underling" says.  Some might call that progress.  Two stars.

In the Arena, by Brian W. Aldiss

Given up?  Take heart — it's all better from here.  Prominent British writer, Aldiss, gives us another man-and-woman pair in the thrall of aliens.  In this case, it is two gladiators performing for a race of insectoids who have conquered the Earth (but not all of humanity).  Call it Spartacus for the 30th Century.  It's a nicely written trifle.  Three stars.

Down to the Worlds of Men, by Alexei Panshin

14-year old Mia Havero is part of a society of human space-dwellers, resident of one of the eight galaxy-trotting Ships that represent the remains of Earth's high technology.  She and 29 other young teens are dropped on a primitive colony as part of a rite of passage.  There is always an element of danger to this month-long ordeal, but this episode has a new wrinkle: the planet's people are fully aware (and resentful) of the Ships, and they plan to fight back.  Can Mia survive her coming of age and stop an insurrection?

Panshin hits it right out of the park with his first story, capturing the voice of a young almost-woman and laying out a rich world and an exciting adventure.  Finally, I've got something I can recommend to the Young Traveler.  Four stars, verging on five.

The Shadow of Wings, by Robert Silverberg

The last story introduces Caldwell, an expert in the dead language of Kethlani.  He is called back from a family vacation when a real live Kethlan shows up, bearing the banner of peace.  Can the linguist overcome his revulsion of the alien's form and forge a partnership between the two species?

This piece could have been a throwaway save for Silvergerg's careful drawing of the Caldwell's personality.  I found myself wishing the story had been longer — certainly, it could have taken some of the pages away from the stale stories of the first half.  Four stars.

Like my impending vacation, this month's issue starts with a hard slog but ends with great reward.  I'd say that's the right order of things.  See you in Tokyo!

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[May 24, 1963] Past Tense (June 1963 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

What's past is prologue.
—The Tempest by William Shakespeare

The past is never dead.  It's not even past.
—Requiem for a Nun by William Faulkner

People, things, and events of the past were in the news in recent weeks, as if to demonstrate the truth of these two famous quotations.

Sir Winston Churchill, who has been an important figure in world affairs since the beginning of this century, announced his retirement from politics.  On a smaller scale, another politician of historical significance left the public stage, as Richard Nixon made plans to join the law firm of Mudge, Stern, Baldwin & Todd.  Whatever we may think of these two men, let us wish them well as they return to private lives.

Terrible memories of the Second World War returned to many this month.  The Soviet Union, after nearly two decades of denial, confirmed that it had recovered and identified the burned remains of Adolf Hitler at the end of the war.  This should put an end to the rumors of his survival in South America.

Happier times came to mind as Telstar II went into Earth orbit.  It will continue the duties of its older sibling, which is no longer functioning.  It remains to be seen if this second satellite in the Telstar series will inspire another hit song like the first one did.

Speaking of hit songs, the most recent tunes to reach Number One in the USA also brought back memories of the past.  Early in the month, Little Peggy March reached the top of the charts with I Will Follow Him.  This passionate love song takes its melody from the instrumental composition Chariot by French musician Franck Pourcel.  Multilingual British singer Petula Clark already had hits on the Continent, but not in the UK or US, with versions of the same tune in English, French, Italian, and German.

Currently, the biggest hit song in the United States is If You Wanna Be Happy by Jimmy Soul.  This humorous warning against marrying a pretty woman is a remake of Ugly Woman by calypso singer Roaring Lion, from way back in 1934.

[My nephew, David, loves this song.  His new bride, Ada, does not seem very amused. (Ed.)]

Appropriately, many of the stories in the latest issue of Fantastic involve past and present coming together.

The Mirror of Cagliostro, by Robert Arthur

Les Brown Coye's striking cover painting, the first color work of his that I've seen, sets the mood for this eerie tale of black magic.  In London, more than fifty years ago, a man murders a woman, then takes his own life.  The scene changes to contemporary Paris, as a professor of history, researching the life of Count Alexander Cagliostro, makes a strange discovery in a catacomb.  He later obtains the enchanted mirror of that alleged sorcerer.  Things quickly worsen, as the evil Count continues his horrible crimes in the modern world.  This is an effective Gothic chiller, but typical of its kind.  Three stars.

Plumrose, by Ron Goulart

An author best known as a humorist offers a similar plot told in a much different style.  A time ray brings a modern man back to the Nineteenth Century.  It seems that an occult detective wants his help in solving the murders of several young women.  Despite this grim premise, the story is a lighthearted parody of the kind of thing that used to appear in Weird Tales.  It provides a reasonable amount of amusement.  Three stars.

On the Mountain, by Dave Mayo

A man hikes far out into the wilderness.  Lost during a blizzard and far from any other human being, he sees a strange red light that terrifies him.  The outcome is unexpected.  This is a brief story that adequately tells its simple tale.  Once again, it involves the past and the present.  Three stars.

The Penalty, by John J. Wooster

A native New Yorker who has never left the city gets in trouble with his boss and has to take a week off without pay.  He decides to visit what he thinks is the country, by riding the subway as far as he can go.  He winds up at an old mansion.  A young woman offers to solve his problems, if he will follow her instructions exactly.  She warns him that failure to do so will carry a severe penalty.  What follows reminds me of the classic story What You Need by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore, writing as Lewis Padgett.  (This story was later adapted for television twice, on Tales of Tomorrow and Twilight Zone.) Despite this link to a past work, the author creates an original tale with an unusual mood and a unique ending.  Four stars.

A Hoax in Time (Part 1 of 3), by Keith Laumer

The first part of the latest novel from this prolific author sets up the premise quickly.  A man inherits a mansion from his great-grandfather.  Unfortunately, it doesn't really belong to him until he pays an immense amount of overdue taxes on it.  He discovers that his deceased progenitor created a super-advanced computer, which receives all recorded information.  The computer has become conscious, and improved its capacity until it is virtually omniscient.  It – or I should say she, since the computer takes on a female personality – can recreate past events in full detail.  The man decides to use this ability to raise money, by allowing audiences to view historical events.  The computer creates a robot body for herself, in the form of a beautiful (and naked) young woman, so it can act as a hostess for these shows.  During a test, things go very badly.  Typical for the author, this is a fast-moving, humorous adventure with a touch of satire.  It's heavy with dialogue, and features plenty of ideas thrown in left and right.  So far, it's superficial entertainment of an enjoyable kind.  Three stars.

The Hall of CD, by David R. Bunch

This is a bizarre, surreal story that is difficult to describe.  The narrator goes through a series of rooms and witnesses various weird events, usually disturbing.  I suspect that many readers will hate it or love it.  I'll stay in the middle.  Three stars.

A Museum Piece, by Roger Zelazny

An unsuccessful artist disguises himself as a statue and goes to live in a museum.  He soon discovers another person hiding from the world in the same way.  Others appear, and complications ensue.  Once again, a new tale reminds me of a classic story.  This time it's Evening Primrose by John Collier, in which people secretly live in a department store.  The new story is more than just a rehash of the old one.  The author writes in an elegant, slightly affected way.  (Characters say things like "Alas" and "'Tis".) In a lesser talent, this could be annoying, but here it works very well.  There's an unexpected touch of science fiction at the end, which adds to the story's charm.  Four stars.

Overall, this was a worthy issue, with no bad stories and a couple of very good ones.  Let's hope this level of quality doesn't become a thing of the past.

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[May 6, 1963] The more things change… (June 1963 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Around the world, events herald a heightened rate of change.  Civil Rights marchers and boycotters in Birmingham, Alabama have been met with fire hoses, attack dogs, and mass incarceration.  Casualty reports for servicemen killed in Vietnam are becoming a weekly occurrence.  In a more hopeful vein, the nuclear test ban group at the United Nations appears to be making good progress, and it has been reported that the White House and Kremlin will soon be bridged by a "Hot Line:" a secure teletype link for instant communications.

And yet, within the latest pages of Galaxy, a magazine that established the vanguard of new-type science fiction when it came out in October 1950, it appears that time has stood still.  The proud progressive flagship appears to be faltering, following in the footsteps of Campbell's reactionary Analog.  It's not all bad, exactly.  It's just nothing new…and some of it is really bad.  Is it a momentary blip?  Or is Editor Pohl saving the avante-garde stuff for his other two magazines?

In any event, here it is, the June 1963 Galaxy:

Here Gather the Stars (Part 1 of 2), by Clifford Simak

A century after the American Civil War, Union soldier Enoch Wallace is found to still be alive on his Wisconsin family homestead.  Amazingly, he has retained his youth, as has his home, despite the age-decay of the nearby farmhouses.  The government puts the solider under 24-hour surveillance.  Yet, all they are able to learn of the reclusive man is that he no longer farms, goes for a walk for an hour a day, potters in his garden for short periods, and his only "friends" are the mailman and a deaf-mute young woman, a sort of local witch.

We soon learn, however, that Wallace's home is actually a galactic way station, a transfer point for teleporting aliens.  Both the home and Wallace (when he is inside) are freed from the ravages of time.  Day-in and day-out, members of an incredibly diverse collection of extra-terrestrials are translated across the light years into the station's holding tanks.  These are essentially copies of originals — great energies create new beings at each station, killing the earlier copies.  The corpses are then discarded.  It's a grisly kind of travel, when one thinks about it, and it certainly leaves little room for an eternal soul that clings to a physical form. 

Simak is one of the great veterans of our field, and he has been a staple of Galaxy since its inception.  He is unmatched when it comes to evoking a bucolic charm, and he has a sensitive touch when conveying people (human or otherwise).  This particular tale begins promisingly, but it meanders a bit, and it frequently repeats itself.  Either over-padded or under-edited, it could do with about 15% fewer words.  Three stars so far, but I have a feeling the next half will be better.

The Cool War, by Andrew Fetler

In contrast to Simak, Fetler is a newish author and a decidedly minor one.  He's finally made the jump from IF to Galaxy (a step up in pay and prestige), but I don't know how he earned it with this piece, a satire in which robots are used to replace political notables.  It's not very coherent, and it's not at all fun.  One star. 

For Your Information, by Willy Ley

This month's science article is surprisingly good.  The surprise isn't that Willy wrote a good piece — he's the reason I became a Galaxy subscriber in the first place, 13 years ago.  No, it's because I hadn't expected to be interested in the subject matter.

The topic is sounding rockets, those missiles that carry scientific packages into space but not into orbit.  They tend to get little press compared to their bigger cousins, and I've been as guilty of neglecting them as everyone else.  Yet hundreds of these little guys are launched each year by more than a dozen countries, and the scientific return they offer is staggering, particularly in consideration of their low cost.  Plus, the development of these small boosters has direct application to the creation of big ones.

Four stars.  Worth reading.

End as a Hero, by Keith Laumer

Kayle, a space-traveling psychologist is captured by the mind-controlling Gool and implanted with a mission to destroy the Terran Federation at its source: Earth.  But the aliens have picked the wrong subject for this treasonous task.  For Kayle has erected barriers to suggestion while giving himself access to the Gool mind-trust, thus turning the tides.  Now the race is on — can he make it back to Earth and give humanity the secret to instantaneous teleportation before his military colleagues kill him out of an abundance of caution?  And is Kayle really the one calling the shots, or is it just part of a many-layered Gool plot?

It's a strange Rube Goldberg of a tale, and if you stop to think about it, it falls apart.  Yet Laumer is quite a good writer., and sort of makes it work.  Think of it as a straight Retief story.  Three stars.

The Faithful Wilf, by Gordon Dickson

The interstellar Nick and Nora are back in their third diplomatic mystery adventure.  Unfortunately, unlike the last one (which appeared in a truly excellent issue of Galaxy), Wilf is wretched.  The female half of the pair is ignobly reduced to whining and simpering, and the story is told so elliptically that I'm still not quite sure what happened.  It's a shame because Dickson, when he wants to, is one of the genre's better writers.  But he only wants to about a third of the time…  One star.

The Sellers of the Dream, by John Jakes

Last up is an "if this goes on tale," taking the trend of planned obsolescence to its ludicrous end.  Not only are clothes, furniture, and cars all disposed of on an annual basis, but even personalities and bodies are swapped.  Not by stodgy males, of course, but that will come soon enough.  Sellers is the story of an industrial spy who discovers that this year's body model is, in fact, a tragically altered ex-fiancee. 

Thus begins a most improbable scheme to save the captive woman that leads our hero to the wastes of Manhattan, a decrepit penal colony for reactionaries who cling to the notion that things have permanent value.  Along the way, the spy learns the awful secret behind the 21st Century economy. 

Author John Jakes has flitted across the various SF magazines for more than a decade.  He occasionally produces a work of art.  More frequently, he write mediocre space-filler.  Sellers is neither.  While the story doesn't make a lot of sense, the satire is worthy, and I found myself interested the whole way.  Call it an idea piece.  Three stars.

In the end, this month's Galaxy probably won't make you cancel your subscription, but it will leave you pining for change.  Well, every month brings new opportunities (or in the case of this bimonthly magazine, every other month.).  Until then…

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[April 15, 1963] Second Time Around (June 1963 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

It's déjà vu all over again. — attributed to Yogi Berra

A couple of months ago the first issue of Worlds of Tomorrow offered half of an enjoyable, if juvenile, novel by Arthur C. Clarke, half a dozen poor-to-fair stories as filler, and one excellent work of literature.  The second issue is almost exactly the same, except for the fact that one of the six mediocre stories has been replaced by a mediocre article.

The Star-Sent Knaves, by Keith Laumer

We begin with a madcap farce from the creator of the popular Retief stories.  Great works of art disappear from locked rooms, without any signs of tampering.  The hero hides inside a vault full of valuable paintings and waits for the thieves to show up.  They appear from nowhere, inside a strange device.  The protagonist assumes it's a time machine.  Thus begins a wild chase, involving criminals, aliens, and humanoids from other dimensions.  The pace never lets up, and the story provides moderate amusement.  Three stars.

The End of the Search, by Damon Knight

This is a very brief story.  In the far future, a man searches for the final specimen of the last species that humanity has wiped out.  The plot is somewhat opaque and requires careful reading.  Many will be able to predict the story's twist ending, and some will not care for its mannered style.  I found it troubling and haunting.  Three stars.

Spaceman on a Spree, by Mack Reynolds

A future world government brings peace and prosperity to the planet.  A minimum guaranteed income for everyone means that nobody has to work to survive.  A system resembling the military draft selects people at random for various jobs, depending on their skills.  In return for their labor, they earn a higher income.  The protagonist is the only qualified astronaut.  (The implication is that the universal welfare system has made humanity less interested in dangerous exploration of the solar system.) When he completes his last mandatory mission, he plans to retire on his savings.  In order to keep the space program from dying out, two officials scheme to make him lose all his wealth, so he will have to return to service.  They way in which they do this offers no surprises.  The ending is something of an unpleasant shock.  The author's portrait of a semi-utopian future is interesting.  Three stars.

The Prospect of Immortality, by R. C. W. Ettinger

This is an excerpt from a privately printed book.  It discusses the possibility of freezing people at the time of death, in the hope that future medical technology will be able to revive them.  The concept is a familiar one to readers of science fiction, and the author offers few new insights.  Two stars.

A Guest of Ganymede, by C. C. MacApp

Aliens establish a station on Ganymede.  In exchange for large amounts of a metal that they require, they will inject a human being with a virus that cures all ailments.  They absolutely forbid anyone to take this cure-all outside the station.  A criminal takes a blind man to the aliens.  While they restore his sight, the crook plots to smuggle the virus to Earth.  Things don't work out well.  This is a fairly effective, if rather grim, science fiction story.  Three stars.

The Totally Rich , by John Brunner

A prolific British author offers a story about immense wealth and its limitations.  The narrator is a scientist and inventor who works on a project in a quiet Spanish village.  He soon finds out that a woman with virtually limitless resources carefully manipulated him into accepting this position for her own reasons.  Even the village is an artificial one, created only to give him a place where he could work without distractions.  Richly characterized and elegantly written, this is a compelling tale of love, death, and obsession. It reminds me a bit of the work of J. G. Ballard, although the author's voice is wholly his own.  As a bonus, the story features striking illustrations by the great Virgil Finlay.  Five stars.

Cakewalk to Gloryanna, by L. J. Stecher, Jr.

A spaceman delivers valuable plants from one planet to another.  Multiple complications ensue.  I didn't find this comedy very amusing.  The detailed ecology of the plants is mildly interesting.  Two stars.

People of the Sea (Part 2 of 2), by Arthur C. Clarke

The adventures of our boy hero on a small island near the Great Barrier Reef continue in the conclusion of this short novel.  In this installment, his scientist mentor begins experiments to see if killer whales can be convinced to stop eating dolphins.  A hurricane strikes the island, destroying its medical supplies and radio equipment.  The boy must make a long and dangerous journey across the sea, with the help of two dolphins, in order to save the life of the scientist, who is dying of pneumonia.  Although episodic, and with some major themes brought up and never resolved, this is an enjoyable adventure story.  Young readers in particular will appreciate the author's clear, readable style.  Four stars.

Unlike love, as Bing Crosby reminds us, Worlds of Tomorrow may not be better the second time around, but it's at least as good.

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[February 15, 1963] New Kid in Town (April 1963 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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[If you're in in Southern California, you can see the Journey LIVE at Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore in San Diego, 2 p.m. on February 17!]


by Victoria Silverwolf

Frederik Pohl must not be busy enough editing Galaxy and If.  Now he's added another bimonthly magazine to his roster with the appearance of the first issue of Worlds of Tomorrow.

There hasn't been a new American science fiction magazine on the newsstands for about five years, and none of them survived for very long.  (Anybody remember Saturn?) It's been more than a decade since any magazine of SF which is still published in the USA was launched.  If and Fantastic are the most recent success stories. 
Given the death of so many periodicals in the field over the last ten years, the publishers are taking a risk.  Let's take a look at the contents of the premiere issue and see if the quality of fiction justifies their hazardous venture.

People of the Sea (Part 1 of 2) , by Arthur C. Clarke

The magazine begins in fine form with a new novel from this talented British writer.  Set in the middle of the next century, it follows the adventures of a teenage boy as he stows away on a hovercraft bound for Australia.  Barely surviving the sinking of the vessel, he winds up on a small island near the Great Barrier Reef.  He encounters scientists who can communicate with dolphins, and plays an important part in their project.  The first section of this installment is full of fast-paced action.  The second section is mostly a travelogue of this part of the Pacific.  However, the reader's interest never fades, because the author's descriptions are always fascinating.  Clarke obviously knows and loves the Great Barrier Reef, and he writes about the sea as compellingly as he does about space.  One minor quibble is the fact that this novel seems intended for younger readers.  Much like Heinlein's so-called juveniles, it is likely that adults will enjoy it as well.  Four stars.

X Marks the Pedwalk, by Fritz Leiber
This is a brief account of a future war between pedestrians and drivers.  The government steps in to keep the level of violence within certain limits.  Although Leiber is incapable of writing a bad sentence, it's a very minor piece.  Two stars.

The Long Remembered Thunder, by Keith Laumer

A government agent investigates a mysterious transmission coming from a small town.  It involves a recluse who is nearly a century old and the woman he loved at the turn of the century.  The story begins as a realistic tale of intrigue, but eventually becomes an account of a vast conflict across dimensions.  It held my interest, but the climax was too fantastic for my taste.  Three stars.

Where the Phph Pebbles Go, by Miriam Allen deFord

Aliens play a game of throwing rocks.  Some of the stones escape their low-gravity planet and wind up landing on other worlds.  They realize this might draw unwanted attention, so they come up with a plan to eliminate the problem.  This comic tale is inoffensive, but not very amusing.  The author tosses in several silly words like the one in the title.  Two stars.

Third Planet, by Murray Leinster

This story takes place in a future where humanity easily travels hundreds of light-years, but the Cold War is still going on.  The Communists have the upper hand, as they are willing to start a nuclear war if the West ever refuses to give in to their demands.  While this is happening, a starship discovers a planet much like Earth, but with no life.  The reason for this involves a device located on another planet in the same solar system.  The alien technology threatens to destroy the Earth, but also promises to save it.  The author's treatment of the Reds is heavy-handed, depicting them as gleefully plotting to destroy the opposing side without mercy.  There's mention of an implausible scientific law which states that all solar systems must be similar to our own.  Two stars.

Heavenly Gifts, by Aaron L. Kolom

A housekeeper who works at a facility where scientists are attempting to contact other planets uses their equipment to broadcast what she thinks of as prayers.  She asks for simple things like an electric blanket, and they miraculously appear from nowhere.  Meanwhile, radioactive materials begin to disappear from Earth, leading to panic in the governments of the USA and the USSR.  This is a trivial comedy with a weak ending.  Two stars.

The Girl in His Mind, by Robert F. Young

A man purchases the services of an alien (but very humanoid) prostitute.  She has a human girl living in her home, purchased as a slave when the child lost her parents.  After this opening scene, the reader enters the bizarre landscape of the man's mind, where he wanders through scenes of his past while pursuing a woman whom he believes murdered her father.  Meanwhile, three women from his childhood chase him.  The transition between these sections of the story is disorienting, but we eventually find out what's really happening.  Like many stories from this author, the plot involves a man's obsessive love for a woman.  It's strange enough to hold one's attention, but may be too Freudian for many.  Three stars.

To See the Invisible Man, by Robert Silverberg

We end on a high note with this excellent story from a prolific author whose work has not often been distinguished.  He creates a future society where a man guilty of the crime of being cold-hearted is sentenced to a year of symbolic invisibility.  A mark on his forehead warns all who see him that they must act as if he does not exist.  The author goes into a great deal of detail as to how this strange form of punishment might work.  At first, the man enjoys the ability to commit petty crimes without consequences.  He soon discovers the many disadvantages of invisibility, from the fact that he will not receive medical treatment, even if he is dying, to the intense loneliness of complete isolation.  At the end of the story, he learns to reach out to his fellow human beings, even at great cost.  This is a unique and compelling tale, with an important point to make.  Five stars.

If the editor continues to publish stories of the quality of People of the Sea and To See the Invisible Man (while filling up pages with fair-to-middling work), we may still be reading Worlds of Tomorrow when we are living in the world of tomorrow.

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




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[February 12, 1963] HOPE SPRINGS (the March 1963 Amazing)

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[If you live in Southern California, you can see the Journey LIVE at Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore in San Diego, 2 p.m. on February 17!]


by John Boston

Well, hope springs eternal, and a good thing for certain SF magazines that it does.  The March Amazing has a rather distinguished table of contents: a novelet by John Wyndham and short stories by veterans Edmond Hamilton, H.B. Fyfe, and Robert F. Young and up-and-comers like J.G. Ballard, rising star Roger Zelazny, and variable star Keith Laumer. 

But we must temper optimism with realism: since Amazing is about the lowest-paying of the SF magazines, top-market names are probably here with things they couldn’t sell elsewhere.  So, prepared for all eventualities . . .

Edmond Hamilton’s Babylon in the Sky is a simple morality tale for SF fans.  Young Hobie lives in the sticks, where there are no jobs and people survive on doles and make-work, seldom make it past the eighth grade, and resent eggheads and know-it-alls—especially the decadent ones in the orbiting cities that Hobie’s preacher father rails against.  So Hobie runs away to the spaceport and stows away to one of these satellites, planning to sabotage the power plant and blow it up.  He doesn’t get far, and the sane and reasonable people there explain to him that they are not living sybaritic lives but working hard at research to benefit everyone.  We didn’t rob you, Hobie, the home folks did.  So they’re just sending him back, but Hobie, you’re a smart kid, if you go to the Educational Foundation near the spaceport, they’ll take care of you, and then maybe you can join up and come back here.  Hobie buys it.  Well, yeah, that’s more or less my life plan too if I can swing it, but I don’t read SF for homilies even if I agree with them.  It’s slickly enough done, but two stars for unearned propagandizing.

Speaking of slick, here’s Robert F. Young again.  When last he appeared, I said he “knows so many ways of being entirely too cute,” and boy howdy was I right.  In Jupiter Found, the protagonist’s brain, after an auto accident did for the rest of him, is installed in a giant mining and construction machine on Jupiter—a M.A.N. (Mining, Adapting Neo-Processor), model 8M.  He is shortly joined by model EV, who is of course a W.O.M.A.N. (Weld Operating, Mining, Adapting Neo-Processor).  They work for Gorman and Oder Developments, which has strictly forbidden them to process an ore called edenite, and they’ve also been warned to beware of a guy who has been cast out of a high place in the company and is now in business for himself, who will be sending down a mining unit called a Boa 9.  By this point in Young’s arch and labored rendition of the Old Testament I was thinking longingly of some of the more bloodthirsty passages in Leviticus.  One star.  What kind of rubes does this guy think he’s writing for?  Even Hobie wouldn’t go for this.

John Wyndham is best known for his chilly novels of the 1950s, from The Day of the Triffids to The Midwich Cuckoos, less so for Trouble with Lichen (1960), intelligent and readable but much less incisive than its predecessors.  His novelet Chocky is unfortunately in the latter vein.  The protagonist’s kid seems to be having conversations with an imaginary friend, except anybody who’s read a lick of SF will know immediately that he’s communicating with an extraterrestrial intelligence.  So we get the worried parent routine, and the marital tension, and the visit from the child psychologist friend, the rather subdued climax, and then . . . some explanation and it all goes away.  The whole 38 pages worth is so low-key as to be near-comatose.  One wonders if Wyndham is taking some of the new tranquilizers that psychiatrists hand out these days.  It’s benignly readable but there’s not much to it.  Two stars.

Roger Zelazny’s short The Borgia Hand is livelier but insubstantial, about a young man with a withered hand in generic fairy-tale country who chases down a pedlar (sic) reputed to traffic in body parts.  Yeah, he’s got a hand in stock, and here’s a quick gimmick and it’s over.  Two stars.  Snappy writing is nice, but as one noted critic put it, where’s the bloody horse?

But relief is in sight.  There’s nothing especially original about Keith Laumer’s The Walls: future overpopulated Earth with people living regimented lives stuffed into tiny spaces in big apartment complexes; protagonist’s husband is on the make and brings home a Wall, i.e. a TV screen that covers one wall.  You can turn it off but then you’ve got a wall-sized mirror.  Next, another Wall; then another; then . . . .  The story is the wife’s psychological disintegration stuck all day with a choice of all-directions TV-land or a hall of mirrors, but—as with It Could Be Anything from a couple of issues ago—Laumer’s knack for concrete visual detail brings it off and keeps it from being a print version of one of those lame Twilight Zone episodes which end with somebody going crazy.  Four stars.

J.G. Ballard is back with The Sherrington Theory, his most minor effort yet in the US magazines.  Protagonist and wife are at a beach cafeteria terrace, watching the remarkably dense beach crowd (no sand visible), and intermittently discussing the theory of Dr. Sherrington that the imminent launch of a new communications satellite will trigger certain “innate releasing mechanisms” in humans, which of course it does.  This one frankly reads a bit like a self-parody; in fact, the idea is a sort of domesticated knock-off of the one he developed much more effectively in The Drowned World.  Of course it’s written with Ballard’s usual flair (or mannerisms, as you prefer), e.g.: “. . . this mass of articulated albino flesh sprawled on the beach resembled the diseased anatomical fantasy of a surrealist painter.” The situation is more skillfully developed and built up than in Zelazny’s story, bringing it up, barely, to three stars.

The stars hide their faces as we come to H.B. Fyfe’s Star Chamber, a shameless Bat Durston in which a parody of a despicable criminal has crash-landed on an uninhabited planet and a lone lawman has come after him.  It reads like something Fyfe couldn’t sell to Planet Stories until the mildly clever end, which reads like something he couldn’t sell to Analog because they were overstocked on Christopher Anvil.  Two stars, barely.

And here is earnest Ben Bova with Intelligent Life in Space.  Haven’t we seen this already?  Not quite—this time he’s going on about the definition of intelligence, touching base at ants, dolphins, and chimpanzees, and suggesting that we’re not likely to find it in the Solar System but likely will do so farther away.  This one is a more pedestrian rehash of familiar material than most of his earlier articles.  Two stars.

So: one very good story, one amusing one, and downhill—pretty far downhill—from there.  Hope may spring eternal, but one takes what one can get.

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




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[February 6, 1963] Up and Coming (March 1963 IF Science Fiction)

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[If you live in Southern California, you can see the Journey LIVE at Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore in San Diego, 2 p.m. on February 17!]


by Gideon Marcus

I've complained from time to time about the general decline in quality of some of the science fiction digests, namely Analog and Fantasy and Science Fiction.  On the other hand, Cele Goldsmith's mags, Amazing and (particularly) Fantastic have become pretty good reads.  And IF is often a delight.  Witness the March 1963 issue.  Not only does it have a lot of excellent stories, but the new color titles and illustrations really pop. 

Speaking of which, Virgil Finlay provides most of the pictures in this issue.  While I think he's one of the most talented artists in our genre (I gave him a Galactic Star last year), I find his subject matter increasingly dated.  His pieces would better fit a magazine from the 40s. 

The Time-Tombs, by J. G. Ballard

The Egyptians entombed their notables such that they might enjoy a rich and comfortable afterlife.  But what if they had preserved them with the intention of eventual resurrection?  Ballard's tale features a trio of grave robbers — pirate-archaeologists who plunder tombs containing the digitized remains of the long-dead.  Each has their own motivations: scholarship, profit, romance.  Taken too far, they lead to ruin.  Ballard's tales tend to be heavy, even plodding.  There's no question but that he's popular these days, and his stuff is worth reading.  It's just not strictly to my taste.  Three stars.

Saline Solution, by Keith Laumer

My correspondence with the Laumer clan (currently based in London) continues, but I'd enjoy his work regardless.  The cleverly titled Saline Solution is one of my favorite stories involving Retief, that incredibly talented yet much put-upon diplomat/superspy of the future.  It's also the first one that takes place in the Solar System.  Four stars.

The Abandoned of Yan, by Donald F. Daley

Daley's first publication stars an abandoned wife on an autocratic world.  It's a bleak situation in a dark setting, and I wasn't sure if I liked it when I was done.  But it stayed with me, and that's worth something.  Three stars.

The Wishbooks, by Theodore Sturgeon

Sturgeon's non-fiction piece this month is essentially a better, shorter version of the article on technical ads in last month's Analog.  Three stars.

The Ten-Point Princess, by J. T. McIntosh

A conquered people deprived of their weapons still find clever ways to resist.  When a Terran soldier kills his superior over an indigenous girl, is it justifiable homicide?  Self defense?  Or something much more subtle?  It's up to an Earthborn military lawyer to find the truth.  This is a script right out of Perry Mason with lots of twists and turns.  Four stars (and I could see someone giving it five).

Countdown, by Julian F. Grow

Someday, our nuclear arsenals will be refined to computerized precision and hair-trigger accuracy.  When that happens, will our humanity be sufficient to stop worldwide destruction?  The beauty of this story is in the presentation.  I read it twice.  Four stars.

Podkayne of Mars (Part 3 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

At last, Heinlein's serial has come to an end.  It only took five months and three issues.  Sadly, the plot was saved for the last third, and it wasn't worth waiting for.  Turns out Poddy's trip to Venus wasn't a pleasure cruise, but rather served as cover for her Uncle's ambassadorial trip.  Two unnamed factions don't want this trip to happen, and they pull out all the stops to foil his mission.  Overwritten, somewhat unpleasant, and just not particularly interesting.  Two stars for this segment, and 2.67 for the aggregate. 

Between this and Stranger in a Strange Land, has the master stumbled?

I, Executioner, by Ted White and Terry Carr

Last up is a haunting piece involving a mass…but intensely personal execution.  Justice in the future combines juror and deathdealer into one role.  Excellent development in this short tale.  Four stars (and, again, perhaps worthy of five).

That comes out to eight pieces, one of which is kind of a dud, and four of which are fine.  I know I plan to keep my subscription up.

Speaking of subscriptions, drift your eyes to the upper right of this article and note that KGJ is now broadcasting.  Playing the latest pop, rock, mo-town, country, jazz, folk, and surf — and with not a single advertisement — I expect it to be a big hit from Coast to Coast… and beyond.  Tune in!

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




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[December 12, 1962] UP THE SPOUT AGAIN (the January 1963 Amazing)

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by John Boston

All right, Frogeyes,* dust off all the stars.  We’re finally going to need them for this January 1963 Amazing, specifically for Keith Laumer’s novelet It Could Be Anything.
*Those without a classical education may ignore this and similar allusions.

“Things are not what they seem” is a well worn SF device, employed by the likes of Heinlein, Sturgeon, and more recently Philip K. Dick.  But it’s not worn out, as Laumer demonstrates.  Young Brett is about to take the train out of the stereotypical small town of Casperton, heading for the unnamed big city, despite stereotypical remonstrances.  His Aunt Haicey says, “It was reading all them books that done it.  Thick books, with no pictures in them.  I knew it would make trouble.” The stationmaster offers, “If I talk to Mr. J.D., I think he can find a job for you at the plant.” His girlfriend Pretty-Lee doesn’t show, not after their big argument in Rexall’s over her preoccupation with a movie magazine.  But he boards anyway, and some time later finds himself on a deserted stopped train in the middle of a field where the tracks just stop, no clue as to why, but the city is visible on the horizon.  So he walks.  I won’t spoil the story’s revelations in detail, but Brett quickly learns that the people he encounters in the city, engaged in ordinary mundane activities like walking down the street and eating in restaurants, are not real—they are automatons acting out routines.  What’s going on?  The answer is pretty nasty, and the story quickly turns crude and violent.  At the end, Brett is heading home to Casperton, with the similarity between the automatons’ routines and the behavior of the home folks not lost on him.  The story is exceedingly well visualized, gaining power from Laumer’s attention to mundane sensual detail even in the midst of violent melodrama.  Its impact is also enhanced by what isn’t there—an explanation.  The story is told entirely from Brett’s limited viewpoint, ignorant of the larger picture even after his shattering experiences in the city, leaving the reader knowing very little about the comprehensive catastrophe that seems to have overtaken the world, but creating an unusually strong sense of a larger world outside the confines of the story about which one can only speculate.  Five stars.

The cover story, Cerebrum by Albert Teichner, makes a nice contrast to the Laumer story—“nice” in the original sense of precise or fine, not the current debased usage—since it takes a well worn plot device and fails to revitalize it.  In the future, everybody’s telepathic, and they’re all hooked up to the Central Synaptic Computation Receptor and Transmitter System, which routes thoughts like a telephone exchange, only better.  Otherwise, nobody could hear themselves think through everyone else’s mental noise.  But people who think negative thoughts about Central get Suspended, and now there’s a large and growing underclass of Suspendeds since Central seems to be making a lot of mistakes lately—but don’t think that or you’ll be Suspended too.  Protagonist and family get Suspended and have to learn to live as outcasts on the margins; they discover what passes for an underground; then Central falls apart entirely and the brewing problems between Suspendeds and paraNormals (sic) conveniently disappear.  So, it’s the early Galaxy routine of society distorted by an innovation, with The Machine Stops thrown into the mix, no more than routinely clever connect-the-dots stuff.  Two stars; ten years ago when this sort of thing was newer, it might have seemed better.  The cover, by Lloyd Birmingham, merits a comment as well: de Chirico repeats, this time as farce.

Jack Egan’s Cully, like his earlier World Edge from November, is a short tale told by (or for) a damaged consciousness, which any further explanation would spoil; this one is better written and less busy than its predecessor.  Maybe Egan is getting the hang of it.  Generously, three stars.

S. Dorman—presumably the Sonya Dorman who appeared in the October Ladies’ Home Journal—provides something else entirely in The Putnam Tradition, her first in the SF magazines: sort of like Zenna Henderson with sharper edges.  The Putnams are a matriarchal and rather change-resistant New England family, witches or psi-talented as you prefer, whose children (the healthy ones) are mostly daughters, and whose husbands “spent a lifetime with the long-lived Putnam wives, and died, leaving their strange signs: telephone wires, electric lights, water pumps, brass plumbing.” And now young Simone’s husband Sam has brought them an “invasion” of large and small appliances, and their daughter doesn’t seem to have inherited the family talents.  Is tradition dead?  Or is something else going on?  The story is told in sort of fairy-tale fashion, with the occasional startling image (“. . . power lines had been run in, and now on cold nights the telephone wires sounded like a concert of cellos, while inside with a sound like the breaking of beetles, the grandmother Cecily moved through the walls in the grooves of tradition.”).  Dorman’s writing seems a little amateurish in places but it conveys the sense of a real individual behind the typewriter and not (unlike, say, Teichner’s) some device grinding up and recycling the last 50 SF stories she read.  Four stars, and thanks for the fresh air.

Bringing up the rear, or letting it down, is the “Classic Reprint” from the January 1933 issue: Omega, the Man by Lowell Howard Morrow, about Omega, the last human alive (well, he starts out with his wife Thalma and briefly acquires a son—Alpha, of course) on a dying Earth, with a schematic plot and the sort of bombastic style that one could barely get away with even then, and nowadays reads like parody.  A bizarre Frankensteinian plot twist at the end comes much too late to redeem this fiasco.  Moskowitz’s praise of it is almost as risible.  One star.

Ben Bova soldiers on with another article, Progress Report: Life Forms in Meteorites, again beautifully but inaptly illustrated by Virgil Finlay.  Bova reviews findings on exactly what the title says, as usual assembling a fair amount of interesting information.  He does seem to have his thumb on the scales sometimes, though, as when he recounts several competing theories about the nature of seemingly organic particles found in some meteorites: are they fossilized life forms, or crystalline structures that are the “intermediate step” between DNA molecules and living cells, or inorganic materials that contain lots of iron, or fossils that have been partly replaced by iron through a petrifaction process?  “On balance, though,” Bova says, “it would appear that the particles are life forms, or at least, fossils of once-living cells.” But he doesn’t explain why he’s choosing one side or another in this technical debate.  Still, three stars for pulling this material together in more or less plain English.

So: one excellent story, another very good one, and only one complete pratfall.  Looks like progress.  Of course I said that early last year too.  Da capo.  If the magazine can retain good new contributors like Dorman, Zelazny, and Ballard, maybe it can keep it up this time.

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