Tag Archives: Robert A. Heinlein

[June 8, 1964] Be Prepared! (July 1964 IF)


by Gideon Marcus

In Preparation

In three days, the Traveler family returns to Japan for an unprecedented three-week trip.  That's an endeavor that calls for tremendous planning, from the purchasing of tickets (Pan Am flies direct from Los Angeles to Tokyo these days!) to judicious packing.  A house-sitter must be engaged.  Mail must be held at the post office.  And, of course, three weeks of The Journey must be plotted in advance.  Thank goodness we're such a broad team.

Out in the real world, the United States Senate, under the agile leadership of Hubert Humphrey, is putting its ducks in order.  The goal: to invoke cloture, ending the months-long "debate" over the Civil Rights Act and allowing a vote on the landmark bill.  This fate of this legislation, federally guaranteeing equality of the races regardless of the desire of certain states to retain barbaric discrimination practices,was never really in doubt.  By the time it came to the floor this year, after two years of increasing Black American protest, and support from the President's office (first JFK, now LBJ), it was a matter of when Southern resistance was crushed, not if.  Such are the fruits of good planning.

Twenty years ago, meticulous planning brought another racist regime to heel.  After months of preparation, the Western Allies lined up thousands of ships and tens of thousands of troops for an invasion of Nazi-occupied France.  D-Day at Normandy was a hard-won but smashing success that sounded the death knell for Hitler's empire.  The other night, Walter Cronkite met up with the operation's implementer, President/General Eisenhower, for a heart to heart in France.  It was good television, and stirring tribute to one of America's finest hours.

What If?

IF Worlds of Science Fiction, Galaxy's scrappy younger sister, has also launched a big operation, the result of a long-ranged plan.  For years, the magazine has been a bi-monthly, alternating publication with Galaxy.  Now, editor Fred Pohl says it's going monthly.  To that end, he lined up a slew of big-name authors to contribute enough material to sustain the increased publication rate.  Moreover, Pohl intends IF to be the adventurous throwback mag, in contrast to the more cerebral digests under his direction (Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow.  Or in his words:

"Adventure.  Excitement.  Drama.  Color.  Not hack pulp-writing or gory comic-strip blood and thunder, but the sort of story that attracted most of us to science fiction in the first place."

Frankly, it was Galaxy that got me into SF in 1950, so I'm not sure I want a return to the "Golden Age".  But I'm willing to see how this works out, and in fact, this month's issue is encouragingly decent, as you shall soon see.


by Gray Morrow

The Issue at Hand

Farnham's Freehold (Part 1 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein


by Jack Gaughan

This issue starts with a serial that is all about being prepared.  In Heinlein's latest, Hubert Farnham and his family are interrupted during bridge night when the Russkies start pounding his town with atom bombs.  Luckily, this second example of a perspicacious Hubert had the foresight to build a well-stocked shelter.  'Hugh', his headstrong son, Duke, cheerful daughter, Karen, alcoholic and listless wife, Grace, 'houseboy' and 'Negro' Joe, and friend, Barbara (as well as Joe's cat, 'Dr. Livingston, I presume') all cram into the basement refuge as the first two warheads go off.

Drama quickly erupts.  Duke does not take kindly to his father's autocratic style (and he is all the more resentful since Hugh is always right).  After the second bomb, Hugh and Barbara keep watch together, and promptly commence to having an affair.  This would have been more palatable had there been any sort of build up or prior history.  Just a few pages ago, Hugh was lamenting that Duke and Barbara weren't an item yet.  All it takes is a couple of bombs, some sweltering heat, and a nearby knocked-out wife to fan the flames of passion, I guess.

There is a third walloping, but this time, there is no accompanying radiation or rumble.  Instead, when the six finally work their way out of the shelter, they find themselves in an utterly virgin version of their former home.  No city.  No people.  Just greenery and wildlife. 

Thus it is that Farnham's Freehold transforms from Alas, Babylon to Swiss Family Robinson

Hugh immediately creates a long-range settlement plan, complete with irrigation, plumbing, and light industry.  For several months, there is idyll in the new Garden.  But then (read no further if you don't want telling details) it turns out that both Karen and Barbara are pregnant.  Karen dies in the agonies of childbirth, as does her infant daughter.  Grace refuses to live under the same roof as Barbara and decides to leave, the Oedipally inclined Duke in tow.  Just as this split is about to come to fruition, other humans appear.

Black humans, with hoverships and paralyze rays.  They don't speak English, but they are kindly disposed to Joe.  Less so to the others.  End Part One.

After the disappointment that was Podkayne of Mars), I was not looking forward to spending hours with Bob Heinlein this month.  To some extent, my fears were borne out.  While I do admire the ability to tell a story completely in dialog, with the action implied in the lines of the characters, it is too much of a good thing here, especially since all of the characters sound like Bob Heinlein or Heinlein's Band of Straw Men.  The story reads like the screenplay for Heinlein — a One Man Show! crossed with The Boy Scout Handbook.  Bob even manages to cram in paeans to nudity, cats, and Libertarianism within the first 25 pages (I think he has a checklist).  And the "passionate" dialog between Hugh and Barbara?  Ugh.

That said, the book is readable and well-paced.  If you can look past the cardboard characters and the sparse scenery, the bones of the story are alright, I suppose.  Perhaps it's just my taste for the Post-Apocalyptic that kept me going.

Three stars for now.  We'll see what happens.

Weetl, by Jack Sharkey

This is a silly tale of man who was unprepared.  Raised in religiosity, a young zealot creates a machine that makes it impossible for anyone to weetle.  That is to say, when they try to say something weetleive, it is subweetletuted with the censoring sound, 'weetle.'  As you can see, beweetles a problem very quickly.

It starts great, ends dumb, and yet, I like the concept.  I can see a future where OMNIVAC ruins all of our computer programs by overzealously deleting words it finds offensive.  Or maybe Ma Bell implementing a razzer over particularly spicy phone conversations.

Three stars.

The Mathenauts, by Norman Kagan


by Nodel

Sometimes, things can't be planned for at all.  In the future, it turns out that the mathematically inclined can pilot spaceships that traverse pure math space, shortcutting the physical world.  But one of the geniuses in the crew goes too far and discovers that math isn't just an abstraction — it is the universe, and the physical world is just a construct of the beings that once thrived in the real (or should I say irrationally complex?) world of numbers.

This story left me completely cold, with its flat-falling jokes and easy philosophy ("Like, man, what if the dreams are real, and we're really asleep right now?!") But I know a lot of folks really liked this tale, and in deference to them, I gave the story multiple and deep readings.  After a while, I was able to refine my position.

I still don't like it.  Two stars.

(Full disclosure: I was not able to get past my third year of University mathematics, and proofs are my weak point.  I am a physicist, not a mathematician, and certainly not a philosopher.)

Old Testament, by Jerome Bixby

A wife and husband team of planetary explorers do their best to make a furtive survey of a planet inhabited by primitive extraterrestrials.  But the best-laid plans gang aft agley — the aliens have left a foundling child on board their ship, one who will die if they don't take it back.  Can they return the child without further tainting the culture?

I liked this one, a UFO story in reverse.  Four stars.

The Silkie, by A. E. van Vogt


by Gray Morrow

Last up is a most unusual story from pulp veteran A. E. van Vogt, featuring a profoundly altered variety of humanity that can not only breathe air but also live undersea and sail through the vastness of interplanetary space.  Cemp, a Silkie (sort of a telepathic, spacefaring cop) encounters an extraterrestrial incursion right on the eve of his once-in-a-decade period of spawning.  Talk about unplanned events!  Can he defeat the menace when he is at his most vulnerable?

It's the telling of this story, weird and subtle, that makes it.  Silkie feels less like van Vogt and more like Dick (and perhaps better Dick than a lot of recent Dick).  Not quite perfection, but interesting nonetheless.

Four stars.

Summing up

So far, Pohl's efforts to beef up IF appear to be paying off.  I look forward to seeing his plan further translate into reality!

Now I just need to figure out where to cram in the extra review every month…


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




[August 21, 1963] Forgettable (September 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

This weekend, floating on air with the news of the publication of my first piece of fiction (the lead in an anthology of Sidewise in Time stories — do please pick up a copy!) I took a trip to San Jose with my wife.  This was strictly a vacation, you see, a last restful spell before taking on the school year and redoubling our writing efforts.  There was no other reason for visiting this peaceful city south of the Bay.

After all, Worldcon isn't for another two weeks.

The trip wasn't entirely science fiction free.  I took a recent Ace Double with me, particularly exciting because one half of it, Captives of the Flame, is one of the rare novels written by a Black person (Sam Delany, a newcomer to the scene). 

I also finished the September 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction — a less exciting experience.

I knew even before cracking the covers that it'd be something of a lost cause.  Robert Heinlein's latest serial, Glory Road, concludes in this issue, and I'd already given up on the book in its second installment.  Thus, a huge chunk of the magazine is so much ballast.  The rest is varying shades of acceptable.  Were Nat King Cole to write a song about them, well, it'd be a sharp contrast to his 1951 hit

There Is Another Shore, You Know, Upon the Other Side, by Joanna Russ

A wisp of a girl, British by extraction, flutters at the edge of Roman nightlife.  Irresistibly beautiful, she remains frustratingly out of reach of all but the most persistent of would-be lovers.  When Giovanni does manage to catch the butterfly, she crumbles to dust in his arms.  Some things are better left alone.

Joanna Russ appears to have finished graduate school and is turning her pen to writing full-time.  This is her third story in F&SF, and her appearances are always welcome.  That said, this is the least of the works from this "young and nice" possessor of "very blue eyes."  It's vividly written, but it goes on twice as long as it needs to, and the ending is obvious from the beginning.  I also found Giovanni maddening in his pushiness.  Three stars, but with a hopeful suspicion that this is the author's lowest ebb.

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

I know I'm not alone in my disappointment with this serial.  That said, I am already seeing fans salute each other with calls of "Are you a coward?" (a reference to the ad that starts the story's adventure) so I imagine this book will sell reasonably well.  You're welcome to tell me how it ends and what you thought.

The Man Who Feared Robots, by Herbert W. Franke

F&SF has been at the vanguard in its offering of foreign science fiction, with stories from French, German, Czech, and even Japanese authors.  This month, we get our first taste of SF from an Austrian pen, about a fellow undergoing psychotherapy to treat his irrational(?) fear that everyone he knows is actually a robot.  An interesting theme with not particularly noteworthy presentation.  I'd love to see a book on this topic some time.  Three stars.

Collector's Item, by Jack Sharkey

Readers of this column know that Jack Sharkey is my favorite authorial whipping boy.  He just comes out with so much drek so often.  That said, he has written stories I have enjoyed, particularly the ones involving the scout service fellow who swaps minds with extraterrestrial fauna.  Item features a fellow who delights in subverting hoary similes with physical objects.  For instance, he owns loose drums, lazy bees, dirty pins, and so on.

In fact, the so on goes on for a long time, the list of items in the protagonist's collection being nearly as long as the catalog of ships from the Iliad.  All to set up a final pair of puns that I found worth my time.  It made me smile.  Three stars — four if you're a big fan of Feghoot.

Who's Out There?, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor fairly gushes over The Young Doctor, a Dr. Carl Sagan who, at just 27, has already made a big name for himself in planetary science.  I understand that this article is the expurgated version, and that the original one was even more praising of the astronomer. 

In any wise, this particular piece, inspired by a conversation with Sagan, is on the likely number of extraterrestrial civilizations currently extant in the galaxy.  It's an unusually tedious and tentative piece, not up to Doctor A's normal capabilities.  Maybe Avram is crimping his style.  Three stars.

Unholy Hybrid, by William Bankier

A renowned horticulturalist finds a way to grow a champion squash and do away with an unwanted house guest at the same time.  However, he soon finds that the seed of his evil act bears revenge-seeking fruit. 

If the anti-woman sentiment doesn't give you pause, the staleness of the subject matter will.  And yet, there are moments of crystalline writing here that save the piece from oblivion.  Three stars verging on two (or vice versa).

Attrition, by Walter H. Kerr

A poem on the near-immortals who Walk Among Us, their youthful faces just beginning to fray.  Worth a read.  Three stars.

237 Talking Statues, Etc., by Fritz Leiber

And, at last, a screenplay about a young man and his conversation with his satyric dead father, the latter narcissistically preserved in several hundred paintings and statues.  A cute diversion, right in the middle of the great Leiber's range of production.  Three stars.

I was once told that my star rating system was flawed because it didn't account for story length.  I explained that, in fact, it does.  So I shall now pull the curtain back and show you how I calculate my magazine ratings:

There were eight pieces in this issue, seven of which scored 3 stars, and one of which scored 1.  The average is, thus, 2.875.

However, if one weights for page length, Glory Road takes up most of the magazine and drags things down.  That said, I don't have a direct ratio of pages to impact.  In other words, a piece that takes up two thirds of an issue doesn't comprise two thirds of the ultimate rating.  Here's my scale:

1-8 pages: 1 length point
9-19 pages: 2 length points
20-40 pages: 3 length points
41-70 pages: 4 length points
71+ pages: 5 length points

Arbitrary, but it keeps the calculations simple.  It also means I somewhat equalize the credit between a brilliant vignette and a brilliant novella. 

Using this method, this issue gets just 2.286 stars.

I then further flatten things out by averaging the two and rounding the result.  Thus, I get a final score 2.6 stars. 

In short, my system is about 3/4 based on the quality of pieces and 1/4 based on the length.  Agree or disagree, that's the system I've used for years so I now have to stick with it for consistency's sake.

And we all know what foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of…




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

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


by Gideon Marcus

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

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

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

Turn Off the Sky, by Ray Nelson

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

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

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

Fred, by Calvin Demmon

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

T-Formation, by Isaac Asimov

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, you read that right.

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

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

One star.

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

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

Sweets to the Sweet, by Paul Jay Robbins

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

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

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

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

E. Gary Gygax, Chicago, Ill.

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




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


by Gideon Marcus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Success, by Fritz Leiber

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

The Respondents, by Doris Pitkin Buck

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

With These Hands, by Kenneth Smith

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

The Isaac Winners, by Isaac Asimov

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

As Long as You're Here, by Will Stanton

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

McNamara's Fish, by Ron Goulart

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

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

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




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

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


by Gideon Marcus

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

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

The Time-Tombs, by J. G. Ballard

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

Saline Solution, by Keith Laumer

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

The Abandoned of Yan, by Donald F. Daley

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

The Wishbooks, by Theodore Sturgeon

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

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

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

Countdown, by Julian F. Grow

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

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

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

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

I, Executioner, by Ted White and Terry Carr

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

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

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

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




[December 9, 1962] (January 1963, IF Science Fiction)

[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

Ah, Winter.  That sleepy time of the year when the air gets chillier (such as it ever gets chilly in Southern California), work slows down a bit, and shopping for the holidays picks up.  The first night of Hannukah is the 21st, and then, of course, there's the big mid-Hannukah holiday (named after Chris, the patron saint of presents). 

And it's when I renew my subscriptions for science fiction magazines since they generally offer Christmas discounts!

December marks the new year, at least as far as periodicals go.  January-dated issues show up the month before, so I've already gotten a sneak preview into the next year.  First up is is the January 1963 IF, and if this be a harbinger, then next year will probably be a decent one:

The Five Hells of Orion, by Frederik Pohl

I have to wonder if Pohl gets paid the same rate as everyone else for stories he writes, given that he is the editor.  Of course, he should.  Pohl has been a writer for decades, and he produces good stuff.  Orion follows the tale of an young astrogator shanghaied across a thousand light years by aliens bent on forging an alliance with humanity.  The first half is very good.  The spaceman must navigate a set of intelligence tests and we gradually come to understand the intentions of the extraterrestrials.  The payoff is rushed, however; perhaps this would have made a better novel.  Three stars.

The Shipshape Miracle, by Clifford D. Simak

An atypical piece by Simak in which an incorrigible criminal crosses paths with the brother to The Ship Who Sang, to his ultimate dismay.  Well-written, like everything Simak does, but unexceptional.  Three stars for the story, but five stars for the excellent art!

This Way to the Egress, by Andrew Fetler

Fetler returns to IF with his second vignette, a subtle piece about the last hours of a social deviant.  I suspect Fetler has a day job given the paucity of work he's published in our field.  Three stars.

Essay in Coherence, by Theodore Sturgeon

This piece on LASERs (single-wavelength light beams of incredible intensity) shows that Sturgeon may soon give Asimov a run for his money with science articles.  It's witty and informative, and probably will be the genesis of countless short stories involving this brand-new technology.  Five stars.

Podkayne of Mars (Part 2 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

Part II of Heinlein's new juvenile(?) about Miss Poddy Fries and her space jaunt from Mars is a bit more readable than the last one, but it's still overwritten and gets bogged in detail.  This is the spiritual successor to The Menace from Earth I'd hoped to share with my daughter, but I don't think it's quite good enough.  Three stars for this installment.

Road Stop, by David Mason

A ghost story involving a haunted car…in a future when all cars are haunted by design.  The tale isn't plausible, in and of itself, but the world it paints feels like a possible tomorrow.  Three stars.

Fortress Ship, by Fred Saberhagen

Now here's an interesting one, by a newish author who's already turned out some good stuff.  Fortress introduces the concept of the "Beserker," giant automated robot ships created as doomsday weapons. They roam the galaxy, relics of a forgotten war, reducing populated planets into ashes.  It takes extraordinary courage and, more importantly, wit to defeat them.  But it is possible…  Four stars.

Captain of the Kali , by Gary Wright

The "IFirststory" competition netted a piece from freshly minted author Gary Wright.  A futuristic C.S. Forester is recruited to serve as guest admiral on an alien fleet of sail-driven warships.  A good first effort, though greater length and a few more sf trappings would have been nice.  Three stars.

When Whirlybirds Call, by Frank Banta

Last up is a satirical piece about a laconic big-game hunter and the coocoo-downdraft-peoplehawk-whirlybirds he is contracted to exterminate.  Cute while it lasts.  Three stars.

It's rare that I go from beginning to end of a mag and find no lousy stories.  This month's IF is solid (if not exceptional) entertainment, and as the cheapest of the digests (at 35 cents), it is definitely a bargain.




[October 9, 1962] Middlin' middle sibling (November 1962 IF Science Fiction)

[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

Another month, another load of science fiction digests delivered to my door.  Normally, they arrive staggered over several weeks (the various publishers know not to step on each other's toes – the field is now pretty uncrowded, so there's room for everyone to play), but since I was traveling the last week, I'd already accumulated a small pile upon my return.

Top of the month has been devoted to the magazines edited by famous author/agent Fred Pohl, e.g. Galaxy and IF — and starting next year, Worlds of Tomorrow!  The first two alternate every month, and odd months are IF's turn.  Thus, enjoy this review of the November 1962 IF Science Fiction, which was a bit of a slog leavened with bright spots:

Podkayne of Mars (Part 1 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

A few years ago, Robert Heinlein wrote A Menace from Earth.  Unlike virtually every other story to date, it starred (in 1st Person, no less) a precocious teen girl, and it was perhaps the first blend of science fiction and romance.  My 11 year-old (the Young Traveler) adored it and asked me if there was any more like it.  Sadly, there wasn't. 

Until this month. 

Heinlein's new novel, Podkayne of Mars, is another 1st Person piece from the viewpoint of a brilliant young woman.  Young Podkayne (Poddy) Fries dreams of becoming a spaceship captain, maybe the first to lead an expedition to the stars.  But to realize her dream, she has to get off of the Red Planet, a sort of futuristic Australia colonized by the best and worst of Terra's children. 

I tore into Podkayne with a gusto that slowly but inevitably waned.  Have you ever engaged in conversation with a promising raconteur only to find, after a few minutes, that her/his increasingly meandering tale doesn't and won't have a point?  And now you're stuck for the long haul.  That's Podkayne.  Heinlein simply can't divorce his rambly, screedy persona from his work.  The result is disturbing, as if there is a creepy old man lurking behind Podkayne's bright young blue eyes. 

The story is interesting enough to keep me reading, and I appreciate the somewhat progressive treatment of women, but this is a tale that would be served best if written by someone else.  Zenna Henderson might make it too moody; I suspect Rosel George Brown would render it perfectly.  Two stars for this installment, with some improvement at the end.

The Real Thing, by Albert Teichner

Value is determined by scarcity.  When the authentic article is easy to be had, and it is the counterfeit that is rare, we can expect the latter to climb in value.  Someday, we may find plastic to be more desirable than the material it emulates; or we may deem robots to be more human than people.  Teichner's story explores the latter idea as fully as a few pages will allow, and he pulls it off.  Three stars.

The Reluctant Immortals, by David R. Bunch

Bunch, on the other hand, writing of an overcrowded Earth that has become a driver's nightmare, does a less convincing job.  There's good artsy weird, and then there's tedious artsy weird.  Guess which one this is?  Two stars.

The Desert and the Stars, by Keith Laumer

IF has published a tale of Retief, that interstellar ambassador/superagent, every two months for the last year.  I'm glad Laumer will soon take a break from the character.  I won't say that this particular piece, in which Retief diplomatically foils an attempt by the Aga Kaga to poach the new farming colony of Flamme, is a story too far – but I think we're getting there.  Retief's exploits are getting a little too easy, almost self-parodying.  On the other hand, there are some genuinely funny moments in Desert, and the bit where the diplomat communicates solely in proverbs for several pages is a hoot.  Three stars.

The Man Who Flew, by Charles D. Cunningham, Jr.

A murder mystery in which a telepathic detective puzzles out the how and the who of the untimely demise of his client's wife; an event with which the detective seems to be uncannily familiar.  This is Cunningham's first work, and it shows.  It tries too hard at too worn a theme.  Two stars, but let's see how his next one goes.

Too Many Eggs, by Kris Neville

If the fridge you buy is sold at an unexplained deep discount, you may be getting more than you bargained for – especially if the thing dispenses free food!  I don't know why I liked this piece so much; it's just well done and unforced.  Four stars.

The Critique of Impure Reason, by Poul Anderson

Few things can ruin a bright mind like the field of modern literature criticism, and when the mind corrupted belongs to a highly advanced robot on whom the future of space exploitation depends, the tragedy is compounded manyfold.  Only the resurrection of a literary genre seemingly impervious to serious analysis is the answer.  Three stars, though the trip down grad school memory lane was a bit painful.

The Dragon-Slayers, by Frank Banta

A tiny, cute vignette of a simple Venusian peasant family with a dragon problem, and the gift from the boss that proves far more valuable than intended.  Three stars.

In all, 2.6 stars.  Once again, IF leaves the impression that it might someday be a great magazine if it ever grows up.  Nevertheless, no issue yet has compelled me to cancel the subscription, and several have made me glad of it.  May Galaxy's little sister flower into the beauty of the elder and set a good example for the new baby due next January…




[August 23, 1961] Lost in translation (Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land)


by Rosemary Benton

I enjoy my science fiction in the evenings, when I can open the windows and let my tortoise, Mabel, out of her cage to meander around my condominium.  Both of us love these night time relaxations as a way to expunge stress and enjoy new environments.  For me, I get the opportunity to stretch my mind with speculative fiction, while Mabel enjoys the more humble tortoise pleasure of exploring nooks and crannies. 

On one such recent evening I looked at Mabel and felt a coincidental connection between our activities. For whatever reason, she was choosing to repeatedly walk in a wobbly circle from the couch to the table, to the wall, to the bookshelf, and then back to the couch.  This wouldn't have struck me so powerfully except for the fact that I was reading Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein.  Like Mabel, I was not only willingly subjecting myself to drudgery, but I was engaged in a circular story that felt like it was going nowhere.

The premise of Stranger is interesting enough.  Conceived on Mars and raised by the Old Ones (the elders and collective holders of all Martian knowledge), Valentine Michael “Mike” Smith is the sole survivor of a scientific expedition sent from Earth to study the Red Planet.  Approximately 25 years and one world war later, mankind again makes a trip to Mars where they find Michael alive and well under the care of the Martians.  Mike makes the voyage back to Earth under the strict order of his surrogate parents, whereupon he is first taken to a hospital for observation by a purposefully all male staff. With his legal status up in the air, Smith is stuck between the odd position of being the Sovereign of Mars or a citizen of Earth's World Federation of Free Nations.  Eventually smuggled out of the hospital, Mike begins his life on Earth under the tutelage of his liberator, his lawyer, and his other “water-brothers”.  Stranger is the story of a man flung into an odd world of concepts, theories and rules, and the journey he takes to “grok” humanity and heal mankind of its self-inflicted wounds.

This is the story of the creation of a culture that is an amalgamation of human nature and Martian ideas.  It makes sense that on an Earth such as Heinlein creates, where religion is a powerful entity politically and socially, the journey of the main character would be one of a religious awakening.  A religious story of a naive boy growing into an enlightened man is virtually a cliche, but in the hands of the right author it can be given fresh life.  Was Heinlein the right author for this? Sort of. 

Despite my initial expectations about a story that promised to be part “coming of age” and part “survival in an alien culture”, Stranger in a Strange Land is a tedious read.  The first 200 pages are an almost moment-by-moment recount of The Man from Mars being brought to Earth, escaping the hospital with the help of a nurse named Gillian “Jill” Boardman, meeting her associate Jubal Harshaw, coming to trust Jubal and having lengthy and repetitive conversations with him as a burgeoning father figure/lawyer/interpreter/guide to human nature.

Often a conversation between characters will read like a transcript of a classrom group discussion set in wherein one person is the primary speaker and the rest of the group contributes small insights or asks for clarification.  Then the whole topic will be reintroduced, but from a different angle. It is immensely dry to read.

Heinlein takes great care to describe Mike's inner voice and his difficulty “grokking” or grasping human logic and concepts.  Slowly he teases out the special powers of perception and control over physics that Mike learned from the Martians.  At first, sections written from the perspective of Mike's mind were the most anticipated parts of the novel, but as Mike adapted and became more “human” in his thinking, the intrigue of his mind's workings likewise faded. 

Stranger contains a sizable cast of side characters including, but not limited to, the founder of the highly influential Church of the New Revelation (Fosterite), the Muslim semanticist Dr. "Stinky" Mahmoud, and Jubal Harshaw's three secretaries, Anne, Dorcas, and Miriam.  Numerous, yes, but not well-developed.  Very little is given as to the pasts of these or any of Heinlein's characters.

Indeed, aside from the snake handler and tattoo aficionado Patricia “Patty” Paiwonski, they are all shadows compared to the protagonist: Mike is the most rounded character given the necessity of explaining portions of his Martian upbringing.  Everyone else begins their arcs in the immediate present, and continues on from there.  I found this to be the most frustrating part of Stranger in a Strange Land (aside from the circular nature of many of the characters' interactions) for the simple fact that it doesn't give you much to grasp.  If the concept of a science fiction Mowgli-turned-philosopher type main character isn't enough to hold your interest for over 400 pages, you are somewhat out of luck, I'm afraid.

That being said, Stranger in a Strange Land's readability does significantly improve in the second half of the book.  As I mentioned earlier, Patty Paiwonski is introduced during the journeying stage of Mike's self-realization.  Not only does she grow to become an important member of Mike's Church of All Worlds but she is nearly 50 years old, covered in religious tattoos and artwork from the neck down, and described as, “associat[ing] with grifters and sinners unharmed” (271).

It is also at this point that the book really begins to dig into the complexities and issues of church-founding, culture versus religion, and the practice of Mike's teachings. Sex, God, the differences between men and women, all of this and more is played out in a far more digestible pace than in the early half of the book.

Jill Boardman's character really comes into her own as she finds liberation from social constraints with Mike's help.  Working as a showgirl while Mike is out amongst the population of America, she learns to enjoy her own body, feels the shame of voyeuristic tendencies fall away, and even takes on the role of teacher to Mike.  Through her he groks how to achieve the one thing he hasn't been able to feel – laughter.  Despite how interesting her transformation is from jealously guarding Mike to happily sharing him, her lessons at times can rub the reader in the wrong way.

For me it was hard to read about Mike's understanding of homosexuality. “ Mike would grok a “wrongness” in the poor in-betweeners anyhow – they would never be offered water” (303).  The fact that Heinlein acknowledges homosexuality is heartening.  There is very little mainstream fiction that addresses homosexuality with anything other than fear and contempt, but despite offering a kind of understanding and sympathy, it's piteous and exclusionary. T o never be offered water in the realm of Stranger means to never be offered the closeness and community that leads to ultimate happiness and physical well being.

The role of women in Mike's grokking of Earth is another point which unfolds in an intriguing but ultimately controversial way.  Jill's understanding of rape is highly repugnant.  I, for one, do not believe Jill's explanation that, “Nine times out of 10, if a girl gets raped, it's partly her fault” (304).

The strengthening of female minds and bodies is likewise seen by the handyman, Sam, as something that will cause problems for society.  “When a female conceives only as an act of volition, when she is immune to disease…and has her orientation so changed that she desires intercourse with a whole-heartedness that Cleopatra never dreamed of – but any male who tried to rape her would die so quickly, if she so grokked, that he wouldn't know what hit him?  When women are free of guilt and fear – but invulnerable?  Hell, the pharmaceutical industry will be a minor casualty – what other industries, laws, institutions, attitudes, prejudices, and nonsense must give way?” (401).

Jill's view on rape is never tested in a real case.  The societal outcome of women heartening their minds and bodies is not explored on a large scale.  In fact, precious little is.  While Stranger proposes a (somewhat) better society, it doesn't explore what such a society would look like in action outside of a small commune.

This is not to say that Stranger in a Strange Land isn't worth a read.  Though painful, dense and not altogether enjoyable, Stranger does have is noteworthy points.  The eroticism and communal living present titillating ideas.  Nevertheless, it feels claustrophobic with Heinlein's view of a conflict-less world.  In this is Heinlein's ultimate failing – there is just too little conflict in Stranger.  Society just effortlessly adapts and molds itself to Mike's teachings which, at the end of the day, all come from the philosophies of wealthy and well off people. 

To bring everything back to my earlier question of whether Heinlein was the right author to breathe new life into the story of religious awakening – Stranger in a Strange Land had the ideas, but is too verbose and simple.  Frankly, I'll stick with Heinlein for his Starship Troopers material.  He does far better when he allows himself to couch his moralizing in action adventure than when he presents unadorned explorations into the origins of cultural identity or the dissection of human nature.

Two and a half stars.  Five for originality.  One for execution.

[Dec. 22. 1959] Put a finer point on it (Starship Troopers)

It is common practice for serials published in science fiction digests to get turned into stand-alone novels. Not only does this constitute a nice double-dip for publishers and authors, but it offers the writer a chance to polish her/his work further.  Sometimes, the resulting product ends up something of a bloated mess.  In the case of Heinlein’s Starship Troopers, the novelization of Starship Soldier (which appeared in F&SF a couple of months ago), the opposite is the case.  Heinlein’s expanded story has turned a flawed gem into a masterpiece.

Left virtually intact are the first two acts as presented in F&SF.  Johnny Rico is a bright but rather callow youth who joins the "Mobile Infantry" without much forethought.  After an intense and vividly portrayed Basic Training, Rico becomes versed in the art of combat from within a suit of powered armor with enough power to destroy a 20th Century tank company.  He then goes off to fight an interstellar war against the "Bugs," a hive-mind race of Arachnoids, and their co-belligerents, the humanoid "Skinnies."  There is precious little depiction of combat, however, with the exception of a well-executed first chapter (Basic Training is described in flashback).

It was all well done, but the serial just sort of ends without much resolution or pay-off.  The novel includes a full third act wherein Rico is involved in a mission to capture one of the Bug "brains" for interrogation/experimentation purposes.  This is what the novel needed, and I have to wonder if Heinlein intended it to be there all the time, but was limited by space constraints.  It makes the book a must-have, and it is possibly the best thing Heinlein has written to date.

Of course, there is a bit more of the jingoistic, even Fascist pro-militarism speeches issuing from the mouths of various officers and professors.  I imagine a number of impressionable young folk will be motivated to enlist after reading the book.  I can only hope that we don't fight any major wars over the next decade or two, though so long as the minute hand on the F.A.S. Doomsday Clock remains at two minutes to Midnight, that seems wishful thinking.

Then again, so long as there are just 120 seconds to Armageddon, the next major war is likely to be very short.

Note: If you like this column, consider sharing it by whatever media you frequent most.  I love the company, and I imagine your friends share your excellent taste!

P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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[Dec. 02, 1959] The Menace from Earth!

With only four science fiction digests coming out per month (really three if you count Galaxy and IF as one monthly magazine instead of two bi-monthlies), I often fill my reading time with anthologies and novels.  Robert Heinlein has a new anthology of his works out, The Menace from Earth, which largely features stories I hadn't previously read.

Let's take a look, shall we?

Year of the Jackpot came out in Galaxy nearly eight years ago!  It was rightly anthologized in the 1952 Galaxy Reader as the lead story.  Statistician Potiphar Breen plots a trend to the increased silliness in the world and concludes that the Apocalypse is nigh.  Along with Meade Barstow, whom Potiphar meets while she is stripping bare at a bus stop (one datum of silliness), the unlikely hero manages to escape catastrophe when nuclear war breaks out.  But out of the frying pan…

I found By his Bootstraps, detailing the adventures of a time-looping fellow who crosses his own path several times, to be rather tedious.  There is an art to telling such stories so that one does not repeat the same scene over and over, just from different viewpoints.  This story was written before Mr. Heinlein developed that art. 

I'm sure I've read Sky Lift before, I think in Imagination.  A hotshot pilot is tasked with bringing fresh blood to a plague-ridden Pluto base.  He only has about a week, which means he'll have to pull nearly four gees of acceleration the entire way.  Will he make it?

Goldfish Bowl is a sad tale in which giant pillars of unknown origin appear in the Pacific Ocean, their tops lost in the stratosphere.  Two men explore the pillars only to be abducted and placed in the extraterrestrial (or perhaps hyperterrestrial) equivalent of a fishbowl—with only one way out.  Who are these aliens?  What do they want with us?  And can humanity be warned if and when the prisoners answer these questions?

The worst of the bunch is unquestionably Project Nightmare, a ridiculous tale in which the Soviets plant several dozen bombs in our biggest cities and hold the country hostage.  Only a team of psychics, working 'round-the-clock can save the day.  And then, just for kicks, blow up the Russkies.  Terrible.

Water is for Washing, about an earthquake causing the Imperial Valley to flood, is near and dear to my heart seeing how I grew up in its setting.  The Valley a miserable, desolate place—120 degrees in the summer and 25 degrees in the winter.  Yet it is an agricultural marvel, and there are good people who reside there.  If you've ever read The Winning of Barbara Worth, you'll get a good sense for what it's like, and you'll know why the place at which the protagonist stops for a drink early in the story is called the Barbara Worth Hotel!

I've saved the best for last.  The eponymous The Menace from Earth is simply a tour de force.  Told convincingly from the viewpoint of a 15-year old girl living on the moon, it is a story of teen love, angst, jealous, and low-gravity aerodynamics.  I gave the book to my 10-year old daughter so she could read this story, and she “loved it.” She asked if Heinlein wrote more stories like it, to which I had to reply in the negative.

I hate to leave things on a down note, however.  Do you know any stories written in a similar style?  Juveniles from the female point of view?  Please share!

All told, Menace is a book worth getting even though many of the stories have melancholy endings.  If you're still in the mood for Heinlein after this large portion, you can try picking up the other recently released anthology: The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag.  But that's a review for another day…

Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.

P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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