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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 14, 1967] Earth, Air, Fire, and Water (April 1967 Galactoscope)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Two new science fiction novels take readers from the dry land to the depths of the sea, and down from the sky in a burst of flames. Will they make proper use of the traditional four elements of ancient times, and reach the exalted level of the aether, that fabled quintessence that was of a more refined nature than the others? Let's find out.

Canada's Gift to American Science Fiction

Alberta-born writer Gordon Rupert Dickson, now living in the USA, has been publishing fiction since 1950. It's hard to say that there's a particular kind of Dickson story. He's written light comedy, such as the Hoka series with fellow Minnesotan Poul Anderson (currently a resident of the San Francisco region), all about aliens who look like teddy bears and cause trouble by imitating human beings. He's written entertaining adventure stories, some for a juvenile audience. In recent years, he's gained notice for more serious and thoughtful works.

His novella Soldier, Ask Not (Galaxy, October 1964), part of the Dorsai series, won the Hugo award, and the novelette Call Him Lord (Analog, May 1966) won the Nebula award less than a month ago. Will his latest novel add to his reputation?

The Past is Prologue


Cover art by Richard Powers.

It's something of a challenge to jump into The Space Swimmers without any preparation. The author throws a complex background at you in bits and pieces, and it's obvious that a lot has gone on before the novel begins. That's because it's a direct sequel to the novelette Home from the Shore (Galaxy, February 1963).


Cover art by Jack Gaughan.

Surf 'n' Turf

In brief, humanity has split into land dwellers and ocean dwellers. The sea people have developed abilities that make them valuable space explorers. Humans encounter the so-called space swimmers, beings that are gigantic in size but tiny in mass, beyond Mars. They die every time people try to capture them. This causes the sea folk to rebel, and withdraw their services from the space vessels of the land folk. The result is war, with the land dwellers destroying the underwater communities of the ocean dwellers.

This is where the novel begins. The war has cooled off slightly, although the land folk sometimes hunt the sea folk for sport, in the tradition of Richard Connell's famous story The Most Dangerous Game.

Our hero is Johnny Joya, who more-or-less instigated the rebellion of the sea folk in the novelette. He lives in isolation in the frigid waters of the Arctic with his young son Tomi after the death of his wife during the war. Tomi has even greater abilities than his father. The sea people can communicate with dolphins, but Tomi can also communicate with killer whales. Father and son become involved in an attempt to reconcile the two branches of humanity.

It seems the space swimmers can teleport instantaneously from one place in space to another. If Tomi can communicate with one of the mysterious creatures, he may be able to discover the secret of interstellar travel. Complicating matters is the fact that both sides have developed doomsday weapons that could wipe out the other.

I've only scratched the surface of a novel that has a heck of a lot going on in only one hundred and sixty pages. I haven't mentioned major characters or important subplots. Suffice to say that Dickson keeps things moving at a brisk pace.

There's a certain vagueness in some of the book's concepts that leads to confusion at times. We're told more than once that the ability of the sea people to communicate with dolphins is not telepathy, but this is left unexplained. Johnny works on problems by making use of so-called analogs (a nod to the magazine of the same name?) but I didn't understand how this was supposed to work.

It may seem unlikely that the sea people are willing to completely destroy life on land through a series of devastating earthquakes, and that the land people are willing to destroy all life in the ocean through modified disease organisms. The way each of these terrifying weapons is described, it seems as if either one would completely wipe out both sides. The fact that we live in an age of Mutually Assured Destruction (to make use of a term coined by Hudson Institute researcher Donald Brennan, appropriately known as MAD) may add some plausibility to this part of the book.

Worth reading, but I don't think it will win any awards. Three stars.

Sterling Silver

Native New Yorker Robert Silverberg has been an extremely prolific author in multiple fields since 1954. Not all of his work has been notable for its quality, it must be admitted, but he won a Hugo award in 1956 as the Most Promising New Author, beating out Harlan Ellison, Frank Herbert, and Henry Still. (Who? He hasn't published anything since 1961. Sic transit gloria mundi.)

I won't mention the many sex novels he's published under multiple pseudonyms, except to say that eroticism plays an important role in Those Who Watch, his latest novel (unless another one comes out while I'm writing this, given his speed at the typewriter.)

Three Times Two Equals Six


Anonymous cover art.

Aliens have been monitoring Earth for centuries, cruising the skies in flying saucers hidden from human eyes by a screening device.  One of the hundreds of saucers filling the atmosphere has a disastrous failure, causing it to explode over New Mexico.  The three crewmembers bail out, landing in separate areas and sustaining serious injuries.

The trio consists of two males and a female, all part of a mating group.  (We'll find out later that such a triad is normal for the aliens, although sometimes it's two females and a male.) Although not described in any detail, the extraterrestrials are small beings, each one wearing an artificially created human body.  Their real bodies are intimately connected with their external disguises, so they experience the pain of their damaged human bodies and other sensations.

At this point, the narrative alternates among the three aliens and the human being each one encounters. 

One extraterrestrial appears to be an ordinary man of middle years.  A young American Indian boy, living in a pueblo that keeps its traditional ways only to attract tourist dollars, brings him food and water while he recovers from a spine injury that renders him paralyzed.  In exchange, the highly intelligent lad, who figures out very quickly that he's dealing with an alien, learns about the other's native world.  He also acquires a piece of advanced technology that could be deadly.

Another alien takes the form of an extraordinarily handsome young man.  He gets aid from a young widow with a small child.  The two fall in love, in the first of two human/alien couplings we'll see.

Paralleling this is the mating between the female alien, disguised as a voluptuous woman, and a military man, bitter because a medical problem kept him from becoming an astronaut.  He and the widow eventually come together, after their alien lovers leave Earth.

Meanwhile, rival aliens, who also have hundreds of unseen flying saucers orbiting the planet, try to track down the three, in order to charge them with violating an agreement not to land on Earth.  (There seems to be a sort of Cold War going on between the two species.  Neither one is supposed to be on the surface of the planet, but they both have secret agents on Earth.)

This is a leisurely novel, despite the attempt to create suspense in the form of the enemy aliens.  Much of it consists of conversations between each of the three aliens and the human being that renders aid.  The two sexual encounters between a lonely human being and a benign extraterrestrial may be too much of a good thing. 

The sections of the novel about the American Indian boy are probably the best.  The author avoids stereotyping Indians, and shows a great deal of empathy for their situation in modern society.  Silverberg displays a gift for characterization in his intimate portraits of the three humans; perhaps not quite so much for the aliens.

He's still a promising, if not quite so new, author.  Three stars.


by Gideon Marcus

Ring in the Old

If Silverberg is a new old hand (or an old new hand), and Dickson is a plain old hand, then Murray Leinster is the oldest of hands.  In fact, Will Jenkins (Leinster's real name) has been a pubished author of scientifiction since 1919–before the genre even had a name.  Suffusing his work with a patina of scientific accuracy, up through the '50s, his name was a welcome one on the masthead of any magazine.  I particularly enjoyed his Med Series tales of Dr. Lincoln Calhoun and his pet/assistant, Murgatroyd.

Those happy days are years in the past, and as John Boston and I can tell ya, his latest works have been phoned in…from a booth in Duluth that hasn't been serviced in decades.  Thus, it was with trepidation that I picked up Leinster's latest, Miners in the Sky.

It's actually not bad.

Set in the lawless rings of the planet Thutmose, a Saturn analog in a star system far from Earth, it details the perils faced by a space miner named Donne.  He's no sooner set foot on the trade asteroid of Outlook, a sizable rock within Thutmose's rings, when his little "donkeyship" explodes.  He quickly deduces that word has (mistakenly) gotten out that he has discovered the Big Rock Candy Mountain, a bonanza rock laden with the "abyssal crystals" that facilitate solar system travel.  Donne must get off Outlook as soon as possible: his partner, Keene, is stuck on the ringlet they are mining.  He may run out of air, or worse, already have also been the target of an assassination.  Complicating things is the arrival of Keene's sister, Nike, who insists on coming with Donne.  So begins a long chase through the rings of Thutmose, with a murder-inclined criminal on Donne and Nike's heels.

I had worried that the story would be simply a gussied up Western, but there's a bit of physics and a lot of pretty description of the Thutmosian locale that makes Miners reasonably SFNal.  To be sure, it is written in Leinster's current mode: all short sentences, lots of exclamation marks, and characterization as shallow as a kiddie pool.  Add to that the several times Leinster points out that, as a woman, Nike "instinctively" looks to a man for help. 

Miners in the Sky will definitely win no awards.  It is yet another in a long line of stories cranked out on autopilot to pay the bills.  Still, I don't regret the time I took reading the book.  Sometimes, all you need is a little adventure.

Three stars.




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[December 2, 1966] Mixed Bags (January 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

November was no more or less eventful than most months, but nothing really caught my eye. The Republicans made modest gains in the mid-term elections, California elected a so-so actor as governor and New Orleans is getting a football team in what certainly looks like recompense to Representative Hale Boggs and Senator Russell Long for shepherding the merger of the American and National Football Leagues through Congress. But there’s really nothing there to talk about. So, as with the last time this happened, let’s talk about the art.

Art matters

Regular readers of this column will know that I am often less than complimentary to the art in IF, especially the interior illustrations. There have been some changes in Fred Pohl’s stable of artists over the last year, some, but not all, for the better. John Giunta seems to have disappeared entirely, but several artists have stepped in to fill his shoes. We’re seeing a lot more from Wallace Wood and his assistant and imitator Dan Adkins, neither of whom is all that good, despite their years in the industry. On the other hand, Virgil Finlay has returned after a long absence, and he’s one of the best in the business.

We’re also seeing more of the mononymous Burns after a short absence. Unfortunately, his current style seems to combine the worst of Nodel and Giunta (and I like Giunta’s work generally). This month brings us a new artist: Vaughn Bodé. His figures are a bit cartoony, but not objectionable. I also like his landscape and VTOL aircraft. I won’t be sorry if we see more of his work.

A return to form

Something of a mixed bag in this month’s IF. A decent end to one serial and a promising start to a new one. A silly story and something experimental from established writers. Let’s take a closer look.


Just for a change, the cover actually depicts something inside. Art by Morrow

Continue reading [December 2, 1966] Mixed Bags (January 1967 IF) →

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 2, 1966] At Heart (November 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

Throughout the millennia in every human culture, the heart has been a key symbol. From the center of the body to the seat of life, emotion, mind or soul, its meaning varies, but it is always important. These days, it’s mostly a symbol of love, but it’s also connected with courage and desires of other kinds. It can also mean the center of something, from arguments to artichokes. Whatever it may mean, you gotta have it.

Hearts of darkness and light

It’s been a rough month for the civil rights movement. On September 2nd, Alabama governor George Wallace signed a bill refusing Federal education funds, believing that will prevent the integration of Alabama schools. Two days later, the Congress of Racial Equality marched in Cicero, Illinois and was met by a mob hurling rocks and bottles. By the end, 14 were injured and nearly 40 people (mostly white) had been arrested. But the ugliest scenes were in Grenada, Mississippi.

Back in June, the March Against Fear passed through Grenada, and marchers spent about a week there. Town officials appeared cooperative. They gave police protection to the marchers, six Black voter registrars were hired and 1,000 Black voters were registered. But it was all for show. Once the country’s attention moved on, the registrars were fired, and it was discovered that none of the voters were actually registered. The Southern Christian Leadership Conference set up shop in town and went to work.

In August, a Federal judge ordered Grenada to allow Black students to enroll in previously all white schools. Many parents took advantage of this, but a campaign of intimidation caused many to change their children’s enrollment to Black schools. School started on the 12th, and things went smoothly at one elementary school, but it was very different at the local high school. A white mob prevented Black students from entering the school, chasing Black children through the streets and beating them with chains and pipes. They even attacked reporters. And the police turned a blind eye to the whole thing. Federal protection finally arrived for the children on the 17th.


Martin Luther King walking children to school in Grenada, Mississippi. Photo by Bob Fitch

A few days earlier, a car carrying Martin Luther King and some other SCLC leaders was stopped at a red light in Grenada. A man at a nearby gas station recognized him, ran over, stuck a gun in Dr. King’s face and threatened to blow his brains out. Dr. King simply looked the man in the eye and said, “Brother, I love you.” Stunned, the man lowered his gun and walked away. That is a heart full of courage and love.

Hearts of men and robots

From the heart of battle to the heart of the galaxy, this month’s IF is full of action. Let’s dive right in.


Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots dispute the best way to care for humans. Art by Adkins

Continue reading [October 2, 1966] At Heart (November 1966 IF) →

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Magazine/Anthology

[May 10, 1966] Rocky Jaunts (June 1966 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Real-life Adventures

Out in the southeast corner of California is a hidden treasure, a beautiful national park known as Joshua Tree, named for the surreal plants that characterize the region.  And in the heart of a tiny, unincorporated community there, resides the place called Space Cowboy Books.

Jean-Paul Garnier, the Space Cowboy, invited us out to see the spring bloom in the wilderness.  We were able to take him up on his offer too late to see the flowers, but we did see some amazing petroglyphs and water/wind eroded facades.  Even better was the absolute quiet of the place, the aural equivalent of a dark sky (which they also have there).

Of course, it was a several hour trip up Highway 395, over Highway 60 to Interstate 10, and then up Highway 62, which terminates at Joshua Tree. 

But we had beautiful scenery, each other for conversation, and a brand new 8-track player in the car for music.

I also had the newest issue of Galaxy, which I was able to read while the Young Traveler drove.  Ah, the luxury of having children!

And so, a tour of the trips I went on while on a trip:

Fictional Adventures


by Gray Morrow

Heisenberg's Eyes (Part 1 of 2), by Frank Herbert


by Dan Adkins

Frank Herbert is back.  Hooray.

Actually, the setup's not too bad: It's the far future, and humanity has complete control of its genetic destiny.  Society is divided between the dronish "Sterries" (sterile humans), the occasional persons who can have potentially viable offspring, and the immortal (but also sterile) Optimen, who run everything, a triumverate's administration lasting a century.

Children cannot be borne the natural way; for an embryo to make it to maturity, a doctor's intervention is required.  So begins Eyes, on the eve of a "cutting" that will turn the artificially united progeny of a Mr. and Mrs. Durant into a human being — perhaps even an Optiman.

But before the horrified gaze of the assigned surgeon, some external force modifies the fertilized ovum, making the modification to immortal perfection impossible.  An expert is called in, who salvages the embryo, but in the process causes it to become that rarest of beasts: a nascent human that can reproduce on its own.  Such a thing is strictly forbidden, yet the expert and his accomplice nurse take pains to ensure that the contraband embryo's nature is hidden from the world.  Or so they think.

This takes up about half of this installment, and so a quarter of the book.  I have to give credit to Herbert's ability to spew a half dozen pages of medical jargon and keep it interesting. 

Things slow down in the second half, when we meet the ruling trio and discover that the plot has wheels within wheels.  It also involves an underground race of Cyborgs, who have been biding their time for tens of thousands of years to regain ascendancy over the planet, though they are as clueless about how the modification of the Durant's child occurred as everyone else.  Part 1 ends with the first shots being fired in a renewed war between the Optimen culture and the Cyborgs.

A couple of issues: Eyes is written in typical Herbertian style, which is to say in this weird third person omniscient viewpoint that switches characters every sentence and overuses italicized depiction of internal monologues.  Perhaps, as one of the oligarchs states in Eyes, "Efficiency is the opposite of Craftsmanship," but I still think the story could have been a lot better at half the length in the hands of someone else.  Like Dune.  Also, no society remains static for tens of thousands of years — not Egypt and not the weird world of Eyes.  And then, of course, there's the pseudo-telepathy the Durants enjoy that involves a code of finger presses.  It reminds me of shows where a paragraph of Morse code can be deduced from four dots and a dash.

Anyway, three stars for now.  Herbert's done worse, and I've yet to see him do much better.

Priceless Possession, by Arthur Porges

In the depths of space, the 23rd Century equivalent of the ambergris-bearing whale is the anenome-like "Star Sailor" or "S-2."  Its micron thin sail, produced over thousands of years, is the most valuable commodity in the universe.  On board a particular merchant ship, an Ensign and a Lieutenant find their cupiditous designs hindered by a captain who believes he is in telepathic communication with the current prey.

It's not a happy story, but it's pretty good.  Three stars.

For Your Information: Brownian Motion, Loschmidt's Number and the Laws of Utter Chaos, by Willy Ley

Beginning with an explanation of the word 'gas' (which is as deliberately coined as 'radar' or 'Kleenex'), Ley goes on a whirlwind trip through the history of fluid dynamics.  It's one of Ley's better pieces, though a little rushed and occasionally following the pattern of the Brownian Motion he ultimately explains.

But then, that's history for you.  Four stars.

The Eskimo Invasion, by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Out in the wilds of Canada, an anthropologist has made a terrible discovery: a tribe of "Eskimos" are really something else, the female of their species infinitely appealing…and able to have children every month.  And they worship the Great Bear, a Cthulhu-esque entity that will devour/conquer/lead the world.  Can Dr. West make it back in civilization to warn humanity?

This is a well-written tale, but the premise is so dumb that I found myself irritated with it after a night's contemplation.  Two stars.

Galactic Consumer Report No. 2: Automatic Twin-Tube Wishing Machines, by John Brunner

The second in Brunner's Consumer Report series (the last dealing with budget time machines), this piece offers recommendations for and cautions against various models of "Wishing Machines," which are supposed to be able manufacture anything.  Not as amusing as the last one, but diverting enough.

Three stars.

This piece is followed by Algis Budrys' books column, which I am increasingly enjoying.  I read this latest one, describing Sheckley's Tenth Victim, Wilhelm and Thomas' The Clone, and Brunner's The Squares of the City for its humorous commentary and the illustration of the signs of good and bad editing and publishing.

When I Was Miss Dow, by Sonya Dorman

On a planet of amorphous proteans, a young, sexless being destined to become Warden of its people, takes on a human female form in order to more easily interact with the Terran mission to the planet.  As Miss Martha Dow, said creature falls fake head over custom-built heels with an elderly biologist — and ultimately, the feelings are reciprocated.

I found myself really enjoying this unrestrainedly emotional piece, intertwining human and alien feelings in a vivid manner.  This is the first published piece by Dorman using her full first name (previously, she had simply been "S"), and I'm delighted that she finally feels comfortable enough to use it.  I know I always look forward to her byline!

Four stars.

Open the Sky, by Robert Silverberg


by Gray Morrow

At long last, we come to (what I believe to be) the conclusion of Silverberg's Blue Fire series.  It's been a long trip, with five entries spanning more than a half-century of history.  We've seen the Vorster religion arise, a spiritualist cult of the atom worshiping the blue flame of a cobalt reactor.  We've watched as the cult schismed and the green-robed Harmonists made their sect more overtly religious and converted the colonists of toxic Venus.  Last installment, the Harmonist martyr, Lazarus, was ressurected by Vorst for purposes unknown.

Now we know why: on Venus, the genetically modified human espers have developed faster than light teleportation.  Vorst wants to use them to power the first interstellar starship.  To do this, he needs to reunite the religions — and Lazarus owes him a favor.  Luckily, Vorster knows this will all work out: he is a precog, after all…

The writing of this final installment is as good as ever, and it's nice to see all of the pieces fall into place.  However, the story as a whole suffers from the common failing of all stories involving precognition.  When you know how a story will, nay, must end, the tension is gone.  All that's left is the exposition.

By itself, Open the Sky will be confusing and unengaging to the new reader.  As the capstone to an epic, it serves its purpose adequately but not stunningly. Thus, I award three stars for the section, and four stars for the work as a whole, treating it as the serialization of a novel whose publication is as inevitable as Vorster's trip to the stars.

Journeys' End

All in all, it's been a good weekend, both in the real world and within the world of fiction.  While Pohl's magazine could not quite consistently offer the spectacle that Jean-Paul of Joshua Tree treated us to, nevertheless, it did end up on the positive end of the ledger.

In any event, two trips for the price of one is a good deal!  Why don't you take the June Galaxy along with you on your next jaunt and enjoy the same experience?

And while you're on your journey, tune in to KGJ, our radio station!  Nothing but the newest hits!




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Book

[March 10, 1966] Top Heavy (April 1966 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Stacked

For as long as I can remember, American culture has really liked people who have extra on top.  Whether it's Charles Atlas showing off his wedge-shaped physique or Jayne Mansfield letting herself precede herself, we dig an up front kind of person.

So I suppose it's only natural that this month's issue of Galaxy put all of the truly great material in the first half (really two thirds) and the rest tapers away to unremarkable mediocrity (though, of course, I'm obligated to remark upon it).

Dessert first


by Jack Gaughan

The Last Castle, by Jack Vance


by Jack Gaughan

Millenia after the Six-Star war, Earth has been resettled in a series of citadels by a league of aristocrats.  Their stratified society disdains the wretched nomads who remained on the birthplace of humanity, instead living an effete life served by a variety of caste-bound aliens: The ornamental Phanes, the laboring Peasants, the conveying Birds, and the technician Meks. 

That is, of course, until one and all, the Meks rebel.  They sabotage the human equipment and begin a methodical campaign to destroy all of the castles.  Presently, only mighty Hagedorn remains.  Can our race survive?  Should it?

In the Algis Budrys' review column this month, he laments that Frank Herbert could have made a real epic out of Dune if someone had told him they don't have to be 400+ pages long.  After all, the Odyssey, the original epic, is less than 200.  And Jack Vance has created a masterfully intricate and beautiful epic in just 60. 

There is sheer art in beginning a story in medias res, then retelling the opening scene with further detail, and then elaborating still further on this scene once more, and the result being utterly compelling.  Storytellers take note: Jack Vance knows his craft.  Not since The Dragon Masters (also Vance's) has there been such economy of impact.

Five stars.

The Crystal Prison, by Fritz Leiber

The Last Castle is a hard act to follow.  Luckily, the aforementioned Budrys column forms a refreshing interlude.  I don't always agree with Budrys, but the instant article is passionate and poetic.

Leiber's piece is rather throwaway, about two ardent striplings barely in their thirties, suffocating under the oppressive ministrations of their several century-old great-grandparents.  He is forced to wear a padded suit, and She must wear a virtual nun's habit.  Both are required to have eavesropping electronics on their persons at all time.  Oh, the old biddies mean well, but is that living?

The young'ns don't think so, and thus they hatch a plan to get away.

Three stars for this trifling cautionary tale.

Lazarus Come Forth!, by Robert Silverberg


by Jack Gaughan

Ah, but then back to the meat.  We've now had three tales in Silverberg's Blue Fire series, involving a pseudo-scientific cult (reminiscent of Elron Hubbored's, in fact) having taken over the Earth circa 2100.  Author Silverbob clearly intends making a book out of all of these, and Editor Fred Pohl is probably delighted to be able to stretch out a thinly disguised serial in his magazine. 

In this latest installment, which features lots of characters we've met before, we finally get to see Mars of the future.  The Red Planet has chosen neither the cobalt-worshipping Vorsterism of Earth nor the heretical Harmonism sect that is taking Venus by storm.  But the individualistic Martian culture is thrown for a loop when they discover the tomb of Lazarus, founder of the Harmonists.  According to legend, Lazarus had been martyred.  Actually, he is simply in cold sleep, and the Vorsterites now have the ability to restore him.

But is this merely providence or part of old man Vorster's long range plan?

By itself, I suppose it might only merit three stars, but I really like this series, and I was happy to see more.

So… four stars.

The Night Before, by George Henry Smith

When the world is going to pot, and atomic annihilation seems a button press away, it's natural to seek out wiser heads to right things.  And when all of humanity has gone nuts, your only option is to look elsewhere for guidance.

And hope they aren't in the same boat…

Smith is a new name to me, though my friends assure me he appeared in the lesser mags in the '50s and that he maintains a decent career outstide the genre.  Three stars for this somewhat inexpert yet oddly compelling story throwback of a story.

For Your Information: The Re-Designed Solar System, by Willy Ley

One of the fun things about being a science writer for decades is being able to compare the state of knowledge at the beginning of your career to that at the current moment of writing.  Ley was penning articles back when Frau im Mond debuted, more than 30 years before the first interplanetary probes.  In this latest piece, he talks about how our view of the planets has changed in these three decades.

Good stuff, interspersed with pleasant doggerel.

Four stars.

Big Business, by Jim Harmon

And now, after admiring the impressive pectoral, the well formed abdominal, and the fetching pelvic zones, we arrive at the sickly thighs, the slack calves, and the flat feet.  What remains is serviceable — after all, the body still stands — but little more can be said of these lower extremities.

Jim Harmon's piece is one of those overbroad talk pieces.  In this one, a man from the future and an extraterrestrial compete against each other for the patronage of a rich old cuss who'll see humanity burn if he can keep warm by the fire.

It's not very good.  Two stars.

The Primitives, by Frank Herbert


by Wallace Wood

Speaking of throwbacks, this is the tale of Conrad "Swimmer" Rumel, a man of surpassing intelligence but brutish appearance who, as a result, turns to a life of crime.  He ends up blowing up a Soviet sub to steal a Martian diamond, but the only one who can cut the thing is a four-breasted Neanderthal stonecutter from 30,000 B.C.  Can the neolithic Ob carve the diamond before the mobster fence's impatience proves Rumel's undoing?

Herbert crams a lot of science fiction canards into this short story (which is still half again as long as it needs to be).  It's got the same writing crudities that plague the author, but somehow I stayed engaged to the end. 

A low three stars.

Devise and Conquer, by Christopher Anvil

A joke story in which the American race problem is solved by the simple expedient of making it impossible to know what race anyone is.

Less annoying than when he appears in Analog — another low three.

Twenty-Seven Inches of Moonshine, by Jack B. Lawson


by Jack Gaughan

Finally, we peter our with this nothing "non-fact" article about fishing on the Moon in the 21st Century.  Maybe I'd have enjoyed it more if I were a rod and reel man.  Or if it were science fiction.

Two stars.

Shave a little off the bottom

Of course, the ironic thing about all this is that if you took out the subpar stuff, you'd still have a full issue's worth of material.  Ah, but people already grouse about having to pay that extra dime (Galaxy is 60 cents; the other mags are 50) for 194 pages.  They'd scream their heads off if Galaxy went to 128.  So, we end up with a mag that looks great from the waist up, but less good as you gaze goes down.

Ah well.  You can still do a lot, even with half a loaf.  Or a pair of pastries.

The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well!  If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article!  Thank you for your continued support.

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Serial

[January 8, 1966] Seems like old times (February 1966 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Nostalgia

Stop me if you've heard this one before ("Stop!  Stop!") but when I picked up that first issue of Galaxy Science Fiction magazine in October 1950, I was hooked.  I had encountered SF previously, as a kid with Edgar Rice Burroughs, H. G. Wells, and Jules Verne.  I'd devoured L. Frank Baum's works.  And through the 30s and 40s, I leafed through the odd issue of Astounding.  But it wasn't until I read H. L. Gold's mag that SF really seduced me.  Here were mature stories for adults going beyond the "gimmick" story.

In 1954, I became voracious, buying every mag in sight.  Some were worthy, like Fantasy and Science Fiction, Satellite, Beyond and (often) Astounding and Fantastic Universe.  Others were…less than worthy: Amazing, Infinity, Imagination, Super Science, and on and on.  But I read them all.  I was hooked.

Gold left the editorship in 1961, and the esteemed Fred Pohl took over.  The magazine has been in a bit of a holding pattern since the turn of the decade, rarely being outright bad, but rarely evoking the heights of those first few years of publication, when virtually every story was a stunner.

The latest issue is a stunning return to form. 

The Issue at Hand


by Virgil Finlay

Under Old Earth, by Cordwainer Smith

The enigmatic Mr. Smith has been a staple of Galaxy from early days, and I understand he is one of the folks Mr. Pohl regularly visits to obtain new stories.  Under Old Earth is the latest installment in the Instrumentality series, portraying a happy, fatuous humanity atop a slave class of altered beasts and robots. 

In this particular story, Sto-Odin, a dying Lord of the Instrumentality heads to the Gebiet, the vast underworld separate from the laws and enforced happiness of the surface world.  There, he expects to find the vital spark of humanity that can restore the race.  He encounters a self-styled Sun-God who has purloined a piece of the congohelion, a vast structure that regulates the output of stars, to make inhumanly powerful music.  And tending his altar is Santuna, dismayed with what the Sun-God has become, and destined for a great role in the eventual Rediscovery of Man.

As always, it is lyrical and lovely, different from anything else you'll ever read.  Four stars.


by Virgil Finlay

Courting Time, by Tom Purdom

The excellence continues with this marvelous treatment of polygamy in the mid-21st century on the eve of a great world fair: A composer in love with a woman comprising one eighth of an 8-way marriage wishes to become the next spouse in the cluster.  But he has strong competition in the form of a ruthless and irresistable playboy.  What's a lovelorn fellow to do?

Tom happens to be a friend of mine, and here are his notes on the genesis of this tale:

I got the idea several years before I wrote the story, when one of the older women in the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society told me she thought every woman needed four husbands, each one good at a different specialty–making money, romance, companionship, parenting.  I felt that would work for men, too.

Most stories about group marriage that I'd read, it seemed to me, were stories about group sex.  Courting Time is about the sociology of marriage.  It owes something to Morton Hunt's The Natural History of Love, a book about the history of Western ideas about sex and marriage.  Hunt concludes that our modern vision of marriage essentially demands that a two person relationship fulfill all the needs people once satisfied with their relationships with larger groupings like the extended family.  You're supposed to find one person who can be your business partner, sexual partner, romantic partner, parent to your children, and lifelong companion.  No single individual can do a five star job in all those roles.

I really liked the idea of the global world's fair.  The world fair in New York was going on at that time and I asked myself what a world fair might look like in the future.

I called the story "Courting".  I like one word titles.  Fred Pohl changed it to "Courting Time", querying my approval, which has more of a lilt.

Other than Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, Courting Time is the only SF story dealing with polygamy I've read in recent history.  It's a very good story, though it could use a little more development with the protagonist's falling in love with each of the spouses.  Tom agrees with my four star assessment.

Read it!

For Your Information: The Wreck of La Lutine, by Willy Ley

160 years ago, the gold ship, La Lutine, was capsized in a storm off the coast of Holland.  Since then, numerous attempts of increasing sophistication have been made to recover the lost bullion, with limited success.  Ley's account of these efforts is fascinating — maybe the Journey should put together a recovery mission of its own!

Four stars.

The Echo of Wrath , by Thomas M. Disch

Little Ilisveta, an eight year old Martian, is bored with her rough frontier life and yearns for something better, something like the Earth-trotting days her grandfather Dmitri and grandmother Sally enjoyed some sixty years prior.  But such a life can never be.

Echo is a relatively unremarkable story until the end, which struck me in the gut with the force of a train.  You've done it again, Mr. Disch.

Four stars.

Where the Changed Ones Go, by Robert Silverberg


by Jack Gaughan

Just last issue, Robert Silverberg gave us the second in a series one might call Blue Fire, a collection of loosely related novellas set in a future where the secular scientific religion of Vorsterianism has achieved currency across the Earth. 

But not across the planets.  The aloof Martians and the arrogant Venusians will have no truck with the Vorsterians.  However, for some reason, the heretical Harmonists have managed to get a foothold on the hostile second planet from the Sun.  So Nicholas Martell, a Vorsterian minister from Earth discovers when he runs across Brother Mondschein (who we met in the last story), who warns Martell that his errand is futile.

Martell, who has undergone a massive physical alteration just to live on Venus, will not be easily deterred — especially as he seems to have found his first potential convert, a young boy with the power of telekinesis.

Silverberg's Venus might as well be a random alien world, so little resemblance does it bear to the actual Venus.  Astronomical quibbles aside, however, it's a fine story.

Four stars.

Eye of an Octopus, by Larry Niven

The first expedition to Mars finds Martians, and they're far more like (and unlike!) humans than they could have imagined.  Is the well they discover for drinking or something else?

A well-drawn little puzzle story.  We've taken to reading Niven stories, when they come out, at bedtime.  Janice appreciated the wealth of detail briefly described and gave it four stars.  Lorelei was less thrilled, giving it a solid three.

I'd split the difference if I could, but it's not a novel, so I can't.  I'd say it's a worthy three star tale.

In the Imagicon, by George H. Smith

What do you give to the man who has everything?  Why, nothing of course.  A whole lot of it. 

And vice versa.

Smith is a fellow who used to write for the lesser mags back in the 50s.  He's been AWOL pretty much since I started the Journey so, until I did some digging, I thought he was a new author rather than a veteran.

Anyway, Imagicon is a pretty obvious tale.  Not bad, just primitive by Galaxy's standards.  I wavered between two and three stars, but just as suspots are pale in comparison to their surroundings despite their great heat, so Imagicon suffers for being in the company of so many good stories.

Two stars.

Mulligan, Come Home!, by Allen Kim Lang

Okay, Imagicon does have the virtue of being next to the only dud story in the issue.  Lang's tale is about a fix-it man dispatched by the government to find the elusive trickster and malcontent Mulligan Mondrian.  Along the way, we get Mondrian's full life history, detailing his start as a two-bit con man and womanizer and onward to his culmination as a larger-than-life, interplanetary con man and womanizer.

Some cute turns of phrase, but the story collapses under the weight of its own attempted cleverness.

Two stars.

The Age of the Pussyfoot (Part 3 of 3), by Frederik Pohl


by Wallace Wood

At last, we come to the thrilling conclusion of The Age of the Pussyfoot, the misadventures of a 20th Century man unfrozen after death in a 26th Century utopia.  When last we left Chuck Forrester, he had not only been fired by his alien employer, he had unwittingly been an accomplice to the alien's escape from Earth.  But when the Sirian left, presumably to return at the head of an invasion, he left the penniless Forrester nearly $100 million.

But profound wealth does little to assuage the guilt of the man out of time, especially when he is abandoned by all his newfound friends and his romantic partner.  Is he the lynchpin to humanity's salvation or its ruin?

A sparkling, farcical story, just serious enough to keep your attention, Pussycat reads like a Sheckley short story at novel length (Pohl succeeds here where Sheckley, himself, usually can't quite make long pieces work).

That said, it's a little too sketchy and silly to merit four stars.  Call it three and a half — worth reading, but probably not good enough to clinch a Galactic Star this year.

Summing Up

What a good issue this was!  3.4 stars is nothing to sneeze at.  In fact, it might well end up being the best mag of the month, though we still have five more titles to review.  If you're a long time Galaxy reader, enjoy this breath of fresh air.  And if you're new to Galaxy, perhaps this issue will tempt you into a subscription, just as that first issue did for me more than fifteen years ago…




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 10, 1965] Strangers in Strange Lands (December 1965 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Time for the Stars

I was having a lovely conversation with fellow traveler Kris about the mixed reviews for the British anthology show, Out of the Unknown.  Some critics are saying the stories aired would have been better served in a conventional setting rather than on Mars or wherever.

Indeed, this has been a common complaint for decades, that science fiction should be uniquely SF with stories that depend on some kind of scientific difference/unique setting, even if many of the trappings are familiar.

Galaxy is a magazine that has led this charge since its inception in 1950 and it therefore comes as no surprise that this month's issue features a myriad of settings that are in no way conventional, backdrops for stories that could take place in no genre but science fiction.

Citizens of the Galaxy


by John Pederson, Jr.

The Mercurymen, by C. C. MacApp

On the face of things, Mercury would seem a most inhospitable planet for colonization.  Until this year, the general conception of things was that the innermost planet of our solar system was tidally locked, presenting just one baked hemisphere eternally toward the sun, while the other remained in perpetual frigid night.


by Gray Morrow

C. C. MacApp offers up a most imaginative tale set on this half-cooked world.  The planet, or at least the twilight zone between the hot and cold sides, is overrun with the vines of a plant, the interiors of which are large enough and contain sufficient air and water to support human inhabitants.  How they plant came about or how the settlers came to dwell in them is a mystery, but hundreds of years later, the colonists have reverted to near savagery.  The ecosystem of the vines provides most of their needs: latex for vacuum suits, luminescent mold for light, oxygen-producing fungus for air.  But for precious metals and for new soil for crops, the denizens must venture into the airless waste outside.

Similarly, population pressure periodically forces tribes to split, members of a certain age tasked to form a new settlement further along the vine. The Mercurymen is the tale of Lem, eldest son of a recently expired chief, who leads a party out over the bleak landscape of Mercury in search of a new hope.  Along the way, he must deal with a deadly environment, hostile tribes, and treachery within the group.

Because so many of the concepts are alien, even as the characters are human, The Mercurymen can occasionally be a detailed, hard read.  Nevertheless, I appreciated MacApp's world building quite a lot, and I was carried along with Lem on his engaging, difficult adventure.  The novella would merit expansion into full length novel though the following discovery may require a complete change in setting to make it work:

From Nature, Volume 208, Issue 5008, pp. 375 (October 1965):

Rotation Period of the Planet Mercury, by McGovern, W. E.

The recent radar measurements of Mercury indicate that the period of rotation of the planet is 59 +/- 5 days1. This result is in complete disagreement with the previously quoted value of 88 days based on the visual observations of the markings on Mercury2-6. In this communication we show that the same visual observations can not only be reconciled with the radar-determined rotation period of Mercury but, in addition, can be used to derive an improved value for the period of rotation of the planet, namely, 58.4 +/- 0.4 days.

Yes, Mercury isn't tidally locked at all, and the stories that made use of this presumption are now all obsolete.  Editor Pohl may even have known this even when he put this issue to bed, as the news first broke in June.

Still, it's a good story, and again, you can squint your eyes and pretend it takes place on a different one-face world entirely.

Three stars.

Galactic Consumer Reports No. 1: Inexpensive Time Machines, by John Brunner

The latest Galaxy non-fact article is written in the style of the venerable magazine Consumer Reports, offering evaluation of six cut-rate personal time machines. 

The aforementioned Kris noted that there seem to be two John Brunners: one who writes Hugo-worthy material like The Whole Man and Listen! The Stars… and another who churns out hackwork.  I'd say this piece is representative of a third Brunner, neither outstanding nor unworthy.  It's a cute piece, although I would have appreciated a little more time travel in it.

Three stars.

Laugh Along With Franz, by Norman Kagan


by John Giunta

In a disaffected future, "None of the Above" (the so-called "Kafka" vote) threatens to become the electoral candidate of choice.

More pastiche of outlandish societal explorations than tale, I found myself falling asleep every few pages.  I'm afraid Norm Kagan continues not to do it for me.

One star.

For Your Information: The Healthfull Aromatick Herbe, by Willy Ley

A rather defensive Willy Ley discusses the history of tobacco in his latest science article.  It's actually pretty interesting, though I am no closer to taking up the still-ubiquitous pasttime than I was before.

Four stars.

The Warriors of Light, by Robert Silverberg


by Jack Gaughan

In the previously published story, Blue Fire, Silverberg introduced us to an Earth of the late 21st Century, one that worships the Vorster cult.  Vorster and his disciples cloak the scientific pursuit of immortality with a bunch of religious mumbo jumbo, complete with a rosary of the wavelengths of light.

Warriors of Light is not a sequel to Blue Fire, per se.  Instead, it is a story from a completely different perspective, that of an initiate of Vorsterianism who is recruited by a heretical group to steal some of the cult's deepest serets.

Reportedly, Silverbob produces 50,000 words of salable material per week, enough to make it seem like SF is his full time career even though it's just a fraction of his overall output.  Light is not the brilliant piece that its predecessor was, but the Cobalt-90 worshipping future Earth remains an intriguing setting, and I look forward to the next story that takes place therein.

Three stars.

"Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman, by Harlan Ellison

In Ellison's latest tale, The Master Timekeeper, a.k.a. the Ticktockman, is the arbiter of justice for a chronologically regulated humanity.  Everything runs to schedule; tardiness is punishable by the lost of years from one's lifespan.  There is no room for deviation, nonconformity.

Yet one clownish fellow, known as The Harlequin, cannot be restrained.  His antics distract, his capers disrupt, his personality compells.  This dangerous threat must be stopped.  But in erasing the heretic, can even the master inquisitor escape just a little of the nonconformist contagion?

This is the most symbolic of Ellison's work to date, and with a deliberate, almost juvenile storytelling aspect that veers toward the Vonnegutian.  I appreciate what Harlan is doing here, but there's a lack of subtlety, a ham-handedness that makes the piece less effective than much of his other work.

Oh, my telephone is ringing.  One moment. 

Ah.  Harlan says I'm an ignorant so-and-so and if I withdrew my head from my seat, I might be able to better comprehend his work.  (Note: this is not an exact transliteration).

Anyway, three stars.

The Age of the Pussyfoot (Part 2 of 3), by Frederik Pohl


by Wallace Wood

Last up is the continuation of last month's serial by editor Pohl, who is indulging himself in his first love, writing.  Forrester, who died in the late 1960s only to be ressurrected in the 25th Century when medical technology was up to the task, has run out of dough and has become employed by the one boss who will have him, an alien from Sirius, member of a race with whom Earth is currently in a Cold War.

In this installment, we learn about how this state of not-quite conflict came to be, as well as about the Forgotten Men, the penniless humans who make a living outside of normal society.  We also learn how difficult it is to survive when one cannot pay the bill on one's "joymaker," the ubiquitous hand-held combination telephone, personal computer, and electronic valet. 

Let us hope that we never get so reliant on this kind of technology that we find ourselves similarly helpless without them!

Pussyfoot continues to be entertaining and imaginative, far more effective in execution of its subject than similarly themed Kagan piece, though less satirical in its second installment than its first.

Four stars.

Beyond This Horizon

My Heinlein motif for the article section titles may be a little misplaced given that R.A.H. doesn't appear in the pages of Galaxy this month. Call it artistic license since his most recent novels are coming out (or have come out) in sister mags Worlds of Tomorrow and IF.

Anyway, at the very least, the stories in the December 1965 Galaxy hold to the Heinlein tradition of fundamentally incorporating unique settings. No transplanted Westerns or soap operas here!

For the most part, it works, resulting in a solid 3-star issue. Why don't you pick up a copy, Space Cadet, and see if you agree!




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Magazine/Anthology, Serial

[September 12, 1965] So Far . . . Well, Fair (October 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Amazing, A.L. (after Lalli)

The shape of the post-Ziff-Davis Amazing and the new publisher’s reprint policy become much clearer in this October issue.  There are seven items of fiction here, and five of them are reprints, comprising about 55% of the magazine’s page count.  If this issue is typical, Amazing is drastically shrinking as a significant market for original fiction.

The two new fiction items are the first part of a two-part serial by Murray Leinster, whose future seems mostly to have been behind him for some years now, and yet another Ensign De Ruyter short story by Arthur Porges.  There is also another in the series of scientific hoax articles by Robert Silverberg. 

There’s an editorial, this time by managing editor Joseph Ross, rather than by Sol Cohen, “editor and publisher” on the masthead.  Ross shows himself to be as boring a writer as Cohen in his paean to Murray Leinster, the Dean of Science Fiction.  The letter column, now just called Letters, reappears, with one very long letter praising the new Amazing by someone who has bought the first Cohen issue, but hasn’t actually read it.  The point is elusive.  The mediocre cover is by Frank Kelly Freas, probably bought at a rummage sale or something; Freas has never appeared on Amazing’s cover before.


by Frank Kelly Freas

With all these inauspicious signs, it’s a bit surprising that the contents of the issue are a considerable improvement over the previous one, the first of the Cohen/Ross regime. 

Killer Ship (Part 1 of 2), by Murray Leinster


by Nodel

As is my practice, I’ll withhold comment on Killer Ship, the Leinster serial, until it’s finished, pausing only to note that Leinster seems to have taken up a hoary theme: space pirates!  And he begins on a determinedly vintage note: “He came of a long line of ship-captains, which probably explains the whole matter.” Hope struggles with trepidation.

The Eternal Eve, by John Wyndham

John Wyndham’s The Eternal Eve, from the September 1950 Amazing, begins as the protagonist Amanda sees a man approaching the cave she is living in and shoots him with her rifle.  She then pushes his body over the nearby cliff to be eaten by the giant crabs that live on the beach below, this being Venus.  From there, a flashback: Amanda has come to Venus for an 18-month job assisting an anthropological expedition.  But Earth blows up, leaving nobody alive but the modest colony on Venus and those humans who were on Mars or in space at the time.


by Rod Ruth

Order starts to erode in the obvious ways, one of which is pressure for Amanda to pair off with one of the men.  She’s not interested, and creates a diversion allowing her to slip off with her rifle and some supplies and set up housekeeping on her own, with the help of the childlike Venusian griffa.  Eventually she realizes she can’t live happily completely outside human society, so she gives in and comes back, facilitated by the appearance of Mr. Right, but not before she shoots him too.  Not fatally, though: think of it as romantic comedy, cordite replacing the flowers.

I’ve made this story sound a bit reactionary; not so.  Wyndham is actually pretty sensitive to the dilemmas posed for independent-minded women by the demands of male-dominated society, even if he doesn’t solve them in this story.  He's continued to chew on this theme in his later work, most notably the novella Consider Her Ways from the mid-1950s.  He is also a much more capable writer at the word and sentence level than most Amazing contributors, new or old, making this story a pleasure to read.  Am I really saying four stars?  Guess so.

Chrysalis, by Ray Bradbury


by McClish

Ray Bradbury’s Chrysalis, from the July 1946 issue, is much better than the execrable Final Victim from the last issue, though considerably cruder than the stories he puts in his collections.  Man here (Smith) has turned green and his skin has become a hard shell; also his metabolism has slowed almost to nothing.  He is being watched over by Dr. Rockwell (the sensible and inquiring one), Dr. Hartley (the near-hysterical one), and Dr. McGuire (the nebbish of the bunch).  Young Mr. Bradbury seems to have been spending a bit too much time at the movies, or else he’s aspiring to work for them, since the story proceeds mainly through scenes of these characters swapping reasonably sharp dialogue, while Smith continues being green and seemingly unconscious as strange transformations continue underneath the green shell.  Dr. Rockwell broaches the possibility of superman, or super-something, and shortly, the story’s title is enacted, unfortunately a bit anticlimactically.  The story is a bit too long, but the author moves it along capably.  Three stars.

The Metal Man, by Jack Williamson

Jack Williamson’s first published story, The Metal Man, from the December 1928 issue, has not worn well.  There’s a very lifelike metal statue of a man standing in the Tyburn College Museum—lifelike because it used to be Professor Kelvin of Geology, who got rich prospecting for radium.  Now he has been delivered in his statuesque form to his old friend, the narrator, in a wooden chest, along (of course) with his manuscript.  This recounts the Prof’s journey to El Rio de la Sangre, the River of Blood, which is highly radioactive.  He’s looking for the source, resorting to a small airplane whose parts he assembles on-site when he gets as far as a boat will take him. 


by Frank R. Paul

He winds up in a strange, colorful lost world.  Very colorful.  The river is like a red snake, and it goes underground and emerges in a mountain crater that holds a pool of green fire, extending to the black ramparts of the other side of the crater, while “the snow-capped summits about were brilliant argent crowns, dyed with crimson, tinged with purple and gold, tinted with strange and incredible hues.” A silver mist begins to descend.  The green lake rises up to a shining peak, and from it emerges—“a gigantic sphere of deep red, marked with four huge oval spots of dull black,” its surface “thickly studded with great spikes that seemed of yellow fire”!

This is all in the space of a few paragraphs.  After a brief respite, Prof. Kelvin finds his plane and himself covered with a pale blue luminosity, he is drawn down into the green (gaseous) lake to land, stumbles around and trips over a bird that has turned to metal, foreshadowing his own fate.  He has more adventures (also very colorful, but enough of that) as he blunders around in this strange world created by lots of radioactivity, becoming more metallic as he goes.  Unfortunately there’s not much more to the story than this parade of menacing wonders, made possible by the fact that back then nobody really knew that much about the effects of radioactivity.  Two stars. 

It should be noted that Williamson went on to produce The Green Girl, Through the Purple Cloud, The Stone from the Green Star, Red Slag of Mars, In the Scarlet Star, and Golden Blood, all within the next five years.  The visible spectrum seems to have been a good career move for him.

The Time Jumpers, by Philip Francis Nowlan


by Leo Morey

Philip Francis Nowlan, perpetrator of the Buck Rogers Yellow Peril epics, is here in a lighter mood with The Time Jumpers (February 1934 Amazing), a mildly amusing period piece (albeit with certain period attitudes) about a guy who invents a time car and, with his platonic girlfriend, first narrowly escapes from marauding Vikings, possibly Leif Ericson’s outfit, then makes a longer foray into the Colonial period, narrowly escaping from marauding Indians, briefly meeting the young not-yet-General Washington, and then narrowly escaping from a French officer and his marauding Indians.  Two stars.

Dusty Answer, by Arthur Porges

Dusty Answer is yet another of Arthur Porges’s tales of Ensign De Ruyter, notable chiefly for the excruciating tedium they achieve in relatively few pages.  Their formula is clever Earthmen outwitting stupid and primitive aliens through elementary science tricks, this time the ignition of dust suspended in air.  One star, if that.

The Kensington Stone, by Robert Silverberg

Robert Silverberg’s scientific hoax article, The Kensington Stone, concerns the finding and subsequent career of an inscription found in Minnesota which purported to show that the Norse Vinland settlement of Leif Erikson (yeah, him again, spelled a little differently) had sent an expedition as far as Minnesota.  This one is just as well written as its predecessors, suffering by comparison only because the underlying story is less captivating, with no picturesque fraudster at its center.  Three stars.

Summing Up

So: whatever one thinks about the new reprint policy at Amazing and Fantastic, new editor Ross has managed this month (or bi-month) to put together a decently readable issue.  Question is how long he can keep it up.

[Speaking of books, Journey Press now has three excellent titles for your reading pleasure! Why not pick up a copy or three? Not only will you enjoy them all — you'll be helping out the Journey!]




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

It’s (Nearly) All About Aldiss [August 22, 1965] Science Fantasy and New Worlds, September 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

As I type this, we’re a few days away from the 23rd Worldcon in London. Worldcons outside of the US don’t happen very often – the last one here was in 1957 – but it somehow seems right at the moment. Despite my feeling of lethargy last month, there’s a lot of optimism about in England, more than I’ve felt for a while. The reasons for it are perhaps many and varied – a young Labour government, the Beatles dominating the world and who seem to be a voice for the young generation, even the New Wave of science fiction that seems to be gaining headway and shaking things up.

To me, a Worldcon in Britain seems to encapsulate this. It promises to be new and exciting, at the cutting edge of the genre, with original writing and new writers out there to make things interesting. If you are attending, I hope it is everything it deserves to be.

With the Worldcon in mind, the magazines have steadily been building up pressure over the year. In this month of Worldcon ‘65, their issues seem to reflect the pent-up feeling of excitement, as both issues have some connection with the convention.

I’ll explain as we go along. As per usual, the issue that arrived first in the post this month was Science Fantasy.

Well, after the comparative lightness of last month’s cover, we seem to have taken on a much darker hue this month. That cover by an unknown artist is a bit too murky for me, almost to the point where I might say that I miss the usual Keith Roberts covers.

However, there may be subtle persuasion at work here, in that because the picture is so dark, the attention of the casual reader may be focused on the magazine’s heading. If, as they say, ‘sex sells’, then this might do it.

The Editorial this month is not usual. Instead of the usual debate created by Kyril, we have instead an article by Brian Aldiss (wonder why?) that seems to do little else but point out that his first-published novel Non-Stop has been republished in England. Whilst the cynical amongst-us might see this as an extended advertisement, it is written with Brian’s own endearing and self-deprecating tone. He explains the background to the original publication, how the American publishers gave away the twist in the story by changing the title, and finally tells us what he would do to revise the novel if he was writing it now. It is quite charming – rather like the man himself. I’ll mention the novel again later.

To the actual stories.

Boomerang, by E. C. Tubb

The return of the prodigious E C Tubb after his popular last serial story, The Life Buyer in the April – June 1965 issues of New Worlds. Boomerang is a story of murder and revenge. Told in the first person, Marlow is a man who from the start freely admits that he went on a murderous rampage against Granger, who he hates. As a result, Marlow burned down Granger’s house, “poisoned his friends, mutilated his pets and did things to his family” – nice chap!

Marlow’s punishment is to be exiled on his own to Hades, which as you might expect from its name is a barely tolerable planet to live out the rest of his days. The story here goes all Robinson Crusoe, and I rather expected it to become an Analog style story of a man overcoming adversity. But wait! The ‘boomerang’ of the title is that – wait for it! – his victim comes to the planet to finish him off! It’s nicely done overall, and reminded me a little of Alfred Bester’s Tiger! Tiger! in the sense of total hate that seems to exude off the page. With this in mind, the ending is satisfying. 3 out of 5.

Coming-Of-Age Day, by A K Jorgenssen

Warning! Warning! Kyril begins this with an explanation that he’s used before. It goes something like – “I read this one and thought. 'I can’t possibly publish this one!' And then I thought some more and decided 'Why not?'”

I must admit that given the lurid blurb on the front cover of a “startling story of sex in the future”, I was rather grimly expecting an over-heated story of a future where the coming-of-age is celebrated by some sort of sexual rite-of-passage, with some pretty obvious clichés and awful sex scenes.

To my surprise, it’s rather a restrained work. The main premise is that in the future everyone who enters puberty is fitted with what I will politely describe as a sexual appliance known as a consex. Andrews, the male character of the narrative tells of the process and explains why most people, male or female, has one fitted. He is fairly happy with the idea, especially when the 'sexiatrist' (doctor) explains that having one fitted is good, because every adult has one. The suggestion also that it is better than sex is also a pretty winning argument.

In a wider perspective, it has solved many social issues and has become a culturally accepted thing for both males and females, reducing basic urges and satisfying the needs of couples and bachelors alike. The story seems to be more about the need for cultural compliance rather than sex, although Andrews overhears Topolski, another more reluctant young man who, despite being put under pressure to comply, appears to refuse the fitting.

Whilst the story fizzles out at the end, it is one that made me think. Is the device a future version of contraception? How would a society, especially a British society, known for its stiff upper lip and reserve, become so accepting of something that would affect everyone at a personal level? Could it happen?

If the sign of a good story is that it makes you think, then this one scores – if you can buy into the idea working. 4 out of 5.

Temptation for the Leader, by R W Mackelworth

The return of RW, last seen in the July 1965 issue of Science Fantasy. Most of Mackelworth’s stories tend to deal with the issues of identity and responsibility in a future society, and this one is no different. A meeting between an alien who names itself “Poniard”, and “the President” of a capitalist nation (who may be the leader of the USA, though it is never clearly stated) leads to an offer of help and guidance for the human race – but at a price. In the end, the offer is rejected because of the effect it would have on individuality and capitalist values.

This is a very talky story, the conclusion is straight out of Arthur C Clarke’s Childhood’s End. There’s some good ideas here but the author seems to go about them in a rather roundabout way. 3 out of 5.

At Last, the True Story of Frankenstein, by Harry Harrison

Over at New Worlds, Harry is having his latest novel serialised. Here he tells a simpler and more serious shaggy-dog story by telling of Victor Frankenstein V, now reduced to being part of a carnival show and in need of a new animated body. At the same time Harry rewrites Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s seminal story in six pages, with a clever mix of humour and horror. Ray Bradbury would be proud of this one. 4 out of 5.

Sule Skerry, by Rob Sproat

Not an author’s name that I remember, so this seems to be the latest ‘new writer’ to grace the magazine. The idea is that Sule Skerry is a folksong collected by people recording old legends but then turned into prose. Whilst I don’t know if this Northumbrian story of the selkie is based on a real folk-song, I found the story quite sad and remarkably moving. A mythic folktale that was better than I thought it was going to be. 4 out of 5.

The Jobbers, by Johnny Byrne

Johnny has produced some very strange stories in the past. They are often too odd for my tastes, although this one was less obtuse than many. It begins with an unnamed man talking to two very small people who then appear to climb into his brain. They are ‘Jobbers’, whose purpose is to get into a person’s brain and prepare their body ready for the next inhabitant. It starts quite light-hearted but by the end becomes rather creepy. The twist in the tale, of whether what is happening is real or some imagined attack of insanity, is left up to the reader to decide. 3 out of 5.

Omega and Alpha, by Robert Cheetham

This month’s offering from a debut author, a bleak short story told in the form of a diary by an author and his wife who have gone to get away from it all on a tropical island. When a missile station on the far side of the island is destroyed – it is not clear whether it is just the island that is affected or a global event – the resultant radiation and ash leads to death. Another post-apocalyptic story of the sort that we’ve had a lot of lately, but it is quite effective in showing what the effects of a nuclear war would be after the bombs have gone off. An interesting debut, even if it treads a familiar path. 3 out of 5.

The Furies (Part 3 of 3), by Keith Roberts

To Keith’s last part of this story, which in my opinion has been one of the magazine’s strengths of the last few months.

Last issue we were left with Bill Sampson, having begun the human fight-back against the wasps, attempting to go and find his young friend Jane in France, only to be shot at by an army patrol and crashing his car.

This final part picks up where we left off. Bill is retrieved and brought back to health by two of his friends still hidden away in the Mendip Hills – Greg and Pete. Once he has recovered, the group hiding in the Chill Leer caves continue their guerrilla attacks upon the wasps, with varying degrees of success. There is an attack by the wasps inside the caves the humans have been hiding in. Eventually Bill and the traumatised girl 'Pete' are captured. To their surprise, rather than be killed, as many of their friends have been, they are spoken to by the Queen Wasp in a deus ex machina conclusion that explains the purpose of the wasps and leaves them with one message – that the wasps are dying because their determination to evolve rapidly has caused racial regression and that the humans must carry on and continue the Wasp’s purpose – to continue Life.

There are questions raised about the importance of hive intelligence, but this all ends rather suddenly, with a huge dollop of exposition and everything being tied up rather too abruptly for my liking. Most of all, the big plot reveal at the end is a bit of a stinker after such a great set-up. It rather feels like the author felt he was running out of time or space to finish the story and it all ends far too conveniently.

Although I couldn’t put this story down, it doesn't have the quality ending I was hoping for. Shame. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Despite The Furies not ending quite as well as I hoped it would, I’m very pleased that the story is still fairly strong. The whole issue is generally good, with Rob Sproat’s Sule Skerry being a surprisingly memorable tale.

But is it as good as New Worlds this month? Let’s go to my second magazine to find out!

The Second Issue At Hand

Unlike Science Fantasy, it may not be too surprising to find that New Worlds has gone all out to celebrate the London Worldcon’s Guest of Honour this month. From the enthusiastic comment on the back cover to appreciations by Edmund Crispin and Peter White, most of this issue is about Brian Aldiss. There’s a review of Aldiss’s novel Non-Stop by Mike Moorcock – you know, the one that Brian has reviewed himself in this month’s Science Fantasy. Even when it is not, it includes material from his friends – Harry Harrison’s serialised novel Bill, the Galactic Hero continues with its second part under the title A Dip in the Swimming Pool Reactor.

This month’s editorial from Mike Moorcock is one of two halves. The first tells us how great Harry Harrison’s novel is (I’ll comment on that later) before going on to entice us with future attractions. The second part reminds us that we have a Worldcon in London in about one month’s time, which we should be excited about. (Have I said in the last few minutes that Brian will be Guest of Honour at this month’s Worldcon in London?)

To the stories!

Girl and Robot with Flowers, by Brian Aldiss

So we begin this Aldiss issue with an Aldiss story that at first might make new readers a bit puzzled. It’s set in modern times, reading as if it was in The Times Literary Supplement. The science-fictional element is that the story is of a writer who, after a time has decided to begin writing again. You see, the author writes science fiction! (Tenuous link initiated.) What begins as an initially cosy domestic tale slowly changes, as our writer talks through the story he is thinking of writing comparing it with the reality of the place he is at and the woman he is with. And bam – Brian’s got your attention again, sneaking in a science fiction story without the reader realising it. It’s a gently subversive tale, questioning the purpose of science fiction, and of writing it – and gets extra credit for adding a few sf names in as well (Ballard, Pohl, Moorcock, for example.) Better than last month’s Jungian effort. 4 out of 5.

Old Time’s Sake, by Brian Aldiss

The first Aldiss story is immediately followed by a second, different type of story. As the title might suggest, this is a story about the passage of time. Brian is a fan of HG Wells, and it shows in this story of Alec Sampson, the world’s first immortal man. Aldiss says that it is a story written in 1954, and was meant to be the first of a series which never materialised. It’s a story of loss and envy, cloaked in academia, as Alec meets his peers knowing that the next time his progress is reviewed, most if not all of these people will have died. I would’ve been interested to see where Aldiss would have gone with this, had he taken the story further. I enjoyed it, but it is clearly an early Aldiss. It is interesting reading the two stories together though, as they show how Brian has matured as a writer. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by Douthwaite

Traveller’s Rest, by David Masson

Time travel of a different type now, from this debut author. Traveller’s Rest is this month’s most challenging read. Our main character, Hadolaris, is fighting a permanent war against a never seen enemy. After his latest sortie he is ‘Relieved’ (retired) and moves to a civilian life southwards away from the Front. He settles down with a job as a sales manager, marries and has three children, only to be re-enlisted and back at the front-line at the end of the story.

There’s not a lot of plot. What makes this story unusual is the idea that the war messes with Time and as you travel south away from the war zone time seems to get slower, whereas as you travel north time appears to be faster. Though to Hadol he has been away from the war for twenty years, it is no more than about twenty minutes at the front.

Traveller's Rest is perhaps the densest story in this issue and took me a while to determine what was going on. This complexity is helped by the author’s invention of words throughout to illustrate the plot. There are also interesting little ideas throughout – speech changes as you travel North or South – names become shorter or longer the nearer you are to the Front, for example. I also got a feeling that the time distortion may affect the soldier’s perceptions. The descriptions of war at the front are almost dream-like.

Those who relish untangling the story, deciphering the complexities of language and wrestling with the key concept of time dilation will find this one interesting. An impressive debut, although one that gains credit for the ideas rather than the plot. 4 out of 5.

Bill, the Galactic Hero, Part 2: A Dip in the Swimming pool Reactor, by Harry Harrison

I’m not going to say much about this one, as like I said last month, you will either love it or be unimpressed by it. In this part, blasé Bill stumbles his way through the continuing war against the Chingers. He visits the Imperial planet Helior – a planet plated with gold – to get a medal, meets the Emperor (or someone like him) and goes on furlough. He has things stolen, which upon reporting to the police leads to poor old Bill getting into trouble himself. To solve his troubles he becomes a Garbage-Man (G-Man for short) but is then persuaded by the Opposition Party to become an Anarchist, before being arrested as a deserter. It’s busy life for Bill… still silly but I enjoyed this part more than the first part. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Pleasure Garden of Felipe Sagittarius, by James Colvin

In which the New Worlds Book Reviewer wanders into the weird world that Mike Moorcock seemed to inhabit in last month’s issue… except that James is really Mike Moorcock!

This has the manner of a detective story, but one from an alternate world. Minos Aquilinas, Metatemporal Investigator of Europe, is asked to investigate the murder of a man in the garden of Police Chief Bismarck in Berlin.

Set in what might be an alternate timeline somewhere between now and the 1920s, this story reminded me of Moorcock’s tale of Jeremiah Cornelius last month. It is fast-paced and determinedly anarchic. Whilst it tries to be provocative – Eva Braun, Adolf Hitler and Stalin all appear, although not as we would expect to see them – the fast pace and attempt to use well-known people in a different way is refreshing. This Hitler is a very different one to the one we all know.  Odd, but I liked it. 3 out of 5.

At the End of Days

And here’s this month’s effort from across the seas. Last month it was Mack Reynolds, this month Robert Silverberg, who I appreciate readers in the US will know pretty well as an up-and-coming young writer. End of Days is short, but works well in the space given to it. 140-years-old Thomas Narin watches people around him as the world is slowly dying. He is suddenly met by a young boy, Jorid Dayson, from Rigel-Six, who is impressed to meet someone from Earth. Earth has become almost mythical to Jorid and his young friends. It’s an elegiac tale that hints of a bright future ahead for the human race – just not on Earth. Though The End of Days covers a relatively common theme, the style is pleasantly lyrical. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

With all of this Aldiss-adulation (Aldissulation?), the reviews are shorter this month.

Edmund Crispin’s appreciation of Brian emphasises his ability to create visual images through prose. Peter White summarises Aldiss’s work to date and talks of his influence on British Sf today. Both articles are, as expected, pretty effervescent, although Mr. Crispin’s article, as you might expect from the author of the acclaimed Best Of… series of anthologies, is perhaps a more considered response.

Interestingly, Mr. White makes the claim that Brian’s best work to date is not science fiction, but The Male Response, a non-science fictional tale of sexual habits. I would disagree in that the book is not science fiction, as there are aspects that are science fictional – the rise of a future super-state in Africa, for example. I am sure readers will want to debate this further.

James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) reviews Aldiss’s Non-Stop, which makes interesting reading when compared with the author’s own review in Science Fantasy. Colvin’s review is unsurprisingly glowing. He then goes on to review in less detail Best SF Four, edited by fellow contributor this month, Edmund Crispin, and finds the story collection “only average in general standard.” By contrast, New Writings in SF Three, edited by John Carnell is “perhaps the best in the series so far.” Next, Colin Kapp’s The Dark Mind is reviewed with the suggestion that the author should spend more time on studying his craft before writing his next novel. Ouch!

The last review is a more detailed one of J G Ballard’s The Drought, which you may know in the US as The Burning World. It is typically enthusiastic: “The Drought is refreshing, original and an authentic creative work which, in its own terms, can only be emulated, one suspects, by Mr. Ballard himself.”

No “Dr. Peristyle” this month – perhaps we have enough Mr. Aldiss this month already! Instead, we’re back to the Letters pages, albeit very briefly. The first letter echoes the common theme of moving the genre forward and not looking back, whilst John Brunner himself replies with a correction to Langdon Jones’ review of his novel The Telepathist, back in issue 151, and there’s an effusive letter from Edward Mackin on E C Tubb’s The Life Buyer back in issue 150.

In terms of Ratings, the great surprise for me from issue 152 in July is how well Night of the Gyul was received. However,  Dikk Richardson’s last placing is what A Funny Thing Happened deserved, sadly.

 

Summing up New Worlds

It is always risky focussing an issue mainly on one writer. If readers are not a fan of the particular author, will they buy the issue? However, I think that it has worked this time around. This feels like a strong issue – all the more so when I think of how New Worlds was two years ago. Again, how much you like this issue will I think depend a little on your love of Bill, the Galactic Hero, but the other elements I personally enjoyed more.

There’s a lot of mischievous fun in this issue, as well as some well-deserved plaudits for one of Britain’s best writers at the moment. The Masson story is a startling debut, which despite its weaknesses reflects the impressive range possible in science fiction at the moment.

Summing up overall

It’s difficult to knock the Aldiss coverage this month, although I’m not sure that the stories given here are his best. The audacious debut by Masson surprises most. I also liked the E C Tubb story in Science Fantasy, whilst continuing to be less impressed than many by Harrison’s silliness. However, the slightly disappointing conclusion of The Furies and the impressive range of material in the Brian Aldiss issue means that for me, this month’s issue of quality is New Worlds.

And with all of this love of Aldiss shared around the genre, that’s it for this time. Anyone going to Worldcon, have a wonderful time. I look forward to hearing the stories!

Until the next…

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 14, 1965] The New Dispensation (August 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Continuity and Change

Yeah, yeah, I know that’s the most boring headline since the last time Hubert Humphrey made a speech.  But that’s what everybody (well, somebody) wants to know: how is the new Amazing different, or not, from the old one?

Some things we already knew.  It’s still digest size, now bimonthly, with 32 more pages for a total of 162.  On the cover there is a piece of retro-continuity; the new regime has dropped the old title logo for the older title logo, the one used from October 1960 to December 1963, with very minor variations—an improvement, to my taste.  There’s a fairly generic cover by Alex Schomburg (I am certain the departed editor Lalli had a closet full of these) portraying, as you see, a guy in a loincloth brandishing a spear at a giant computer: Progress vs. Savagery, or Regimentation vs. Natural Freedom, as you prefer.  It is said on the contents page to illustrate Keith Laumer’s Time Bomb.  It does not.  There are a number of interior illustrations.  Coming Next Month has not returned.


by Alex Schomburg

And on the contents page . . . oh no.  The blazing insignia of continuity are . . . Ensign De Ruyter and Robert F. Young.  Forty-six pages of Robert F. Young.  Well, let us keep an open mind; here, brace it with this two-by-four.  Anyway, it’s a mistake to infer too much from this month’s fiction contents, since the new management will likely be burning off the inherited Ziff-Davis inventory for some months.

The non-fiction includes another of Robert Silverberg’s articles on scientific hoaxes, and Silverberg’s book review column—good signs if they are signs, but they too may just be what Lalli left behind.  Ironically, the review column is devoted entirely to reprints, ranging from Wells to Sturgeon.  There is also an editorial, in which Sol Cohen—listed on the contents page as Editor and Publisher—first demonstrates that he can be just as boring as his predecessor in editorializing Norman Lobsenz, and then offers a lame explanation of his plans regularly to publish reprints from old issues of the magazine. 

As for the reprints themselves, Cohen has gone for big names, with early short stories from Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury: respectively, The Weapon Too Dreadful To Use from the May 1939 issue, and Final Victim (with Henry Hasse), from February 1946.  Each is accompanied by an unsigned introduction, shorter and less bombastic than those by Sam Moskowitz for the “SF Classic” selections of the Ziff-Davis years.  The original illustrations are reprinted along with the stories.

Time Bomb, by Keith Laumer

Keith Laumer’s novelet Time Bomb begins with Yondor, the son of the chief, going over the mountain to look around.  And he sees—danger!  Wounded on the way back, he makes his way home and reports to the chief that their way of life is at risk and they must act!  But the chief doesn’t want to hear it—hey!  Wake up back there!  If you’re bored, do something useful, like listing all the stories you’ve read that begin with this particular cliche.


by Nodel

Anyway, these primitive characters are the descendants of a human outpost, now menaced by the evil alien Tewk, and Yondor gets away from their attack and into a machine with a transportation system requiring only that he sit in a chair and pull a lever and he’ll be somewhere else.  This is a convenient substitute for a plot, as Yondor blunders his way from place to place before learning enough to get back, rescue his people, and smite the bad guys.  As generic melodrama goes, it’s smooth and clever enough that it might be mildly entertaining, say, if one were stuck in an airport waiting for a late plane.  Two stars.

The City of Brass, by Robert F. Young


by Gray Morrow

On the other hand, remarkably, Robert F. Young’s The City of Brass is actually fairly amusing, and not offensively stupid like most of his other rehashes of myths, legends, testaments, etc.  Billings of Animannikins, Inc., has flown in his time sled back to the days of the Arabian Nights in order to kidnap Scheherazade, here rendered Shahrazad, bring her back to the present so his employers can work up a facsimile for public performance, and then return her to her fate.  But Billings kicks some wires in the sled out of place and they wind up stranded in the age of the Jinn (which proves to be about 100,000 years in the future), not far from the Jinn’s brazen city of the title.

Shahrazad is undaunted.  She doesn’t much like Jinn, and is in possession of a Seal of Solomon (here rendered Suleyman) with which she proposes to force all the Jinn into bottles and seal them up.  Billings considers this a reckless plan, and goes out to reconnoiter, setting in train a ridiculous plot involving ridiculous revelations about the Jinn, their origin, and what has happened to humanity in the intervening millennia.  This actually might have made it into John W. Campbell’s fantasy magazine Unknown if he had run short of material one month.  Young’s familiar sentimentality about beautiful women and the men who are captivated by them threatens to take over, but the story ends quickly enough not to ruin the comic mood.

Three stars.  I’ll put that two-by-four back in the shed.

The Weapon Too Dreadful to Use, by Isaac Asimov


by Julian Krupa

The reprints from Amazing’s past nicely illustrate the problems with reprinting from Amazing’s past.  Asimov’s The Weapon Too Dreadful To Use is his second published story and shows it, with stilted writing, cliched characters and dialogue, and a muddled point.  Humans have occupied Venus and are oppressing the natives, though supposedly racial discrimination and hostility have been eliminated on Earth.  (Not too plausible.) The protagonist and his Venusian friend Antil trek to the ruins of a Venusian city and visit the science museum, which is largely intact, but no one has looked at it in living memory.  (Even less plausible.) In a formerly sealed room, Antil finds the eponymous weapon, which can destroy people’s mental functions at interplanetary distances.  (Plausibility meter breaks.) Venus rebels, Earth sends troops, Venus destroys the minds of a lot of them, Earth backs down and grants independence.  It’s clear there’s a smart guy here trying to figure out how to write stories, but he’s not there yet.  Two stars.

Final Victim, by Ray Bradbury and Henry Hasse


by Hadden

Bradbury and Hasse’s Final Victim is much worse.  It is essentially a Bat Durston—a transplanted Western—about a bad deputy, excuse me, Patrolman, Skeel, who always kills the fugitives he is supposed to apprehend.  His superior Anders knows his excuses are no good but can’t do anything, until Miss Miller, the sister of Skeel’s most recent kill, who has proven to be innocent of the accusation against him, decides to go after Patrolman Skeel.  Anders, noting “the firm line of her chin, the trimness of her space uniform, the hard bold blueness of her eyes which he imagined could easily be soft on less drastic occasions than this,” decides to set her up to ambush Skeel herself out on the plains, I mean asteroids, and take revenge.  But when things get really tough, Miss Miller faints.  I stopped there.  Forget stars.  One mud pie.

The Good Seed, by Arthur Porges

Arthur Porges’s The Good Seed, as mentioned, is another in the series about Ensign De Ruyter.  As usual it has some Earth guys at the mercy of treacherous primitive aliens, and they solve their problem with a scientific gimmick that you might find in the Fun with Science column of a kids’ magazine.  One star.

John Keely’s Perpetual Motion Machine, by Robert Silverberg

Robert Silverberg comes to the rescue in his article about a guy who managed to make a pretty good career out of the perpetual motion con, but ironically might have had a better one developing the means of his fraud in the light of day.  This is by far the best story in the issue, despite the fact that it is apparently true.  Four stars.

Summing Up

Well, that was dismal, wasn’t it?  Except for the Mitigation of Robert F. Young (can someone make a ballad out of that?) and Silverberg’s matter-of-fact competence at storytelling and -finding, nothing to see here, move on, move on.

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