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[July 18, 1963] Several bad apples (August Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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


by Gideon Marcus

I've discussed recently how this appears to be a revival period for science fiction what with two new magazines having been launched and the paperback industry on the rise.  I've also noted that, with the advent of Avram Davidson at the helm of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, the editorial course of that digest has…changed.  That venerable outlet has definitely doubled down on its commitment to the esoteric and the literary.

Has Davidson determined that success relies on making his magazine as distinct from all the others as possible?  Or do I have things backwards?  Perhaps the profusion of new magazines is a reaction to F&SF's new tack, sticking more closely to the mainstream of our genre.

All I can tell you is that the latest edition ain't that great, though, to be fair, a lot of that is due to the absolutely awful Heinlein dross that fills half of the August 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction.  See for yourself:

Turn Off the Sky, by Ray Nelson

Things start off strong with a tale of love and loss in a future of abundance, unemployment, and political apathy.  Abelard Rosenburg, a blue-painted, black-skinned, bearded Beatnik is unswervingly committed to the cause of pacifistic anarchy, "sharing his burden" of leaflets to whomever will read them.  Then he meets the beautiful Eurasian, Reva, last of the capitalists, who plies the oldest profession in a virtually moneyless society.  Passion and polemics ensue.

Beautifully illustrated by EMSH, Turn Off the Sky was apparently written in 1958.  Davidson held it in reserve for just the right moment.  In fact, the story has that broodingly whimsical quality that marked the work of Avram Davidson at his finest – if I didn't know Ray Nelson was a real person (something of a superfan), I'd suspect this was an old work Davidson snuck in under a pseudonym.  It certainly feels like something from the last decade, albeit a progressive work from that era.  I liked it a lot.  Four stars.

[Walter Breen of Berkeley tells me that this version is expurgated.  That means they took the sex out.  So much for F&SF being combined with the old Venture mag…]

Fred, by Calvin Demmon

This joke vignette is something you might enjoy telling at your next dinner party.  I smiled.  Four stars.

T-Formation, by Isaac Asimov

Things start to go downhill at the third-way mark.  The Good Doctor has been floundering a bit lately, and his latest piece on very big numbers is both abstruse and not particularly exciting.  I did appreciate his discussion of Mersenne numbers and the Fibonacci sequence, however.  Three stars.

Ubi Sunt? by R. H. Reis and Kathleen P. Reis

A couple of months back, Brian Aldiss wrote a poem about how modern astronomy has killed the Mars of Burroughs.  This new poem by the Reis' covers the same ground.  Three stars.

Glory Road (Part 2 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

Last month, I covered the beginning of a promising though uneven new Heinlein serial.  It began with a compelling account of one of the first veterans of our newest war (the one in Vietnam) and then declined (with some bright spots) into a fantasy novel that was a pale shadow of Poul Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions.  It ended with our hero and his heroine, both having pledged their love for each other, tilting lances at their former benefactor, who had thrown them out for not having sex with his family. 

Yes, you read that right.

How does this exciting lead-up resolve?  With a disappointing, "After resolving the situation, our heroes hung out in their benefactor's steam bath and chatted."  I'm not leaving anything out.  That is pretty much how Part 2 begins.  Then it meanders into a dialogue between the protagonists that reads as if Heinlein had a conversation with himself in the shower (before he'd entirely woken up), and someone transcribed the result.

It's bad.  It's unreadable.  It's the worst Heinlein I've ever read, and I'm a fan (though Podkayne of Mars and Stranger in a Strange Land sorely tested that status).  Truth be told, I gave up ten pages in.  Let me know if it gets better, but having skimmed some of the later pages out of morbid curiosity, it didn't look like it.

One star.

The Censors: A Sad Allegory, by T. P. Caravan

Another half-page joke piece.  Not as good as the first one.  Three stars.

Sweets to the Sweet, by Paul Jay Robbins

Undistinguished, middle-aged man in a loveless marriage resorts to the occult to make his mark.  In the course of his studies, he discovers he's really a fantastic creature of unknown lineage, requiring just the right spell to express his true form.

This first piece by newcomer Robbins is at once half-baked and overdone, very much a freshman work, and you'll see the conclusion a mile away.  Two stars.

So, once again, F&SF has oscillated into the negative end of the spectrum, and I can't help being tempted to echo the actions of a fellow reader, whose letter Davidson had the bravery to publish:

Lately, I and my friends have been somewhat disappointed with F&SF.  Mr. Davidson leaves something to be desired as an editor.  Therefore, I am declining your kind offer to renew my subscription to your magazine.

E. Gary Gygax, Chicago, Ill.

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

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Magazine

[July 12, 1963] Shine, little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer (the August 1963 Amazing)

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by John Boston

The August 1963 Amazing features Daniel F. Galouye’s novella Reign of the Telepuppets, a splendid title that apparently evokes a bit of editorial discomfort.  “Editorial director” Norman M. Lobsenz is at pains to explain that “‘Telepuppets’—despite its pulp-fictiony sound—is a word already in good repute with the soberer elements of the scientific community,” brandishing as evidence a statement from the National Research Council.

The story itself, like Galouye’s earlier novella Recovery Area, is ambitious but a bit of a misfire.  The Bureau of Interstellar Exploration has left a crew of telepuppets—robots designed for particular tasks—somewhere (“a satellite,” no explanation) in the Aldebaran system.  They are named to fit their tasks: Bigboss, Sky Watcher, Scraper, Peter the Meter, etc.  Bigboss has decided he’s the Supreme Being who created everything but somehow forgot the details, which doesn’t affect the puppets’ work or Bigboss’s role in supervising them, but they have stopped communicating with Earth.  Also, Minnie—Mineral Assessor—is jealous of Bigboss’s position and keeps attacking him.  The source of these derangements is not clear, in part because the telepuppets’ capabilities and limits are not much explained, compared, say, with Asimov’s I, Robot sequence, which contains much more and better handwaving on that subject. 

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the Bureau is mounting an expedition to stop off at Aldebaran and straighten out the puppets en route to the more distant Hyades, where seven or eight Earth-type planets have been discovered.  But upon their arrival, the telepuppets quickly fade out—there’s a spaceship full of reptilian aliens lurking, its megalomaniac captain looking for an opportunity to start an interstellar war.  That plot line is followed for a bit, then the rug is pulled out entirely: nothing is what it seems.  Then the rug is pulled out again; there’s a new revelation, and the story ends rather quickly thereafter.  While some SF writers have made effective use of this kind of plot device, here it just seems that Galouye couldn’t decide which story he wanted to write and wound up with something of a mess.

Galouye does decide to let the girls into this clubhouse, though execution does not quite match good intentions.  Carol Cummings joins the crew because she is a “radio empathy specialist,” practicing a talent which is mainly confined to women.  The men refer to her as the Maid of the Megacycles.  When she pulls a mild prank on one of them, he is about to spank her when another crewman appears and interrupts him.  She is (of course) good-looking (pause for mention of “the shapeliness of her lithe, five-foot-four frame”), and by the end she is (of course) paired off with the main character.  For a while it seemed like a nice try, though.  Overall, three stars for competent and readable copy, and a clever idea (the telepuppets’ becoming independent) poorly developed.

Galouye’s long novella is followed by four short stories—very short, in the case of Thomas M. Disch’s three-page “Utopia?  Never!” It’s a well-written but cartoony gimmick story, in which a visitor insists to his tour guide that this planet can’t be the Utopia it seems, and finds out all too quickly that he’s right.  Three stars for arid but well-turned cleverness.

Next up is John Rackham’s Dr. Jeckers and Mr. Hyde, in which young Katherine, secretary at a research facility, makes a play for mild and befuddled Dr. Jeckers, whom she drives out to her aunt’s country house, except that he gets so unexpectedly fresh en route that she shoves him out the door and over a cliff.  But . . . moments later, Dr. Jeckers, driving his own car, is right behind her, trying to get her to stop.  She doesn’t, and he goes over the cliff too.  Suffice it to say we have not seen the last of Dr. Jeckers, or Dr. Jeckerses.  This ridiculously amusing story might make a good Twilight Zone episode if TZ had a sense of humor.  Four stars, believe it or not, for the usually mediocre Mr. Rackham, or John T. Phillifent as I believe he is known to Inland Revenue and readers of Analog.

David Rome’s The Lesson for Today sharply changes the mood.  It’s a child’s-eye view of going to school in a starship fleeing an apparently ruined Earth, told seemingly with Bradbury in the back of the author’s mind and a prudent study of David R. Bunch in front.  Remarkably, Rome brings off this tightrope walk; four stars for avoiding mawkishness.

Mine is the Kingdom by Roger Zelazny, disguised once more as Harrison Denmark, is something else entirely.  There’s one human left on another ruined Earth, and aliens—the “puffies”—are trying to persuade him to leave, to go where the other humans went, so they can convert what’s left of Earth to their own liking.  The protagonist is apparently being cared for by nearly omnipotent machines who can manufacture any illusion that he wants while keeping him drunk, as he demands.  It’s theatrical in the most literal sense; Zelazny is making the most of his education in drama here, with the events obscured, or transfigured as you prefer, in oratorical language and gaudy imagery.  (“The walls were rough-woven allegories of bright color, the heads of vanquished predators, and axes with complexions of smoke and eyes of rust.”) Pretentious?  Yeah, but hand it to the guy, he delivers on his pretenses, at least to my taste.  Feller does have a way with words.  You could also call it decadent, I suppose, but who cares?  Four stars, leaning towards five.  Nothing rotten in this Denmark.

Gosh—three stories in a row in Amazing that I am actually glad I read.  That is amazing! and suggestive of better things to come, except we’ve been around that track before.

Coming down to Earth, here’s Sam Moskowitz again, with John W. Campbell: The Writing Years.  This task is tailor-made for Moskowitz, who doesn’t like to acknowledge work from any later than the 1940s, since with one minor exception Campbell stopped writing in 1940 or so.  It’s the usual perfectly competent rehash of a (brief) career, enhanced by much hitherto-unknown (to me at least) biographical data.  Most interestingly, Campbell’s mother had a twin sister who didn’t much like him, and at times young Campbell didn’t know who he was dealing with, an experience that gave rise to Campbell’s most powerful story, Who Goes There? It’s not clear to what extent that is Campbell speaking, versus Moskowitz amateur-psychologizing.  In any case, three stars, and a more interesting job than some recent entries in this series.

So, three pretty good stories, and two adequate ones.  Amazing is above water for now, but it never seems to last.  What ho—be that the specter of Robert F. Young, there lurking in the shadows?

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Magazine

[July 10, 1963] (August 1963 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Last week, we marked the 187th birthday of the United States in traditional fashion.  We launched fireworks, marched in parades, read the Declaration of Independence, and otherwise honored the creation of the world's oldest extant constitutional democracy.  There is a lot to be proud of in the last two centuries of progress, which has seen our nation elevated to the status of first among equals.

At the same time, we still have a long way to go, as evidenced by the numerous Civil Rights protests that have occurred and are occurring around the country every day.  In them, one can see echoes of the original revolution, the one sparked by the land-holding, enfranchised WASPs of the colonies.  Let us hope that the benefits secured by that small group will one day extend to everyone.


Protesters of segregation at Gwynn Oak Park, just outside Baltimore, including Allison Turaj, who had a rock thrown at her.

Speaking of revolutions, every two months, we get to take the pulse of the one started by H.L. Gold, who threw down the gauntlet at the feet of pulp sci-fi in 1950 when he started his scientifiction magazine, Galaxy.  It was once a monthly magazine, but since 1959 it has been a half-again-sized bi-monthly.  This was a cost-saving measure, as was the reduction of writers' rates.  The latter caused a tangible (if not fatal) drop in quality, and it is my understanding that it either has recently been or will soon be reversed.

Thus, the August 1963 Galaxy is a mixed bag, with standout stories by lesser authors and lesser stories by standout authors.  Take a look:

Hot Planet, by Hal Clement

The once great Hugo-winner, Hal Clement, again brings us a scientifically rigorous but largely unreadable tale of an alien planet.  Last time, it was The Green World, about a young planet with paradoxically old features.  This time, the subject is closer to home.  Mercury, as we have described previously, orbits closest to the sun of all the planets, and the sun's gravity likely has frozen the planet's rotation such that it always presents one face to its parent. 

Clement posits that Mercury is so close to the sun, in fact, that the tides (the differential of gravity between the near and far sides of the planet) are strong enough to melt the planet's insides.  This, in turn, causes tremendous vulcanism such that giant cones belch forth internal gasses and give the little world an atmosphere (albeit a scalding and unbreathable one).  This is the Mercury portrayed in The Hot Planet.

It's a fascinating idea, one I've not seen advanced in any of the scientific literature.  It's also highly plausible, and I suspect similar tidal heating is underway in some of the close-in moons of the giant planets. 

Unfortunately, the characters are cardboard, the plot is threadbare, and the writing soporific.  Perhaps Analog can pick Clement up to be their regular science writer, a role for which he is likely better suited.  Two stars.

The Great Nebraska Sea, by Allan Danzig

I've got a friend whose bag is disaster stories.  The bigger, the better.  Climatological events, nuclear wars, flashy alien invasions — he imagines them in the backdrop of his daily life to make it more exciting.  He'd really dig this new "history" written by newcomer, Allan Danzig. 

It's a simple, straightforward recounting of the great crustal shift of '73 that caused the Great Plains to sink dozens of feet and a great rift at the Gulf Coast to form, causing the ocean to permanently flood the central United States.  The event that caused the deaths of 14 million Americans is spun positively, seen through the lens of a far future that has used the Great Nebraska sea to great economic advantage.  Lyric in its matter-of-factness, it's a fun read.  Four stars.

Earthbound, by Lester del Rey

A tiny vignette which asks the question, "At one point does a prison the size of the world become intolerable confinement?"  It punches.  Four stars.

The Problem Makers, by Robert Hoskins

A covert agency of the Terran Empire is tasked with "advancing" the other planets of the galaxy.  Their philosophy is essentially Utilitarianism — if it benefits the most people, it is worthy…no matter how many people must suffer along the way.  Decently written, but it's a smug story, the kind I'd expect in Analog.  If Hoskins meant it as satire, it was too subtle for me.  It offended.  Two stars.

The Pain Peddlers, by Robert Silverberg

This is one of those truly unpleasant tales that I can't help admiring.  In the future, the medical credo has evolved to, "First, do no harm — unless you can make a buck by televising it."  And future television lets you feel as well as watch.  So a nation of sado-masochists gets to viscerally participate from the viewpoint of the patient, who undergoes surgery without anesthesia!  The Pain Peddlers is a dark tale of the production of such hospital shows.

It's good, feeling like it might have come from the pen of Robert Sheckley (where are you these days, Bob?) Four stars…but skip it if you're squeamish.

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

Last month, Cliff Simak introduced us to Enoch Wallace, a Civil War soldier who retired to rural Wisconsin, ultimately to become the immortal operator of a cosmic way-station.  There, he facilitates the teleportation of aliens across the galaxy.  This issue concludes Wallace's tale.

I mentioned in the first article that the work seemed strangely unpolished.  It meandered, and there was much duplication, as if the novel had not been strongly edited.  That feeling is even stronger in this second half, in which new concepts are introduced in an ad hoc matter. 

There are many several-page sequences which are cul-de-sacs, adding little to the story, and not particularly engaging in and of themselves (for instance, when Wallace goes into his virtual shooting gallery and fights a sequence of imaginary beasts).  We get a parade of alien visitors and gifts and Wallace's somber musing upon them, and sprinkled among them are plot points quickly introduced and resolved:

One of Wallace's actions, done at the request of an alien visitor, nearly causes Earth to be barred from admission to the interstellar group.  There is a Talisman that ties the universe together, but its keeper is unworthy, and so the galactic community is falling apart.  Then it turns out the Talisman has been stolen, and its thief chooses Earth to hide out on.  He is thwarted in his plans by Wallace as well as Lucy, the psychic healer, who it turns out is perfectly suited to be the new keeper.  All of this happens in Part 2 — none of it is hinted at in Part 1!

This all could have made for an interesting story, but the pacing is jagged.  In the end, Simak presents a dozen components but fails to unify or develop them in a satisfying manner.  It saddens me, for Simak is a great author, and there is the germ of a great story here.  As is, it's a three star novel badly in need of a complete rewrite. 

The Birds of Lorrane, by Bill Doede

Last up, Doede brings us the story of an Earther who plunges far beyond the pale of humanity to a desert world on which (it has been told) live a pair of sentient, talking birds.  He finds them, but at such cost that he is left at death's door.  Are the birds his salvation or his ruin?  Interesting, if a bit underdeveloped.  Three stars.

All in all, the revolution seems to have hit a rough patch.  Perhaps Galaxy's new editor, Fred Pohl, can weather this literary Valley Forge such that his ragtag army of new recruits can yet prevail…

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Magazine

[July 6, 1963] A new star…  (Gamma — a new science fiction magazine)

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by Gideon Marcus

The history of our genre, like that of all things, contains several ups and downs.  From its beginnings in the pulp explosion, to its near-extinction during the second world war, to the resurgence during the digest age starting in the late '40s, and finally, to its decline at the end of the last decade.  At its most recent nadir, the number of science fiction periodicals had dropped to six from a high of forty.  Many predicted the imminent death of the genre, and not without justification.

1963 may well be remembered as the year things turned around.  In February, Worlds of Tomorrow was introduced as a sibling to sister magazines, Galaxy and IF.  To all accounts, it is a successful venture.  And last month, another digest joined the throng.

Back in 1949, the digest boom was kicked off by the birth of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.  It was, in many ways, a repudiation of the pulp genre, or perhaps a sign of its maturation.  F&SF set its literary standards bar very high, filling its pages with some of the most articulate works and authors our field has seen (and, with some hiccoughs, continues that tradition to this day).  For fourteen years, it stood unique in SFF.  This is not to say that other magazines did not approach or even surpass it in quality, but the combination of breadth of subject matter and eloquence of presentation made it a creature unto itself.

Until now.

The newest SFF mag is called Gamma, and here's how its editor, Charles E. Fritch, introduces it:

The Dictionary defines GAMMA for us: "…to designate some bright star."  One look at our cover and at the stunning lineup of stellar names for our next issue will confirm that definition.  Indeed, GAMMA is the bright new star of the science fiction/fantasy field, and we intend to see that it continues to light up the heavens.  The dictionary goes on to mention the gamma function — and we'll assure you that the GAMMA function, in our case, is to give our readers the best fiction, by the finest talents in and out of the sf field — fiction of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  GAMMA will unearth classic fantasy from obscure, out-of-print markets, while creating its own classics and memorable stories in each issue.

Ambitious, to be sure.  For those of us who remember the arrival of F&SF, we cannot help note the similarities of the two magazines.  The style and composition of the sole piece of art (and the fact there is just one throughout the whole book) is highly reminiscent of the older digest.  Inside, too, there are sixteen pieces, none longer than twenty pages.  The majority of the listed authors have had work published in F&SF, too.

Just as F&SF has "theme" issues, this "FIRST BIG ISSUE" of Gamma has a clear The Twilight Zone angle.  All five of the anthology show's main authors have a piece in the mag, and Rod Serling gets top (or, I suppose it can be argued, bottom) billing. 

But does this F&SF doppleganger live up to the standards of its predecessors?  You'll have to read it and find out (hint: You won't be disappointed):

Mourning Song, by Charles Beaumont

Beaumont is one of the "Zone's" most prolific guest writers, and his pieces are generally marked with authorial expertise.  He is, in many ways, what Bradbury should be: Emotional without being mawkish; literate without self-indulgence.  Mourning Song, about a sightless old bard who claims to know when death is coming, and the young man who dares to disbelieve, is one of the most poignant things I've seen Beaumont produce.  Five stars.

Crimes Against Passion, by Fritz Leiber

The damned in hell get a chance to re-plead their cases, with the help of a psychiatric public defender and the burgeoning field of Analysis.  It's meant to be a funny piece, but largely fails at comedy (save for one genuinely funny line, when Macbeth shouts irritably at his former adversary, "Lay off, MacDuff!") Lieber's been hit or miss lately, and this is a definite miss.  Two stars.

Time in Thy Flight, by Ray Bradbury

A reprint from the July 1953 Fantastic Universe, this tale of young time travelers from an antiseptic future, and the girl who decides to stay in 1928, is played for every sentimental note.  Brush your teeth afterwards.  Three stars.

The Vengeance of Nitocris, by Tennessee Williams

Now here's an interesting one, the very first sale of arguably the world's greatest living playwright.  This tale of a vengeful Egyptian Empress of the Old Kingdom first appeared in the August 1928 Weird Tales.  It's nothing if not lurid, and the story it tells is a true one (or, at least, attested back to ancient times — I checked the sources cited).  Three stars.

Itself, by A. E. van Vogt

A robotic anti-sub is the star in Van Vogt's aquatic answer to Laumer's sentient tank story, Combat Unit.  Just not as good.  Two stars.

Venus Plus Three, by Charles E. Fritch

A disenchanted wife brings his husband to savage Venus so that man-eating plants can preclude the need for a messy divorce.  An outdated, pulpish tale, but still entertaining.  Three stars.

A Message from Morj, by Ray Russell

The pulsing from the distant world could be none other than a communication — but just what was it trying to say?  This vignette manages to be, by turns, both surprising and predictable.  Three stars.

To Serve the Ship, by William F. Nolan

When your occupation has been to be sole pilot of a starship for eight decades, it can be pretty hard to adapt to retirement.  Author Nolan takes on a subject that both James White (Fast Trip) and Anne McCaffrey (The Ship Who Sang) have handled better.  Three stars.

(And now, you may be thinking, "With the exception of the Beaumont, this doesn't sound like a great magazine."  Fear not.  It's all gravy from here.)

Gamma Interview: Rod Serling, by Rod Serling

Any conversation with one of television's brightest lights is bound to be an engaging one.  The Twilight Zone's creator does not disappoint.  Five stars.

The Freeway, by George Clayton Johnson

Johnson is another Zone regular, and in this tale of the breakdown of an automatic car in the middle of the desert, he highlights the danger of over-reliance on technology.  Could you survive?  Not just the physical peril, but the knowledge of just how ill-equipped we are to deal with nature undiluted?  A solid three stars.

One Night Stand, by Herbert A. Simmons

Horn-blowing misfit finds his groove and love in a gig on the Red Planet.  The first SFF story I've read by a Black man (that I know of), it's a satisfyingly hep read.  Three stars.

As Holy and Enchanted, by Kris Neville

I first fell in love with a fictional character when I was ten.  It was Polychrome, the fairy daughter of the rainbow who first fell to Earth in The Road to Oz, and I wrote several childish tales that detailed our meeting and (innocent) courtship.  This reprint from the April 1953 Avon Science Fiction and Fantasy Reader covers similar ground, but far more beautifully than I ever could have managed.  Four stars.

Shade of Day, by John Tomerlin

A sick salesman whose life zagged when it should have zigged revisits the last happy time of his life, touring the Junior High of his early teens.  Heavy, subtle, effective.  Four stars.

The Girl Who Wasn't There, by Forrest J. Ackerman

If you don't yet know 4E, that legendary SFF fan who helms magazines, anchors conventions, and keeps old magazines in his refrigerator for want of space elsewhere, this tale of a lonely, invisible girl is a good introduction.  Four stars.

Death in Mexico, by Ray Bradbury

I spend much of my time praising Bradbury with faint damns, but this poem is a genuinely worthy piece.  Four stars.

Crescendo, by Richard Matheson

It's never a bad idea to wrap up a magazine with Matheson, possibly the best SFF screenwriter of our age.  Who else could make an electric church organ so plausibly menacing?  Four stars.

Viewed with the dispassionate eye of a statistics collector, GAMMA garners a strong, but not noteworthy, score of 3.4 stars.  Taken as a whole, however, this is a stunning first issue.  For those who like F&SF and wish there were more magazines like it, your prayers have been answered.  Here's looking forward to GAMMA 2, coming out in the fall.

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Magazine

[June 30, 1963] Calm from the Storm (July 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

We live in increasingly tumultuous times (or maybe we are just better informed about them).  A war is heating up in Vietnam, an even significant enough to have produced fictional characters who have experienced it (e.g. Linc, the veteran in Route 66; Oscar from Heinlein's new serial, Glory Road). 

There's a war waging in our country, too, as Blacks fight for the rights they are due as humans.  They march, they protest, they are attacked, and sometimes they are killed.  The President recently sent a Civil Rights Bill to Congress, but its future is far from certain.

When the news gets unbearable (or if you are a soldier on either of these front lines and need a break) science fiction and fantasy provide welcome respites.  They offer completely new worlds to explore that may have their own problems, but at least they're different ones.  Or the stories posit futures/alternaties where vexing issues have been solved. 

I find myself increasingly seeking out this refuge as the world gets scarier.  This month's last science fiction digest, the July 1963 Analog, afforded me several hours of peace when I needed it.  Perhaps it will do the same for you.

The Big Fuel Feud (Part 2 of 2), by Harry B. Porter

Even as a rocket scientist, I found Porter's increasingly dry comparison of solid vs. liquid fuels to be interminable.  Campbell needs contributors who will be less textbook, more Asimov (or Ley).  Two stars.

The Ethical Engineer (Part 1 of 2), by Harry Harrison

When we last saw Jason dinAlt, the psychic gambler with a galactic range, he had brought a tepid peace between the city-dwellers and the country folk on the lethal world of Pyrrus.  The latter had managed to live with the increasingly hostile life forms on that death world rather than wage an increasingly futile arms race against it. 

Pyrrus barely figures in this new serial, as dinAlt is kidnapped in Chapter One by a religious fanatic bent on taking Jason back to galactic civilization to face crimes against decency.  On the way, their ship is crippled, and the two must become unlikely allies to survive on yet another harsh world.

It's not as good as Deathworld, and it could have just as easily starred another character.  That said, it picks up as it goes, and I found myself wanting more at the half-way break.  I appreciate that Jason dinAlt, like Laumer's Retief, appears to be Black.  Three stars trending upwards.

New Apples in the Garden, by Kris Neville

In an increasingly technological world, the engineer becomes increasingly essential.  So what happens when people stop seeing slip-stick pusher as a desirable career?  Kris Neville describes a dark future of slow but inexorable decay (with the unspoken subtext made overt in the final illustration).  I don't know that I buy this premise given how heavily the sciences are boosted these days, but it is evocatively drawn.  Three stars.

A Knyght Ther Was, by Robert F. Young

Robert Young has written a lot of great stuff, but these days, his work tends to be really bad, usually some sort of in-joke based on an obvious literary reference (usually something obscure like the Book of Genesis).  This time, his story features a fellow named Thomas Mallory who goes back to England in 542 A.D.  Can you guess what he finds?  I'll give you a clue — it's not a decaying Romano-British/Welsh society under attack by colonizing Saxons.

Worse yet, and you'll see this a mile away, Mallory is THE Mallory.  Yes, bootstraps galore in a tediously predictable tale that doesn't even have the virtue of being funny.  Two stars, and that's being generous.  Read the original, or the ur-document penned by Geoffrey of Monmouth.

New Folks' Home, by Clifford D. Simak

Cliff Simak, master of bucolic SF, has got a serial running in Galaxy right now called Here gather the stars, in which aliens set up a galactic way station in a rural part of America.  New Folk's Home is very similar, thematically, in which an old man, making his last vacation to the backwoods of his youth, discovers a beautiful new house in the middle of nowhere.  Why is it there, and how could it be tied to him?  Is it an intrusive eyesore, or just the retirement spot he was looking for? 

I especially enjoy Simak because his stuff tends to have happy endings, and his aliens are benevolent.  Good stuff, as always.  Four stars.

Thanks to the Harrison and the Simak, I have a more positive feeling toward this issue (and the world) than the issue's 2.6 star rating would normally command.  It's not the best magazine of the month, or even near the top — that prize goes to Fantastic (3.3), followed by Worlds of Tomorrow and Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.1).  Even IF got a higher score (2.8), and it had one of the best stories (Down to the Worlds of Men, by Alexei Panshin).  New Worlds was slightly better, too (2.7).  Only Amazing was worse, and it was a LOT worse (2.1).  So there was lots to enjoy this month to take you out of the miseries of the world.

On the other hand, one misery continues to intrude.  Women wrote just two out of the thirty-seven contributions.  I've been told women aren't just interested, and the editors print the best things they can find.  Why should editors bother to especially solicit women when their jobs are busy enough as it is? 

In reply, I present Exhibit A: Jack Sharkey, whose work fills half of two magazines this month, garnering a whopping two stars between them.  Surely, we can do better than that if we bring in some new blood. We literally can't do worse.

Speaking of Alexei Panshin, the great young author, himself, has answered my letter and offered up an article describing the birth of his first (and most excellent story).  Look forward to it in just a couple of days!

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Magazine

[June 28, 1963] Here Comes Summer… (New Worlds, July 1963)

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by Mark Yon


British heartthrob, Cliff Richards, sings "Here Comes Summer"

The coldness of the now classified as ‘record-breaking Winter’ (record-breaking for all the wrong reasons!) has given way to lighter and warmer things weather-wise here, which is good, bearing in mind what seems to be happening in British SF circles this month. Let's dive right in to the July 1963 New Worlds, shall we?

And we’re back to the no-picture, dayglo colours of earlier New Worlds covers.  The bilious green is certainly…eye-catching. 

Let’s Build A Bridge, by Mr. E.C. Tubb

Following the completion of his serial in June, this month Mr. E.C. Tubb points out that most s-f alienates itself from readers by the language it uses. In an attempt to bridge the gulf between “the outsider and the addict,” he suggests that, if s-f is to survive, it must entertain, communicate, educate and (most essentially for s-f) enchant.  Nothing wrong with this point of view, in my opinion. After some of the aggressive views exhibited of late, it’s nice to read a conciliatory piece, but I do feel that this need to make the genre accessible to ‘outsiders’ may be out of date. My impression is that most s-f readers like their use of special genre terminology, psi-beams and all, which makes them part of a select group who ‘get it.’

Refuge, by Mr. Joseph Green

As heralded last month, we begin with what is being touted as the last story in Mr. Green’s ‘Loafers’ series. Refuge is a so-so story of how humans and the Loafers continue to get along for planetary unity and mutual benefit. Here we see the consequences of this interaction, as one of the young Loafers decides to go ‘walkabout’ to determine the effects of such mutual co-habitation. Whilst many authors would try to use this to tell a story of communal compromise and future progress through social integration, here the ending is, instead, a rather typically British dystopian view. I’m sure that someone could make a connection between this and the current Race Riots going on in the USA, or Native American/American relations or even Australian/Aborigine relationships but, really, that would be pushing a simile too far. Nevertheless, it’s one of the better efforts in the series, if rather bleak, but nothing particularly ground-breaking.  3 out of 5.

The Last Salamander, by Mr. John Rackham

The return of another series, Mr. Rackham’s tale is another of his ‘X-men’ stories, those people with special powers last seen in Confession in New Worlds in May 1963. Surprisingly, for superhero stories, they’ve all been pretty mundane up to now, but The Last Salamander is a more interesting, if unoriginal, prospect. It’s basically an alien monster story where the creature is inconveniently found feeding off the energy generated in a power station. It all seems rather Twilight Zone-esque to me, but made depressing by the point that the automatic reaction of the humans is to decide how to kill it. 3 out of 5.

The Nothing, by Mr. Bill Spencer

Mr. Spencer last appeared in May 1962, although I remember nothing of the story myself. Ironically, The Nothing is another story of interstellar instantaneous travel (see also Mr. David Rome’s story, Moonbeam, back in the September 1962 issue) and the intrepid guinea-pigs who risk travelling into the unknown in doing so. Dare I say it, for a story about facing the unknown it’s nothing special – nothing of importance!  2 out of 5.

Pattern of Risk, by Mr. R.W. Mackelworth

You may have noticed that I’ve liked a lot of this recent author’s work in New Worlds, so I had high hopes of this story. Pattern of Risk is a story of what happens when the insurance risk of spaceships can be accurately predicted. Like Mr. Asimov’s psychohistory it’s a bit dodgy in its logic, and in the end, ironically, it lacks risk!  2 out of 5.

Point of No Return, by Mr. Philip E. High

Mr. High’s work has varied enormously of late, but this is a better one. It’s an unsurprising story of what happens when a new bioweapon is created on a planet to deal with insurgents. There’s a nice take on how machines and humans could one day be symbiotically combined in warfare – I’m sure it could happen one day – and it does raise ethical questions about such actions. Machines may one day take over the world! Not a new idea (Ms. Anne McCaffrey did something similar in a story a couple of years ago, for example) but done well. 3 out of 5.

Flux, by Mr. Michael Moorcock

And that leads me to the story that indicates the return of Mr. Michael Moorcock. Last time Mr. Moorcock appeared in New Worlds I was pleasantly surprised, and this time Flux also entertains. It is a time-travel story, but written with enough style and panache to make the tired old cliché seem new – the sort of entertainment which Mr. E. C. Tubb was suggesting s-f should be aiming for in his Editorial, I think. At times, the language is a little over-worked in purple prose – “What did it mean, he wondered, this Gargantua which sat perpetually bellowing athwart the whole content?” for example – but I liked the story’s energy and its take on travelling the timelines, even if it is rather similar to Mr. Spencer’s story in the same issue! Whilst it is not Mr Moorcock’s best – he may be best suited to continuing writing Fantasy rather than s-f – it is an intriguing advance on the linear nature of Mr. H.G. Wells’ time travels.  3 out of 5.

Book ~Reviews, by Mr. Leslie Flood

In this month’s selection, Mr. Robert Sheckley’s Immortality Inc. is ‘slickly written’, we see the reprint of Mr. Robert Heinlein’s Red Planet, another in the current trend of ‘catastrophe novels’, this time Mr. Robert Bateman’s When The Whites Went and Mr. Clifford Simak’s ‘also-ran’ They Walked Like Men. Readers of Galactic Journey will probably recognise most of the stories in a ‘superb assortment’ from The Best from Fantasy & SF – 10th Series. There’s a brief review of a controversial book, The Dawn of Magic.which gets a brief mention, that its study of scientific unorthodoxy should generate discussion, but seems to be here more because its authors are at the film festival mentioned next.

ARTICLE: The First International S-F Film Festival, by Mr. John Carnell.

After the film review last month (The Day of the Triffids is being shown here, coincidentally) we now have an advance notice of this cross-genre event in Trieste, even though it is actually over by the time we’re reading this.

There’s nothing much to get excited about here, although the event itself looks like fun, and I am pleased that the event celebrates the international nature of s-f. It is so easy to become parochial in such matters, if you are not careful. There will be a report next month, evidently.

In summary, the July issue of New Worlds is odd, frankly. There’s a combination of old and new, but overall it’s a bit of a mess. Strangely, the stories I hoped would like have underwhelmed, whilst some of the more mundane offerings have been better than I was expecting. It really does seem to reflect that transition of the genre, from the old to the new, but I’m not sure that it’s entirely successful.

Until next month..




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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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Magazine

[June 18, 1963] Eastbound for Adventure! (July 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Galactic Journey approaches the completion of its fifth year in publication, and we delight in the increasing variety of travels we've been able to share with you.  We started with science fiction digests and real-life space shots, expanded our coverage to movies and television, and then dove whole-hog into all aspects of culture, including music, politics, and fashion.  We even broadened our geographic scope, with British correspondents Ashley Pollard and Mark Yon, and our newest teammember, Cora Buhlert from West Germany.

One constant throughout, dating back to our third article, is the coverage of physical journeys of the Traveler family.  And so we tread familiar ground in two respects as the Journey reports for its fourth time from the near-mythical land of Wa, the country of Japan.

We touched down the afternoon of June 10 after a long but thoroughly pleasant trip across the Pacific in first class.  Leigh Brackett was my traveling companion, though the conversation was strictly one-way.

The next day, we took a quick flight from Tokyo to the industrial city of Nagoya, third biggest in the nation.  Renowned for its drab ugliness, nevertheless we like it, not for the least reason the presence of three good friends — one native and two transplants. 

After a delicious lunch, we all gathered in the hotel room and performed music together (Nanami and the Young Traveler are both accomplished ukelele-players). 

We had just one full day after that in Nagoya, and we used the time to good advantage, exploring the many shopping and dining options.  Despite June being monsoon month in Japan, rain was sparse and the temperature reasonable (though the humidity rivaled that of pre-Mariner Venus…)

For the last five days, we have been back in the nation's capital.  Tokyo is a city in transition, busily preparing for the Olympics next year.  In addition to the remodeling of the Shibuya district, work is being completed on the new bullet train that will reduce the trip from Osaka to Tokyo (about the same distance as Los Angeles to San Francisco) to just three hours.  Would have been nice on our trip this time around…

My primary destination this time around was Jimbouchou — Bookseller's Row — where dozens of bookstores crowd a cluster of avenues.  I've never seen so many volumes crowded together in one place!  However, the subject matter tended to be rather dry and abstruse at most of the places, and I made most of my scavenging finds at the second-hand shops around the various universities. 

As for the rest of the time, we shopped, we dined, and we walked…endlessly.  More than five miles every day. 

One "highlight" of the trip was the chance to watch King Kong vs. Godzilla in the cinema.  There will be a report.

I also found time to enjoy to enjoy the July 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction, the fourth issue of this venerable magazine I've read in Japan.  How did this set of excursions compare to the real-life adventure I am currently enjoying?  Read on and find out!

Glory Road (Part 1 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

Most of the issue is taken up by the first half of Heinlein's latest novel.  Evelyn Cyril "Oscar" Gordon is a remarkable young man plagued by hard luck: a skilled athlete saddled with a losing team; an abortive engineering student sent to fight (and grievously wounded) in Vietnam; a winner of the Irish Derby sweepstakes whose ticket turns out to be counterfeit.  Things look up when he answers this classified ad, tailor-made for him:

"ARE YOU A COWARD? This is not for you. We badly need a brave man. He must be 23 to 25 years old, in perfect health, at least six feet tall, weigh about 190 pounds, fluent English, with some French, proficient in all weapons, some knowledge of engineering and mathematics essential, willing to travel, no family or emotional ties, indomitably courageous and handsome of face and figure. Permanent employment, very high pay, glorious adventure, great danger. You must apply in person, rue Dante, Nice, 2me étage, apt. D."

Gordon's employer is the unearthily beautiful "Star," part Amazon, part Fae.  Along with her aged but capable assistant, Rufo, the trio head off into a fantastic dimension on an errand whose purpose is known only to the mysterious magical lady.  There, they run into golems, explosive swamps, easily offended hosts, and many other dangers.

Glory Road is Heinlein's answer to Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions, and the closesness with which it hews to the predecessor only highlights its inferiority.  Anderson's tale was fun and subtle, his characters well-realized.  Heinlein, as we saw in his last book, Podkayne of Mars, can't seem to portray anyone but Heinlein these days.  When Oscar and Star start mooning at each other, it's like watching old Bob seduce himself. 

I did enjoy the first 30 pages or so, detailing Gordon's pre-adventure life, however, and there are moments of interest along the way.  But if you're looking for the next Starship Troopers or The Menace from Earth, this likely won't be it.  Three stars.

Success, by Fritz Leiber

The creator of Fahfrd and the Grey Mouser offers up this fantasy vignette, a distillation of the genre in four pages.  Is it satire?  Parody?  Or the only fantastic story you'll ever need to read?  Vividly written but inconsequential.  Three stars.

The Respondents, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Pretty words from one of F&SF's resident poets.  Three stars.

With These Hands, by Kenneth Smith

The first SF publication by this college freshman, this is a tale of an artless alien (both descriptors used literally) unable to contribute to Earth's cultural beauty despite his desperate admiration.  It starts off strong, but the ending is a bit talkie and mawkish.  Nevertheless, three stars, and let's see some more!

The Isaac Winners, by Isaac Asimov

A rather lackluster piece this month, just a list of the top 72 scientists in human history.  The best part of the article is Asimov's justification for the trophy's name (after Newton, of course!) Three stars.

As Long as You're Here, by Will Stanton

F&SF perennial, Stanton, gives us a both charming and chilling tale about a couple that digs a deep shelter to avoid the hell of nuclear annihilation only to find Old Nick digging upwards to expand his domain in similar anticipation.  It stayed with me.  Four stars.

McNamara's Fish, by Ron Goulart

Max Kearny, spiritual private eye, is consulted individually by both members of a married couple, who both fear the other partner is being unfaithful.  Is something fishy going on?  Yes!  Indeed, in this case, the troubles stem from the meddling of a venal water elemental.  Goulart's Kearny tales are always glib and enjoyable, though this one is less substantial than most.  Three stars.

Thus ends a pleasant but not superlative issue of F&SF, an issue more notable for the environs in which it was read (on a rock under a waterfall near a shrine; in the lounge of a fancy Nagoya hotel; on a train traveling in the shadow of Mt. Fuji) than its contents. 

See you in two days when I discuss the most amazing events happening just a few hundred miles over our heads as we speak…

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Magazine

[June 16, 1963] Blues for a Red Planet (August 1963 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The planet Mars and its inhabitants have long been favorite themes for science fiction writers, from The War of the Worlds to The Martian Chronicles.  Will the age of space travel put an end to our wildest fancies about that alluring world?

The Soviet spacecraft intended to study Mars have all failed.  NASA's Mariner program, so successful in studying Venus, is not scheduled to turn its attention to Mars until next year.  Because the red planet is still something of a mystery, authors are free to use their imagination for a while yet. They may create a world where humans can live, or depict Martian canals and the civilization that created them.

The third issue of Worlds of Tomorrow upholds this tradition, with the first section of a major new novel set on Mars.

All We Marsmen (Part 1 of 3), by Philip K. Dick

The latest work from the author of last year's critically acclaimed alternate history novel The Man in the High Castle (which got only a mixed review from our esteemed host) is set on a traditional version of Mars.  There are humanoid Martians (called Bleekmen), although they are a dying people.  There are canals, although they are in a poor state of repair.  Humans can survive on the planet, but only under harsh conditions.

By the end of this century, human colonies exist on Mars.  Founded by Earth countries, businesses, or labor unions, they are under the control of the United Nations.  Against this background, the reader is introduced to several characters.

Silvia Bohlen is a housewife and mother.  She takes barbiturates to sleep and amphetamines to wake up.  Her husband Jack is a repairman.  While flying out on an assignment to fix a refrigeration unit, he gets a call from the UN to aid a group of Bleekmen dying of thirst.  During this errand of mercy he meets Arnie Kott, head of an important union, whose own helicopter flight has been interrupted by the emergency.  Kott despises the Bleekmen, and argues with Jack about the need to help them.  Despite this disagreement, he comes to respect Jack's skill, and hires him for an important repair.  In a flashback sequence, we learn that Jack came to Mars after an episode of schizophrenia.

Norbert Steiner and his family live next to the Bohlens.  He works as a health food manufacturer, and secretly imports forbidden luxury foods from Earth.  His son Manfred is severely autistic, and lives at a special facility for children with mental or physical disabilities.  A shocking event involving Steiner leads to a crisis for his family and his neighbors.

There are many other characters I haven't mentioned and multiple subplots.  It's not yet clear what direction this novel is going.  There are hints that schizophrenics and autistics have precognitive abilities, and I believe this will be a major theme.

Some readers may be dismayed by the lack of a simple, linear plot.  Others will find the novel depressing, as so many of its characters are unhappy with their lives.  The picture it paints of a Mars inhabited by a large number of humans by the 1990's is likely to seem unrealistic.  However, the author appears to have created a complex, serious work of literature, worthy of careful reading.  Four stars.

A Hitch in Space, by Fritz Leiber

In a distant solar system, two men are aboard a spaceship on a routine mission.  One of the men develops a bizarre psychosis.  He imagines that his partner, the narrator, is really two people.  When he's around, he calls him Joe, and thinks of him as a hero.  When he's gone, he speaks to the imaginary Joseph, and insults him.  The narrator puts up with this weird delusion, but when he goes outside the ship, the situation becomes dangerous.

This story combines psychological drama with a technological puzzle that could have appeared in the pages of Analog.  As you'd expect from this author, it's very well written.  The situation is interesting, if somewhat artificial.  Three stars.

To the Stars, by J. T. McIntosh

A manufacturer of starships is blackmailed, on the basis that his ships are more dangerous than others.  He disposes of this threat easily enough, with evidence that they cause no more deaths than any other ships.  What is kept secret, however, is the fact that his ships are vulnerable at a particular moment during their time of use.  When his daughter leaves on her honeymoon aboard one of his ships during this hazardous time, he takes measures to prevent a possible disaster.

I found the plot of this story contrived and inconsistent.  The female characters are more fully realized than usual for this author.  Unfortunately, the effect is ruined by an irrelevant paragraph explaining that women will never be equal to men in the business world, even two centuries from now.  The reasons given are "women never trusted women" and "women didn't really want equality."  Two stars.

The New Science of Space Speech, by Vincent H. Gaddis

This article discusses research into ways to communicate with extraterrestrials.  It covers a lot of ground, from radio telescopes to dolphins, and from artificial languages based on mathematics to unexplained radio echoes.  Some of this material is interesting, but the author covers too many subjects in a short space to do more than offer a taste of them.  Two stars.

A Jury of Its Peers, by Daniel Keyes

A professor of physics invents a small computer that has consciousness.  During a lecture he tells the students that the computer can think, forgetting that the state has passed a law against making such a claim in the classroom.  A trial follows, with the computer itself called as a witness.

This scenario is clearly based on the famous Scopes Trial of 1925, which tested the law against teaching human evolution in Tennessee schools.  Ironically, the law against teaching machine intelligence is in New Jersey, and the lawyer defending the professor is from Tennessee.

If this were merely an allegory for academic freedom, the story would be only moderately effective.  However, the author has more in mind.  The professor must face his own limitations, as well as those of the computer, when it gives its testimony.  Although not the masterpiece one might expect from the creator of Flowers for Algernon [If he had a nickel for every time a reviewer said this…(Ed.)], this is a fine story with depth of characterization.  Four stars.

The Impossible Star, by Brian W. Aldiss

Four astronauts explore the region of space beyond the Crab Nebula.  A problem with their spaceship strands them on a small, rocky planetoid near a star of such immense mass that not even light can escape from it.  (This may seem fantastic, but in recent years physicists have speculated that an object of sufficient size could produce a gravitation pull so strong that this could happen.) The men struggle with the bizarre effects of the black star.  The stress of their situation soon has them at each other's throats.  The concept is an interesting one.  Even in an issue full of downbeat stories, this is a particularly bleak tale.  Three stars.

Until the Mariner project takes away our dreams of glittering Martian cities, rising from ruby sands along emerald canals, let's keep reading about that fascinating world in the pages of our Earthling magazines.

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Magazine

[June 13, 1963] THUD (the July 1963 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Jack Sharkey’s serialized novella The Programmed People, which concludes in this July 1963 Amazing, describes a tight arc from mediocre to appalling and lands with a thud.  It opens with our hero Lloyd queuing up with everybody else in the Hive in front of the Proposition Screens in order to Vote before the Count.  Yes, it’s another stilted dystopia (a small isolated world run by a big computer, the Brain) in which all the horrors get capital letters.  Also, Voting is mandatory, and there isn’t enough time for everyone to Vote, and Lloyd can’t afford to miss the cut-off because he’s already missed two Votes this quarter out of an allowable Three, excuse me, three.  On the next page, Sharkey has apparently lost count; now he says Lloyd will have to be hospitalized for Readjustment if he misses this Vote.  Lloyd gets the young woman in front of him to let him jump the line, only to discover that she is the pariah they’ve been warned against who has refused to submit to Hospitalization.  He pities her and lends her his girlfriend’s Voteplate (don’t ask) so she can get out of the Temple unrecognized, and then hides her in his room.  She tells him that Hospitalization is a ruse for disposal of anyone who is sick or injured, in order to keep the population steady. 

There are a lot more busy plot mechanics not worth recounting; it’s reminiscent of a TV sitcom, and the characters act and talk like sitcom characters too.  Sharkey has clearly not thought through just what it would be like to live in a state of constant surveillance, fear, and enforced ignorance.  At the end of Part I Lloyd has gone to the Brain that controls everything and asked it “Why is the Hive?” Part II has the answer, in a flashback that starts with the 1972 presidential election and goes on for 19 pages, covering more than 50 years of political history, becoming more absurd as it goes on.  Then there’s another 15 pages of silly melodrama and thankfully we’re done.  One star is too much.

Onward, with trepidation, to the rest of the issue.  The cover story is Robert F. Young’s long novelet Redemption, in which space freighter pilot Drake, en route to Mars, is alone on his ship when there’s a knock on the door.  It’s a girl!  She’s wearing the uniform of the Army of the Church of the Emancipation, but even so, she is, as the author puts it, stacked.  Also, she’s named Annabelle Leigh, an allusion the author does nothing with.  She has stowed away and wants him to drop her off at the planet Iago Iago in time for the expected resurrection of a saint.  He declines and locks her in a storeroom, then his ship runs into a Lambda-Xi field (say what?), which destroys the part of the ship with her in it, and renders the rest of it, and him and his cargo, translucent.  When he gets to Mars, he makes inquiries and learns that Annabelle was a saint. 

He then sets off on a quest both to sell his damaged cargo and to trace her history, hoping to find evidence that she wasn’t so saintly all the time and thereby make himself feel less guilty about accidentally killing her.  He does, sort of, and also learns that this Lambda-Xi field was even more puissant than he realized, capable of generating any contrivance the author needs, including time travel, two varieties of it, the sum of which, overlaid with Young’s characteristic sentimentality, ends up like something A.E. van Vogt might have written for a Hallmark Cards promotion (or maybe vice versa).  There are also further strong hints that Young has a few screws loose on the subjects of women and sex—not surprisingly in light of such previous efforts as Santa Clause and Storm over Sodom in F&SF.  Maybe somebody else can find something to appreciate here, but it leaves me cold, and annoyed as usual with this all too prolific author.  The cover blurb says “A Story You Will Never Forget!” I hope it’s wrong.  One star.

After such Redemption, what redemption?  Some, at least.  Neal Barrett, Jr.’s shorter novelet The Game—his fifth appearance in the SF magazines—is a somewhat crude but grimly effective horror story of Earth colonists who encounter an incomprehensible alien entity that just wants to play a game, with devastating consequences for the humans.  It’s refreshingly straightforward after the metaphysically baroque Young story.  Four stars.

Now, the crumbs at the bottom of the box.  Ron Goulart’s The Yes Men of Venus is a parody of a certain famous pulpster, heavily disguised here as Arthur Wright Beemis, which seems both pitch-perfect and, therefore, almost superfluous.  But it’s short enough to be amusing.  Three stars for trivia well executed.

Arthur Porges’s The Formula is another contrived and arid gimmick story, involving a highly artificial psi experiment undertaken on a bet.  The story turns on appreciating some specialized information that is disclosed in passing about the surroundings.  It’s like a grossly expanded version of a filler item in a science magazine.  Two stars, generously.

Well, that was depressing.  The Barrett story is the sole bright spot in this mostly abysmal issue—and not bright enough by half to redeem (excuse the expression) the disaster of the two lead stories.

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