Tag Archives: science fiction

[June 30, 1969] Anywhere but here (July 1969 Analog)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Scenes from abroad

And so, our longest Japan trip to date has wrapped up.  We're still developing the many rolls of film we took, but here are some highlights from our vacation that included the cities Fukuoka, Amagi, Kobe, Osaka, Nagoya, and Tokyo:


Nanami and The Young Traveler zoom down a slide in an eastern suburb of Nagoya


Nanami and her husband perform at a Nagoya jazz club


This is Nanami's baby, Wataru, and her mother-in-law, Haruko!


Lorelei poses in front of Ultraman, one of Japan's newest superheros


Lorelei has become smitten with kimono and yukata.  We had to buy a new suitcase to fit them all (and the model trains Elijah bought)

The trouble back home

On the doorstep to my house was a big pile of mail that my neighbor has kept for me.  In addition to sundry bills, the latest FAPA packet, and a handful of independent 'zines (including the latest from the James Doohan International Fan Club), there was the latest issue of Analog.  Interest piqued by the lovely (as always) Freas cover, I tore into the mag before unpacking.  Sadly, it was all downhill from there…


by Kelly Freas

… And Comfort to the Enemy, by Stanley Schmidt

When an exploration ship lands on a seemingly uninhabited planet, its rapacious, by-the-book commander rubs his hands with glee at the prospect of colonizing plunder.  But it turns out there are intelligent natives—it's just that their "technology" is actually the fine control of all of their fellow creatures creating a sort of artificial Deathworld.  When the invaders refuse to leave, they take a hostage, who they use as a communications go-between.  And then they unleash a deadly plague which ravages first the explorer ship and then their entire race.  How the colonizers get out of the predicament is somewhat clever.


by Kelly Freas

This one starts a bit slowly, and the explorers are all too human, even though they're supposed to be aliens.  However, once it gets moving, it's pretty good, and you can sympathize with both the planet dwellers and the decimated invaders.

Three stars.

The Great Intellect Boom, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

A pharmaceutical company stumbles upon a brain-booster pill.  Unfortunately, it promotes eggheaded learning, but not application of this learning.  As a result, the nation's economy stumbles as more and more citizens would rather discuss than do.

This is a pretty thinly veiled attack on academia and the intelligentsia, which surely must have tickled editor Campbell's reactionary heart.

One star.

The Mind-Changer, by Verge Foray


by Kelly Freas

Boy this one was a disappointment.  We last saw Verge Foray in a nice little piece called Ingenuity, which featured a post-atomic world where humanity was divided into psionically adept but primitive and regressing "Novos" and scientific, but conservative, "Olsaperns."  Starn was the hero of that story—a Novo with a rare gift of insight and intuition who managed to get in good with the technical Olsaperns.

This sequel story involves Starn's attempts to develop technology that will augment psionic powers such that they can rival or exceed the technology of the Olsaperns.  Fine and well, but really, this is just one of Campbell's "scientific" articles on psionics with a fictional coating.  I already find psi to be a pseudoscientific bore, but to try to add a veneer of respectability to it by invoking scientific trappings is distasteful in the extreme.

It's also a really boring tale.  One star.

The Choice, by Keith Laumer


by Kelly Freas

A three-astronaut explorer team from Earth is abducted by mysterious aliens who offer each of them a choice of fates—all of them some form of execution.  The two military members of the crew meet their fate boldly; the third is a far out civilian cat who doesn't cotton to his own extinction.  As a result, the story has a happy ending.

There is serious Laumer and there is funny Laumer.  Funny Laumer is usually the more trivial, and this is trivial funny Laumer.

Two stars.

The Man from R.O.B.O.T., by Harry Harrison


by Peter Skirka

A couple of years back, Harrison brought out the droll The Man from P.I.G., about a secret agent who goes undercover as a pig farmer.  The twist was that the pigs weren't his livestock but his accomplices.  In a similar vein, here we have the story of an agent who goes undercover as a robot salesman, but the robots are his accomplices.  Of course, given that the robots are intelligent, and one of them is even designed to look like the agent, one wonders why there needs to be human involvement at all in this case.

Anyway, the agent is dispatched to a rancher planet whose women folk all seem to be locked up, and whose men folk are all paranoid violence freaks.  Is it genetic?  Or is it in the cattle?

I always get "funny" Harrison (frex "The Stainless Steel Rat") and "funny" Laumer (e.g. "Retief") mixed up.  And here they're back to back!  Now I'll never disentangle them.

Two stars.

The Empty Balloon, by Jack Wodhams


by Peter Skirka

Last up, a throwaway story about a diplomat who thwarts a telepathic interrogation machine.  There's no real explanation as to how he does it, really, and most of the story exists to set up the lame ending.

Two stars.

Wow.  What a wretched month for magazine fiction!  With the exception of the atypically superlative New Worlds (3.6 stars), everything else was mediocre at best.  IF managed to break the three star barrier, but just barely (3.1), same as Fantasy and Science FictionAmazing scored 2.6—which is a good month for that mag, while Galaxy got the same score, which constituted a bad month. 

Indeed, all of the better-than-average fiction would fill just one decently sized digest.  Incidentally, we had exactly one (1) short story produced by a woman, and the one woman-penned nonfiction this month was a biography…of a man.

It just goes to show that all the good stuff seems to be happening overseas these days.  I hope the next month of mags reinforces my decision to come home!






[June 22, 1969] Game Over (Doctor Who: The War Games [Parts 8-10])


By Jessica Holmes

"The War Games" draws to a close, bringing us a thrilling conclusion, revelations of the Doctor’s origins, and some heartbreaking farewells.

The Doctor (right, foreground) meets with the War Chief (left, background.)
"If I join you, do I also have to grow the silly moustache?"

In Case You Missed It

You really missed out if you didn’t happen to catch it, because I really think "The War Games" is one of my favourite Doctor Who serials. And I’ve been thinking about the ending ever since.

But, first things first. A small clarification: I misinterpreted the dialogue last time, it turns out the War Lord is NOT a “Time Lord” (despite the name) but the War Chief is.

And so is the Doctor.

Up to now, I had mostly dismissed the War Chief as little more than a high-ranking lackey with a temper, but a new dimension within him emerges in the latter episodes of the serial. Sure, he still has a temper, but he’s no lackey. Unlike the Doctor, who left their homeworld in order to see the galaxy, the War Chief desires to rule it. And the Doctor can join him, if he wishes. He's not such a bad chap after all, so he claims. When the galaxy is conquered, there will finally be peace. Yes, War Chief, you’re a real humanitarian.

Jamie, Carstairs, Zoe, and Arturo Villa stand around a table in the chateau discussing strategy.

With no clear way to rescue the Doctor, Jamie and Zoe throw their efforts into carrying out his plan and recruiting the other Resistance groups. The leaders agree to assemble their armies in the American Civil War Zone. The forests will be a good place to hide, and then when a SIDRAT next turns up, they can take it over.

In preparation, they start taking out the control units in each zone, taking out their communications one by one, and drawing out the War Lord’s guards. By the time they’re done, there won’t be anyone left to defend central control.

With only one control unit left, the Security Chief has a pretty good idea of where the Resistance must be gathered, and wishes to wipe them all out with a neutron bomb. The War Lord however has a more subtle idea…

At the barn, Jamie, Zoe and the Resistance leaders are surprised to receive a call from the Doctor, who tells them that he has a plan to take over central control, and that he’s sending a SIDRAT to bring them to him. They meet the Doctor at the landing bay, where the War Lord’s guards promptly arrest them. It seems that the Doctor has betrayed them all.

The Doctor, centre, stands glaring at something offscreen, with the Security Chief and War Chief flanking him.

And if you believed that for a second, I have a bridge to sell you.

As the prisoners are taken away, the War Chief pulls the Doctor aside to discuss plans for the future with his new ally. The Doctor infers that it’s not really him the War Chief needs for his plans to work, but his TARDIS. The SIDRATs have more bells and whistles than the old TARDIS, but it comes at a cost: longevity. The SIDRATs are at the end of their lifespan, and before long the War Chief will have nothing more than a load of surprisingly spacious cupboards, and he'll be of no further use to the War Lord.

What was his plan if a fellow Time Lord hadn’t happened to land in the middle of his games?

To prove his newfound loyalty to the War Lord, the Doctor offers to improve the processing machines, using the prisoners as test subjects. It’s all Jamie can do to prevent the others from killing the Doctor on sight, but the Doctor eventually manages to persuade them that he’s really on their side, and to play along with his ruse.

The Security Chief looks on as a pair of guards manhandle the War Chief.

Unfortunately, things have all gone a bit pear-shaped. The Security Chief, suspicious of the Doctor and the War Chief, has been spying on their conversations. Having arrested the War Chief, the guards are now on their way to grab the Doctor.

The Resistance manage to overpower the guards, and the War Chief has another proposition for the Doctor. He can help them, and save his own skin into the bargain. The guards at the landing bay don’t know he’s been arrested. He could escort the Doctor and his allies there and steal them a SIDRAT. The Doctor accepts, on one condition: that they first go to the War Room and put an end to the games.

The Security Chief’s depleted forces quickly fall to the small band of Resistance fighters, with the Security Chief himself falling at the War Chief’s own spiteful hand. Unfortunately, he didn’t kill him fast enough to prevent him sounding the alarm. They can call an end to the games, but there’s not time for the Doctor to send everyone back to their proper time and place. Not without help, at least.

It’s time to call the Time Lords.

The War Lord stands in the foreground with his back to the War Chief, who is shouting at him as a pair of guards train their weapons on him.
There's only room for ONE ruler of the Galaxy with weird facial hair, and it ain't gonna be you, War Chief.

The War Chief tries to leave the others behind and make a break for it, but the War Lord catches up to him as he attempts to steal a SIDRAT. The War Lord has his would-be betrayer executed on the spot. The Resistance arrive at the landing bay and quickly overpower the War Lord’s guards, but leave the man himself for the Time Lords to deal with. Not the Doctor though, who plans on being far, far away by the time they arrive. See, Time Lords aren't meant to meddle in the affairs of other worlds, and the Doctor does little else. And they’re probably going to want their stolen TARDIS back. To tell the truth, I’m not even surprised that the TARDIS is stolen. Have you seen how he pilots that thing?

Doctor, you naughty boy.

With Jamie, Zoe, and Carstairs (who is just tagging along to look for Lady Jennifer), the Doctor hurries off back to the 1917 Zone. But not fast enough. The coming of the Time Lords is heralded by an eerie drone on the air. Ominously, the War Lord tells the Doctor’s allies that soon the Doctor will wish they’d killed him when they had the chance.

The Doctor, Zoe and Jamie sprint across the battlefield.
Can we please appreciate Troughton's funny little run?

As the group get in sight of the TARDIS, Carstairs suddenly vanishes, no doubt whisked away to his proper time. The closer the Doctor gets to the TARDIS, the slower time itself seems to become. With an immense struggle, he and his friends manage to get inside and leave the battlefield. But they aren’t free yet.

The Time Lords find them wherever they go, whether it be the depths of the ocean or the depths of space. There’s no resisting the nigh-omnipotence of the Time Lords.

After all his travels, the Doctor must finally come home.

The Time Lords bring the Doctor and his friends to their homeworld, where the War Lord’s trial is already underway. It’s a rare thing for the Time Lords to put anyone on trial, let alone someone from another planet.

The War Chief stands before three Time Lord judges.

Forget everything I said about the War Lord being impressively powerful in my last review. Before the Time Lords, he’s nothing more than a scared little man, though he tries not to show it. A handful of his surviving guards turn up in an attempt to rescue him, taking the Doctor hostage in the process, but they don’t get far.

The Doctor helps the Time Lords to recapture the War Lord, and the justice of the Time Lords proves to be swift and uncompromising. They quarantine the War Lord’s planet away from the rest of the universe, and erase the War Lord himself from reality. It will be as if he never existed.

Despite the Doctor aiding them in bringing justice to the War Lord, the Time Lords aren’t going to give him a pass on his own supposed misdeeds. There's a funny sort of symmetry to this serial; the Doctor's tribulations begin and end with a trial.

The Doctor alone
"In my defence, Your Honour… it seemed a good idea at the time."

At least unlike last time, the Doctor has actually committed the “crime” of which he’s being accused. The Time Lords have one rule about interfering with the wider universe: don’t. And the Doctor not only admits to flouting that rule, he’s proud of it. Time and again he’s helped to defeat the evils of the universe, all while the Time Lords have failed to lift a finger to prevent the injustices happening before their eyes.

It’s not him who should be guilty, it’s them.

Agreeing to at least consider his point, the Time Lord jury goes into recess to think it over, and Jamie and Zoe are allowed to make their farewells to the Doctor.

Not that they don’t try to escape, but it’s futile trying to evade the Time Lords. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Doctor so completely and utterly defeated. He’s beyond begging, beyond tears, just… tired. Resigned.

The Doctor and Jamie shake hands goodbye as a Time Lord watches them in the background.
To the Time Lords: I hope you're pleased with yourselves.

The goodbyes are brief, too brief really for all the three have been through together. Especially the Doctor and Jamie. Three series of instinctively reaching out to one another and clinging together in times of stress, and they part with a simple handshake.

Promising never to forget him, Jamie and Zoe turn their backs on the Doctor for the last time. But they don’t get a choice. Determined to erase every trace of the Doctor’s illegal travels from the universe, the Time Lords wipe Jamie and Zoe’s memories of their travels.

They’re allowed to keep their first meeting with the Doctor, but nothing more. To Zoe, he’s just that funny little bloke who turned up on the Wheel when the Cybermen invaded. And to Jamie, he’s just a man with a penchant for disguises, who helped his Jacobite comrades escape the English, and nothing more.

That’s… tragic. More than tragic, it’s cruel.

The Doctor and Zoe in front of the TARDIS. The Doctor gives Zoe a sad smile.

They’ve not just stolen memories, they’ve stolen something even more precious: friendship. Poor Zoe, lonely Zoe, whose colleagues thought of her as an inhuman machine because she saw the world differently to them. In the Doctor she finally had a true friend, a kindred spirit even, someone who understood the way she thinks and didn’t think less of her for it. And she’ll never know.

And dear Jamie. Oh, my poor, sweet Jamie. What’s he meant to do with himself now, alone in the Highlands, with everyone he knew dead or in exile? His relationship with the Doctor was closer than any other companion we’ve seen so far, except for Susan I suppose, but the dynamic feels different. I definitely wouldn’t call it paternal, at any rate.

At least they don’t know what they’ve lost, for what little comfort that is. The Doctor gets to live with the knowledge that he’ll never see his friends again. And his punishment has only just begun.

The Doctor, his back to the camera, stands before a pair of Time Lord judges.

Seeing as he’s put so much effort into keeping it safe, he will be exiled to the planet Earth. He can keep the TARDIS, but in a disabled state, with even his knowledge of how to work it purged from his mind. Until such a time the Time Lords deem fit, he’ll be confined to one time, one planet, that isn’t even his own. And he won’t even be allowed to keep his face.

Such is the power and the judgement of the Time Lords.

The Doctor appearing distressed as reflections of his own face surround him.

The Peerage System: Even In Space, It Stinks

If the Time Lords are all such sticks in the mud, I’m not surprised the Doctor left home.  Who died and made them "Lords" of Time? How terribly pompous.

It’s quite striking really, how much the Doctor has changed from when we first met him. In the early days, the Hartnell Doctor wasn’t such a far cry from the Time Lords, only really getting involved in local goings-on when he didn’t have any other choice. Look at him now, putting them in their place. I may or may not have cheered at the television set in support of the wee chappie.

That said, I don’t think he was ever as cold and detached as the rest of the Time Lords seem to be. His wanderlust and sense of curiosity was there from the start—something sorely lacking in the rest of his people.

The three Time Lord judges, in white robes with black mantles.

It’s unsettling, this dispassionate power. One gets the sense that the Time Lords are to us as we are to insects. And we would have just as much luck arguing with them as an ant does to a boot. Perhaps the wider universe is lucky that they don't want to get involved.

The Doctor may have returned to his planet of origin, but it wasn't much of a homecoming. That would require warmth. It didn’t even occur to the Time Lords at first that his human friends would want to say goodbye to the Doctor. What sort of society is that, where affection and attachment are strange concepts? I don’t think they went out of their way to be cruel, but I don’t think it occurred to them that they weren’t being kind.

Speaking of unkind: The War Lord’s people. It seems a bit extreme to essentially imprison an entire planet for the actions of a few of its leaders. Even if they were abhorrent. I still have questions about them. We didn’t even get a name for the species as a whole. That said, I do have a theory. It’s ironclad, trust me. I think they could be "Dals", at a point in their history before they turned into screaming pepperpots. I have two compelling pieces of evidence:

  • The Security Chief’s oddly Dalek-like cadence to his speech.
  • I enjoy the idea, and I am always right. Except when I'm not.

So, there.

The Doctor angrily addresses the War Chief, with Jamie and Zoe looking on behind him.

Final Thoughts

Wow. The end of a marathon serial, and the end of an era.

I’ll get my final thoughts on "The War Games" out of the way first. It was great! Genuinely one of my favourites in all of “Doctor Who”. It’s a creative romp through time, with the stakes for the Doctor and his friends higher than ever before. What’s not to like?

Well. If I must… I was a tad disappointed that the War Lord didn’t turn out to be quite as big a deal as I thought he was going to be. He makes such an impression upon first arriving, but then he’s barely involved in the goings-on thereafter.

However, the revelation of the War Chief’s ulterior motives almost makes up for the letdown. They have interesting chemistry, him and the Doctor. It’s ambiguous how well they knew one another prior to meeting here, but they definitely knew of one another. Both being runaway Time Lords, there’s a degree of understanding between the two, much as the Doctor would hate to admit it. Pity the War Chief had to die. He could have made quite the nemesis.

The ending for the captured humans is also a bit abrupt. They do at least get to have a climactic battle (well, more of a skirmish) for control of the War Room, but once the Time Lords get involved, poof! They all vanish. It does serve to establish the immense power the Time Lords possess, but it’s not entirely satisfying.

But this is me deliberately looking for fault. These quibbles are there, but to me they’re not a significant hamper on my enjoyment of the story. I just enjoy the good bits too much to let the less-good bits bother me.

The Doctor, Jamie and Zoe on an outing together.

And now, it’s time to close out an entire era of Doctor Who. I’m more than a little heart-broken; I adored the current iteration of the TARDIS crew. They’re like a proper little family.

I’ve especially enjoyed the relationship between the Doctor and Jamie. They’re just so comfortable with each other, and the chemistry between Troughton and Hines has always been wonderful. I’ve always found it endearing how affectionate they are with each other, the banter, the absolute undying loyalty. It’s so sweet, and so sad to have their travels together brought to such an abrupt end.

The Doctor and Jamie clinging to one another.
They're adorable. Even if the Doctor did forget what Jamie looks like that one time.

And as for saying goodbye to the Second Doctor, well. It hurts. But I cannot stress enough how much I have loved Patrick Troughton’s take on the Doctor.

Really, it’s extraordinary. It’s an unenviable task, having to take over a beloved character from a great performer like William Hartnell. And yet..! He rose to the challenge, and performed admirably. Troughton's Doctor is very much his own, distinct from the first incarnation, yet still having the same soul. The curiosity is still there, the mischief, the sense of justice. He's a continuation, not an imitation. Just as it should be.

I loved that little man, his wit, his endearing clownishness, and the incredible warmth. How could I not? And then the flip side, the cunning, the moments where the clown mask slipped to reveal glimpses of the much more serious, contemplative, sometimes even melancholic man underneath it all. That’s where the magic is. That’s what makes the Troughton Doctor so compelling.

The Doctor, in his tall hat, leaning against a tree stump with a sad sort of smile.
Thank goodness he ditched that hat, though.

And what comes next? Or rather, “Who”? Well, I had been getting a little nervous at the lack of announcement thus far, but have no fear, because a few days ago the BBC finally made the announcement. Next time we see the Doctor, he’ll be played by Jon Pertwee.

There’s a pretty decent chance you’ve seen Pertwee in one thing or another. He’s been doing plenty of work for the BBC for the last couple of decades, and his film career is certainly nothing to sniff at. If you’ve seen the 1953 film “Will Any Gentlemen…?”, you’ve even seen him perform alongside William Hartnell. I choose to take that as an encouraging sign.

I’m sad to see Troughton go, but I have faith. If Doctor Who can pull off a change of Doctor once, it can do it again.

Thank you for being a wonderful Doctor, Patrick Troughton… and good luck, Jon Pertwee.

5 stars out of 5 for “The War Games”.




[June 20, 1969] Where to? (July 1969 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Nihon, banzai!

In just the last ten years of covering our trips to Japan as part of Galactic Journey, we have watched with amazement as Japan executed nothing short of a miracle.  As of this year, the country is now the third largest economy in the world, and "Made in Japan" is no longer a stamp of poor quality.  Datsuns are rolling off the assembly line by the thousands and ending up in American showrooms.  The sky is dark with industrial smog.  It's almost enough to eclipse the left-wing student protests that keep popping up around the nation.

Of course, Japan still has a ways to go, at least domestically.  Fully a fifth of its population still is minimally housed, squatting in one-room shacks and waiting for the government to make good on its five year plan to give everyone a decent home.

One family that has no such difficult is the Fujiis, our adoptive parents, who we last visited five years ago!  This trip was particularly exciting for reasons I shall detail shortly.

First, a picture of the flower shop on the way to their house.  The town is Amagi, an agricultural town that specializes in grapes and persimmons.

And now the estate.  It's laid out as a square with an internal garden.  What's significant is that it dates back to the 1840s—a time when Japan was still ruled by a Shogun.  The estate is essentially a relic, representative of a style that had not changed since Elizabethan times.  At a time when so many of these historic residences are being torn down or falling apart, this one stands as a living treasure.

Yuko, our adoptive mom, gave Lorelei a set of Japanese watercolors, which she employed to draw the garden as she saw it.

The architecture of the place, alone, is remarkable.  This is construction without nails, all of the timbers custom built and joined together.

What's inside is even more remarkable.  The back house used to house a pawn shop.  Even the boxes are more than a century old.

This dress was made by a princess.

And this kimono was hocked by a penniless samurai for a little cash.  Apparently, this happened a lot.

This is century-old paper, also sold by a samurai.  Among the sheets was a paper mock-up of a hakama, the armor the samurai wore.

This is in the house.  Yukio, Yuko's husband, was a Kyoto cop before he retired.  This relic, however, long pre-dates him—it's the kind of lantern used by police in the 19th Century!

I hope you enjoyed this little excursion into the past.  Now for a trip into the future…and regions fantastic!

Leiber of the party

Every summer, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction dedicates an issue to science fiction luminary.  For the July 1969 edition, that fellow is Fritz Leiber.  His name is rarely mentioned in the same breath as, say, Heinlein or Asimov, though he is their contemporary (more or less), but when he's good he's very good.  Does he make this issue stand out?  Let's see!


by Ed Emshwiller

Ship of Shadows, by Fritz Leiber

First up, a brand new piece by the man, himself.  It stars Spar and his talking cat, Kim.  No, this isn't a fantasy, but a highly personal adventure of an old man living in weightlessness aboard some sort of spaceship.  Most of the folks onboard have forgotten about Earth, and there now appear to be eldritch beings aboard—werewolves and vampires—making prey out of those who remain.

Things I liked: the setup is revealed slowly, and it's the first story I've read from the point of view of someone who desperately needs glasses…but doesn't know it.  And there is that characteristic Leiber poesy to the writing.

Things I didn't like: the story moves glacially, and I didn't feel like it told anything new.  I kept finding myself distracted every two or three pages.

So…three stars, I guess.

Fritz Leiber (profile), by Judith Merril

Famed writer and anthologist (and book reviewer) Judy Merril gushes over her hero, Fritz Leiber.  Half biography, half hagiography, half history of SF, it's a worthy piece, especially if you want to be introduced to his early work (and happen, like me, to own a complete set of Unknown).

Four stars.

Demons of the Upper Air, IIX, by Fritz Leiber

A pretty good poem about our first interstellar astronauts, told from the point of view of someone stuck on the ground.

Three stars.

Fritz Leiber: A Bibliography, by Al Lewis

As it says on the tin—no more, and no less.

(no rating)


by Gahan Wilson

To Aid and Dissent, by Con Pederson

It's easy to get in trouble out Mars or asteroids way.  To that end, a fleet of sherpas has been bred—literally.  These rescue ships, which sacrifice themselves upon landing to deposit air and victuals, comprise a row of linked simian brains inside a spacecraft shell.  Think the ape version of The Ship Who… series.  Sherpa Bravo one day decides he's sick of being aynyone's monkey and launches a one-primate civil rights revolution.

Clunkily written and nothing special.  Two stars.

The Place with No Name, by Harlan Ellison

Norman Mogart was an Entertainment Liaison Agent.  Pfui.  He was a pimp.  When he gets into trouble with the law there's no way out of, he makes a deal with…well…not quite the Devil…and finds himself hip-deep in two of the biggest martyr legends of history.

The first half is excellent and pure Ellison.  The second changes the tone so sharply, beware of whiplash.  It ends poignantly enough, but the two halves don't quite mesh.

As is usually the case—Ellison consistently produces what are, for me, three-and-a-quarter star stories…round to four stars?

Transgressor's Way, by Doris Pitkin Buck

A knight errant proves to be anything but a knight bachelor—his modus operandi is to shamelessly seduce young maids and then bunk them all in separate towers for him to enjoy at his leisure.  But what if they should discover each other?

This story is told in too confusing a shorthand, and it is too frivolous in substance, to earn more than two stars from me.

A Triptych, by Barry N. Malzberg

An interesting, behind-the-scenes look at what goes on in the minds of the three astronauts who get sent in the Apollo.  It's not bad, but Barry isn't very well in touch with the actual space program.  One telltale: he assumes that the spacemen have little to do between TV shots.  In fact, they are kept too busy—indeed, both the Apollo 7 and 10 commanders cut pages out of their assignments because the astronauts were overworked and making mistakes (as anyone who regularly watched coverage of either of these flights should know – Ed).

Three stars.

Two at a Time, by Isaac Asimov

In which the Good Doctor explains how we measure the mass of planets by observing their effect on each other (specifically, the common elliptical focus around which they both orbit).  Several pages that could be reduced to one or two lines of formulae, but he looks to be setting something up.

Three stars.

Litterbug, by Tony Morphett

Finally, a fun piece about a fellow named Rafferty who invents a teleporter.  Problem is, he can't control where things go, and he can't bring them back.  Solution: market the thing as a garbage can.

Problem 2: What happens when aliens at the destination get annoyed at all the litter on their planet?

Three stars.

Lifeless

At least for me, my real life excursion was more interesting than the flights of fancy I took while riding the trains.  With the exception of Merril's piece, the rest is pretty forgettable.  Well, I suppose you won't forget the Emshwiller cover anytime soon.  Anyway, next time I'll be reading F&SF, it'll be in the endotic locale of my home town.  May the contents of the August issue be just as different from July's as the Orient is to Southern California.






[June 16, 1969] The Voyage to Net a Dolphin (June 1969 Galactoscope)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Whodunit?

As far as I know, there aren't a lot of science fiction mystery novels out there. The most famous, of course, are Isaac Asimov's tales of police detective Elijah Bailey and his robot partner R. Daneel Olivaw. The Caves of Steel (1953) and The Naked Sun (1956) are classics in this specific combination of genres.

A new book continues the tradition of a detective investigating a murder case in the far future. Will it be up to the level of the Good Doctor's predecessors? Let's find out.

Deathstar Voyage, by Ian Wallace


Cover art by Richard Powers

Murder On The Altair Express

The novel takes place aboard a luxury starship on its way from Earth to Altair. On board is police lieutenant/doctor of psychology Claudine St. Cyr. Her job is to make sure that the king of a planet orbiting Altair gets home safely. This seems like an easy assignment, as the king claims that everybody on his world loves him. It turns out this isn't quite true.

After foiling an assassination attempt on the king, things start to go very badly indeed. Somebody has sabotaged the gizmo that allows the starship to travel faster than light. This threatens to make the whole darn thing blow up, killing hundreds of passengers and crew.

As if that weren't enough, both the captain and the second in command die in mysterious ways. Can St. Cyr solve the crime and save the ship?

Suspects? We've got plenty of 'em. Just about everybody we meet has some kind of secret, from the king to a shopkeeper who sells St. Cyr a wristwatch with a second hand that runs backwards.

Notable among the possible killers are a wild-eyed religious fanatic and a guy with telekinetic powers. It takes a while for the plot to get going, but towards the end the author throws in a ton of twists and turns.

As a murder mystery, it generally plays fair with the reader. There are lots of clues scattered here and there, from a mysterious message left near the sabotaged gizmo to the aroma of a certain brand of cigar. My one quibble with the whodunit plot is that some of the twists depend on people concealing information from St. Cyr (and the reader) for pretty weak reasons.

As science fiction, well, that's a different matter. There's a long discussion of the way the starship gizmo works that is pure doubletalk. We also learn a lot about the way telekinetic powers work; more than I wanted to know, really. Despite the far future setting, it feels more like we're aboard the Queen Mary during the golden age of cruise ships.

A word about St. Cyr as a character. She's highly skilled as a detective and as a psychologist. She is also very beautiful, and just about every male character in the novel falls madly in love with her. She isn't afraid to use her feminine wiles to get information out of these besotted fellows, and this gets to be a bit much at times.

Overall, a light piece of entertainment that passes the time pleasantly, but will fade from memory as soon as you reach the last page.

Three stars.


photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

The Nets of Space, by Emil Petaja

I've only recently discovered Petaja, a Finnish-extraction author with a fantastical sense imbued in his writing and a penchant for incorporating themes from various mythologies. He's sort of a rip-roaring version of Thomas Burnett Swann, and I always enjoy (though not necessarily love) his work. His latest is no exception.


Cover art by Paul Lehr

The opening is a grabber: Don Quick is a technician bounced from the Alpha Centauri expedition at the last minute. The first scene of the book is a dream sequence in which he is in an enormous cocktail glass with dozens of other naked humans, glazed in brine, and they are one-by-one pulled out and dipped in sauce before being eaten by giant alien crabs.

When he awakens, Don finds himself back on Earth and recalls that he has been a mental patient for months. Is his dream a kind of clairvoyance? Or merely a kind of shell shock from the time he inhaled hyperspatial gas during a pre-launch accident involving the Centaur III? And why, when he falls asleep, does the dream continue sequentially and seem to portend an extraterrestrial invasion of the Earth?

Cervantes' classic Don Quixote figures strongly in this book; it is the external influence Petaja has chosen for his latest adventure. The whole thing is lighthearted enough that you're never too worried about Earth's possible impending disaster. Indeed, The Nets of Space is essentially a comic book in literary form—never mind the science or consistency. But it reads quickly: I finished it on a single flight from Tokyo to Fukuoka.

3.5 stars



by Jason Sacks

The Day of the Dolphin, by Robert Merle

The Day of the Dolphin is a work of fiction of great contradictions: it’s lighthearted and downbeat, escapist and embedded in the world; engaged in technological innovation and driven by characters; and written in manners both straightforward and elliptical.

If there ever was a book to drive a reader crazy, it’s this one.

At the heart of Robert Merle’s new novel is a fascinating concept. We all know that dolphins are smart animals. As this book reminds us, the brain size and complexity of the average dolphin is roughly analogous to those of a human brain. So what if a wise researcher was able to talk to dolphins in their language and teach dolphins to talk to us in ours? How would those dolphins navigate their learning, how would their approaches to the world be different from those of humans, and what would make those majestic creatures truly happy?

When Merle explores those ideas, The Day of the Dolphin leaps ecstatically like a dolphin leaping out of the water to shoot a basketball through a hoop. There’s a thrilling element of discovery as a secret government laboratory of scientists patiently work with a young dolphin to teach him a few words of English. When he starts to learn English, the scientists provide that dolphin a mate. And the courtship and love affair between the dolphin couple is fascinating and sweet and surprisingly moving. My favorite parts of the novel were the sections in which Merle shows the creatures change each other, drive their relationships and truly build a bond between themselves and the scientists who care for them.

But if a scientific agency is driving this research, you know there has to be some geopolitics involved, and of course there is. In fact, one character notes in a clever bit of metafictional dialogue the moment when the plot takes on Bond or Flint elements. There are human romances inside the research group. But there is also espionage, and secret taping, and a “dolphin gap” argument with the Soviets, and it is to sigh.

Mr. Merle

Because to me, all those moments of connection to the real world take away the most intriguing aspects of the book. The book pivots at its midpoint. At that point. The book swiftly changes from an intellectually absorbing exploration of science into an often dull, often by-the-numbers tale of espionage and intrigue. I predicted around page 20 that the dolphins would be sent on the mission they go on towards the end of this novel, and the impact of those actions were equally as obvious.

Merle writes much of this book in a kaleidoscopical style, full of long paragraphs with stream-of-consciousness approaches which kind of wander and meander from first person to third person, from grounded reality to revelations of emotion and often to outright gibberish. At first this style is thrilling or at least intriguing, but when Merle breaks up that approach with excerpts from letters or interviews conducted by government agencies, that break often feels like a necessary breath of fresh air. I kept finding my mind drifting as the characters’ minds drifted, ungrounded in reality or in this story but instead of my own thoughts about dolphins or work or the Miami Dolphins of the NFL.

It sounds like I hated this book but in truth I enjoyed The Day of the Dolphin for its brazen oddness and for Merle’s obvious passion for both the way he presents his story and the story itself. The more I read about them in this book, the more I wanted to read about our aquatic friends. I now have a nice stack of library books on my desk about Cetaceans because I find that species so interesting. I just wish The Day of the Dolphin had a bit more dolphin and a bit less human in its pages.

3.5 stars





[June 12, 1969] Heavy on the Bitters (Star Trek: Turnabout Intruder)


by Janice L. Newman

The mood was bittersweet as we gathered to watch the final episode of Star Trek. It also held a hint of trepidation: would we get another instant classic, like All Our Yesterdays, or another disappointment, like the string of episodes before it?

As it turned out, the final episode of Star Trek, probably the last new one that will ever be aired, was compelling, well-acted, well-paced, well-directed…and disappointing for an entirely different reason.

The episode opens with Kirk encountering a former lover, a woman by the name of Janice Lester (not to be confused with Janice Rand, his former yeoman). Lester is ill, having received a dose of unknown radiation, and Kirk stays at her bedside to discuss their shared past, which was rife with emotional upheaval. Then Lester utters a sentence that gave every one of the watchers pause: “Your world of starship captains doesn't admit women. It isn't fair.”

This, on the face of it, makes no sense. I will discuss why later in this piece.

Kirk agrees with her that, “No, it isn’t.” When he turns away from Lester for a moment, she sits up and remotely triggers an alien machine which causes their “souls” to be switched. Kirk’s mind is now in Lester’s body, and vice-versa.

The plot that then unfolds is simple: Kirk must try to convince his crew that he is himself, despite being in Lester’s body, while Lester must convince them that “Janice Lester” is dangerously insane and that she is Captain Kirk. Lester is hampered by the fact that she is emotionally unstable, to put it mildly, and clearly unfit to be a starship captain. Spock uses Vulcan telepathy early on and believes Kirk, and the rest of the crew slowly come to support him as well, despite no medical tests showing anything off about Kirk (this is another implausible point—surely brain scans, psychological tests, or gauges of emotional stability should have shown that something was different.)

I have to give both Shatner and Sandra Smith, who played Janice Lester, credit here. Shatner does a good job playing someone not himself, particularly with body language (small touches like primly sitting with his knees together in the captain’s chair, for example). Smith also does an excellent Kirk impression. It's clear she studied his mannerisms before the role, and the tight, narrow-eyed, watchful look she has throughout definitely evokes him.

Eventually, apparently with the help of Spock’s telepathy, Kirk is able to force a reverse mind-transfer. Lester breaks down, and Kirk ends the episode with a mournful, “Her life could have been as rich as any woman's, if only. If only.”

There are a couple of ways to interpret this story. You could, as we tried to do, simply say that Lester sees sexism where it none exists, blaming an outdated concept for why she couldn’t get promoted rather than her own mental and emotional instability. Unfortunately, this is undercut by Kirk’s agreeing with her statement that, “It’s not fair,” and Kirk’s own final words that her life could have been as rich as “any woman’s”.

On the other hand, taking it at face value seems wildly counter both to previous episodes and to current (present-day) trends. “Number One” from The Menagerie was a woman, and even acting captain of the Enterprise back in Pike’s day, years before Kirk was put in charge. Perhaps there hasn’t been a female starship captain yet (there are only 13 Enterprise-class ships, per Tomorrow is Yesterday) but you don’t make someone First Officer if there’s no avenue for them to eventually become a captain. And in “our world”, two world leaders are women: Golda Meir became the Prime Minister of Israel just two months ago, while Indira Gandhi has been Prime Minister of India since 1966! In every other way, the “Federation” has been shown to be an organization freer of prejudice than our own time. Race hatred is a thing of the past, so much so that the very idea causes revulsion in Day of the Dove and helps Kirk realize that they are being controlled. Yet we are to believe that this same future somehow bars women from holding certain positions of power?

Perhaps…yes. The ugly truth is, no matter how we spin it, those lines on the face of them say to female viewers, “Stay in your role. You are allowed to do certain things, but not everything a man can do. To want more is madness.” This, from a show that made so many women into science fiction fans, and for which female fans have fought so hard and created so much support, is doubly insulting.

In summing up, I can’t put it better than a friend who goes by Greenygal, who has had thoughtful and interesting commentary on a previous episode as well:

Do I prefer to think that all the dialogue of women's limitations and hating womanhood and "as rich as any woman's if only" is just about Janice Lester's own issues and not institutional and societal sexism in the Star Trek universe? Sure, of course. Are those lines perfectly innocent? No. Do they hurt? Yes.

Bittersweet indeed. Four stars, despite the script, because the production and acting were just that good.


Despite Itself

by Lorelei Marcus

While it's true that the episode sets out to send an egregious message about female incompetence in the realm of leadership, I think the result is quite the opposite. In the world of literature there is an emphasis on showing rather than telling the audience any information that needs to be conveyed. Not only is presenting a concept visually rather than verbally more engaging and complex, but also more impactful because of our dependence on sight as our number one sense of reality. We may not believe everything we hear, but we almost always believe what we see. Perhaps that is why I was so moved to see a woman unquestionably in the captain's role, with no epithets to belittle her importance.

The person on screen may be the soul of a man trapped inside a woman's body, but what we hear and see is a woman's voice and a woman's face speaking with the same determined spirit of Captain Kirk, receiving the same respect from the male first officers as any leader of the Enterprise. She is not a "beautiful" Captain, or an "ice cold" Captain, or even a "woman" Captain. She is simply, The Captain, a person with a role beyond her appearance.

Before this episode I had not realized the extent of the limited portrayals of women in television. I had heard the first season of The Avengers was remarkable because the co-star role had been written for a man, but ended up being cast as a woman, and the characterizations were excellent because of it. I never saw this first season for myself though, and when I tuned in later several seasons in, it was to a new female co-star relegated only to being the seductress, beauty, and potential romantic interest for the lead.

Nearly everywhere, women characters are written differently than men, and severely restricted in the roles they can play in a story. Even in the lauded Is There in Truth No Beauty?, the female guest star is primarily interacted with on the basis of her beauty and her ultimate destiny is to fall in love, despite her being a talented ambassador and telepath. Female characters, no matter how intelligent, or complex, or interesting, will always be confined by the expectations of the characters around them and the audience. The first thing noticed about them will always be appearance, and unless they're meant to be the villain, they will always end up in some sort of romantic scenario, because that is the way it is. But Turnabout Intruder made me realize that it's not the way it has to be.

No one calls Janice's body “beautiful”. No one tries to court her. Once the first officers understand her authority, they never question her intent or her orders. And thanks to brilliant acting and slow pacing, there were moments when I forgot that she was meant to be Kirk at all, and simply believed a woman was the Captain of the Enterprise. In much the same way that seeing Uhura on the bridge for the first time was world changing, seeing Janice sit confidently in the captain's chair, or at least the witness chair, which is much like it, was inspiring. She is a symbol that makes me believe that even I could become a starship captain someday.

I can only hope that this is one of many examples to come. Television is a reflection of our larger society. If women of the silver screen can break free from the bonds of limited expectation, then so can those of society. For the positive role model, and a good viewing experience, I give the episode four stars.


Painfully Familiar

by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

"Your world of starship captains does not admit women."

That one line hit like a phaser to the back. It was just one of the many times I had a strong, visceral reaction to lines and moments in this episode, vacillating wildly between recognition and revulsion.

It is a hard thing, to hear true words spoken by a villain. Dr. Lester has to be a villain, because she hurts Kirk, and then gloats about it. She killed her team, has never moved past her and Kirk's young connection at Starfleet Academy, and declares that she never loved him but instead loved "the life he led," his "power."

This poisons the powerful truth telling of her words.

Watching Dr. Lester-in-Kirk’s body back up when the officer in orange is menacing her-in-his-body, was so recognizable, so clear an experience known to many of the women and perhaps fewer of the men watching. Likewise, when Dr. Lester-in-Kirk stands over the young communications officer and hollers at her, that too, is painfully recognizable. That she-as-he treats Spock with the same overbearing arrogance is just another reminder how tenuous a protection gender is to anyone deviating even a blue eye shadow’s swipe away from the straight and narrow.

After that dominance-driven performance on the bridge, with all its uncomfortable complexity, we are back to the same sexist clichés that too many people explicitly and implicitly trot out to force women out of so many leadership roles: "hysteria" and "emotional instability" and "erratic mental attitudes." This too is a danger of science fiction, taking cruel characterizations that rarely if ever entirely encompass a real, living human being, but on screen can flow out to fill the edges of a full character, leaving no complex internality to explore or expose.

These characterizations perfectly match what we see on screen, and what we see other women believe about Dr. Lester on screen. I was particularly disappointed by Nurse Chapel's easy agreement that the woman in front of her was insane, with no one but a strange man's say-so. Chain of command means passing little to this crew when it suits the plot, but in this instance it turns Nurse Chapel into a tool as if she has no other purpose or will but to obey.

Setting aside the male chauvinism that made my skin crawl and neck itch throughout the entire episode, if we treat Dr. Lester as a whole person, desperate for a chance to engage in leadership, it is fascinating to see what an incredibly bright woman, kept outside of the power structures that she still chooses to serve, sees as the motions and emotions of power. Though Bones's recitation of Dr. Lester-in-Kirk's body's mental changes is one correct summary, there are other aspects to highlight.

Dr. Lester-in-Kirk thinks that leaders—or perhaps just Captain James T. Kirk—has power by virtue of his title and rank, his smirking glad-handing relationships with his staff, his willingness to bully and raise his voice, his knowledge of and position within the legal and hierarchical systems of Starfleet, and when in a moment of extreme danger to Dr. Lester-in-Kirk's masquerade, his willingness to use violence. Yes, Bones was horrified to see Dr. Lester-in-Kirk hit Kirk-in-Lester. And yes, and Spock brought it up chidingly later. But one slapped Dr. Lester-in-Kirk in irons, threw him in solitary, or drugged him with sedatives because he'd laid hands on a nearly-naked, nearly-dying ill colleague (I would have wished for the actor's sake that the director would have tried for one more take of that scene, perhaps one where her half her bottom wasn't visible when she was lifted by the crew).

This vision of brute-force leadership is both cruel and perhaps one most of us have seen in our own lives or that of our country.

But then I swing back to recognition during the interrogation by Spock and the trial, not from the actions of Dr. Lester or Captain Kirk, but by Spock. Spock's argument and method of discovery are both deeply, traditionally feminine: in a system designed by human men, his forms of evidence are not accepted, the reality of his perceptions are not honored as evidence in their systems of justice, and his entire position is mocked and undermined, from the smirking guards to the giggle of the young communications officer we saw Captain Kirk dominate over earlier.

And yet, in the best of feminine traditions, Commander Spock persists. He insists on hearing Kirk-in-Dr. Lester. He believes his own mind, his own way of knowing things, is valuable, and while he is disappointed not to have it confirmed by the methods and sources acceptable to Starfleet tribunals, he does not waver and does not drift from his convictions.

"Her intense hatred of her own womanhood," is Captain Kirk-in-Dr. Lester's summary of why he dumped her. And that is one way of viewing her. But a fuller version of her, one made less glassy and plastic by the world of our own viewers, has the potential to be more Beatrice than Cruella de Vil.

Beatrice cries out in Act IV, Scene I of Much Ado About Nothing, after the young rake Claudio has ruined the life of Beatrice's even younger cousin Hero:

Beatrice: You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.

Benedick: Is Claudio thine enemy?

Beatrice: Is he not approved in the height a villain, that
hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O
that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they
come to take hands; and then, with public
accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,
—O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart
in the market-place.

That fantasy of Beatrice's is so much more violent and explicit than anything Dr. Lester-in-Kirk ever says, ever does: eat his heart in the marketplace.

Wow.

While Dr. Lester first simply aims to have Kirk warehoused on a strange planet, a cruel and earthbound life for a starship captain that provides some deep irony, it is not as explicitly violent as it could have been.

It is nearly as cruel as having her colleague take ownership over Dr. Lester when she finally loses, her body and life given to him because he promised to "take care of her."

That was a final, deeply disturbing moment in an episode that gave me such a strong and impenetrable mix of feelings, I found myself wishing for a Vulcan mind-meld to sort them all out with me.

I was however heartened by the final lines. "Her life could have been as rich as any woman's, if only … if only."

One read is, "’if only’ she had surrendered earlier in her life to a gender role of vastly limited scope and ambition." But it just as likely could have been, "’if only’ she had lived in a more enlightened time, when her leadership yearnings were treated with respect, honed, corrected, and empowered so she could become the powerful, effective starship captain she so clearly wanted to become."

Three stars.


Love and Ambition


by Joe Reid

If the woman I loved were so jealous of her ex-boyfriend that she pretended to be him to take everything he had accomplished, could I still love her? My answer is a resounding NO! However, in this week’s episode of Star Trek, titled “The Turnabout Intruder,” we meet a man who would answer yes: Dr. Arthur Coleman. I have rarely seen anyone, woman or man, as committed as Dr. Coleman was to Dr. Janice Lester.

We meet both doctors on the planet Camus II. The Enterprise arrives in response to a distress call from the planet. There, we find an infirmed Dr. Lester under the care of Dr. Coleman, the last two surviving members of a research party. Kirk recognizes his former girlfriend and speaks kindly of her. Then, as signs of life appear elsewhere, the crew and Dr. Coleman leave to assist, hoping to find another survivor. Kirk is left alone with Dr. Lester. In the ensuing silence, Lester springs her trap, using an alien machine to swap bodies with Kirk. Lester now inhabits the healthy body of Captain Kirk, while Kirk lies struggling, trapped in Lester’s weakened body. What follows is a secretive cat and mouse game as Lester, in Kirk’s body, tries to eliminate the man trapped in hers, all while avoiding the suspicious gazes of the Enterprise crew and later matching wits against a fully recovered Kirk in female form. Through it all, Dr. Lester could fully rely on Dr. Coleman, who would do almost anything for her.

In this episode, Coleman proved his incredible loyalty to Lester. As someone who had not fared well in his career, Coleman and Lester appear to be kindred spirits, with her feeling held back herself due to her sex. Lester apparently concocted her plan upon discovering the alien mind transfer machine that lured Kirk, her former mate and the man who had achieved all the accolades she felt she deserved, to Camus II. In carrying out this scheme, Lester eliminated the other members of the research party. Through it all, Coleman stood by her side. He himself refused to kill anyone, allowing Lester to pursue her intent. Even when Lester, in Kirk’s body, gave Coleman senior medical authority on the Enterprise and asked him to murder the new Janice Lester. Bloodying his own hands was the only line he would not cross for her. Coleman’s devotion to Lester proved to be heartfelt. At the climax of the episode, the mind switch was reversed. Kirk and Lester being once again in their own bodies, left Lester insane with grief and devastated. It was here where Coleman professed his love for Lester and vowed to care for her going forward.

Coleman’s love for Lester was unquestionable, his loyalty steadfast. This raised the question in my mind of what Coleman would have done had Lester remained a man. Would his love for Lester find expression if she were in a man’s body? Perhaps he hadn’t thought things through, or perhaps it wouldn’t have been an issue for them. We saw, during one of their private moments, how Lester related to Coleman in a feminine manner as she touched his shoulder, attempting to coerce him into killing for her.

In the end, Coleman got exactly what he wanted. He was given permission to love and care for the woman he would go to almost any length for. Arthur Coleman proved more valuable to Lester than all she had hoped to gain in Kirk’s skin. Although her ambition for power failed her his love didn’t.

Overall, “Turnabout Intruder” was very well acted, with heavily nuanced performances by Mr. Shatner and Ms. Smith. Kirk delivered subtle femininity, softness, and female exacerbation convincingly. Lester grew more stoic and strategic as the story reached its climax. For its complex character dynamics and fine acting I’m willing to say this is among the better episodes of Star Trek.

Four stars


The End?

by Trini Stewart

After finishing "Turnabout Intruder", I’m inclined to reflect on Star Trek as a whole. I can’t help but acknowledge that my expectations for the episode are largely influenced by the loss of the beloved series. My first instinct is to be let down by the episode as a finale, since I hold the series so dear and the final episode had a fairly weak delivery as far as the intended message goes. What we got was an antagonist who, despite her compelling acting, I didn’t quite resonate with, even as a woman who regularly faces systematic sexism in a male-dominated work environment. While I found that Dr. Janice Lester’s challenges are inherently relatable and frustrating, her excessively drastic, vengeful means of getting her way made it more difficult to connect with her or understand her exact desires.

Nevertheless, instances of imperfect composition from Star Trek have never been enough for me to write off an episode or feel this kind of complete malaise about one as a result. There were enough ingredients for an enjoyable Trek episode in this one; there was convincing character work from everyone on the Enterprise, good teamwork from the close-knit crew to determine what was best for the well-being of the ship, plenty of Spock being the competent knock-out he ought to be, and an ending that avoids a high-stakes threat for a crew member. Regardless of whether I could relate to her, I was still intrigued by the consequences of Dr. Lester's futuristic and unconventional solution to systemic sexism, and I was curious about what exactly prevents women from being in leadership positions like being a starship Captain in the future.

Maybe what was more disappointing to me than the actual content was that there was a lot of lost hope for something more profound: a grand episode that needn't be perfect or anything, but at least answered some long-standing questions or gave hints of where the crew would be after we could no longer join them. There’s so much in this universe left to discover and explore, and many more discussions to be had with other fans. Not only that, but there is plenty of content I have yet to see from seasons one and two—I realize that my experience of the series is incomplete in more ways than one, and feeling robbed by the series’ cancellation doesn’t help.

Like thousands (millions?) of others, I fell in love with this show for its characters, its sense of adventure in uncharted territory, and the community that has grown around it, and I am simply not ready for all of that magic to end. "Turnabout Intruder" turned out to be a good episode overall, and a decent one to end the series on, all things considered. I’ll be looking forward to the reruns and continuing to celebrate Star Trek with so many others who treasure it, too.

3.5 stars.


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[June 10, 1969] Points West and Above (July 1969 Galaxy)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

The Orient

Thanks to centuries of tradition, we tend to think of the Far East as…well…east!  But for us, going to Japan means a 12-hour flight west—literally into tomorrow, as we cross the International Date Line to do it. 

This week marked the beginning of our fourteenth trip to Japan.  How things have changed since we first went back in 1948, when flying via Northwest Orient meant an entire day of travel with multiple stops.  Travel these days is practically instantaneous by comparison.

We were even able to hop on a same-day domestic flight from Tokyo to Fukuoka, which is where I'm writing this.  I've been able to develop my first roll of color film, the results of which I am happy to share:

The Alient

The latest issue of Galaxy is, like this month's IF, the first under the helm of Ejler Jakobsson, and it's also a month late.  Will it be more interesting than the rather dull IF?  Well, it's certainly different.  After all, the lead piece is one I would have expected to appear in Analog.  Why wouldn't Campbell want the sequel to the incredibly popular and presumably lucrative Dune.  Dunno… but here it is:


by Dan Adkins

Dune Messiah (Part 1 of 5), by Frank Herbert


by Jack Gaughan

And so we return to Arrakis, the Dune planet, the only source of the spice melange, which gives the power of prophecy, allows the navigators of the Guild to ply the hyperspace lanes, and is the only currency of note in the Empire.

Last time, Paul Atreides, son of the murdered Duke of Arrakis, had seized his destiny as the kwizatz haderach, leading his army of desert Fremen against the Padisha Emperor in a coup that placed the young general in charge of a galactic domain.

It is now twelve years later, and disparate factions are plotting to overthrow Paul, who has become a figurehead in an interstellar Jihad.  The plotters include the Bene Geneserit, the sisterhood that manipulated Paul and his sister, Aria's, genetic destiny; the navigators' Guild, and Irulan, wife of Paul, and daughter of the cruel Baron Harkonnen, who wrested Arrakis from Paul's father. 

We know there's a plot because it is the subject of an endless scene at the beginning of the serial installment.  And because Paul then discusses the plot at length with his companins at an endless meeting of state in the latter part of the serial.  The plot involves predestination, an heir for Paul (his true love, the Fremen Chani, is being kept secretly sterile by Irulan, who wants to beat the child), and the reincarnated form of Duncan Idaho, one of Paul's comrades in the last book.

There.  Now you don't actually have to read this chapter, which is all for the best, as it's as deadly dull and motionless as the worst parts of Dune.  At least the viewpoints don't change every five sentences.

Two stars so far.

Full Commitment, by Robert S. Martin

Senator Clint is on an investigative junket to Burma, where America is in an endless war against… the Capitalists?  What happened to the Communists?  And why do all the soldiers parrot the exact same line when explaining why they're there to fight?

Brainwashing, obviously…which is how Clint is ultimately disposed of.

A pointless story, poorly done.  One star.

The City That Was the World, by James Blish


by Dan Adkins

James Blish tells the story of a man who makes Howard Hughes look like a piker.  John Hillary Dane is a man with vision…or perhaps visions is more appropriate.  First, he builds an enormous pair of telescopes four miles high in the Andes.  Then he erects a mile-high skyscraper in Denver, the mile-high city.  While the reason for the former is never really explained (other than the obvious reasons—the seeing is much better above the majority of the atmosphere), the purpose of the immense building is the point of the story.

I don't really want to spoil things, so I'll just say that the tale deals with time travel, Malthusian overpopulation, and the value (or lack thereof) of friendship.  It's a good story, although few of the elements are really plausible.

Four stars (and the best piece in the issue).

For Your Information: Eugen Sanger and the Rocket-Propelled Airplane, by Willy Ley

Willy Ley's article is on Eugen Saenger, the Austrian cum German rocket scientists perhaps best known for his design of the America Bomber—a rocket-plane that would fly high enough to skip on the upper atmosphere until it reached New York.  There's a lot of good information that probably can't easily be found elsewhere, since Ley relies on at least one personal source.  That said, it's kind of a dull piece.

Three stars.

A Brief History of the Revolution, by David Lunde and James Sallis

In a piece that might well have come out in Fantasy and Science Fiction (or maybe the old Galaxy sister mag, Beyond), we have a young couple hounded by their animate furniture until they are effectively evicted.  The cause of all this appears to be the wife's desire to have a child.

Not very good.  Two stars.

The Kinsolving's Planet Irregulars, by A. Bertram Chandler


by Reese

Last up is the latest journey of Commodore John Grimes, the famed skipper of the Galactic Rim.  In a direct sequel to The Rim Gods, Grimes and his First Mate (though likely not his first mate) Sonya head back to Kinsolving’s Planet.  You may recall from the last story (or the review thereof) that the team Grimes escorted tried to exploit some time-space weakness to psionically summon Jehovah.  Instead, they incarnated the Olympian pantheon.

This time, their efforts throw Grimes into a fantasy land populated exclusively by fictional characters, from a certain Baker Street detective to larger-than-life but real people like Oedipus and Achilles.  Things get really weird when Grimes starts to question his own reality…

I always enjoy Chandler's Rim stories, but this one is just a bit too cute.  It also looks like the author is tired of the Grimes series and would love to end it…if only the money weren't good.

Three stars.

Things that came and things to come

And that's that.  Quality-wise, a thoroughly unremarkable issue.  Indeed, the only real bit of note is how many of the stories seem to be in the wrong magazine.  I confess I am kind of looking forward to the post-Pohl era.  I want to see how things change for this venerable magazine.

Of course, I also know to be careful what I wish for…

(and stay tuned for more updates from Japan!)






[June 8th, 1969] Dissension In The Ranks (Doctor Who: The War Games [Parts 5-7])


By Jessica Holmes

When I said this serial was long, I wasn’t exaggerating. We’re getting closer to the end—but we’re not there yet.

Let’s check up on how the Doctor and company are getting on in “The War Games.”

ID: The Doctor (right, dark haired middle-aged white male, baggy suit), talking to the Science Chief (middle-aged white male, balding, wearing lab coat and visor with cross shaped eye holes). Seated in front of them with his head in a metal vise is Carstairs (30s-ish white make in WW1-era British sergeant's uniform)

In Case You Missed It

We last left the TARDIS team scattered, the Doctor on his own in the sprawling futuristic central command, Jamie with the Resistance in the 1860s, and Zoe about to be shot as a spy for the Kaiser. Suffice to say, I’m having a lot more fun than they are.

Fortunately for Zoe, she’s more valuable alive than dead, so while the Security Chief hauls her in for questioning, the Science Chief takes Carstairs for more thorough reprogramming. And he has an eager audience of one: the Doctor, who the Science Chief hasn’t yet realised isn’t meant to be here.

As for Jamie, he manages to persuade the Resistance not to kill their prisoner Von Weich, and also reveals to them their puppet-masters’ true means of communicating with central command and moving troops from zone to zone; not tunnels, as they had assumed, but the big green (or so he says) travelling box that's bigger on the inside. It turns out later that it's called a SIDRAT (pronounced 'side-rat'). Funny acronyms on a postcard, please.

The Doctor takes the opportunity to rescue Carstairs when the Science Chief de-programs him in preparation for proper reprogramming, and the pair of them strap him into his own machine before running off to find Zoe. Zoe’s a little the worse-for-wear following her interrogation at the hands of the Security Chief and his truth-seeking visor/bizarre binoculars. On the one hand, the Security Chief now knows about the Doctor and the TARDIS. On the other, he made the mistake of showing Zoe images of all the Resistance leaders—along with their names and their respective time-zones. Thanks to Zoe’s perfect memory, they now have the information they need to start finding these separate pockets of resistance and bringing them together.

ID: The Security Chief (back to camera, smart suit, wearing an elongated visor) interrogating Zoe (seated, white brunette girl approx. late teens). There is a stripey background.

They’d better get a move on, because the War Chief is already dispatching guards via SIDRAT to the American Civil War Zone to investigate the disturbance there— and they’ve already killed Harper, the soldier who came to Jamie and Lady Jennifer's rescue earlier. Pity. I hoped he was going to stick around for at least a little while longer. Survival rates of Doctor Who side characters are already pretty low. Looks like they drop to zero if you’re not white.

The other members of the Resistance manage to overpower the guards, however, and Jamie takes a ride back to the base in the SIDRAT, accompanied by his Resistance allies (save one who gets held back from the adventure to keep Von Weich company. That one happens to be played by David Troughton.  The surname is not a coincidence. What's the opposite of favouritism?)

Fortunately for the Science Chief, the Security Chief finds him before he gets his brains too badly scrambled, but the Security Chief is too suspicious of the War Chief’s true motives to report the incident to him. It turns out that the War Chief and War Lord are not from this world; unlike him and his cohorts, their people have the secret of time-and-space travel. If the Doctor has this secret too, thinks the Security Chief, perhaps his overlords are bringing in more of their own people to sabotage the experiment.

Well, their technology does seem similar. Same function, familiar design, and SIDRAT is literally just TARDIS backwards. But the Security Chief called them 'Time Lords', and I don’t know about you but the Doctor does not strike me as terribly lordly.

ID: The Doctor and Zoe, both in stolen British WW1 army uniforms.

Jamie and the Resistance get a rather frosty reception when the SIDRAT arrives at central command, stunned by a barrage of ray-gun fire. The guards drag him and his allies off to the reprocessing room for examination, and the Doctor heads to the neighbouring room to attempt a rescue from the other side.

Finding that Jamie has never been through the reconditioning process, the Science Chief sends him to the Security Chief for interrogation. Taking advantage of the distraction, the Doctor and Carstairs break into the reconditioning room through a wall panel, quickly overpowering the Science Chief and his guard.

It’s not long before they’ve also rescued Jamie (while the Security and War Chiefs are running round like headless chickens searching for them), and with some handy disguises they all pile into the SIDRAT, the Doctor managing to make it work with surprising ease. Sending Zoe on ahead with the Resistance, he hangs back with Jamie and Carstairs to steal the reprocessing machine.

The SIDRAT arrives back at the barn not a moment too soon, because Von Weich is trying to hypnotise his way out of captivity. His guard manages to fight off his control, however, and shoots him dead.

ID: The Doctor tapping at a control panel while Jamie (20s white male, wearing British military cap) looks on apprehensively.

Meanwhile, the Doctor nicks the processing machine, and it looks like he’s about to make a clean getaway when his stolen SIDRAT grinds to a halt. The pod is impregnable, just like the TARDIS, but what happens if the dimensions inside suddenly match the dimensions outside? It becomes rather snug, that’s what. And with the War Chief outside pushing the dimensional control dial down even further, it won’t be long before the trio are pressed to a pulp.

With no choice but to surrender, the Doctor emerges from the SIDRAT, only to drop a gas grenade from his stolen WWI gear a moment later. While the security guards are reeling, he rushes to the control panel, stealing the navigation circuit rods and restoring the inner dimensions of the vehicle. Just to be safe, he snaps off the lever for good measure, and absconds with the SIDRAT.

Unable to track him while the SIDRAT is still moving, the War Chief prepares for the arrival of the War Lord (Philip Madoc). This man is rather a different beast to the War Chief. He’s quieter, surprisingly soft spoken until he gets angry, and there’s no doubt that this is the most dangerous man on the planet right now. And he is very, very tired of the War and Security Chiefs’ bickering.

The War Lord (left, middle-aged white male, receding hairline, glasses, dark turtleneck) standing around a large map built into a table, with the War Chief (middle, middle-aged white male, dark hair) and the Security Chief (right, middle aged white male, glasses, balding). There are security guards in the background.

On board the SIDRAT, they’re no clearer on where they’re heading, least of all the Doctor. No matter the specific model of Space-Time machine, one thing is guaranteed: the Doctor is a lousy driver.

Landing in the Roman zone, the Doctor, Jamie and Carstairs have to make a hasty break for the time zone barrier, lest they end up on the wrong end of a centurion’s spear.

They aren’t really any better off for stepping into 1917, with General Smythe immediately ordering his gunners to fire on them. Fortunately, they aren’t pinned down for long before Zoe arrives with a small band of Resistance troops. However, more troops arrive to arrest the Doctor, bringing him and his friends back to the chateau, where Smythe sentences him to death…again.

Once again they get about as far as tying him to the post when a surprise attack scuppers the execution, this time coming from the Resistance. Smythe gets himself killed while attempting to escape, and the Resistance secure the chateau.

Wishing to avoid spoiling his little experiment by using his elite security forces, or destroying the valuable equipment at the chateau by simply bombing it off the map, the War Lord orders the local forces (British and Prussians and Frenchmen, oh my!) to assault the chateau on all sides.

The Doctor using the reprogramming device on a French soldier with Jamie's assistance.

With the attackers closing in, the Doctor has an idea. Finding a control device for the local time zone barrier in Smythe’s quarters, with Zoe’s help he’s able to create a new barrier encircling the chateau. The Resistance can come and go as they please, but the programmed soldiers outside will find themselves unable to approach. A single soldier managed to get into the chateau before the barrier went up, and the Doctor is quickly able to deprogram him with the processing machine. It's encouraging to see that it works, but deprogramming every single one of the untold thousands of soldiers throughout the zones will take until doomsday. Until the Doctor gets his hands on some more equipment, this will have to do.

Unfortunately it’s not certain that he’s going to get that chance. Now isolated from the zone outside, there’s nothing stopping the War Lord sending a SIDRAT of his own security forces. And so the Doctor falls into the hands of the War Lord.

The War Lord, looking thoughtful.

A WHAT Lord?

Well, well, well. Things are really getting interesting. This War Lord seems to be an entirely new kind of enemy, with a power level beyond any we’ve yet seen, save for perhaps the Great Intelligence or the Toymaker. The strong implication that he and the Doctor may be of the same world is a tantalising one.

Time Lords: quite a grandiose name for an alien race, don’t you think? Are they just too pompous for their own good or is that a title with actual meaning? It’s hard to imagine this Doctor as any kind of lord—though I think I could see it with his previous incarnation. It’s an interesting notion, but I hope we’re not going to spoil all sense of mystery about the Doctor. That’s part of the fun.

I’m happy to report that astonishingly for a serial of such length, the pacing still works. It’s a really fun ride with no signs of slowing down. We’ve not seen much of the War Lord yet, but he’s very promising so far. Philip Madoc’s presence on-screen is magnetic. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens when he comes face to face with the Doctor.

Final Thoughts

It’s a funny thing, simultaneously being eager for the conclusion of a story, yet at the same time wishing it didn’t have to end. I’ve grown very fond of this incarnation of the Doctor, and it’s strange to think that the next time I sit down at the typewriter to hammer out my thoughts on his escapades, it will be the last. Of course, the Doctor himself will keep on going (for however long the BBC sees fit), but not as the funny little chap with the recorder. I could wax lyrical about him— but I will save that for next time.

Still, no point grousing about it. The wheel of history keeps on turning, and so does Doctor Who.




[June 6, 1969] Blue Skies (July 1969 Amazing)


by John Boston

Samuel Johnson described second marriages as the triumph of hope over experience.  It is tempting to say something similar about changes of editor at Amazing.  But that impulse is at least postponed by the upbeat mien of this July issue.


by Johnny Bruck

That sky is about as blue as any I've seen on a magazine cover, and more importantly, the cover goes some way to answer the cry for a good cover by Johnny Bruck, whose hackneyed spaceships and guys with guns have become so tiresome on recent issues.  This one is a bit cartoonish, but at least it’s clever and amusing—a spaceport scene with some impressive-looking spacecraft, but the people on the ground have eyes only for the bright yellow futuristic automobile, with huge tailfins, a transparent dome over the passenger compartment, and whitewall tires.  Oh, it has side fins too.  Maybe it flies.

The magazine’s contents also lean in a promising direction.  Almost half of the magazine (70 of 144 pages, excluding the front and back covers) is devoted to the first part of Robert Silverberg’s serialized novel Up the Line.  It’s rare for magazines to give that big a chunk of available space to a serial installment, but it makes sense in a bimonthly magazine. As a side benefit, it leaves less room for the reprints, which take up only 27 pages.  The book review column is back, with substantial reviews by William Atheling, Jr. (James Blish) and editor White.  The letter column is here again, and the promised fanzine review column has now appeared, nine pages worth, by John D. Berry.  White’s editorial says that the fan feature in Fantastic will be reprints of selected fanzine articles.  The guest editorials in Amazing will be gone—the editorial spot’s going to be his. It all gives a sense of an energetic editor getting a quick start at implementing his desires.

A more dubious innovation is the new typeface.  Multiple typefaces are nothing new at Amazing, but Silverberg’s serial, Leon Stover’s article, and the book and fanzine reviews and letter column are set in a tiny typeface that challenges my ill-made eyes (see the glasses in my photo?).  Microscopic type for things like letter columns is an old tradition—just check your copies of the Hugo Gernsback Amazing if the silverfish haven’t gotten to them—but for this much of the magazine it spells headache for me and I suspect many others.

Up the Line (Part 1 of 2), by Robert Silverberg

The biggest deal in this issue is of course Robert Silverberg’s serialized novel Up the Line.  Silverberg, formerly a capable journeyman magazine-filler, has in recent years become a much more powerful and original writer. In just the past two years he has produced four novels that put him in a different league entirely than did his earlier work: Thorns, To Open the Sky, Hawksbill Station, and The Masks of Time, with several more out or on the way this year. 


by Dan Adkins

Per my practice, I will hold off reviewing and rating Up the Line until it is finished.  But a quick peek reveals that it is a time travel story, told in the first person by a young man at loose ends who joins the Time Couriers—not the Time Police, the Couriers’ nemesis—and that it is a considerable departure from the relatively serious recent works mentioned above.  Parts of it suggest that the author wrote with the stage in mind.  The vaudeville stage, that is.  E.g., as the protagonist explains to his new friend the Time Courier why he abandoned his budding career as law clerk to a Judge Mattachine:

“My uncle is Justice Elliott of the U.S. Higher Supreme Court.  He thought I ought to get into a decent line of work.”

“You don’t have to go to law school to be a law clerk?”

“Not any more,” I explained.  “The machines do all the data retrieval, anyway.  The clerks are just courtiers.  They congratulate the judge on his brilliance, procure for him, submit to him, and so forth.  I stuck it out for eight days and podded out.”

“You have troubles,” Sam said sagely.

“Yes.  I’ve got a simultaneous attack of restlessness, weltschmerz, tax liens, and unfocused ambition.”

“Want to try for tertiary syphilis?” Helen asked.

“Not just now.”

So Mr. Silverberg appears to be having a good time.  Reading a little further confirms that he also seems to be trying to offend everyone in sight, which may explain why this new novel by a fast-rising author is appearing in the field’s lowest-paying magazine, rather than in the more stately mansions of Pohl, Ferman, or JWC, Jr.  In any case, I look forward to completing these scabrous revels.

Only Yesterday, by Ted White

Editor White’s Only Yesterday is a more somber time travel story, in which the ill-at-ease protagonist Bob approaches a young woman as she gets off a train, asks if he can walk with her, says he’s a friend of a friend (she suggestibly supplies the friend’s name, and he agrees), and she invites him in for refreshments and to meet the family.  He hits it off with her and her brothers and her parents, and offers to tell her fortune—a futuristic vision which turns into nightmarish war.  She’s shocked and disturbed, and he quickly says he was making it up, offers a more palatable vision, and beats a hasty retreat.  Revelation of who he is and why he’s there follows.  It’s smoothly written and well visualized, but the ease with which Bob inserts himself into the family setting is too implausible to overlook.  Still, nice try, very readable, three stars. 

Hue and Cry, by Bob Shaw

Bob Shaw’s Hue and Cry is about as far as one can get from his very well received Light of Other Days.  It's a cartoonish story in which a spaceship full of humans lands among sentient carnivorous reptilians who think of them only as food, scheme to eat them all, and are thwarted with a silly gimmick.  Two stars, generously.

Poison Pen, by Milton Lesser

The reprints in this issue are a mostly malodorous batch from the doldrums of the mid-1950s.  The best that can be said for them is that they don’t take up much space.

Milton Lesser’s Poison Pen (from Amazing, December 1955) is a silly botch of a story.  For thirty years, humanity has been under the thumb of the extraterrestrial Masters.  Now they’ve left, and people are dancing in the streets.  The main thing we know about the Masters is that they made people keep diaries and read from them in neighborhood gatherings, and that practice continues.  Why?  Dr. Trillis says it’s because the Masters taught everyone “from the cradle” to be compulsive exhibitionists (how?) so they could control people, “and the older generation either had to go along with it or feel left out.” So people ought to stop with the diaries and the readings, he says.  But they don’t.  Worse, they start stealing other people’s diaries and making fake entries in them—false confessions of having been “co-operationists.” Executions begin.  Our hero helps Dr. Trillis escape and they wind up in a settlement of people “who somehow haven’t been contaminated,” in New Jersey.


by Paul Orban

If the description sounds sketchy and incoherent, that’s because the story is.  It’s an insult to the readers, pretty clearly dashed off without a thought of anything but a quick check.  One star.

No Place to Go, by Henry Slesar


by Erwin Schroeder

Henry Slesar’s No Place to Go (Amazing, July 1958), by contrast, is at least a competent piece of yard goods.  A crack team of astronauts goes to the Moon, takes a look outside, and sees Earth blow up, leaving them alive but stranded. Shortly, some of the astronauts are blowing up too.  But wait—April fool!  It was all a test!  They were drugged with a hypnotic chemical, visions planted in their heads while they slept!  The captain then tells the guy who didn’t blow up that he’s now second in command, and he’ll be going to Mars.  It's cliches wrapped around a gimmick, but unlike Lesser’s story, it doesn’t reek of contempt for the readership.  Three stars, generously.

Note that in our crude rating system, what I’ve just described as “cliches wrapped around a gimmick” gets the same grade as White’s much more capable effort.  Just remember that there’s a lot of space between 3.0 and 3.9.

Puzzle in Yellow, by Randall Garrett


by Leo R. Summers

Randall Garrett’s Puzzle in Yellow (Amazing, November 1956) is a trivial gimmick story on that ever-popular theme, the Stupid Alien.  Extra-terrestrial Ghevil is scoping out Earth for invasion and pillage by the “hordes of Archeron.” He wants to check out an isolated military installation, so he finds a remote building with big walls and turrets, and figures he’s found what he’s looking for.  He kills the first person he sees emerge from the building, and disguises himself in the man’s uniform.  He tries to enter and is shot dead.  Take a wild guess what the installation he tried to enter actually is. The yellow of the title, by the way, refers to Ghevil’s blood.  Two stars, barely.

The Pendant Spectator, by Leon E. Stover

Leon Stover’s “Science of Man” article this month is The Pendant Spectator, a phrase he got from Samuel Johnson’s novel Rasselas, which means, more or less, someone with a view from a height.  “Spaceship Earth” is also invoked.  Stover seems to have abandoned his project of educating us all about anthropology.  Here we have a protracted editorial on the necessity for humanity to get its act together and get right with the biosphere, limiting population, developing energy sources (i.e., the sun) that will neither pollute the atmosphere like fuel combustion nor overheat the place like nuclear power, engaging in international cooperation, accepting a degree of coercive regulation in these and other causes, etc.  It’s hard to argue with any of it, but it’s also hard to imagine that the SF readership is who needs to hear it, so it seems a bit pointless.  This series seems about ready to die a natural death.  Two stars.

Summing Up

So the harbingers seem to be blowing in the right direction, even if the actual fiction contents, possibly excepting Silverberg, are not much changed from the recent norm.  “Looking good” would be premature, but “looking like it might look good” would fit.  Or—as I’ve said more times than I can count about this magazine—promising.






[May 31, 1969] When eras collide (June 1969 Analog)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Huzzah!

It's hard to believe it was just six years ago that the Renaissance Pleasure Faire started in the suburbs of Los Angeles:

"Counterculture" didn't even have a name yet (I think we were calling it "contraculture"), but already, there were folks weary of the modern age, casting their eyes back to a simpler time.  You know, when there were far more things that could kill you, and much fewer opportunities to escape drudgery…

Anyway, I reported on our last foray into the past a couple of years ago.  These days, the back-to-then movement is stronger than ever, with the Society for Creative Anachronism exploding (do they have a thousand members now?) and Renaissance Faires catching on.  They are a good fit for the Pagans and hippies and folks looking for an escape.

We're not immune to the lure.  Here are some scenes from this month's event:










You may recognize the fellow in blue

What really makes the Faire such a delight is the attention to detail.  Everywhere you go, there are actors and actress really playing a part, making the whole thing an exercise in living history.  Of course, as my "character" styles himself a member of the Habsburg clan, you can bet I razzed the Queen when she paraded by with her foppish retinue.

Nevertheless, I hope the Faire retains its purity, prioritizing the spirit of the event rather than descending into a kind of cynical capitalism.  Though, I suppose, that's what the original faires were all about…

Alas!

Speaking of cynical capitalism, I feel that Analog editor stays on the job these days just for a paycheck (and a podium for his irrascible editorials—which he then compiles and sells in book form!) While the latest issue isn't terrible, it certainly doesn't scrape the heights it achieved "back in the day."


by Leo Summers

Artifact, by J. B. Clarke

The name of J. B. Clarke is unknown to me.  Perhaps he's Arthur Clarke's little brother (sister?) His writing isn't bad, nor even is the premise, but the execution of this first tale of his…


by Leo Summers

A beach ball-sized orb appears in interplanetary space.  When an Earth spaceship tries to pick it up, it zips away at faster-than-light speeds a couple of times, as if to demonstrate that it can, and then becomes docile.  After it is picked up, the humans assessing the artifact determine that it was deliberately sent to jump-start our technology.  But was the rationale benevolent or otherwise?

This would have been a great story had not Clarke explained from the very beginning that the scheme was a plot by the evil Imperium to instigate a diplomatic incident a la the Nazis asserting a Polish attack against the Germans on September 1, 1939.  This would give the rapacious aliens legal precedent to annex our planet.  Moreover, we learn that an agent of the "Web", the galactic federation of which the Imperium constitutes a small portion, is already on Earth, guiding our assessment of the artifact.

As a result, there's no tension.  We know everything will turn out fine.  Indeed, it's a strangely un-Campbellian story in that humans aren't the smart ones in the end.  But because there are no decisions to be made, no suspense to the outcome, the story falls flat.

Two stars.

Zozzl, by Jackson Burrows


by Leo Summers

This one gets closer to the mark.  It stars a big game hunter whose quarry is a telepathic beast.  The creature's natural defense is to access your fears and throw pursuers into a nightmare world, repelling them.  It's a neat concept, and Burrows (another name with which I am unacquainted), renders the dream sequences quite effectively.

While we learn a bit about our hero's past and motivations, he never really has to solve any puzzles to win his prize.  He just wins in the end.  There needs to be more.

Still, I really dug the idea, and there's definitely potential for Jackson.  Three stars.

Dramatic Mission, by Anne McCaffrey


by Leo Summers

Here's the latest installment of the The Ship Who.  This series stars Helva, a profoundly disabled woman who, at a young age, was turned into a cybernetic brain for a starship.  Together with a series of "brawns", the human component of the ship's crew, she has been on all kinds of adventures.

In this story, we learn that brain-ships can earn their independence (paying off the debt of their construction) and fly without brawns, and that many vessels strive for this status.  But Helva prefers to ride with company—indeed, she insists on it.

Well, her wish is granted.  Short-listed for a priority mission to Beta Corvi, Helva is tasked to transport a troupe of actors to a gas giant in that system, where they will perform Romeo and Juliet for a bunch of alien jellyfish in exchange for an important chemical process.

The problem is the drama that unfolds before the drama: Solar Prane, the star, is dying from chronic use of a memory-enhancing drug.  His nurse is deeply in love with him.  His co-star and ex-lover is jealous and stubbornly insists on sabotaging the production.  It is up to Helva to be the grown-up in the room and save the day.

There is so much to like about this story, so many neat, unique things about the setting and characters, that it's a shame McCaffrey can't help getting in her own way.  She loves writing waspish, unlikeable characters, and her penchant for including casual, off-putting violence reminds me of what I don't like about Marion Zimmer Bradley.

This is one of those pieces I'd like to see redone by someone more talented and sensitive.  Zenna Henderson, maybe, if I wanted to see the soft tones enhanced, or Rosel George Brown (RIP) if I wanted something a little lighter and funnier.

Three stars.

The Nitrocellulose Doormat, by Christopher Anvil


by Peter Skirmat

The planet of Terex has turned into a death trap for the terran Space Force.  Invited in to deal with an insurgency problem, a combination of religious proscriptions against advanced technology and a flourishing black market that loots what munitions are allowed in, the human troops are not only made into sitting ducks but laughing stocks.

Enter a canny colonel of the Interstellar Corps, whose bright idea is to suffuse all incoming logistics with explosives so that, when they are stolen, they explode.  Deterrent and humiliation, all in one.

It may seem that I've given away the plot…and I have.  It's given away fairly early on, and the rest of the story is simply an explication of the plan's success.

I should have liked the story less than I did, but it reads pretty well.  Three stars.

The Ghoul Squad, by Harry Harrison


by Leo Summers

A rural sheriff digs in his heels at the notion of government agencies harvesting the organs of newly dead victims of traffic accidents in his jurisdiction.  He sticks to his principles even at the cost of his own life, decades later.

This story doesn't say anything Niven hasn't said (much) better in The Organleggers, The Jigsaw Man, and A Gift from Earth.

Two stars.

Jackal's Meal, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Leo Summers

The human sphere of stars has begun to brush against the part of the galaxy claimed by the loosely knit Morah, aliens with a talent for profound modification of bodies, internally and externally.  In the middle of sensitive negotiations between the two empires over a contested bit of space, a bipedal creature runs amok at the space dock.  It is impossible to determine if the being is a Morah made to look like a human or a human made to look like a Morah.  Ultimately, the fate of the two empires rests on this hapless person.

Easily the best story in the issue, both interesting and well written, though it still rates no more than four stars.

Give me the past

Short story SF appears to be on the decline in general, with only four magazines out this month.  Of them, Fantasy and Science Fiction was by far the best, garnering 3.4 stars, but Fantastic and New Worlds both barely made three stars, and Mark, who covers the last mag, has been grumbling about all the newfangled, outré stuff.

As a result, you could fill just one digest-sized magazine with all the good stuff that came out this month.  In other statistical news, women produced just 8% of all the new fiction this month.

It's enough to make you long for the (romanticized) good ol' days…but who knows what the future holds?






[May 20, 1969] Ad Astra et Infernum (June 1969 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

To the Stars

Venus has gotten a lot of attention from Earth's superpowers.  Part of it is its tremendous similarity to our home in some ways: similar mass, similar composition, similar distance from the Sun (as such things go).  But the biggest reason why so many probes have been dispatched to the Solar System's second world (to wit: Mariner 2, Mariner 5, Venera 1, Veneras 2 and 3, and Venera 4) is because it's the closest planet to Earth.  Every 19 months, Earth and Venus are aligned such that a minimum of rocket is required to send a maximum of scientific payload toward the Planet of Love.  Since 1961, every opportunity has seen missions launched from at least one side of the Pole.

This year's was no exception: on January 5 and 10, the USSR launched Venera (Venus) 5 and 6 toward the second planet, and this month (the 16th and the 18th), they arrived.

Our conception of Venus has changed radically since spaceships started probing the world.  Just read our article on the planet, written back in 1959, before the world had been analyzed with radar and close-up instruments.  Now we know that the planet's surface is the hottest place in the Solar System outside the Sun: perhaps 980 degrees Fahrenheit!  The largely carbon dioxide and nitrogen atmosphere crushes the ground at up to 100 atmospheres of pressure.  The planet rotates very slowly backward, but there is virtually no difference between temperatures on the day and night sides due to the thick atmosphere.  There is no appreciable magnetic field (probably because the planet spins so slowly) so no equivalent to our Van Allen Belts or aurorae.

This is all information returned from outside the Venusian atmosphere.  Inference.  To get the full dope, one has to plunge through the air.  Venera 4 did that, returning lower temperatures and air pressures.  This was curious, but it makes sense if you don't believe the Soviet claim that the probe's instruments worked all the way to the ground—a dubious assertion given the incredibly hostile environment.  No, Venera 4 probably stopped working long before it touched down.

The same may be true of Veneras 5 and 6.  TASS has not released data yet, but while the two probes were successfully delivered onto Venus' surface, we have no way of knowing that they returned telemetry all the way down.  Indeed, the Soviet reports are rather terse and highlight the delivery of medals and a portrait of Lenin to Venus, eschewing any mention of soft landing.  The news does spend a lot of time talking about solar wind measurements on the way to Venus—useful information, to be sure, but beside the point.


The Venera spacecraft and lander capsule

Anyway, at the very least, we can probably hope to get some clarity on what goes on in the Venusian air.  It may have to wait until next time before we learn just what's happening on the ground, however.

To Hell

I bitched last month about the lousy issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.  Well, I am happy to say that the May issue is more than redeemed by this June 1969 issue, which, if not stellar throughout, has sufficient high points to impress and delight.


by Gray Morrow

Sundance, Robert Silverberg

Silverbob has a knack for poetic, evocative writing as well as rich settings.  He has successfully made the transition from '50s hack SF author to New Wave vanguard.  Which is why this rather forgettable tale is all the more disappointing.

It's about a Sioux spaceman named Tom Two Ribbons who is part of a terraforming contingent on a virgin planet.  Except what his compatriots call terraforming, he calls genocide, for the millions of indigenous Eaters that they are clearing out to make room for farms are, he claims, intelligent.  To prove his point, he goes out among the aliens, dancing their way and his way, hoping to avert catastrophe. 

But is any of it real?  Or is it all a figment of his traumatized mind?

I just found it all a bit hollow and affected, and also confusing.  Not bad, but nowhere near Silverbob's best.

Three stars.

Pull Devil, Pull Baker!, Michael Harrison

A Jewish dentist finds himself implacably hostile to an Aryan patient, and, to his dismay, finds himself wanting to cause him pain in the examination chair.  Turns out the two have a history that goes back centuries to another life, when the drill was in the other hand, so to speak.

So unfolds an age-crossing riddle, at the end of which lies a treasure of untold riches, if only it can be deciphered.

I dug this one.  Maybe I'm biased.  Four stars.

The Landlocked Indian Ocean, L. Sprague de Camp

De Camp offers himself up as a sort of half-rate Willy Ley, explaining why, for so long, the Indian Ocean was conceived of as a big lake rather than part of the world sea.  There's a lot of good information here, but it's not quite as compellingly presented as it could be.

Three stars.

A Short and Happy Life, Joanna Russ

Here's a great little prose-poem on ingenuity involving a barometer.  Good stuff.  Four stars.

A Run of Deuces, Jack Wodhams

Aboard a superluminary cruise ship, the bored passengers come up with a betting pool to relieve their ennui: the winner of the pot is whomever guesses at what distance from their destination the ship will pop out of hyperspace.

A lot of sex.  A lot of languour.  A predictable ending.  A low three (or a high two, if you're not in a good mood).

Operation Changeling (Part 2 of 2), Poul Anderson

Last month, we were (re-)introduced to the Matuchek family: Steve the werewolf, Virginia the combat wizard, Valeria the moppet, and Svartalf the familiar.  When Valeria was kidnapped by the agents of Hell, it was only a matter of time before her parents (and their cat!) would have to penetrate the perverse underworld to retrieve her.

Enlisting the aid of a pair of dead mathematical geniuses, in this installment, the trio warps into the infernal dimension, where they must face off against hordes of demons, baffling spatial topography, and the most evil of beings humanity has ever known.

There is good Anderson, there is boring Anderson, and there is middlin' Anderson.  This story is firmly in the "good" camp, with vivid descriptions, engaging (and often funny) characters, and the sort of light, fantastic adventure we haven't seen from Anderson since Three Hearts and Three Lions.  Poul does somber, dour, very well, so I think it's more work for him to keep things light—even as our heroes are arrayed against the forces of darkness!  It's never frivolous, but there's a fey quality that keeps things on the right side of horrific.

And that episode in Hell!  I've never read the like.  My only regret is that it's not longer, with a little more time for the Matuchek squad to come up with their novel solutions so that the reader can better follow along.  Perhaps it'll get expanded into a full length book at some point.  I hope so!

Four stars for this installment and the book as a whole.

The Fateful Lightning, Isaac Asimov

A boffo piece on the discovery of electricity.  It's good, although I found the explanation of how lightning rods actually work somewhat incomplete.

Four stars.

Repeat Business, Jon Lucas

A mom-and-pop boat charter take on a quartet of "travel agents" who are obviously (to the reader, at least) a bunch of aliens.  The E-Ts are sussing out the charterers and their sailing vessel to see if they might be a hit back home on Sirius or Spica or wherever they're from.

It's not a badly written tale, but it's so obvious, and the protagonists so clueless, that it feels sub-par.  Maybe this would have passed muster a couple of decades ago.  Now it's old hat.

Two stars.

Back to Earth

And there you have it: big news in the skies and in the SFnal pages of F&SF.  There's really no unpleasant reading at all in this month's mag, even if it isn't all novel or cutting edge, and the Anderson really ends with a bang—or a flash of brimstone, perhaps.  Combined with the exciting space news, and the recent launch of Apollo 10 (article to come!) I am really feeling over the Moon.

If you read this month's issue, and watch the ongoing Apollo coverage, I'm sure you will be, too!