Tag Archives: luan meatheringham

[June 30, 1964] A big Delta (June 1964 Gamma)


by Gideon Marcus

Heading South

After four lovely days in the Japanese capital, we hopped the train for points southwest, toward the center of the country.  Sadly, we were just a few months too early to take the new "bullet train" which will be debuted in October in time for the Olympics.  The trip thus took many hours, but the scenery was nice (this year's "rainy season" hasn't been very) and I got a lot of reading done.

Nagoya is Japan's "fourth" city, after Tokyo/Yokohama, Osaka, and Fukuoka.  A drab, gray and brown place, it nevertheless was a must-stay location for us given its proximity to so many of our friends: A husband-and-wife couple teach at the local university, our dear friend Hideko (now recently married!) lives in Osaka, and a friend I met when she visited America, Juuri, lives in nearby Shizuoka.

And, of course, there is the super-energetic Nanami, who teaches schoolchildren in Nagoya.

Dan and Jen, whose nieces were visiting at the time, took us up to old Inuyama castle.  This is one of the few original castles still intact.  It gave us a commanding view of the area.

We also explored the nearby town of Oobu, and we were welcomed into a local home.  Here's the bedroom of a little boy who lived there.

The bustling, brash city of Osaka was as smoky and wild as ever.  Western culture has thoroughly soaked the place: clothing, music, and food.

The Issue at Hand

Somehow in the midst of all this, I found time to read and review the latest Gamma, a new magazine whose first two issues had greatly impressed me.  Sadly, it seems that the stock of great fiction the editors had accumulated prior to launch has been exhausted, and what's left is so much trunk work, the substandard stories by big names that hadn't sold elsewhere.  Pity.


by Morris Scott Dollens

The Girl of Paradise Planet, by Robert Turner

The first story illustrates my point well.  Here is a piece by a veteran, with a thousand stories to his credit, and it's just mediocre.  A fellow on vacation on a pleasure planet goes SCUBA-diving and encounters a young girl under the waves.  She's not a mermaid — she has a full complement of human limbs, yet she can breathe underwater.  The vacationer quickly falls in love, to the annoyance of his shrewish wife, and spends endless hours with his newfound paramour. 

Said romance feels solipsistic, like something a fourteen-year-old might come up with, including plenty of the protagonist's thoughts and precious few of the object of his intention.  In fact, near the end, we are led to doubt that the encounter was real at all, which would have made a lot more sense given the sketchiness of the girl's character, who prefers not to talk but rather mostly perform aquatic acrobatics.  And smooch.

Alas, it turns out the girl is real.  Joy for our hero, disappointment for us.  A weak three stars.


by Luan Meatheringham

(speaking of illustrations, Gamma has employed young Luan Meatheringham to produce drawings.  While the pieces are nice, in a fanzine-ish way, they don't relate to any of the stories, and I'm not sure why they're here, taking space.)

The Feather Bed, by Shelly Lowenkopf

Shelly (a man, despite the name) Lowenkopf writes of a future where, upon the expiration of copyright after 56 years, literary works are destroyed to a copy, and replacements commissioned as a kind of artistic welfare.  When a writer refuses to finish his assignment to rewrite King Lear he is fired, eventually becoming a plumber — an industry in which pipes are torn out and replaced every three years.

I like stories about a future with rampant unemployment and the need for makework, but this one doesn't make a lot of sense, even by its own rules (no good argument is made against creating new works) and the piece doesn't work as satire, either, because I'm not sure what it's supposed to be satirizing. 

Two stars.

Angel Levine, by Bernard Malamud

A down-on-his-luck tailor is visited by a shabby, black Jewish angel, who (eventually) eases the man's pain.

Not much to say about this one.  Three stars for atmosphere and dialect.


by Luan Meatheringham

The (In)visible Man, by Edward W. Ludwig

Here's a piece about a man who is such a nonentity that the world completely ignores him, and he is able to lead a life of crime.  That is, until the fellow finds love and confidence, causing him to become visible again.

I might have enjoyed this story more had Ellison not done it so much better in The Forces that Crush six years ago.

Three stars.

Inside Story, by Miriam Allen deFord

From the pen of one of the genre's most venerable creators comes the tale of a sentient world and the tsuris of a cold given it by a four-being scount team from the Galactic Federation.

Cute, but this is the sort of thing Bob Sheckley used to do, and much better.

Three stars.

The Birth, by George Clayton Johnson

We've seen a lot of Johnson on TV, particularly us fans of The Twilight Zone.  This forgettable piece, a first person account of the creation of Frankenstein's Monster, does not even have a Serlingesque twist to redeem it.

Three stars for competent writing.


by Luan Meatheringham

The Gamma Interview: Soviet Science Fiction

The most worthy piece of the issue is an interview with "Ivan Kirov", editor of a Moscow publishing house that produces science fiction.  It is worth picking this issue up just for this piece, even though it has an unfortunate ediorial accident that omits a crucial line.

Five stars.

Buttons, by Raymond E. Banks

Along similar lines, Banks offers up the story of a dying spaceman who transfers his consciousness to a set of computerized buttons until such time as his persona might be restored to a human body.  Said spaceman decides he likes being a disembodied being better.

It's well-written, but like the rest of the pieces in this magazine, it doesn't really go anywhere.

Three stars.


by Luan Meatheringham

Society for the Prevention, by Ron Goulart

Goulart is known for writing humorous pieces, so this light-hearted tale of the fortunate intersection of an interstellar merchant, his shipment of alien pots which are actually extraterrestrial invaders, and some rabid anti-capitalists is right up the author's alley.

Entertaining, though frivolous.  Three stars.

The Snail Watcher, by Patricia Highsmith

Finally, mystery writer Highsmith presents the tale of a man whose love for snails ultimately proves his undoing.  The moral: molluscs are for eating, not voyeuring.

Yet another atmospheric piece that doesn't do much.  Three stars.


by Luan Meatheringham

Summing Up

Thus ends one of the most mediocre collections of digest-sized pages I've ever read.  I have to wonder if this is a momentary blip, or if Gamma is doomed to be short-lived.  Only time will tell.

And now, off to Hiroshima!  See you in two days…


[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…]




[November 5, 1963] Beginning to see the light (November 1963 Gamma)


by Gideon Marcus

There's a change brewing, slowly but surely.  If you've been anywhere near a radio, TV set, or newspaper, you know that the spark lit by the Supreme Court in Brown vs. Board of Education has kindled into a fire, a burning energy to make Black people in America "Free at Last."  We've seen it in countless marches, integrating schools, the new civil rights legislation slowly working its way through Congress, and (sadly) the deplorable counterattacks by reactionary white supremacists.

The battleground also exists on television.  Black people have been few and far between on the little screen: Jack Benny's assistant, Rochester; the dispatcher on Car 54 Where are You?; Ethel Waters playing a dying blues star on Route 66 (and not a dry eye in that house); non-speaking Marines on the set of The Lieutenant

Last week marked a refreshing change in the right direction.  First, there was an episode of East Side/West Side, a dramatic look at social workers in New York City.  A Black actor was cast in the role of a psychiatrist, diagnosing the outlook for a mentally impaired individual.  It was a breakthrough for me because it was the first time I saw a Black man cast as the erudite smart one of an ensemble cast.  Moreover, I believe I've seen this character before, which would make him semi-recurring. 

This week's episode of East Side/West Side did not feature the psychiatrist, but (even better) focused on a Black family and the hardships they endured after they lost their young child.  It starred James Earl Jones, whom I know from his stage work, as well as several other actors and actress with whom I was not familiar, but who all turned in excellent performances. 

Last week, there was an episode of The Great Adventure, an educational series spotlighting important moments in American history, depicting the story of Harriet Tubman, who helped thousands of slaves to freedom through the Underground Railroad in the 19th Century. 

And this week, actor/playwright Ossie Davis appeared on the game show, To Tell the Truth!

It's happening, little by little, in all walks of life.  There is light at the end of this tunnel.

And speaking of welcome surprises, I'm happy to present the second issue of the science fiction quarterly, Gamma.  After last month's dreadful line of mags, it was such a relief to have reading material I could look forward to. 

Gamma styles itself as a kind of F&SF plus, getting the best stories with the highest literary merit.  So far, they're doing great.  Gamma 2 is, despite the gorgeous cover by Dollens, really more of a fantasy/horror mag, as befits its publication date, occurring as it did just before Halloween and Dia de los Muertes.  So light the hearth, put a kettle on, and prepare to enjoy a fiendishly pleasant experience:

The Granny Woman, by Dorothy B. Hughes

Novelist Hughes offers up an evocative tale of the Ozarks in which a professor from the city investigates the recent death of The Granny Woman, widely rumored to be a witch.  Was it natural causes, or did the village-folk hex the reputed hexer?  Not sf, not even really fantasy, but a lovely tale just the same, and suitably spooky for the holidays.  Four stars.

The Old College Try , by Robert Bloch

An over-eager colonial administrator is dispatched to an alien world to oversee the native mine workers, ignoring the advice from his laid-back predecessor that it is often better to get along than steam headlong into the winds of tradition.

It's a competently written, Sheckley-esque satire with a joke ending you'll see a mile away.  Bloch, the author of Psycho, is one of the more effective horror writers out there, but he didn't strain his talents making this piece.  Three stars.

Michael, by Francesca Marques

Every five year old dreams of going on an adventure, but are the aliens calling Michael real or a sign of his mental instability?  Told from the point of view of his older sister, this is a beautiful vignette with an excellent sting in its tail.  Well done, Francesca, especially for a first tale!  Four stars.

Deus Ex Machina by Richard Matheson

Robert Carter, 34, accountant and father, lives a perfectly normal life until the morning he simultaneously bumps his head and cuts his throat — exposing the wires and oil that betray his robotic origin.  Has Carter gone mad or is he on his way to discovering the truth of the world? 

It's not a bad piece, but like Bloch, Matheson (possibly the finest sff screenplay writer in the business) did not devote much effort this passable but forgettable work.  Three stars.

The Kid Learns, by William Faulkner

Where Gamma 1 featured an early genre piece by Tennessee Williams, this time around, it's William Faulkner's turn.  The Kid Learns dates back to 1925 and involves a young crimelord aspirant who tangles with a rival and ends up on a date with death.  Good, not great, but I did appreciate that I had to read twice to understand what had happened.  Three stars.

King's Jester, by Jack Matcha

An overagitated corporate executive hires a Court Jester to lighten the mood, but the contract only serves to facilitate a complete breakdown — of the president and the company.  A overly heavy piece that thuds to an ending, I wasn't particularly impressed.  Two stars.

Here's Sport Indeed! by William Shakespeare and Ib Melchior

Ib Melchior, son of opera star Lauritz Melchior, has combed the works of The Bard to assemble the damnedest tale of planetary exploration you ever read.  An utterly insane exercise, and one that tickled me in all the right places.  Five stars.

Portfolio by Burt Shonberg

Here's something nifty: The fellow behind the weird paintings in the film, The House of Usher, has provided several new weird compositions just for this issue.  Worth a look.  5 stars.

The Undiscovered Country, by William F. Temple

History is filled with episodes wherein rapacious foreigners kidnap the local princess.  In this case, her highness is a telekinetic from Pluto, and Earthers are the bad guys.  A well-told story marred by the utterly human form of the aliens despite their wildly differing climate, as well as the moral implications: we should be rooting for the girl, but the story is written sympathetically to the terrans.  Three stars.

The Gamma Interview: Robert Sheckley

You better believe I turned to this piece first, and I was not disappointed.  Bob, now situated in Italy and sustaining a shamefully low output to our genre, discusses his views on science fiction and his role in it.  Five stars of goodness from one of the field's greats.

Castaway, by Charles E. Fritch

Gamma's editor once again takes up the quill for his own publication, much to the benefit of the issue.  His story about a shipwrecked Earther, whose planetary imprisonment outlasts the endurance of his physical body, is just beautiful.  Five stars.

Something in the Earth, by Charles Beaumont

As with the last issue, both of Twilight Zone's most featured guest writers make an appearance here (Matheson is the other one).  Sadly, Beaumont's tale of Earth's last patch of forest and the fellow who appoints himself its defender is overly sentimental and not particularly insightful.  Two stars.

I'm Only Lonesome When I'm Lonely, by William F. Nolan

For some people, drifting from cocktail party to cocktail party, living on scotch and the company of others, is a way of life.  But as Nolan's story demonstrates, it's always possible to have too much of a good thing.  An impressively dialogue-reliant piece.  Four stars.


artwork by Luan Meatheringham

Sombra y Sol, by Ray Bradbury

Sadly, the mag ends with the softest of whimpers as everyone's (but mine) favorite "sf" author presents a sort of prose poem, likening the death of little Raimundo during the Day of the Dead to the bull's inevitable end in the arena.  Dry, affected, and just plain bad.  One star.

Well, I hate to end on a sour note.  The fact is, this issue is well worth the 50 cent price, rough patches aside.  Get yourself a copy while you can.

Based on the quality of this and the last issue, I'd get a subscription, too.  And perhaps you can catch reruns of The Great Adventure and East Side/West Side next summer.  That would make your 1964 quite bright, indeed!