The Times is running a series of articles where major thinkers elucidate on what they believe life will be like in 1980. The series started with Arthur Koestler (philosopher most known for his Orwellian novel, Darkness at Noon) who predicts that, in the Britain of 1980, Mediocracy will be the order of the day.
Arthur Koestler by David Levine
By this he means that instead of having a meritocratic system, defined by IQ plus effort, the main ingredients of life will be common sense plus inertia. Institutions will continue in modified forms without revolutionary change. Politicians are more likely to be dentists than demagogues. The family structure will continue but divorce and extramarital relationships will be commonplace. Housewives will have “bugs”, small time-saving robots, to do their household tasks, but they will breakdown so frequently the repairman will be a regular guest.
On a more positive note, he foresees the removal of private cars from cities, to be replaced by automated electric vehicles for hire. Office work will be done from home, with tactile simulators introduced to ensure people do not feel deprived of physical contact. Education will begin shortly after birth and young people will be encouraged to engage in more out-there behaviour before settling into mediocre adulthood.
We will have to wait another decade to see if his predictions come true. But, if the latest Vision of Tomorrow is any sign of things to come, mediocrity is certainly on the horizon.
Vision of Tomorrow #3
Cover art by Eddie Jones
Yes, I am also still waiting for issue #2. I am assuming there was some hiccough at the printers.
In his editorial, Harbottle continues to outline his vision for the magazine. Firstly, stories must be “entertaining”, secondly, they should not contain sex. New Worlds this is not!
Let’s see how this translates into prose.
Shapers of Men by Kenneth Bulmer
Illustrated by Eddie Jones
Once again, Mr. Bulmer opens the magazine with an adventure tale. This one, we are told, marks the start of a new series. Fletcher Cullen, “galactic bum”, travels across the stars wherever the loot and action take him. In this opening installment, Cullen’s flier is shot down over Sitasz and he finds himself in the middle of a conflict between the humans and the natives.
Illustrated by Eddie Jones
This is a rather old-fashioned kind of interplanetary tale with some attempts at modern touches. Cullen is an untrustworthy rogue, miles away from Flash Godon or Clark Kent, the Sitazans are a well-constructed alien race and there are attempts to bring in modern frames of reference like LSD.
However, it is really boring to read. Generally each chapter will spend most of the time in overwrought descriptions and dull exposition, then a quick escape, followed by a capture by someone else. Even Bulmer’s amusing similes are like fish and guests, starting to smell off after the third time.
A low two stars
Number 7 by Eric C. Williams
Frederick Hasty, technical overseer of demolitions in London, is called to Number 7, Good Peace Road, in New Cross. Its destruction is a necessary part of the rationalization of London currently taking place. Unfortunately, the property is surrounded by an impregnable invisible barrier.
A reasonable little mystery but one that does not amount to very much.
A low three stars
Science Fiction in Germany by Franz Rottensteiner
A one-page summary of the SF scene in both Germanies, covering Perry Rhodan, Utopia Zukunftsromane, translations, fanzines and conventions.
It does the job it intends to but it is not as good as Cora’s coverage.
Three stars
People Like You by David Rome
Illustrated by B. M. Finch
Gail and Gordon Coulton, and their daughter Dorinda, are staying in a holiday home overlooking Cody Canyon when they notice some of their property has been taken. They suspect it is their neighbour, George Abbot. But what could he want with these items?
I was reminded of The People stories, but Rome is no Henderson. It is enjoyable enough, with a nice twist in the tail, but nothing special.
Three Stars
The Impatient Dreamers Part 3: Shadow of the Master by Walter Gillings
With us still waiting for the intervening issue, we skip to the third of Gillings articles, looking here at the emergence of British SF writers and publications in the 1930s, along with his efforts to establish more SF fan clubs.
This continues to be a brilliant series casting a spotlight on an area of SF development I rarely see discussed.
Five Stars
Pioneers of Science Fantasy
Some special colour reprints and short looks at big names in the history of the genre. A kind of supplement to the prior article.
Fantasy Review
Ken Slater reviews the latest E. C. Tubb interstellar adventure, Escape Into Space. Apparently, it is a disappointment, lacking character and convincing explanations.
Speaking of Tubb, this tale tells of Frank Weston, a morgue attendant who manages to get his hands on a ring of The Special People. These rings are a kind of portable time machine, allowing him to reverse time over a short period. Frank uses it to get rich and powerful, but can it really give him everything he desires?
A pretty standard tale of this type, well told. Once again Ted lands straight in the middle.
Three Stars
The Adapters by Philip E. High
Illustrated by Gerard Alfo Quinn
Roger Pryor is a fugitive from The Invaders. Five years ago, people started falling down totally incapacitated when touched by them. They are huge beings invisible except in very specific temperatures and lighting. They continually tell him they are here to help and rescue him, but what can their real agenda be?
A tense and evocative piece. Not the most original but enjoyable enough to bump it above the general chatter.
A low four stars
The Nixhill Monsters by Brian Waters
Whilst travelling across the Australian outback Alice and Graham swerve to avoid a strange creature, like a glowing transparent humanoid. Stopping in the nearby town they are curious to know more, the townspeople however are determined to kill the monster.
This feels to me like a middle-of-the-road episode of The Twilight Zone, overly simple moral and all. Whilst fairly competently constructed it feels strange that everyone here quickly accepts the existence of an alien, but also wants to murder her simply because she looks weird.
Two stars
World to Conquer by Sydney J. Bounds
Illustrated by BM Finch
With the Earth devastated by radiation poisoning, humanity is desperately searching for a new habitable planet to live on. When they finally find the world of Asylum, it is already occupied by the intelligent Fliers. Leo Crane is sent to meet the inhabitants, to discover how easily they can be exterminated.
Whilst some parts of this are very old-fashioned (Marie’s “I’m a woman” speech is particularly excruciating), I found the scientific concepts involved interesting and the question raised about how humanity treats the worlds it finds worth pondering. By the end you want to ask if we would really have the right to survive?
Evens out at a high Three Stars
Prisoner in the Ice by Brian Stableford
Illustrated by BM Finch
After centuries of battling the encroaching ice, the Earth is finally starting to warm up. On one of these ice sheets three men discover a saber-toothed tiger, frozen in mid-leap.
A much more philosophical story than I was expecting from these pages. The tiger and ice melt are really just metaphors, the main thrust of this piece is a discussion about what people become when they fight to survive. Do they become the winners or merely leftovers?
Interesting to compare and contrast with the previous story.
Four Stars
A Dentist’s Waiting Room
An unusual final image from Dick Howett previewing issue #4
So perhaps common sense and inertia are the tools behind Visions of Tomorrow. I feel like little here would be out of place ten years ago, but it is generally competent. Only the Bulmer I found to have any structural flaws.
Whether this middle of the road approach will work in the long run remains to be seen. Being unobjectionable but unremarkable is not necessarily going to get people to drop their 5 shillings for the next issue. As the architect of the NHS Aneurin Bevan said:
We know what happens to people who stay in the middle of the road. They get run over!
Emil Petaja is an American writer of Finnish ancestry. His best known works are a series of novels based on the Finnish national epic the Kalevala. (Saga of Lost Earths, The Star Mill, The Stolen Sun, and Tramontane. These were all published from 1966 to 1967.)
Petaja's latest novel, although not part of this series, also deals with themes from Finnish mythology.
Cover art by Jack Gaughan.
Doctor Stephen McCord is an anthropologist. Although he's the only major character who isn't of Finnish descent, he's studied the culture and knows something of the language.
Before the novel begins, his college buddy Art Mackey took off for a remote area of Montana, in search of his girlfriend Ilma, who mysteriously returned to her old homestead. Stephen gets a tape recording from his friend, giving him a few hints as to what's going on. (It also serves as exposition for the reader.)
It seems that the former logging town of Hellmouth, inhabited by Finnish immigrants, was completely destroyed in a huge forest fire in 1906. When Art arrived in search of Ilma's nearby farmhouse, he found the place looking exactly the way it did six decades ago, with some of the former citizens still alive and kicking.
Intrigued by this mystery (and wondering if his pal has gone nuts), Stephen makes his way to the supposedly vanished town. He discovers that Hellmouth is indeed still around. Furthermore, the inhabitants worship Ukko, the chief god of Finnish legend. (Roughly comparable to Zeus or Thor, I believe.)
Stephen finds Art, and they both search for Ilma. Things get weird when they actually run into what seems to be Ukko, a being whose presence is so overwhelming that it's almost impossible not to fall to one's knees in adoration. The apparent god promises to make Earth a utopia, in exchange for worship. Ukko also has plans for Stephen.
What happens involves Ilma's elderly father Izza, her hunchbacked brother Yalmar, the local schoolteacher/librarian, and the steel plate inside Stephen's head, a souvenir of his time as an ambulance driver during a conflict in Southeast Asia. (Maybe Vietnam, as the story takes place just a little bit in the future, some time in the 1970's.)
The author writes clearly and elegantly. I always knew what was going on and was able to keep track of the characters. There are many vivid descriptions of Petaja's home state of Montana. (He now lives in San Francisco, which is also depicted excellently in the early part of the book.)
Besides having a compelling plot that kept me reading in one sitting, the novel has some intriguing and controversial things to say about the nature of deity and its relationship with humanity. Even at the very end of the text, Stephen still isn't sure if opposing Ukko was the right thing to do.
Four stars.
Comedy and Tragedy
The latest Ace Double to fall into my hands (designated as H-85, for those of you keeping score) offers a pair of short novels with contrasting moods. One is lighthearted, the other is serious. Let's start with the humorous one.
David Grinnell is actually the well-known fan, writer, and editor Donald A. Wollheim. He also created the Ace Double series, so he must feel right at home.
This novel was published last year in hardcover.
Cover art by Michael M. Peters.
The protagonist is a filthy rich and rather egotistical fellow named Ajax Calkins. A little research reveals that Wollheim (without co-author Carter) has been writing about him since 1941, sometimes under the pen name Martin Pearson. Most recently, this old material was recycled into the novel Destiny's Orbit. The Noble Editor gave it a lukewarm review a while back, calling it a juvenile space opera.
In the current volume, Ajax is the king of an asteroid that is actually a gigantic spaceship built by the civilization that was destroyed when their home planet blew up long ago, creating the asteroid belt. He and his fiancée Emily Hackenschmidt are on Earth, leaving the asteroid in the hands (so to speak) of their loyal Martian friend, a spider-like being called Wuj.
Dastardly amoeba-like aliens, the inhabitants of Saturn, are the sworn enemies of Earth. (In a touch of satire, we find out that they were perfectly nice folks until they learned aggression from humans.) Two of the Saturnians disguise themselves as Ajax and Emily and convince Wuj they're the real thing. They set off for Saturn, eager to uncover the ancient spaceship's secrets and use its advanced technology to conquer the solar system.
What I've failed to convey is the fact that this is a comedy. Ajax manages to save the day, of course, but he's also something of a fool. The more levelheaded Emily is often exasperated at him, with good reason.
The novel is written in a dryly tongue-in-cheek style that is more amusing than the usual science fiction farce. There are quite a few witty lines. I'm not a big fan of comic SF, but this one is better than some.
Let's flip the book over and take a look at something without laughs.
Cover art by Jack Gaughan.
The cover proudly announces that this is the novel's first book publication. I assume that's true, but there's also a British hardcover edition that came out this year.
Cover art by Colin Andrews.
The story takes place a few hundred years after society fell apart, for reasons not apparent until later in the novel. Humanity has managed to build itself back up, but there's been a strange change in people. They're divided up into castes. Again, the explanation for this is unknown.
Roughly half of the population consists of Norms; ordinary folks. The other half are Delinks; murderers and other violent criminals. Some Norms and Delinks are also Scuttlers. These are people who have an intense phobia about the sky, and can't bear to look at it.
A small number of folks are Stinkers. Everybody else hates these people; so much so, that few of them survive. Those who do isolate themselves and protect their lives with various resources.
Michael Craig is a Stinker. (That looks like an example of nasty graffiti, doesn't it?) He gets a message from the police (by mail; if he came anywhere near them they would try to kill him) asking him to try an experiment. The cops want to know what would happen if two Stinkers met. Would they loathe each other on sight?
Michael agrees to meet Geo Hastings, a Stinker who lives in Africa. The oddly named Geo turns out to be an attractive woman. If you think the two are going to fall in love, give yourself an A in predicting familiar plot developments.
Besides not trying to kill each other, the two discover that they can communicate telepathically. Things would seem to be turning out nicely, if it were not for the Geeks.
A Geek is a type of human being that has just appeared recently. They are physically superior, tend to be cold-bloodedly calculating, and are intent on wiping out the rest of humanity. In particular, they are bent on destroying the Stinkers; not for the usual reason (pure, unexplained hatred) but as part of their plan to conquer the world.
Without giving anything away (although you may be able to predict the novel's plot twists), let's just say the reason for all these weird happenings is revealed. Can Norms, Delinks, and Stinkers work together against the Geeks and the secret menace behind them? Not to mention the Scuttlers, who have a vital role to play.
This isn't a bad novel. Not great, but not bad. The story held my interest. (I haven't mentioned Michael's three heavily armed robot birds, who are the most charming characters.) It's worth reading once.
Science fiction may be my first love, but I read other genres as well. And so my latest pick-up at the local import bookstore was a crime novel entitled God Save the Mark by Donald E. Westlake. The reason I bought the book is that it just won the prestigious Edgar Award, i.e. the mystery genre's equivalent to the Hugo and Nebula Awards, for the best crime novel of the year, beating out Rosemary's Baby by Ira Levin. Any novel that can beat a juggernaut like Rosemary's Baby is certainly worth checking out, so I picked it up. And reader, I was not disappointed.
The Most Gullible Man in New York City
The protagonist of God Save the Mark is one Fred Fitch, who must be the most gullible man in New York City. Fred is a magnet for con artists and there's not a scam in existence that Fred will not fall for.
The novel opens with Fred getting a phone call from a lawyer that his Uncle Matt has died and left Fred more than three hundred thousand US-dollars. This makes even the extremely gullible Fred suspicious, especially since he does not have an Uncle Matt.
So Fred alerts his friend his best and probably only friend, Detective Jack Reilly of the NYPD's "bunco squad", i.e. the police department dealing with fraud. Reilly tells Fred to go to the appointment with the fake lawyer, so Reilly can arrest him red-handed. Alas, Fred is late for the meeting because he got scammed… again and it turns out that the lawyer is not a fraud after all, but the real deal. As is the will of the late Uncle Matt. Fred really did inherit more than three hundred thousand US-dollars.
However, there's a catch or rather several. For starters, Uncle Matt was a con artist himself and the black sheep of the family, which is why Fred has never heard of him. What is more, Uncle Matt, though terminally ill, was murdered. Which makes Fred the prime suspect.
A City of Con Artists
The situation quickly escalates. To begin with, Fred's new found riches make him a target for even more would-be con artists, including a childhood sweetheart who intends to hold him to a marriage proposal made as a kid or sue him for breach of promise and a neighbour who wants to publish his alternate history novel Veni, Vidi, Vici with Air Power via a predatory vanity press. Worse, whoever murdered Uncle Matt is now taking potshots at Fred. Finally, Fred also finds himself entangled with two very different women, Gertie Divine, a former stripper who was the late Uncle Matt's nurse, and Karen Smith, Reilly's bit on the side who still hopes he'll marry her someday, once he gets over his Catholic guilt induced reluctance to divorce his wife.
The intense pressure under which Fred finds himself finally makes him wise up. He tells off several would-be con artists and also puts his skills as an independent researcher to use to investigate Uncle Matt's murder himself, since he no longer trusts the police.
However, there are still many twists and turns ahead, including a hilarious chase scene where Fred steals a child's bicycle to escape his pursuers and ends up tumbling headfirst into a pond in Central Park.
This was the first novel by Donald E. Westlake (who also writes as Richard Stark and under a number of other pen names and has even dabbled in science fiction on occasion) that I read, but it certainly won't be the last, because this book is laugh out loud funny and a complete and utter delight.
In many ways, God Save the Mark is a reminiscent of the screwball comedies of thirty years ago, yet it is also a solid mystery that plays fair with the reader and delivers plenty of red herrings as well as all the clues needed to solve it. The novel also offers an excellent overview of the various cons and scams going around, some I was aware of and others that were completely new to me. The ending is a perfect fit.
A Deserving Winner?
So is this novel better than Rosemary's Baby? Well, the two books are difficult to compare, because they are so very different. But all in all, I'd agree with the verdict of the Mystery Writers of America that God Save the Mark is a most deserving winner of the 1968 Edgar Award.
A fluffy, frothy caper that will leave you rolling on the floor laughing and guessing till the end.
Sometimes as a reviewer you just don’t quite trust yourself when you encounter something totally unexpected. When you read a work which feels sui generis for science fiction, a book which draws comparison to literary fiction like Dos Passos, Burges and Nabokov, it’s hard to assess that book in its own context.
John Brunner’s fascinating new novel Stand on Zanzibar is the spiritual successor to those modernist writers.
Brunner’s novel reads as part pulp fiction and part assault-the-senses bursts of information. Zanzibar is a prophecy and a critique, a satire and a work of deep seriousness. It has plot lines and complex emotions and an energy that won’t quit, and at 576 pages of very short chapters, it somehow felt exhausting and left me craving more. It’s also extremely hard to describe, so be aware I’m barely skimming the surface here, and I welcome anybody who’s willing to add their own comments in an LoC to this magazine.
Let’s start with the easy parts to describe. On its most basic level, Stand on Zanzibar is about the problem of overpopulation. When we all were in diapers, if stood side by side, all of humanity could take up a space roughly the size of the Isle of Wight. By the distant year of 2010, however, as Brunner writes, "If you allow for every codder and shiggy and appleofmyeye a space of one foot by two, you could stand us all on the 640 square mile surface of the island of Zanzibar."
There’s so much information contained in one sentence. You get one of the key themes of the novel and also a feeling of Brunner’s approach to his writing. Like Burgess’s punks in Clockwork Orange, the characters in this book chatter and mumble in an invented slang which feels clever and becomes part of the larger reading experience of the book. (Brunner admits a strong influence on him from Burgess.) The language forces readers out of our comfort zones and therefore pay closer attention to the often fractured way Brunner chooses to tell his tale. (A codder is a certain type of man and a shiggy a certain type of woman and an appleofmyeye is a child, by the way.)
Mr. Brunner
The other key piece of information in that sentence above how fears of world overpopulation has led to strong laws against procreation. Those restrictive rules in turn have created a vast black market in child-rearing, as citizens are shown considering traveling to the state of Puerto Rico to have kids, much as one might escape their home state for an abortion or divorce to defy difficult local laws. World society also angles towards eugenics, forced sterilizations and genetic modifications. Can suicide booths be far behind?
All of the above is mere background – though thoughtful, fascinating background – for the main thrust of this sprawling exercise. Much of the book tells the story of the small calm African country of Beninia, population 900,000, which has become the main staging point for refugees from wars in three neighboring countries. Those refugees despise each other, but the country has a kind of tenuous peace under the benevolent rule of President Zadkiel F. Obomi. However, President Obomi wants to retire. And when he retires, what will happen to the peace he worked so hard to broker?
Enter another key aspect of this book’s fascinating plot. Obomi is good friends with American Ambassador Elihu Masters, and as they discuss the problem, Masters comes up with an unexpected suggestion: what if American corporation General Technics (motto: "The difficult we did yesterday. The impossible we're doing right now") took over the country? What if the country exchanged its vast offshore mineral and oil reserves for education and infrastructure creation?
Parts of the book alternate between reveries by Obomi and the life in New York City shared by roommates Donald Hogan and Norman House. House is “Afram”, African-American, and has astutely used his race and his native intelligence to gain himself a powerful role inside GT. That means he will be on the ground while GT moves operations to Beninia – that is, of course, if Norman can shake his deep feelings of melancholia and dissatisfaction with his life and his career. Hogan, meanwhile, seems innocent since he spends most of his days at the New York Public Library. But in fact Hogan is a “Dilettanti”, a spy recruited by the government because of his preternatural skills at discovering patterns in seemingly normal experiences. Hogan is passive until “activated” by the government, and he worries about that aspect of his life.
Until he actually is activated and sent to Socialist Asian country of Yatakang, where the government has announced how eminent geneticist Dr. Sugaiguntung has invented a way for everybody around the world to give birth to perfect children. But is their assertion true, or it just a lie on top of all the other lies circulating in this complex world? Can Donald prove the Yatakang government’s announcement is a lie? Can he persuade the people of Yatakang to support the leader of a guerilla rebellion which is happening in the country’s mountains?
Shades of ol' Fidel
*Whew.* There’s so much there just in the plot. I’m sure you can see the pulpy outlines of a Le Carre style spy novel, as well as chances for Swiftian social satire in both storylines I’ve described, and yet all that description barely scratches the surface of this most profoundly wild novel. Because underpinning this entire book is a deeper critique of world society, a society full of selfishness and cheap thrills and tawdry media which creates false reality in its shows.
Most damningly, Brunner presents a world in which people seem constantly interconnected and yet somehow deeply distant from each other. Hogan and House, for instance, despite being roommates, scarcely know anything about each other. The media consumed by the people in this world prevents them from being social, and that gap has vast societal consequences. When people can literally project fictionalized versions of themselves on fantasy television shows, what attraction does the real world have? Drugs are all pervasive. Suburbs are collapsing. The planet is groaning from the weight of all the people living upon it. Yet the vast majority of men and women in this world care much more about the shows they consume than they do about the world they have created.
And there’s so much more here. There’s Shalmaneser, the super computer which makes critical decisions on Earth (wonder if Brunner heard about Clarke and Kubrick’s 2001 ideas?). There’s the muckers, a group of random people who go on killing sprees for no reason. There’s a drug which forces people to tell the truth which is given to a bishop who spends a Sunday mass telling everyone his real feelings about God. I could go on and on, and dear reader, I know I’m skipping one of your favorite elements of this book.
But I grow filled with a bit of despair that I could do an adequate job of explaining any element of this book; even more, I despair at the idea a mere plot summary would be useful to anybody who might be considering reading this astounding book.
So let me sum my feelings up this way. Like many of us here at the Journey, I’ve long been a fan of Mr. Brunner’s writing. But Stand on Zanzibar takes all of John Brunner’s writing abilities and takes them to a quantum level. He displayed massive potential in many of his earlier works, but here Brunner shows that potential paid off in spades.
No matter the context, on first read, Stand on Zanzibar Brunner has delivered the wildest, weirdest, most successful book of the year so far. Previously I called Alexei Panshin’s Rite of Passage the best book I had read in 1968 up to that point. Brunner’s achievement far exceeds Panshin's. I hope to be rereading this book in that far-flung future of 2010 and seeing how many of Brunner’s prophecies came true.
Five stars.
[And new to the Galactoscope, we are pleased to introduce poet and author Tonya R. Moore, who has dived into New Wave's deep end with her first brush with Chip Delany….]
Nova was my first encounter with the work of Samuel R. Delaney who has, thus far, proven himself exemplary of the originality and innovativeness one would expect from the current New Wave of Science Fiction writers. Set in a distant future where humans have migrated to other worlds, this book paints a chaotic but beautiful picture of human turmoil and adventurousness in an ever expanding universe.
Lorq Von Ray is a born upstart from a family of nouveau-riche propelled into high society by their ill-gotten gains. He makes friends and, eventually, enemies with Prince and Ruby, quintessential Earth-nobility driven by power, greed, and a keen sense of self-entitlement.
Von Ray grew up haunted by constant reminders of the social stratum wedging a vast chasm between himself and the siblings. Ever ambitious, Von Ray pits wills and wits against Prince and Ruby, aiming to upset the economic balance of power between the Draco and Pleiades systems.
Further embittered by their twisted and broken friendship, he sets out, with dogged determination, to hit the motherlode of interstellar treasures in the form of illyrion, the ephemeral byproduct of a nova and the most valuable and potent energy source known to mankind.
Should Von Ray succeed in this second attempt to capture this precious material in abundance from the nova, his payload promises to transform the economy of the Pleiades system and upend Prince’s monopoly on interstellar travel technology which allows them to hoard most of the wealth and stratify the balance of power between the Draco and Pleiades systems.
This book introduces a motley cast of characters who are destined to be enmeshed in the many dangers and high drama that comes along with being employed by Von Ray.
Mouse, for example, is a nomadic troubadour eking out a meager living while playing interplanetary hopscotch in the Draco system. He winds up on Triton, Neptune’s largest moon, while seeking employment on one of the spaceships bound for other star systems and greater opportunities.
Here, Mouse encounters Lorq Von Ray, scion of the richest family in the Pleiades system and jumps at the opportunity to join the ragtag crew of cyborg studs on Von Ray’s spaceship bound for the heart of an exploding star.
Ruby Red and Prince don’t appreciate Von Ray’s intent to rise above a station they consider beneath them, not to mention shift humanity’s prosperity from Draco to the Pleiades system. A cargo hold filled with seven tons of illyrion would certainly help him achieve that.
Mouse and his syrynx, a musical instrument that conjures holographic imagery, bear witness to the changing times while the melodrama of a twisted love triangle unfolds among Von Ray, the selectively diffident Ruby Red, and the pridefully neurotic Prince.
The gypsy troubadour playing his syrynx is a recurring motif representing the backdrop humanity's culture and history against which the story unfolds. The syrynx, a stolen object, ironically foreshadows the climax of the story where it is once again stolen then turned into a weapon.
Delany’s command of astrophysics and the science behind supernovas is reasonably solid. He proves himself a master of using literary language to describe scientific concepts and the murky dynamics of human interpersonal entanglements but there are elements of Nova that make little sense.
Ruby Red’s complicity with Prince’s cruelty and neurotic behavior seems arbitrary, for instance. As a character, she seems to lack a will of her own. Despite her prominence in the story, we’re never given a real glimpse inside the mind of the woman. What does Ruby Red want? Why does she do the things that she does?
Ultimately, Nova is a beautifully chaotic and original tale rife with vivid, sometimes visceral prose, exuberant dialogue, and an intriguingly colorful cast of characters.
Three titles for you today across two books (reminds me of the old astronomical saw: "Three out of every two stars is a binary"). None of them are great, but one of them is surprisingly decent given the source.
"Fast-paced, readable fun," pretty much describes everything Mr. High has written of late, and perhaps ever (my records only go back to 1961). His latest effort, Twin Planets, (from Paperback Library) does not break the mold.
It starts promisingly enough: A fellow named Denning is driving his car when it suddenly becomes very cold, the policemen are dressed quite oddly, and the sun is now a sullen orange orb on the horizon. Has he traveled to the future? Into another dimension?
Turns out, the answer is both. Earth has an analog that the natives call "Firma", with a slightly different history. Centuries ago, aliens appeared and froze the planet's rotation (with attendant momentum-related catastrophe). The world is now divided into a temperate zone, a hot zone, and a frigid region (where Denning had been transported).
Denning has a twin on Firma, name of Liston. Possessed of insatiable sexual desire that couples with his intelligence and strength, he is banished to one of the inhospitable zones early in the book, to be recruited by the resistance. Said resistance also taps Denning, who comes into his own superhuman powers–as well as a raging libido and attractiveness to women.
Turns out Denning and Liston are biological constructs, originally to be linchpins of the resistance, but by the end of the book free agents with a hankering to topple the aliens who run Earth from the shadows. Lots of running around, killing people, implied sexual exploits, and a happy ending.
This is a very old style of book. And while some of the ideas are quite interesting, for the most part, they are set aside for the action. Also, the competent women characters suffer for being hapless victims of their hormones, unable to resist the pheromones of their superhero companions. I raced through the first quarter of the book, but the last quarter took me several days, despite the novel's brevity.
Next up is Ace Double #G-614. Ace is known more for publishing "fast-paced, readable fun" than "thought-provoking classics" but you never know. After all, Tom Purdom's I Want the Stars and Terry Carr's Warlord of Kor both came out as halves of Ace Doubles.
Not so this first novel, I'm afraid. Mr. Shaw, whose name is completely unknown to me, starts off with a bang. If Anne McCaffrey wrote The Ship Who Sang, this book is the tale of "The Ship Who Barked". On board the inventively named "Spaceship-One" (presumably, Mr. Shaw is English) is a lone crewmember: a disembodied dog's brain. His mission is to scout out the Sirius system, which has been identified as a likely target to possess planets. Indeed, it has four planets, all identical copies. Only one of them is inhabited, by a Eloi-ish race of humans with Greek/Italian-esque names and blonde hair, who live symbiotically with a race of prehensile-handed dogs. Turns out the canines are the real power behind the throne (with truly groan-worthy names like "Chienandros" and "Perralto." Our hero, who calls himself "Ishmael", must work with them to secure colonizing rights while also delivering a message of warning to war-ravaged and overpopulated Earth.
There are things I liked about this book. Ishmael is a fun narrator, reminding me of Hank "The Beast" McCoy from Marvel's X-Men comic. The opening forty pages or so, before the ship gets to Sirius, are quite fun, indeed. The ship uses time travel as a space drive (letting the universe move underneath, as it were), which I've only seen once before, in Wallace West's The River of Time.
But the science is about thirty years out of date (planets formed by stellar collision, indeed), every gizmo is detailed for the pulp fans, and the setting and characters have as much subtlety as brutalist architecture.
This is the one I was really worried about. The Richmonds, a married couple that (reportedly) collaborates telepathically, have heretofore been Analog exclusives. The best they've managed thus far are a pair of passable three-star shorts, the rest being bad to dreadful. And in contrast to the other three tales, it's the beginning that's discouraging. Terry Ferman ("Terran Freeman?") is an electrical engineering student who, upon twiddling with a certain radio transmitter, finds himself on a faraway planet. He is now a captive of a computerized jailer, who refers to him as a basic galactic citizen and impresses upon him a rudimentary knowledge of the star-spanning polity he is supposedly a member of. Terry is also given a set of nifty tools including a ray gun, X-Ray glasses, a pocket translator, and a compass. At this point, I was sure this was going to be some kind of interstellar spy story, thinly cloaked wish fulfillment for boys.
But as the book goes on, Terry's situation becomes more complex. He meets Grontag, a dinosaur-like alien, also a student of electricity, who was similarly summoned unwillingly. They befriend "Tinkan", a robot that has become independent of the computer and developed a will of its own. It becomes clear that some sort of catastrophe has befallen the galactic civilization, and the marooned team must figure out what happened, why, and who might be responsible.
It's a very technical story, with lots of doodads created by someone who clearly has a background in electrical engineering. The pacing is excellent, however, with each section more interesting than the last. The Richmonds also have interesting things to say about repressive civil relationships like slavery and marriage. After the slow start, I finished the book in just two sessions, which is saying something.
Three and a half stars.
Five out of Two
by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall
One of the little curiosities of the ease of getting American science fiction novels in Britain depends on whether they have a UK edition coming out.
If there is no UK publisher on the horizon it is a little harder to get hold of, but no one worries if a bookseller imports them. You may not be able to pick them up at WH Smith’s or your local library but most good booksellers with an interest in SF will probably be able to help you find a copy.
On the other hand, if it has a UK edition coming out, you will really struggle to get hold of an overseas version and have to wait for the local version to be produced. This is the case with both the books I am reviewing, and whilst I had a contact send me an early copy of The Einstein Intersection, I had to wait for The Revolving Boy:
At the start of this book there is not much to suggest this is going to be science fiction. Yes, this is set very slightly in the future, but it is simply a slightly more conservative United States of the 1970s, not something requiring much imagination given signs of backlash like Republican gains in US midterms or Mary Whitehouse’s crusades over here. At first sight it appears to be about a good relationship between a mother and a child with autistic tendencies. The common depiction of autism in science fiction is often very negative.
Take, as an example, this passage from Disch’s recent Mankind Under Leash:
The nuts – in this whole cellblock you won’t find anything else. And these, I should point out, are only the worst, the most hopeless cases. ‘Autism’ is the technical word that the psychologists use to describe their condition.
Whilst in The Revolving Boy young Derv feels the need to spin around on occasion. His mother is willing to accept this as something he does. She only interferes when he is spinning on the stairs and so works for a compromise:
She told Derv in an offhand way that he must not spin on the stairs and why.
‘But what if I have to?’
Although she knew he thought of it this way, in terms of coercive psychological need, she was a little taken aback by the straightforward way he put it.
‘How many do you have to take?’
‘Just two on the stairs. I take another when I get outside.’
‘Then suppose you take the three when you get outside.’
‘All right,’ he said
It was as easy as that.
It shows such a mature and well-reasoned approach to a child with autistic tendencies. No suggestion it is caused by a ‘refrigerator mother’, not showing a complete inability to communicate with the outside world, but a child with a different perception and how you can work with them in a loving way to allow them to function in a world where most people do not have these tendencies. As someone who appears to have a lot of these tendencies, I was very heartened by this.
At the same time he makes friends with Prin, who is quiet and has perfect pitch. Together they are able to form a bond that allows them to connect in a world that can be hard for those that do not fall into patterns expected by wider society.
The source of science fictional content comes from the fact that Derv turns out to have been the first child born in space. When he was weightless and away from other signals he seems to have become connected to an electromagnetic signal from another solar system. As he gets older he finds himself leaning towards this signal whenever he is awake. This comes to the attention of Project Ozma who believe he may be the key to discovering extra-terrestrial intelligence.
Despite the concept of a child being able to point the direction for our radio telescopes, the whole story goes to great pains to appear realistic and make it seem less fantastical than most of what you would read in Analog or If.
But at its heart it is also a character story, the tale of him and Prin growing up. It is heart warming, clever and a real delight to read.
All of us here at Galactic Journey see Delany as one of the brightest talents currently writing science fiction, so it is with great anticipation we wait for his next novel. He began with writing his tales of a fantasy-tinged future Earth with The Jewels of Aptor and the Toron novels, but more recently has moved to outer space tales such as Babel-17. He seems now to have come back down to Earth but is also attempting to do something more ambitious than before.
Greek myths have been a regular source of inspiration for writers of the fantastic. The tale of Theseus and the Minotaur itself has been retold by authors as different as Jack Williamson and Thomas Burnett Swann. Here Delany blends in a number of Greek myths into this tale, but adds a kind of Ballardian spin to it, where our popular culture is seen just as much of a myth to these folks. With The Beatles being seen as a later example of the Orpheus myth and advertising slogans used as nuggets of wisdom at the start of chapters.
The Orpheus myth is probably the most central of the tales here, for Lo Lobey himself is a musician and his driving force is to save his beloved Friza from Kid Death. However, the way legends are treated in this book is fascinating, that there is not really a distinction between truth and fiction, and it is entirely possible for one to imitate the other. I can’t help but wonder if Delany has some familiarity with the ideas of C. S. Lewis but is choosing to apply them in a non-Christian context.
In this future, humans have all left the Earth and others are inhabiting it in the remains of humanity. We are introduced to this concept so casually I almost missed it when it is stated by PHAEDRA (a computer with the kind of silly reverse acronym people are fond of these days). It is an interesting concept that manages to at once be central to the story but also you could enjoy without knowing. For this is what Delany does, carefully layering understanding so it can be read in multiple ways, just like the myths that are being imitated.
For there is so much more in here than I have space to elucidate. Among others it touches on areas such as racism, gender, ESP, colonialism, the nature of truth and more besides.
I have seen Delany’s earlier works compared with the late great Cordwainer Smith’s writing. The Einstein Intersection, I would posit, is much more reminiscent of Zelazny. As such it is less accessible than The Ballad of Beta-2 but also more ambitious and thankfully succeeds.
Delany continues to be one of the brightest new lights of science fiction writing and this continues to reveal new depths to his talents.
Five Stars
by Jason Sacks
Sometimes Too Much Plot is Too Much
One of the things I love about Philip K. Dick’s novels is how they always seem to be about one thing but usually end up being about something very different. Usually his fake-out strategy works brilliantly, but in his latest novel, Dick seems to believe his own fake-out.
Counter-Clock World starts with an idea which could inspire a full novel just in its implications: What if time, somehow, started rolling backwards? How would living in a counter-clock world affect human relationships, our relationship with history, families, the economy, society? Would rebirth be a horror or pleasure? How would those who mourned the dead, maybe even moved beyond their mourning, handle the change? What would be the implications to a society if a specific person was reborn, a person who might be especially evil or especially good or just especially controversial?
These are all tantalizing questions, and Dick does explore most of them in this fascinating book. Of course, Dick being Dick, he explores many of them obliquely, in veiled allusions and small asides in dialogue. Far from making his ideas feel weaker, though, this commonplace element gives the book a naturalistic feel (as outlandish ideas often do in Dick novels) while also feeling profoundly strange.
I gotta say, there are also plenty of ridiculous ideas in this book, like how he shows cigarettes are smoked from stub to full cigarette (with the odor diffusing as the cigarette grows), or the idea that food is regurgitated and reconstituted into its source foods (okay, rather a disgusting idea), or how eventually everyone reverts to baby age and then has to crawl back into a womb and be absorbed into a body (a surprisingly moving scene in the book).
But there are also plenty of eerie moments in Counter-Clock. As the book begins, Officer Joseph Tinbane is cruising past a cemetery when he hears a voice beckoning him from a grave. Landing, he discovers an old woman has woken up in her coffin and is begging for help escaping her home six feet underground. Dick quickly establishes this as a normal part of Tinbane’s job, as Dick relates this event often becomes an all-night ritual which requires enlisting the services of something called a Vitarium.
Thankfully, the officer knows a man named Sebastian Hermes, reborn himself and the owner of The Flask of Hermes Vitarium.
This being a Dick novel, rebirth hasn’t been an ideal experience for Hermes. Sebastian is even more neurotic than he was when alive, haunted by nightmares of his awakening in his grave and stuck in a complicated marriage with someone who doesn’t quite understand him. Hermes sort of dreams of emigrating from California to Mars, but he’s literally grounded on Earth, digging up the bodies of those who died, more or less systemically since the Hobart Effect struck and changed everything.
So I’ve given you an idea of this book, and its world, and yeah, you say, I’m in. I'll buy the book because this all sounds fascinating.
Hold off for a second before running to the paperback stands at your local Korvettes, because all my setup is kind of prologue.
A rare photo of Mr. Dick, his wife and child
What if I told you Dick’s main topic for this issue is the idea of what happens if a popular religious prophet is reborn, and the prophet is in opposition to an evil Library?
Yep, it’s a Philip K. Dick novel, so you gotta be ready for a swerve.
See, Dick’s attention is really on the recently resurrected body of the Anarch Thomas Peak, dead prophet and founder of the Udi cult. The Anarch is articulate, philosophizing from the likes of Plotinus, Plato, Kant, Leibnitz, and Spinoza. Naturally, a group of fascist librarians hate the Azarch, and somehow the book descends into being a crazy oddball escape heist which involves LSD bombs, the slowing down of time, nuclear weapons striking a library, and the odd paradox of what happens when you kill someone who was already dead.
Yeah, Counter Clock World is more than a little crazy, which is no surprise really. What is surprising, though, is how Dick never quite gives this book the usual foundation in humanity most of his novels contain. This book lacks the warmth of Dr. Bloodmoney, or the existential horror of The Transmigration of Timothy Archer or the deep empathy of Martian Time-Slip. Instead we get an inelegant jumble which never quite lives up to the considerable potential of its amazing premise.
After the usual chaos and madness of a year’s end, it is usual for me to say at this point that I/we are now settling into the routines of 1966 nicely. Or are we? There’s change afoot!
Last month I made a half-joking remark that Science Fantasy was filled with old-fashioned and dated material that suggested that it was a placeholder issue. This month’s Science Fantasy seems to show that the Editor has taken this to heart. From next month Science Fantasy is no more – it will now be called Impulse, and this is shown on the cover in the same way that Astounding became Analog.
What difference such a title change will make, I don’t know. But it is clearly something Editor Kyril Bongfiglioli has wanted for a while. In his Editorial he explains the change, but what it mainly seems to be is that Kyril can now go to his newsagent and pick up a copy without fear of embarrassment, and he hopes others will be able to do the same. He also points out that there will also be a rise in price but that the magazine will be about thirty pages longer – “the equivalent of a full length novel.” Every cloud has a silver lining, I guess. But it is noted that both magazines are increasing their price next month.
To this month’s actual stories.
Ballad From A Bottle, by Hugh Simmonds
We’ve not come across Hugh’s writing before. As the title (and cover) suggests, this is a story of what happens when a bottle is found washed ashore on a beach. Simon takes it home and begins to have rather vivid dreams, which leads to him hearing voices and a song coming from the empty bottle. It’s a new version of the genie in the bottle story, isn’t it? Well, in this version the mysterious sounds lead to Simon travelling from Buenos Aires to Durban, South Africa (It’s not quite clear how he can afford it) and has some kind of religious experience (I think) in meeting an Arcturan who has been living in secret for millennia.
This one reads fine, but I can’t help feeling that it is spiritual allegory dressed up as a fictional story. I don’t know enough about such matters to know which religious view it is, but it feels like the purpose is the message, not the plot. 3 out of 5.
The Warp and the Woof-Woof, by John Brunner
Last month John appeared with a non-fiction article in New Worlds, this month a piece of fiction. It’s a nice story of an astronaut training to be the first man to Mars but as seen through the perspective of Jeff, his dog – the “woof woof” of the title. It involves Martians preparing for an invasion of Earth and a case of mistaken identity which doesn’t end well for the Martians. Brunner doesn’t write really bad stories, though this light-of-tone story feels like a minor tale. 3 out of 5.
Marina, by M. John Harrison
A new voice to me. This is a lyrical narrative telling of Marina, who dreams of a life at sea. Although she is separated from her beloved ocean, she knows that in the attic of the house where she lives there are mementos of a life spent there. Her rummaging leads to an unfortunate if predictable end. Despite the story being obvious, this is an interesting debut from an author clearly trying very hard to write imaginatively. 3 out of 5.
Our Man in 1900, by Paul Jents
Last time we had a story from Paul was in the June 1965 issue of Science Fantasy with Peace on Earth, and this month he has a story in both magazines! This story is one of time-travel and espionage, which although I haven’t seen it over here in Britain, makes me think of your Wild, Wild West television series, or something from our Doctor Who. Justini goes to see an act by fellow magician Marvo, only to find that it is not an act, but instead part of a time-travelling holiday company’s itinerary from the Thirtieth Century. The story starts well, and there’s a nicely done if rather obvious twist in the tale at the end. 3 out of 5.
Sing Me No Sorrows, by E. C. Tubb
Is there no end to the stockpile of material from the prodigious Mr. Tubb? This one is one of those “Where am I now?” type stories where the person in the story initially finds themselves somewhere new and unknown until eventually they discover where they are and what they are doing there. Minor-league stuff. 3 out of 5.
At the end of last month’s serial, Doctors Sam Bertolli and Nita Mendel found themselves at an United Nations World Health meeting where a decision was made to quarantine and then cleanse New York City of a space plague by dosing it with radioactive material.
To finish the story, a decision is made to search the Pericles for any research completed by the hapless astronauts. Nita becomes ill and Sam is detained for protesting about Operation Cleansweep, so the story has an additional element of peril. Like last month, Sam escapes from his detention and enters the zone due for detonation to get to the Pericles.
There with Stanley Yasumura, Gen. Burke, Lieut. Haber and Sgt. Bennet, Sam battles through various challenges to get inside the spaceship. There they meet a Jovian, whose initial contact with the Pericles we are told of through flashback, and who has a cure. Nita is miraculously cured by the serum and in a horrendously clumsy ending everything is sorted and solved, with preparations made for the humans to return to Jupiter and take on the Jovians.
As the last part of the last serial for Science Fantasy, it’s pretty predictable. Issues are resolved satisfactorily, and there’s a reasonable ending. But the fact that I can’t think of much to say about the last part of a serial that takes up half of the issue may ultimately sum up the story’s impact. Overall it feels like a bit of a pot-boiler that is more likely to be liked by non-sf readers than those who have read this sort of thing so many times before. It is better than the pulps of the 1940s and 50s, but there’s little else to recommend it by me, sadly. 3 out of 5.
Summing up Science Fantasy
The last issue of Science Fantasy continues in the manner of the last couple of issues. There’s nothing particularly wrong with it, but it seems to have lost its energy. Knowing what we now do, I am hoping that this is just a case of holding the good material over until the next issue, which will hopefully show us how good the magazine can be again. It’s not bad, but it’s not great either.
Farewell Science Fantasy. It has been fun, but your time is past. All hail Impulse (fingers crossed).
A few months ago, I became aware of a group who were not in favour of Moorcock’s changes to New Worlds. They were mainly making their opinions known through groups such as the British Science Fiction Association, who were quite vocal about the reduction in the magazines of “good old-fashioned sf”, replacing it with loftier, more literary material and losing a key core group of readers in the process.
Well, clearly Mike Moorcock has been listening. The editorial this month is his response, a tirade that suffers no fools gladly and is perhaps the boldest statement yet of his intent as Editor. Can this be just coincidental as it happens at the same time as Science Fantasy changing its name? (I doubt it.)
There are some impassioned generalisations here. Moorcock makes some good points and gives some good examples to back his view up about what he is trying to do and why, but mistakenly begins by turning one generalisation (there have been some complaints…) into another (he claims that the views of this vocal minority equate with “All Change is Bad”).
Personally, I hope that my monthly comments here show that I like the old stuff as nostalgic entertainment but I also appreciate what Moorcock is trying to do, even if I don’t always “get it”. Last month I said that New Worlds was “pushing the genre whilst at the same time maintaining some connections to the past,” which I like.
In short, Moorcock’s Editorial is an interesting read that is one from a clearly heart-felt conviction on his part and summarises how far the genre has come in a few years. Might even be worth buying the magazine for that statement of intent alone.
No serial this month but another different sort of story from Masson, who has been a major supernova as a writer in his brief time here. Moorcock talks about this in his Editorial in glowing terms, and I can only agree. It is written in the form of “ye-olde-English-language” with archaic vocabulary and Lots of Capital Letters in the Middle of Sentences, and as such can be a little difficult to get on with at first – it reminds me of the recent reaction to Heinlein’s The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. Masson’s first story (Traveller’s Rest, in the September issue of New Worlds) showed us that Masson clearly enjoys playing with language. I understand that David is not only an author but also the Curator of Special Collections at Liverpool University with an interest in language, and this is reflected in his stories here.
However, once the reader becomes accustomed to the prose, it is a great story about time travel that uses the dislocation of language to describe present day lifestyle. Separated by three hundred years, the story is written as if someone from history was recording the events of the present. Our unnamed hero from 1683 finds himself by accident in a time machine that travels to 1964. It’s an entertaining satire as we decipher what our traveller is seeing such as cars, buses, aeroplanes, electricity, television and so on. It is also a deliberate reversal of the historical novel, where events of the past are told with modern prose. It is a great idea, and much of the amusement comes from trying to deduce what our protagonist is describing, but it is really the same idea repeated through one story. I did like the point that as the story progresses and our narrator becomes more fluent with the modern world, the language becomes more modern, which rather reminded me of the linguistics in Daniel Keyes’ recent story Flowers for Algernon. The title’s clever as well – a person who is in two places at once at different times and – there’s another reason as well, but I won’t spoil it for you.
Though it is similar to Paul Jents’ story in this month’s Science Fantasy, this is a comedy of manners that is a magnitude greater in its ambition and its plotting. It’s a little too long – you can only carry this one idea so far – and has a weak ending, yet I found it enjoyable enough. 4 out of 5.
The Orbs, by John Watney
Another new author to me. This is story told through a diary entry by Julia, a sixteen-year-old in the Time of the Orbs. What we discover through the excited Julia is that there is a rite-of-passage that she is about to experience known as the Great Adventure. Guess what? The Orbs are some sort of Alien harvesting machine who suck up humans and butcher them in what is called The Great Descent. Over time humans have adapted this to allowing self-sacrificers, known as Orb-Volunteers to be harvested, which ultimately becomes narrowed down to teenagers, who are prepared for this sacrifice with great pomp and ceremony. It’s an invasion story where the matter-of-fact tone belies horrors on a global scale. Whilst the theme of the story isn’t new, it is chillingly told. 3 out of 5.
Entry from Earth, by Daphne Castell
Another from an author who is almost becoming a regular in the magazines, after her appearance with For One of These in Science Fantasy last month. This time Daphne tells us of the Nine Systems Festival of Sound on the planet Pigauron. This involves lots of dignitaries from strange planets, but this year the excitement is over a competition entry from a relatively unknown planet called Earth. The irony is that the song is a slavery song, sung by slaves. I liked the somewhat florid and baroque nature of the decadent aliens, though the twist in the end is a little weak. 3 out of 5.
Hi, Sancho!, by Paul Jents
And so to Paul’s second published story this month. This is the story of Tip Peters, an escapee who we first meet escaping over an electrified fence for an initially undisclosed reason. Over the course of the story Tip goes to his girlfriend for refuge, but is persuaded to seek further help in escaping. This leads to him informing the authorities of a potential terrorist attack. The twist in the story at the end shows us that Tip is clinically insane and actually returns to an asylum. A story that hints at a dark world outside Tip’s safe haven, with extermination camps in “Africa” possibly being the cause of Tip’s illness, but as with most similar stories unfortunately feels rather ham-fisted. I much preferred the other story this month. 3 out of 5.
Illustration by A Thomson
Temporary Resident, by Philip E. High
Philip’s a regular to the magazines, and one of the old school of writers, but one who is trying to write in a New Wave style. However, with that in mind, this is a fairly inconsequential piece this month. A near-miss with a car on the planet Speriol leads the protagonist (who works in Intelligence) to wonder if the accident was deliberate. This leads to a paranoic spiral, for as he continues his day he increasingly feels that he is carrying on the same as normal but everyone around him is not. The ‘accident’ seems to have led to a “Transition”, moving our hero to a different plane of existence where physical laws are altered. Another one of those “altered perception” type stories which basically takes that idea of inner space and runs with it under the guise of sf, which ends on an unconvincing twist. 3 out of 5.
The Sword Against the Stars, by A. F. Hall
Do you remember me writing of that story a couple of issues back that seemed to throw everything in, from unicorns to spaceships? My first thought on reading this title was that this was going to be another story covering similar ideas, but really it is not. On a planet that is possibly Earth, we are told of what has happened in our future. Man has attempted to go beyond the planet and has sent spaceships travelling into space but they have never returned.
Instead aliens arrived and destroyed the world, leaving the people there unable to leave the planet. There’s lots of descriptions of the harsh lifestyle the people live. There are dust storms and we have people fighting over caches of food. The story tries to end on a positive note, hopeful that a sword the writer owns will become a sign that Mankind will one day return to the stars, but most of the story is about the challenges of eking out a living in a post-apocalyptic environment. Grim and depressing, despite the ending. 3 out of 5.
Book Reviews, Articles and Letters
Assistant Editor Langdon reviews Of Worlds Beyond, a non-fiction book on the craft of sf writing. Jones claims that it’s worth spending your money on if you can’t find anything else – talk about faint praise! – but I must admit that I Iiked some of the quotes given from editors and authors, perhaps enough to buy the book. There’s also reviews of a number of novels in a series by Samuel Delany and The Wizard of Lemuria by Lin Carter from someone we know more for his drawings here – James Cawthorn. R. M. Bennett gives a detailed review of The Best of New Worlds, now in paperback. It’s fairly thorough, though I must admit that I’m always a bit uneasy when a magazine reviews itself. It does gain extra credit from me though for saying that Langdon Jones' story I Remember Anita was "overrated."
In the letters pages there is lots of discussion of Pohl and Kornbluth’s recent novel The Space Merchantsreviewed back in the November 1965 issue. First there is a letter suggesting that James Colvin’s review of the book was unfair, which is then followed by a letter agreeing with the review and claiming that the novel is “probably the most over-estimated sf novel ever.” Colvin gives an appropriate reply in response.
There’s also a letter from a new reader complaining about too much sex and religion in the latest magazines, ending with the pithy sentence “As far as I am concerned, true sf writing ceased in 1939.” Clearly not a fan of the new direction the magazine is going in, then! I wonder what this reader will make of Moorcock’s impassioned Editorial this month? The letter is given without editorial comment.
The last letter praises the magazine for trying to maintain a difficult balance between the old and the new, which shows that at least some are getting what Mike is trying to achieve.
Summing up New Worlds
We seem to be on a run of good New Worlds issues at the moment. Moorcock rants aside, it is true that he has a lot to be proud about in this one and although this issue is not the best we’ve seen lately it holds up as readable. Masson’s writing continues to impress, with another very different story from him.
Summing up overall
Whilst I am sad at the passing of Science Fantasy, the difference between the actively energetic if not to say fighting tone of New Worlds and the tired yet staid Science Fantasy is once again quite noticeable. Perhaps it is time for a change. I look forward to seeing if Impulse makes a difference next month. It should not be a surprise though that the ‘winner’ this month for me is New Worlds – even if it is not the best issue we've seen lately.
Thank you for joining this month's edition of Galactoscope, where we plow through all the books that came out this most recent month of June/July 1964! Don't thank us; it's all part of the job…
(and if you found us at San Diego Comic-Con and can't figure out why we seem to be 55 years behind you, this should clear things up!)
Times Two
Time Travel has been a staple of the genre since before the genre had been formalized. H. G. Wells' The Time Machine is still a classic, and it was written last century. In the Journey's short tenure, we have encountered at least a dozen tales involving chronological trips, with notable books including John Brunner's Times without Number and Wallace West's River of Time, not to mention the stand-out tales, All you Zombies!, by Robert Heinlein (and his less stand-out tale, By His Bootstraps) and The Deaths of Ben Baxter, by Robert Sheckley.
This month, we have two variations on the theme, both invoking time in their title:
As the specter of nuclear war threatens to manifest, a post-graduate student named Harrison is summering in Paris, waiting for school to resume. By chance, he runs across Pepe, a fiery Spaniard (are there any other kinds in books?) and fellow former student who reunites Harrison with Professor Carroll, late of the archaeology department of Harrison and Pepe's alma mater. It turns out that Carroll has made a tremendous discovery: he as learned how to bridge the gulf between eras. No special machine is required; one must simply find a sizeable hunk of cast metal that has been left alone since the time of its forger.
Carroll's private time tunnel goes back exactly 160 years to the France of Napoleon's time. Thus far, the professor has made little use of it, save to satisfy his wife's pecuniary avarice. She has enlisted her brother to start a little shop that sells perfectly preserved antiques pinched from 1804. But when the Harrison learns that someone from 1964 is undertaking to sell secrets of the future to the scientists of the past, he and his compatriots must stop the interference before history changes for good. In addition, they must complete their mission before rising international tensions instigate a nuclear war in the present, sealing off (and perhaps destroying) the time tunnel.
It's a great setup! We've seen fixed tunnels to the past, as recently as in River in Time, but they aren't common in the genre. I find them particularly compelling as they make points in the past more tangible destinations. One can't pick historical highlights at random; they have to soak in the local atmosphere one second at a time, just like the natives. I've even toyed with the idea of making a fanzine with that conceit, perhaps with a time shift of (to pick a length at random) 55 years. That would put me in 1909 with plenty of time to capture the pulp era as it happens.
Something to think about.
The problem with Tunnel is the same problem that has bedeviled most of his latest stuff — it's too long. Indeed, Tunnel is about three times longer than the story calls for, in large part because the author repeats everything he says several times throughout the book. Heck, Harrison's party doesn't even get to old France until halfway through the book, and then it mostly stays to the back roads and farms that have not significantly changed in "nearly two centuries" as Leinster insists on calling about a century-and-a-half.
It's too bad. There's an exciting novella here under all the chaff.
Three stars.
The Time Twisters, by J. Hunter Holly
The newest book by Ms. (the J. stands for Joan) Holly has the opposite problem: the writing is quite compelling, but the story doesn't work.
The time is present day, the protagonists the Garrison family — Rick, Lynn, and six year-old daughter Tina. We start with the family already ill at ease. A neighborhood boy has gone missing, and shortly before, a big brown patch appeared in his yard. Then, while touring an amusement park to distract themselves, a cluster of bright lights appear in the sky, eerie and menacing.
Over the course of the next few days, more children disappear. Tina longs to be allowed outside, affected by a sirensong the adults cannot hear. A monster appears on the block, terrifying the neighborhood. The Army appears and sets up camp around the small Great Lakes town. Throughout it all, Rick is suspicious of his new boarder, Marcus Jantz. That is, until Marcus helps defeat the monster, which turns out to be a tin-plated prop. Obviously, the alien invasion shtick is a ruse, a cover for something else. But what?
It turns out (as has been teased since the beginning, but it takes Rick a while to learn) that Marcus is actually an agent from the future. In this future, aliens have appeared, demanding millions of their children. But humanity of the future is near-sterile, thanks to an overabundance of nuclear energy. Their only source for children is the past, hence a series of raids throughout history. Indeed, the Pied Piper legend has roots in truth, a kidnapping strike from a century long distant. In the end, Rick follows the last child to be abducted, his own, into the future, where he makes a desperate plea to Marcus to let their children go.
The Time Twisters is a very quick read by a talented author (who, like Andre Norton, stays out of the genre magazines). The characters are nicely drawn, the situations nicely tense. Unfortunately, the plot is absurd. Any people with time travel have already won any war they might face. Moreover, surely the indiscriminate removal of ancestors must destroy countless future generations.
Still, I was entertained on my latest trip to Japan, and thus, I give this very flawed piece a full three stars.
And now, I turn things over to Mark Yon, who contributes the second half of this month's column…
Ace Double F-275: No Truce with Terra, by Philip E. High; and The Duplicators, by Murray Leinster
by Mark Yon
My latest read is one that I had delivered to me from my friends in the States. As it is an Ace Double, and being someone never to knowingly avoid a cliché, I must say that it is a book of two halves (although The Duplicators is a little longer than the other story): as befits a double book, they are quite different in tone and style.
No Truce with Terra examines the premise of what might happen if Earth was invaded — not by the traditional all-guns-blazing War of the Worlds style invasion but instead by stealth. Written by Brit Philip E. High, it begins quite normally but soon becomes strange. Scientist Lipscombe goes home from work one evening to find that his fibroplastic home will not allow him entrance. All attempts to break-in are thwarted.
Furthermore, over the next few days the house changes shape and unusual objects appear to grow around the outside of the house. There’s some electric blue grass and a plant that gives those who touch it a near-lethal electric shock, for example. Impressions are that they are alien, a means of colonising the planet before taking overall control, a bridgehead before the full-blown invasion.
Michael Lipscombe and his colleague Peter Collard become part of the scientific observation group. Then the “house” is surrounded by the British Army and attacked, the house retaliates – “they have set the dog on us” is the summary from Lipscombe.
Lipscombe and Collard are evacuated to a research centre in the North of Scotland as the alien threat spreads. With their mentor Stanley Dyson, obviously “one of the greatest names in science”, they determine that the invading force is a form of “natural electronic life” which has evolved naturally on another planet.
The scientists create a contraption that warps the fabric of space time and allows the humans to be granted access to the alien world. They do so, believing that such an action would create an escape route for humans and also allow them to create a secret base that can organise retaliatory actions.
All of this is basically World War Two re-written, of course. It’s interesting, if a little predictable, beginning with lots of stoic scientists discussing things and then frantic battles between the military and the aliens.
What we also get is the alien perspective, that they are willing to discuss terms of future contact through Collard, who they select as an emissary between the two races. The aliens are odd but not the unholy terrors that other stories would have you believe, and it is this aspect that makes this fast-paced story readable.
The second story is longer (an expansion, in fact, of Lord of the Uffts), but I found it less enjoyable. This time around it is the humans doing the invading, in a faux- Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court kind of way. The Duplicators tells us of Link Denham, a non-too-scrupulous gadabout who, when he drunkenly signs himself up as an astrogator on the not-so-good ship Glamorgan under the equally drunk Captain Thistlethwaite, finds himself on the way to the mysterious planet Sord III. Thistlethwaite claims there are riches beyond compare there, which he is willing to share with Denham in return for his help.
On arriving at the planet, they meet two types of extraterrestrials. Firstly there are the rather sarcastic and oppressed pig-like aliens known as Uffts, who claim their ship on its landing, and secondly there are the humans, led by Harl, who live in Households and run the planet’s society using the Uffts as servants. Their response to Thistlethwaite’s arrival is to arrest him and agree to execute him for spreading sedition – for in offering to pay to send a message to his seller Old Man Addison he has caused great offense. Doing business, except with Uffts, is a major insult on Sord III.
Link’s attempt at rescuing Thistlethwaite – for how else is he going to escape the planet? – leads to Link also being arrested by Harl’s Household. Instead of being grateful, the non-too-stable Thistlethwaite seems annoyed, even betrayed, by Link for abandoning their spaceship.
By offering their spaceship and cargo as a guest-gift to Harl, Link manages to persuade the Householder to avoid hanging them, but the rather unpredictable Thistlethwaite, still determined to make a business deal and participate in the socially abhorrent activity of business, believes that Link has betrayed him.
To complicate things further, there’s a revolution brewing from the down-trodden Uffts. A deal is made by Thistlethwaite with the Uffts to arrange his escape and take advantage of the unrest felt by the enslaved group. Link is ‘fired’ by Thistlethwaite.
On a more positive note Link also meets Thana, Harl’s sister. She reveals the reason for Thistlethwaite’s interest in the planet, that the aliens of Sord III have the technology to duplicate objects with dupliers, something that Thistlethwaite believes would be worth a great deal. Harl disagrees, his reasoning being that such an invention would lead to the collapse of civilisation as societies become too lazy to bother working.
Thistlethwaite’s escape leads to a chase to try and recapture him before he makes a deal with Old Man Addison for dupliers. The dilemma of the novel then becomes how Link can manage to keep the dupliers a secret whilst not allowing Thistlethwaite to exploit the aliens on Sord III. It may not be a surprise that Link’s ingenuity saves the day, avoids an Ufftian Revolution, keep Thistlethwaite pleased and ends things happily ever after for Link and Thana.
The Duplicators is one of those heartily humorous tales, a story of manners and misunderstandings that is all about the behaviour of “strangers in a strange land”. It seems to be meant to be a lighter counterpoint tale to the Philip High story, a parody of politics and behaviour that is clearly meant to strike the reader as amusing but for me really wasn’t. In fact, at times there are places where it all becomes a bit silly. On the positive side, it’s well written, if predictable, but Animal Farm it isn’t. 2.5 stars.
Together these tales do what Ace Doubles tend to do – put on display deliberately different aspects of the genre. Whilst the two stories are undeniably entertaining, in the bigger scheme of things they are really minor league stuff. They are not the best Double I’ve ever read, but not the worst either and frankly neither story is the best work I’ve read from either author. File under “OK but not essential.”
Summing Up
I suppose one can't expect more from an average month than a bunch of average books. But, boy… it'd sure be nice!
We'll just have to wait for the next Galactoscope to see if our fortunes change (hopefully for the better…)
[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…]
I'm sitting here sipping some Earl Grey tea, nibbling a Bendicks Bittermint, listening to the Beatles on the radio; am I still in Tennessee? I must be, because I'm holding Ace paperback F-255 in my hand, and that's an American publisher. Then I take a closer look, and notice that the author is British. I guess there's no way of getting around it; I'm a walking anglophile.
Philip E. High may not be very well known to those of us on this side of the Atlantic, but his stories have appeared in UK publications for about a decade. I've had a chance to read a handful of them in New Worlds, thanks to fellow Traveler Mark Yon, who is very generous with lending copies of the magazine to Yanks.
High also had the story Fallen Angel published in the June 1961 issue of Analog. Our host was not impressed by it. Overall, High seems to be a competent, if undistinguished, writer of science fiction. Will his first novel confirm that opinion? Is it worth forty cents? Let's find out, starting with the front cover.
Was he there to teach Earth – or to rule it?
Well, that's a fairly interesting teaser. The cover art is all right, I suppose, although it doesn't really grab me. Let's take a look inside.
They wanted his secrets, but feared his presents
That should say presence, I think.
Next we have a cast of characters. That's a nice touch, as it allows me to flip back to the front when I forget who somebody is. My only complaint is that it leaves out some important names. Anyway, let's move on to the text. Like most science fiction novels, it's well under two hundred pages long, so it's not a major investment in time.
The background is complex, requiring a lot of expository narration and dialogue. Long before the novel begins, Earthlings settled a few extra-solar planets. They ran into aliens, at about the same level of technology, who wanted one of these worlds for themselves, and a long and bloody interstellar war followed. Eventually the humans won, but only at the cost of turning Earth into a brutal dictatorship. Anyone suspected of disloyalty undergoes involuntary psychological conditioning, so that rebellious thoughts cause intense physical pain.
Into this dystopian world comes our hero, a young man named Peter Duncan. As an infant, he was the only survivor of an accident in space, and was rescued by highly advanced aliens. The rulers of Earth see him as a potential threat, but also as a possible source of technological secrets. He has plans of his own, which I won't describe here, as they are not fully revealed until the end of the book.
The complicated, fast-moving plot also involves a bodyguard, a reporter, and a businessman who undergo important changes in their relationship with Duncan. Thrown into the mix are enemy aliens, held as prisoners of war after hostilities end. There is also a secret underground civilization, a love interest for the hero, and yet another set of aliens. The novel shifts point of view often, sometimes several times within a single scene.
Near the end, developments come at a furious pace. The revelation of Duncan's scheme, and the explanation of the novel's punning title, go beyond the limits of credulity.
The book is full of interesting ideas; maybe too many. Its basic theme can be expressed as Love Conquers All, which is not what you expect from a science fiction adventure story. Many of the secondary characters are intriguing, although the protagonist is rather bland. Often a villain turns out to be more complex than first thought, and earns the reader's sympathy. The author's style is serviceable at best, with some clumsy phrasings. Overall, it's a mixed bag, worth reading once, if you can spare a quarter, dime, and nickel, but not destined to become a timeless classic.
Three stars.
The Wanderer, by Fritz Leiber
by Jason Sacks
Cover by Bob Abbett
The Wanderer by Fritz Leiber is an odd book, a combination of two disparate elements which never quite come together for me.
The core plot of the story is that a new planet, nicknamed the Wanderer, has appeared in our solar system — and in fact appears in almost exactly the same spot as our moon. At first nobody knows what to make of this new celestial body, but most people feel a combination of awe and confusion about what this new interstellar visitor might mean and what its impact might be on our world.
Quickly, though, a tragedy which once was unimaginable becomes inevitable. The moon begins to disintegrate under the gravity of The Wanderer, which unleashes a devastating level of natural destruction. Because The Wanderer has a higher gravity than the moon, ocean tides increase geometrically in power, terrible tidal waves hit all oceans, earthquakes strike in California, rising ocean currents open Lake Nicaragua to the ocean, and floods strike much of the United Kingdom.
In the midst of this utter destruction, Leiber shows us the hearty survivors who battle the effects of the devastation. We follow a band of travelers in Florida who encounter unexpected racism, a group of UFO enthusiasts in California who battle tsunamis, violence and some actual flying saucers, a lunar explorer who sees the crisis up front, and a panoply of other ordinary and extraordinary people, from South Africa to Vietnam to New York to a lone sailor piloting a ship across the Atlantic.
The scenes with these characters provide The Wanderer with much of its power and momentum, as readers are swept up in the terrifying and all-too-human adventures of these hearty and terrified people. In fact, if Leiber had focused exclusively on the people and left the reason for the destruction a mystery, this might have been an even more satisfying book.
Instead, Leiber shows us the reason for the Wanderer’s presence. In those sections, the book falters. The reason the Wanderer journeys to our solar system is that the Earth is one of the remaining backwaters in the universe that’s not yet settled by a group of extraterrestrial beings looking to civilize nearly all of known space. Those beings need to use our solar system as a kind of refueling station.
The Wanderer is actually an artificial planet, filled with hundreds of levels of civilizations inhabited by creatures and cultures nearly unimaginable to most humans. Piloting the ship is a super-brilliant catlike creature named Tigerishka who captures one of the lunar explorers and explains to him the background of the plot. A rebel against the civilizers, Tigerishka is soon captured and put on trial before she runs away from her fate — but not before she and the human have some extraterrestrial intercourse.
Leiber spins up an epic tale with some memorable characters and startling situations, but the work feels a bit undercooked to me. The two key elements of the plot never quite connect with each other and the space trial comes from out of nowhere. There is precious little foreshadowing of Tigerishka’s presence, and I found the idea and execution of her to be a bit pulpy. I kept imagining the cover being similar to a Gernsback pulp with an attractive human body attached to a mysterious feline face.
Still, this is the kind of epic novel which would make for a fine film and likely a nomination for the award named for Mr. Gernsback. While I won’t be voting for it in next year’s Hugos, it’s easy see Mr. Leiber’s entertaining though flawed creation taking home honors.
Some science fiction propels us to the farthest futures and remotest settings. The latest book by Martin Caidin, better known by his aeronautical and space nonfiction, takes place on the very edge of tomorrow. When the Soviets stun the world early in 1964 with the launch and docking of a pair of multi-crew spacecraft, NASA is directed to fill the space between Gordo Cooper's last Mercury flight and the increasingly delayed Gemini program. Major Richard Pruett, a (fictional) member of the second cadre of astronauts, is tapped for a 49 orbit Mercury endurance mission, launched in July.
For three days, all goes perfectly, but at the moment of deceleration, Pruett's retrorockets refuse to fire, stranding the fellow in space. Now, with just enough oxygen to last two more days, the hapless astronaut must somehow find a way to last three days — until the drag of the upper atmosphere seizes Mercury 7 and sends it plunging toward the Earth.
There is no question but that Caidin did his homework for the book. Undoubtedly, the author has enough material for a lengthy reference on the Mercury program and the astronaut training process in general. But within the gears and hard science, Caidin manages to draw a compelling profile of Pruett, sort of an amalgam of the seven Mercury astronauts. From his first flight in a propeller plane, through a bloody stint in Korea, and past the rigorous astronaut indoctrination, Pruett gives the reader a first-person view of the experiences that make up the humans beneath the silver sheen of the spacesuit.
Marooned shines most brightly in the first and last thirds of the book. The solitude and hopelessness Pruett's plight is vividly portrayed, and the pages fly up through about page 100. The journey through astronaut training is more clinical, with few dramatizations to liven it up. It will be interesting to neophytes, but any of us who read the Time Life series on the Mercury 7 (or the compilation We Seven) will find it dry. Things pick up again when we learn of the daring rescue attempts being assembled to save Pruett from being America's first casualty in space.
With Marooned, Caidin accomplishes two goals in one book, delivering an exciting read and providing perhaps the most detailed summary of the Mercury program for the layman yet put to paper.
It is the year 1973, and Art Harper owns a service station on the freeway to the launch pad where soon a giant rocket will take the first twelve men to the moon. His life had hitherto been one of complete and deliberate normality. But then, a woman appears claiming to be one of the Tuantha, a society of humans that had gone to the moon millennia before and established a secret, highly advanced civilization. She insists that Art is Tuanthan, too, placed with a human family like a changeling, and that he must come home. Further complicating the mix is Art's brother, Gecko, who, while human, managed to sneak into the Tuanthan moon city during one of the frequent inter-planet teleport trips. Now he wants to live in their lovely settlement, too.
The fly in the ointment is the upcoming lunar shot. The Tuanthans are convinced that, should the two societies ever meet, the Earthers will dominate and ultimately exterminate them, just as the Europeans slaughtered the American Indians. And so, the Tuanthans plan to sabotage the American lunar effort before the moon city is discovered.
This latest book by Robert Moore Williams stands in stark contrast to Caidin's hyer-realistic Marooned. Moore has been producing adventure stories since the '30s, and it shows. Eye reads like something written in 1948, lacking any comprehension of technological improvements since then. But the real flaws of the book are in its execution. It starts out excitingly enough, and the first half reads quite quickly. But then Art, Gecko, and the Tuanthan, Lecia, end up on the moon, and the whole thing becomes a slog of speeches and redundant scenes as the three are put on trial for treason for wanting to stop the destruction of the American moon rocket.
In fact, Williams' fiction production consists almost exclusively of novellas. It's pretty clear he has no heart or endurance for longer works, and the padding required to cross the novel-length finish line is tiresome and obvious. Finally, Eye is riddled with plot holes and story threads that go nowhere.
A promising but ultimately sloppy piece: Two and a half stars.
On the other hand, Chip Delany's new work, a sequel to last year's Captives of the Flame, reflects an upward trend. In the first book of the series, he introduced us to Toromon, capital of an island empire situated on Earth long after an atomic cataclysm. The cast of characters was bewilderingly large: the decadent and young King Uske, his cousin; Prince Let, who was smuggled into the custody of the smarter, psionically gifted forest people; the capable and canny Duchess Petra; the noble and former prisoner, Jon, who along with Petra had been rendered invisible in dim light by the radiations that girdle Toron's imperial boundaries; the paternal forest person, Arkor; Tel, a poor fisherman's son; Alter, a thief and acrobat; Clea, a brilliant mathematician…
It was all a bit much, but now that I see the author is planning on doing more with the world, I can understand why he introduced so many players. Towers does a fine job of continuing their stories, and I feel like I have a good handle on them all now.
Towers is set three years after Flame. The empire has rediscovered the technology of matter transfer and is busy exploring the devastated planet. A war has already been fought and won against the mutant insectoid tranu, and another is in progress against the mysterious ketzis. It is a strange war, fought in nearly impenetrable mists thousands of miles from home. The enemy is never seen, and its combatants (who include Tel, the fisherman's son), seem almost in a daze, unable to dwell much upon their pasts or their futures. Meanwhile, Toromon is in increasing turmoil. Prime Minister Chargill is assassinated. The evil seed of the fiery enemy from the first book is discovered hidden in the mind of King Uske. And Clea, seeking refuge in arcane mathematics after the death of her fiancee (that occurred in Flame), discovers a secret that could tear the entire empire asunder.
Tower is a significant improvement on Flame: better paced, more skillfully written, exciting. It is no mean feat to juggle all of these viewpoints and still maintain a coherent whole. Moreover, I appreciate the sheer variety of characters, including the prominence of several women.
I did find both fascinating and a little disturbing Delany's depiction of the three races of people that inhabit future Earth, with greater divergence than the paltry skin tone differences humanity has today. They are practically different species, with the baseline humans being seeming to be more imaginative (though not necessarily smarter) than the "neo-neanderthals," and the forest people occupying a mental rung above the humans. The neo-neanderthals are referred to as 'apes', and though they don't ever object, I can only imagine that the author (who is Black) is making a point.
If there's a down-side to the book, it's that it is a clear bridge to the next novel in the series, which has not yet come out. All the threads do come to a satisfying resolution at the book's end, but the aftermath, and the coming (final?) battle with the cosmic Lord of the Flames is left for later.
Three and a half stars, and kinder disposition toward the first book.
[(this book and the others in the series can be purchased here)]
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It is difficult to write about things fictional after world events of the last few days. Whilst I look on with horror at some of the observations of fellow travelers, the assassination has been noted here in Britain with a surreal quiet. The news, and indeed political commentary generally, has been oddly muted and yet remarkably acute. If comments at work and on my daily commute are anything to go by, the man on the street here has reacted with both revulsion and sadness. The world is a different place since last we spoke. Whatever your political persuasion, the event is a sobering one for us all.
Our BBC correspondent Mr. Alastair Cook, who writes a Letter from America every week for our radio summed it up for us so well. I cannot say it better than this master of the English language, so I leave his radio broadcast as an effective response via the spoken word
The surreal events of November 22nd have managed to alter what I was hoping to spend more time talking about this month. The debut of the BBC television science fiction series Doctor Who was made the day after the assassination.
Despite the grim news preceding the programme, I really liked it. I think the series has potential, so much so that I think that it is one of the most exciting things I’ve seen on British television recently, despite being mainly for a family audience, which limits its depth. The actor portraying the Doctor, Mr. William Hartnell, is by turns wonderfully enigmatic and impressively grumpy. I look forward to seeing where this series goes.
To the magazine, then.
This month’s cover is a surprisingly lurid shade of purple, which undoubtedly stands out, even if it makes the title print difficult to read.
s-f and mythology, by Ms. Roberta Rambelli
Another factual piece this month for the Editorial, in the form of a transcribed lecture given at the recent Trieste S-F Film Festival. It’s undoubtedly informative and educational, one for those who want to know the difference between their teratomorphical, their theriomorphical and their anthropomorphical categories of s-f. But it does seem to be an easy way out to writing an editorial – there’s no argument, no debate, no attempt to generate discussion here. As interesting as the article is, it doesn’t feel like an editorial.
To the still annoying lower-cased-titled stories!
relative genius, by Mr. Philip E. High
And here we have the return of Mr. High, last seen in May 1963 with the underwhelming point of no return. By comparison, this story of penal reform is better. The story begins with a bit of a “Prisoner of Zenda/Count of Monte Cristo” situation, with a man in a luxury prison with no memory of who he is and why he is there. Our man plots his escape and the tale turns into an entertaining jailbreak story. It’s not a patch on other similar stories, but it was entertaining, though the twist at the end didn’t really work for me. 3 out of 5.
when I come back, by Mr. Jonathan Burke
This is a creepy tale of people seemingly being possessed by things from somewhere else through their dreams, and the consequences of what happens as a result. On first reading I thought it was OK, but this is one I keep coming back to afterwards, because of its unyielding bleakness. It’s not particularly new – I’m reminded of Jack Finney’s American version of identity theft, The Body Snatchers , for example – but it does prey on the reader’s imagination rather well. Consequently my favourite story of the month. 4 out of 5.
the cliff-hangers, by Mr. R. W. Mackelworth
Mr. Mackelworth’s latest is a tale of future corporate shenanigans as one big business tries to outdo another. It’s a little like Mr. High’s story this month in that it reads as a tale of one group of people trying to get one up on another, though this story is rather on the side of the nasty people, at least at first. All get their come-uppance in the end. This is the latest of Mr Mackelworth’s rather bleak visions of the future, which rests easily alongside his previous stories of future justice and personal freedoms. I don’t think it is one of his strongest, however. 3 out of 5.
no brother of mine, by Mr. Robert Presslie
Another returning writer. Mr. Presslie’s story this month is about something youngster Davey finds in the family’s nuclear fallout shelter, a creature which, despite its strange alien appearance, may have more in common with humans than we, at first, believe. I think it is meant to be sad, but I was strangely unaffected by it. 3 out of 5.
In a month that seems appropriate with Doctor Who beginning and the death of a man widely regarded as the first President of ‘the television age,’ here’s a story that shows how pervasive the box in our front room may become. It reminded me of Mr. Robert Heinlein’s Future History stories, in that it’s a story of proficient people getting on with their jobs in a bright new future. Here our capable hero is in charge of maintaining a global network of television signals via satellite and the consequences of what happens when a developing African country loses their connection. The feel is a little less positive than Mr. Heinlein’s “can-do” version, but it reads well, and I could see more stories from this scenario in the future. 3 out of 5.
The second part of Mr. Kapp’s serial continues in the same fast paced, relentless manner of the first. Our hero, Ivan Dalroi, was left last issue in a dilemma – that he was being put into transfinite space by Failway without any means of support. Unsurprisingly, the cliffhanger plot point is quickly resolved in a rather psychedelic manner and what should have been a disaster ends up as a triumph. Dalroi returns from transfinite space a different man to unleash vengeance on his enemies, as a weapon and not a victim. Trains derail, lorries crash and buildings explode as Dalroi travels between worlds and vanquishes his enemies. It all gets rather frantic as Dalroi’s power is described with increasingly purple prose worthy of 1930’s pulp fiction. At one point his actions are shown by a series of words in bigger and bigger print, often with exclamation marks for emphasis, which seems a little unnecessary. Despite this, it’s still a fun read, even if some of the deathless dialogue is wince-inducing. 3 out of 5.
Lastly, we have the return of Mr. Leslie Flood’s Book Review page. This month Mr Flood comments on a number of novels and collections new to us but not to you: Mr. Walter M. Miller’s “very well observed” story collection Conditionally Human, Mr. James Gunn’s “brilliantly executed and conceived” The Joy Makers, Mr. Isaac Asimov’s story collection Nine Tomorrows (“Good stuff”) and two from Mr. Robert Heinlein: Methuselah’s Children (“Superlative science fiction of the grand scale”) and his juvenile Time for the Stars.
Of the books new to print here, Mr. Michael Moorcock’s fantasy hero Elric is given faint praise (Elric is “given an individual touch by deepening the purpleness of his prose and double-dyeing his mighty warrior with a dabbling of sorcery and insatiable blood-lust”), and even less positive is the review of Messer’s Greg and Geoffrey Hoyle’s The Fifth Planet, “a heavy-handed attempt to achieve topicality and neo-realism with a creaking plot.” Has Mr. Flood read any of the stories in New Worlds lately, I wonder?
In summary, this month’s New Worlds is a solid one, using the talents of a regular coterie of writers. The general feel is of standard work often well done but rarely outstanding, although this issue feels less erratic than some of the issues of late. The Editorial was an interesting one, even if it feels that something rushed out to fill a space. Nevertheless, in a time of uncertainty for sf magazines generally here, I guess that I should be glad that New Worlds has made it to the end of the year. There have been concerns over the year that, like some of its contemporaries, New Worlds may not do so.
And with that more positive note I will wish you a Merry Christmas from here in the UK. Here’s hoping that 1964, despite the events of recent days, may turn out to be an optimistic one. On a more positive note, The Beatles are doing a Christmas tour – 100 000 tickets over 30 shows, all sold out. Their pop dominance reigns supreme. Despite everything, some things still endure.
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.
[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's the tops, pops…]
by Mark Yon
I was hoping to report better things about the British weather this month. But no – we’re still in what seems like the middle of a deep freeze period. Earlier this month there was a blizzard that covered most of the country for over 36 hours. The weather has been so bad that, unusually, professional football matches (soccer matches to you US readers) have been postponed – more than once in some cases:
The sea’s even been frozen in places:
I’ve never known anything like it in my lifetime, but here’s hoping that by the time I write next month things will be back to some sort of normal.
Fallacies in Science Fiction, by Mr. Donald Malcolm
The Guest Editorial this month (yes – another one!) is by an author who has been here a lot lately. Although limited in experience, Mr. Malcolm takes advantage of this opportunity to explain things as he sees it. The Editorial is both a celebration and a critique of s-f, claiming on one hand that its imaginative concepts satisfy the needs beyond those of mundane readers and then counterarguing that this is the reason for s-f unlikely to become mainstream popular. The ongoing argument continues.
To the stories. There’s a general theme of aliens and alien planets this month.
Inductive Reaction, by Mr. Russ Markham
This is an “alien anthropology” story in the ongoing series featuring the Hunters and the Laings of the Galactic Union Special Survey Teams. This time the couples go to Oris IV, a Venusian jungle planet, where they have to solve a puzzle: why do the planet natives, seemingly peaceful and obsequiously eager to please, suddenly attack expeditionary members without warning? It’s a logical, if rather uninspiring solution, surrounded by clichés such as the point that the good wives should stay at home whilst the men do the dangerous work. Not one of Mr. Markham’s best, I feel. Two out of five.
Aqueduct, by Mr. Francis G. Rayer
Mr. Rayer’s tale of Mankind’s attempt to subjugate an alien species on a waterless planet made me think of modern day construction schemes in countries like Egypt. It’s another one-idea type of story, but I enjoyed it as much as Mr. Rayer’s last, Capsid. Three out of five.
Eviction, by Mr. John Baxter
Written by someone from an ex-British colony, there’s more than a little nod and a wink towards colonialism in this likeable story about when aliens come back to Earth to reclaim their territory. It starts really well, even if the conclusion is a little too convenient. Three out of five points.
Bottomless Pit, by Mr. Philip E. High
I was rather dismissive of Mr. High’s last story in New Worlds, but this one was a slight return to form. A story of planetary invasion with a unique planetary defence mechanism. It’s logical and solid, if a little jarring in its depiction of alien attraction. One of the more enjoyable stories in this issue. Three out of five.
Too Good to be True, by Mr Walter Gillings
A short but welcome return to fiction by one of New Worlds’s founding editors, Too Good to be True is a lighter story composed of letters sent to an imaginary magazine editor by an author who may be more authentic than the Editor requires. Slightly entertaining. Three out of five.
Dawn’s Left Hand, by Mr Lan Wright
And lastly, to the final part of this rather underwhelming serial. Things are tied up rather conveniently, albeit at the usual breakneck speed, which, of course, gives us little time to think about how improbable everything is. Our ‘hero’ Martin Regan, acting as gangster Manuel Cabera, gets past the previous difficulties to reach another plot point clearly meant to be a grand reveal. Unfortunately, the story ends up being depressingly predictable and increasingly illogical. I’m pleased that this serial has come to an end, but at least its limitations has shown me how much s-f has progressed in recent years. Still two out of five.
In summary, a more solid issue than the February issue, but I still feel that we’re treading water here. When New Worlds is at its best, there’s a variety of thoughtful and literate stories, all bringing something new to the table. More recently though, I can’t help feeling that there’s been a lot of filler, with tales that are limited in success. I hate to say it, but reading issues is becoming a bit of a struggle.
[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…]
[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]
by Mark Yon
I hope you’ve all had a good Christmas. Here in Britain it has been…. interesting. As fellow traveller Ashley has mentioned, the cold and foggy weather has now turned into a fully-fledged Winter of ice and snow. As I type this, snow has been falling all over the UK in great amounts for a couple of weeks, and is showing no sign of stopping. The result has been chaos. The news is filled of stories about villages being made inaccessible and even in the urban areas, such as the Northern provincial city I live in, travel has been treacherous. The Met Office is telling us that it is “The Big Freeze”, and may be the worst winter weather in decades. Even if it is not, it certainly feels like it!
Anyway, enough of the weather.
As I said I would, I have braved the Winter cold to go to the cinema since we last spoke, and I am pleased to say that I whole-heartedly recommend Mr. David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia, despite its length. I saw the movie in two parts, with an intermission. At a run-time of just under four hours I was not bored for one moment. It is one of the best-looking movies I have ever seen, and I loved the majestic score by Mr. Maurice Jarre, so much so that I am now looking for a copy of the movie soundtrack to play on my record player. As it is mainly set in the desert, though, it might just be what’s needed to keep the Winter chill out!
This month’s New Worlds shows a cover that’s back to the lurid. This month, it is an unsubtle Day-Glo shade of Santa Claus red. It heralds the return of a story by Mr Lan Wright after his stint as guest Editor last month. This is the first time that Mr. Wright has had an actual story in the magazine since February 1959. It is the first of three parts. More on this later.
I Like It Here, by Mr. David Rome
We begin with a short guest editorial from Mr. Rome – his fourth appearance in New Worlds in as many consecutive months, which suggests that he is a popular choice, by the editors, and (one hopes) the reading public. [David is also quite popular with the Journey, having recently engaged in written correspondence with us. It is he who provided the picture above. (Ed.)]
Mr Rome is a relative newcomer to s-f and as a result has a rather refreshing viewpoint upon professionalism in the genre here. It is the latest foray into the ongoing battle between the prevalent issue in British s-f – should it be populist entertainment but written by amateurs, or more specialist and challenging, with professional leanings? Mr. Rome’s take on it is that, as a relative newcomer, the s-f writer is motivated by a belief in the genre rather than by money. As a result, an acceptance of s-f by the mainstream, in his opinion, would lead to dissolution and a loss of the thing that makes s-f great. It’s an intriguing point of view, rather similar to that anti-professional stance given by Mr. Wright as editor last month.
Which leads us to:
Dawn’s Left Hand, by Mr Lan Wright.
The title’s a good one (a quote from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam) but despite such lofty ambitions, the actual story shows its amateur origins by being rather uneven in tone and pace. I must admit that I was rather disappointed by the story. The plot is admittedly fast-paced, in an old-fashioned pulp style, but like many of the old-style stories of the Golden Age, if you actually stop to think about it, the plot has no logic. It is entertaining, but really doesn’t hold much water. As expected, the story ends on a cliff-hanger, to be continued next issue. I hope that it improves. Two out of five.
Ecdysiac, by Mr. Robert Presslie
This story marks the return of another regular New Worlds writer. His last was Lucky Dog in the November 1962 issue, which I thought was disappointing. This was better, an espionage tale that adopts the use of psionics in ways that I imagine Mr. Poul Anderson and Mr. A. E. van Vogt would. The dour ending is typically British, though! Three out of five.
The Big Tin God, by Mr. Philip E. High
Another regular New Worlds writer, last read with The Method in the November 1962 issue, which I was not enormously impressed by. This one is, thankfully, better. It’s a story of city-states, and a secret war that leads to the creation of an artificial intelligence capable of independent thought. The short story held my attention, although the twist at the end was a little predictable and, if I dare say it, even arrogant in its presumption. Two out of five points.
Burden of Proof, by Mr. David Jay
Mr. Jay gives us a story of hate and murder, placed within a futuristic mystery and a possibly mistaken accusation. It’s nicely done but the denouement depends on a hook that’s not too convincing. Again, two out of five.
The Statue, by Mr. R. W. Mackelworth
After a number of well-known authors, it’s great to have a new one. Mr. Mackelworth’s The Statue is a worthy debut as a short story about a mysterious artefact and its effect on a group of explorers. There’s an interesting use of telepaths in the tale but it is let down by some standard (and rather predictable) stereotypes. Three out of five.
The Subliminal Man, by Mr. J. G. Ballard
Although Mr. Lan Wright has the biggest billing, here is the best story in the magazine, from another initialled author, the much-welcome Mr. J. G. Ballard. We don’t see enough of Mr. Ballard’s work these days in New Worlds, and it is noticeable how good it is when compared with the rest. It is also miles away from the traditional s-f that we expect. A dystopian tale of the future consequences of incessant advertising and relentless consumerism, its sense of paranoia is both chilling and effective. Four out of five.
Lastly, there’s the usual Book Review by Mr. Leslie Flood. There is only one recommendation this month albeit a wholehearted one and a collection you already have in the US – A Decade of Fantasy and Science Fiction, edited by Mr. Robert P. Mills.
As recent issues of New Worlds go, this one feels stronger, even if the quality of the stories varies somewhat. The return of Mr. J.G. Ballard raises the bar a little and makes me feel a little more positive for the future of the magazine than I have been lately.
And with that hint of optimism, until next time, it just remains for me to wish you all the best for 1963.
[P.S. If you want the chance to nominate Galactic Journey for Best Fanzine next year, you need to register for WorldConbefore the end of the year! (or have registered last year… but then you can only nominate, not vote.) The Journey will be at next year's WorldCon, so don't miss your chance to meet us and please help put us on the ballot for Best Fanzine!]
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