It's hardly shocking news to point out that much of modern American society is dominated by men. To pick a random example, out of one hundred members of the United States Senate, there is only one woman.
Margaret Chase Smith (Republican, Maine) who also served in the House of Representatives from 1940 to 1948, when she was elected to the Senate.
Popular culture isn't much different. Take, for example, a new television series that's drawing a lot of attention. It's named for the two male hosts.
From left to right, straight man Dan Rowan and goofy partner Dick Martin.
I have to admit that I'm already a big fan of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, which premiered last month. Besides the rapid-fire pace of its jokes, I also admire the talents of a quartet of regular female performers on the program. Here's to you, Ruth Buzzi, Jo Anne Worley, Judy Carne, and new cast member Goldie Hawn!
This is not meant to detract in any way from the fine work provided by the men on the series. Bravo, Henry Gibson, Arte Johnson, and announcer Gary Owens!
(I would be remiss if I did not also mention the appearance of a remarkable entertainer calling himself Tiny Tim on the premiere episode. His performance is unique, to say the least.)
Dick Martin is nonplussed.
The same pattern of male domination is often found in the world of popular music (though not always–if the Beatles are the Kings of Pop, the Supremes are the Queens.) Right now, for instance, the Number One hit in the USA is Green Tambourine, a sprightly little psychedelic number performed by some guys calling themselves the Lemon Pipers.
Even the 45 rpm single is groovy-looking.
Proving the old adage that behind every great man there's a great woman, the lyrics for the song were written by Rochelle (Shelley) Pinz.
Pinz with Paul Leka, who wrote the music.
Stag Party
As we'll see, the only original work of fiction in the latest issue of Fantastic takes male domination to an extreme, in a certain way. Let's take a look.
Cover art by Johnny Bruck.
As usual, the cover comes from another source. In this case, it's from an issue of the popular German publication Perry Rhodan.
The original looks better, even if I can't read it.
As the title implies, the setting is a world with a culture based on ancient Greece, particularly Sparta. Society is rigidly divided into various classes, determined at birth. The main character is a military policeman.
The native animals on this planet reproduce by splitting themselves apart, a bloody and painful process. The human inhabitants believe that they used to have children this way, but now make use of a so-called Birth Machine, which makes things much easier. Nobody has access to this fabled device, except for members of the Doctor class.
Did I mention that there are no women to be seen? This is an all-male world, at least as far as the vast majority of the population knows.
There's an implication of homosexual relationships. The so-called helots tend to be slightly effeminate, compared to the red-blooded Spartans, and there's mention of close friendships between members of the two classes.
The planet receives twice-yearly shipments from their only colony world, founded by a group of rebels. The two societies have a distant relationship, trading goods but having no other contact.
The story begins when a starship from another group shows up. Aboard is our old friend John Grimes, who has appeared in a handful of other stories by Chandler. More important is the fact that he's got an ethologist with him, here to study the planet's culture.
The ethologist. Can you tell there will be trouble?
The locals, having never seen a woman before, assume the ethologist is either deformed or an alien. The protagonist feels a peculiar mixture of emotions. (The implication is that males are inherently attracted to females, even if they have no idea that such people exist. That's debatable, at least.)
Meanwhile, a security officer gives the policeman a secret assignment. It seems that the Doctors have some kind of hidden agenda. The hero sneaks into a forbidden area and gets a hint the world doesn't quite work the way he thought it did.
Chandler tips his hand pretty early, so it's probably not giving away too much to reveal that there are, indeed, women on the planet. The Doctors keep them locked away in a sort of harem.
I don't know how the rest of this is going to resolve itself, or what role Grimes will play, but so far it's fairly interesting. As I've noted, there isn't much suspense about the Doctors' conspiracy, but I'll keep reading.
Three stars.
The Court of Kublai Khan, by David V. Reed
The March 1948 issue of Fantastic Adventures supplies this mystical swashbuckler.
Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.
A fellow is obsessed by Samuel Taylor Coleridge's famous incomplete poem Kubla Khan (note the change in spelling from the title of the story.) So much so, in fact, that he finds himself back in time, in the palace of that fabled ruler. (Let's ignore the fact that the poem has nothing to do with real history.) People from all ages who are passionate about something wind up there. (There's even a prehistoric man around.)
Illustrations by Robert Fuqua.
Coleridge himself is present, because of his love for the maiden he saw in his vision of Xanadu. Our hero tries to help him win the adored lady. If I managed to follow the confusing plot correctly, the same day keeps repeating itself over and over, ending in Coleridge's failure. The protagonist does his best to change this endless cycle.
Sometimes this means using a sword against man or beast.
Part of his motivation is that he wants Coleridge to finish the poem. Complicating matters is a rival for the woman's affection. There's also the peculiar fact that once somebody achieves his passionate desire, he goes back to his own time with no memory of what happened.
The premise is intriguing, but I found the story difficult to follow. I never quite understood how this magical form of time travel was supposed to operate.
The bulk of the text consists of a letter the hero writes to his buddy, chronicling his adventures. (Somehow he manages to remember things just long enough to jot them down.) There's plenty of action, but the ending is anticlimactic.
I was disappointed that I never got to see Where Alph, the sacred river, ran/Through caverns measureless to man/Down to a sunless sea.
The July 1946 issue of Amazing Stories is the source of this weird tale.
Cover art by Walter Parke.
An archeologist finds an incredibly ancient bronze statue in the Australian desert. He hears a voice coming from inside, and breaks open the very thin outer shell. Inside is a figure made entirely of diamond.
(There's some nonsense about carbon being the source of life. Thus, a diamond being can live. Yeah, sure.)
Anyway, the diamond person turns into a beautiful woman. (At first, the hero assumes the figure is that of a man. I guess the voice and shape weren't enough of a clue.) She takes the fellow on a bizarre journey through time. (At least, I think so. This was another story that confused me.)
Illustration by Julian S. Krupa.
She leads him to an entity made of light. He finds out that a civilization from another planet, led to Earth by the benevolent light being, fought off loathsome creatures straight out of a Lovecraft yarn. (The story even mentions H. P. Lovecraft and his acolyte August Derleth by name.) All the people died, except for the woman, who was preserved by the power of the light entity. Now it's time to wipe out the enemy for good.
The author throws a bunch of stuff at the reader at a breakneck pace. The whole thing doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's not boring.
Two stars.
The Great Steel Panic, by Fletcher Pratt and Irvin Lester
We go way back to the September 1928 issue of Amazing Stories for this disaster story.
Cover art by Frank R. Paul.
Somebody, or something, cuts through the cables of the Brooklyn Bridge. The same thing happens to elevators, subways, and other modern devices made of iron and steel.
Illustration also by Paul.
A brilliant scientist figures out what's going on, and what should be done about it.
That's the entire plot. Even the disaster stuff, which kills lots of people, is described dispassionately, in a second-hand fashion. The result is a very uninvolving piece. David H. Keller's similar work, The Metal Doom, wasn't that good, but at least it developed the basic idea to a greater extent.
The nifty Scientifiction symbol on the cover of the old magazine is a lot more impressive.
Two stars.
Incompatible, by Rog Phillips
This science fiction horror story first appeared in the September 1949 issue of Fantastic Adventures.
Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.
An alien spaceship crashes on Earth. The creature inside lives on the blood of living organisms. (Shades of Queen of Blood!)
She's also telepathic, and uses this ability in an attempt to survive in this very strange world. Besides that, she can change her appearance, eventually looking like a very attractive woman.
Illustration by W. E. Tilly.
Things work out pretty well for her, until a military man gets a little too friendly.
In essence, this is a vampire story. The first part, told from the point of view of the alien, is quite effective. The author does a fine job describing Earth and humans from an extraterrestrial's perspective. The rest of the story goes downhill here from there. Some of the sections told from the human point of view are extraneous.
Two stars.
Fantasy Books, by Fritz Leiber
The first installment of this new book review column discusses the nonfiction tome Spirits, Stars and Spells: The Profits and Perils of Magic by L. Sprague de Camp and Catherine C. de Camp. Leiber gives a glowing review to this skeptical account of human superstitions. I mention this mostly to contrast it with Harry Harrison's editorial, which talks about the same article about dowsing rods used by the United States Marine Corps as appeared in the latest issue of Analog. Buy the de Camps' book instead.
No rating.
I Love Lucifer, by William P. McGivern
Finishing up the magazine is this tale from the December/January 1953/1954 issue of Amazing Stories.
Cover art by Mel Hunter.
A little girl who claims her name is Lucifer shows up at a place where a man watches over a junkyard of old spaceships. The only other resident is a boy the same age as the girl. The two kids play together among the worn-out vessels.
Illustrations by Ernest Schroeder.
A government agent shows up at the place, looking for escaped criminals. Meanwhile, the kids meet a seemingly friendly man who wants their help in getting away from bad guys. Let's just say that there are plots and counterplots, and neither the man nor the girl are quite what they claim to be.
Would you name this child Lucifer?
The title may suggest something supernatural, but nothing of the kind occurs. I imagine the author called the girl Lucifer just so he could pun on the name of a popular TV show of the time. (Get it?)
The story caught my interest at first, but quickly lost me. The plot started to reek of space pirates and other corny stuff. The true nature of Lucifer was just silly.
Two stars.
In Need of a Woman's Touch
Maybe my increasing awareness of feminism (they're starting to call it Women's Liberation these days, since the National Organization for Women was created last year) just puts me in a cranky mood, but it seems that this all-male issue wasn't very good. One so-so half of a novel and a bunch of unsatisfactory old stories don't add up to much. A few female writers (and fewer reprints) may not be the whole answer, but it sure wouldn't hurt. Meanwhile, go read a good book.
At least the title is honest about the contents.
You could also catch up on the news and see if they cover the emerging women's movement.
Only the best of science fiction challenges us to question the laws of physics and our reality. In this, "The Immunity Syndrome" does not disappoint. This episode takes a similar phenomenon as was seen in "The Doomsday Machine" and "Obsession" where a mind-numbingly dangerous sentient entity is found cutting a swath of destruction through space and the Enterprise is sent to find a way to stop it. This time, however, the nature of this space organism is so far beyond our experience that it has stunning implications for both the nature of humanity and for life itself.
We open on an already exhausted crew heading toward a well deserved break before they are yanked off course by a Priority 1 distress signal. As they are being informed that Starfleet has lost contact with an entire solar system and the Vulcan-crewed star ship that was sent to investigate, Spock nearly collapses onto his console. Teeth gritted in agony, he exclaims that the Intrepid and every member of its 400-strong Vulcan crew is dead.
We soon find out that Spock was right, that both the Intrepid and an entire solar system has been wiped out under mysterious circumstances. In sickbay, McCoy inquires as to how Spock could possibly have known the moment it happened and he replies with what is probably my favorite line in the entire show: "I've noticed that about your people, Doctor, you find it easier to understand the death of one than the death of a million. You speak about the objective hardness of the Vulcan heart, yet how little room there seems to be in yours."
A now more somber and grief-rattled Spock returns to the bridge and the crew resumes investigating the source of this massacre. They soon stumble on a starless patch of space that appears to be a hole in the viewscreen. Being unable to gain any knowledge from a probe launched towards it, Captain Kirk decides to take the ship closer to get a better look. With a sudden piercing noise, the ship finds itself fully enveloped in this absence of stars. Immediately half the crew collapses, their life forces suddenly drained. Scottie informs the bridge that the deflectors and power cells have suffered a similar fate. Eventually it is surmised that the Enterprise has been ensnared in a spider's web of some kind, a negative zone of energy created as a consequence (deliberate or otherwise) of a massive creature's movement through space. This creature is apparently structured like a single celled organism that consumes energy in order to reproduce and expand its influence across the universe, like a bacterial cell would as it infected a host body.
After a lot of scrambling and trial and error, the Captain and crew discover that the only way to find this creature's weakness is by sending a shuttle inside of it. This leaves Captain Kirk in the unenviable position of having to choose which of his two best friends, Spock or McCoy, will pilot the shuttle and likely never return. With a heavy heart, he chooses Spock, and even McCoy has a hard time making light of the situation the way he usually does, reluctantly watching as Spock makes his funeral march to the shuttlecraft.
Spock and McCoy: a no-win decision.
Of course the crew narrowly eke out a win, the organism is killed, and the trio is reunited in the end; yet it is the questions that arise from the existence of this creature that linger on past its demise: "Where did it come from?" "Is this the beginning of an invasion?" "Is the universe itself an ecosystem with perceivable edges?" "Did this creature come from beyond those edges?" "Is the universe itself alive when viewed with a large enough lens?"
On a smaller scale, we are given another compelling morsel of mind-taffy in the new knowledge that Vulcans feel the dying minds of their own kind. A fascinating implication is that a genocide would be impossible on Vulcan because Vulcans literally feel pain when large amounts of their kind are slaughtered. McCoy echoes the sentiment of many audience members that humans do not envy this ability: "Suffer the death of thy neighbor, eh Spock? You wouldn't wish that on us would you?"
Spock sagely replies, "It might have rendered your history a bit less bloody."
Yet here I must disagree with Spock. Spock claims this Vulcan ability to avoid massacres gives them a survivalist edge over humans, yet it is this lack of experience with societal trauma that left them vulnerable in this case. They could not conceive that the annihilation of the Intrepid was even possible, and thus they literally died in disbelief.
This episode has the cleanest script I've seen in the series so far, and it gave my brain something to chew on with a rather satisfying crunch…5 stars
by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)
A Stoic’s Guide to Vulcanianism
“Damn your infernal Vulcan logic!” A sentiment expressed all too often by Dr. McCoy, but is it truly the logic that is so infuriating to the prickly old doctor? Spock’s virtual lack of emotion seems to be characterized as having stemmed from his dedication to logic, but we see logical decisions made by the captain even in his most emotional states. Even his hunches, acted on with no strong emotional component, are based on an assessment of the situation. He may not have a clear explanation at the ready, but those decisions are not made on a whim.
At the same time, we have seen Spock display genuine emotion. For example, in “Amok Time” when he exclaims, “Jim!” upon discovering that he is alive, and again at the very beginning of “The Immunity Syndrome”, whether it is grief, despair, or agony, when he is clearly suffering from the sudden death of 400 Vulcans. He would probably explain the phenomenon as pain, but I do not buy it.
Having been sent to sick bay, Spock is questioned by McCoy as to how he knew the Vulcans had died. As far as he knows, in order for Spock to know what someone or something is thinking, he had to have contact. Instead of answering the question in his usual way, Spock lashes back with what sounds like anger. As a result, it may be the most unclear he has ever been. When McCoy questions him further, he resorts to insults.
There are other occasions in the episode where Spock lets his feelings out, but this is not to nitpick about whether he has or displays them. The idea that emotion equals irrationality and a lack of emotion equals rationality is a dichotomy that has major issues even aside from the fact that it is not a true dichotomy. We know that Spock has emotions. Whether they come from his human side is not really important, but the idea that lacking emotion is somehow more logical is flawed. He is no more or less logical than anyone else on the ship. Rather, he has a clear understanding of what and why, and he carries out his duties with little excitement and characteristic coolness he calls "logic".
Lack of emotion does not equal logic. Emotion does not mean lack of logic.
It would be unfair to expect anyone to recognize this philosophy of virtue and ethics, but what the show presents is not a lack of emotion, or "logic", but Stoicism. Spock’s resistance to desires and fears and living with the virtues of wisdom, temperance, justice, and courage are classic tenets of Stoicism.
Taking a look at his demeanor, we start to see how Stoicism plays a significant role in the way he approaches the world. Being the chief science officer on the Enterprise, Spock is a truth seeker. He is an observer that accepts what is presented to him in his exploration of the universe. There is no expectation of what the universe should or should not be. He has faced the fear of death on numerous occasions stepping in to save his friends and colleagues. Kirk relentlessly demands to be given answers. Spock responds with the only correct answer in that situation (“insufficient data”) rather than speculation. Spock carries out his duties on the shuttle craft despite a likely fascination and a desire to study this new discovery. We can imagine McCoy acting in self-interest, but it never even crosses Spock’s mind. He has no judgments about the organism that killed the 400 Vulcans. It would be understandable if he had a sudden desire to seek revenge, but instead, he continues to carry out his duties on the ship.
McCoy’s frustrations with Spock are blamed on his logic, but so often it is merely his discipline and self-control that irritates the good doctor. What McCoy understands is that Spock keeps his feelings inside. It is not that he does not have them. He just infrequently acts on them. They both care for each other, but Spock would rather sacrifice himself for the ship. Thankfully McCoy is not having any of it. So “shut up Spock! We’re rescuing you!”
Five Stars
Amoebic Anatomy 101
by Joe Reid
This week on Star Trek we got a bit of an elementary school biology review, as the creature of the week was a humongous protozoa. What type of protozoa you ask? Well, there are actually 20 types of protozoa and this was a giant space monster on a weekly sci-fi show. Although, if I were to guess based on my general knowledge of actual science, this creature best resembled the amoebic variety of protozoa. I think they even called it an amoeba at some point in the episode. Let’s talk about how this giant twelve-thousand-mile-long amoeba compares to the amoeba that we learned about when we were children.
A real amoeba, at least, so Trek tells us.
In the interest of keeping this a reasonable comparison and not sounding ridiculous, we are going to completely ignore the following elements. The size difference. The ability to make pockets in space without starlight. The powerful attractive force that draws starships to their doom, and vacuum of outer space, which no protozoa known to modern science could survive.
The amoebas that we might find in our local pond water are single-celled living organisms that have the following structures: a nucleus, containing 13 chromosomes; an outer membrane, to hold in the gelatinous cytoplasm. In the cytoplasm there are various organelles. Along with the nucleus, you have a contractile vacuole, which helps in motion and fluid exchange, along with multiple food vacuoles to digest food. Mitochondria and other organelles also exist inside of amoeba.
The giant nemesis in “The Immunity Syndrome” had a nucleus, but this one had forty chromosomes. That’s six fewer than what humans have and a fair bit more than our microscopic analog. There was a cell membrane, but the Spock and Bones called the substance inside protoplasm. This is technically not completely wrong. Protoplasm refers to all living matter of a cell–including the cell membrane, cytoplasm, nucleus, and the organelles. All that said, the crew called the substance protoplasm when they should have called it cytoplasm. As, respectively, a doctor and a scientist, I expected better from Spock and McCoy.
Also, an amoeba that you look at under a microscope has a method of locomotion that involves creating pseudopodia by extending portions of its membrane to move itself about. Our space monster didn’t demonstrate this type of motion and it wasn’t mentioned in the episode, so I cannot count that against the accuracy of details. Outside of the nucleus, membrane, chromosomes and “protoplasm”, no other parts of the amoeba in the episode are called out by name. Did they exist? Perhaps. The crew was focused on finding the most efficient way of killing the dangerous monster before it caused any more harm and before it reproduced. Which in tiny amoeba can be done in two ways. A process called cellular fission, where the nucleus splits in two before the amoeba breaks off the rest of its parts and the membrane pinches off creating two daughter cells. Also, sporulation… but I digress.
Outside of the cytoplasm/protoplasm substitution, the number of chromosomes, and the space monster powers, the writers of this episode gave a passable representation of the anatomy of an amoeba. Is it enough to pass your Biology 101 quiz in school the next day? Heavens no! You need to hit those books, kiddo! This was good enough to not pull you out to the moment when watching what overall was a good episode of Trek with great acting, a decent plot, and dramatic tension. I liked it! I can even forgive the crew’s strange decision to fly right into a dark blob in space that had already killed another ship.
Four stars
The next episode of Trek is TONIGHT! You won't want to miss it:
Last week, we watched the evening news with mounting dread and anxiety as President Johnson ordered 15,000 reservists into action in response to the seizure of the U.S.S. Pueblo by North Korea. The U.S.S. Enterprise was already in the Sea of Japan ready to initiate a retaliatory strike. It looked like the Cuban Missile Crisis all over again. Lorelei turned to me and worried that things couldn't possibly get any worse.
Then the North Vietnamese launched an all-out assault on seven provincial capitals in South Vietnam. Fighting reached the streets of Saigon, and the America embassy itself was overrun for six hours. The conflict is still raging. So much for the Tet holiday week of peace. So much for armistice overtures.
So, 1968 is already shaping up to be a scary year in the mundane world. Let's see how we're doing in the SFNal realm. The latest issue of Analog starts off strong, from its Kelly Freas cover, to Harrison's name on the masthead. But does it deliver on its promises?
Too little
by Kelly Freas
The Horse Barbarians (Part 1 of 3), by Harry Harrison
Don't let the title or the cover throw you–this latest serial is, in fact, the third installment in Harrison's Deathworld series. In the brilliant first story, we are introduced to Jason dinAlt, a psychically adept gambler and roustabout who comes to Pyrrus, the most hostile planet in the galaxy. Using his ESP talents, as well as his fine brain, he deduces that the reason the world is so antagonistic to humans is due to a kind of psychic positive feedback loop: as the colonists came to regard the planet as their enemy, the planet's flora and fauna responded in kind. The key to living at peace with the world is a change in mindset, to work with the planet rather than try to conquer it. It was a lovely ecological message, predating Silent Spring by two years.
The second dinAlt story, The Ethical Engineer is a Deathworld story only in name, with dinAlt captured and taken to another world in Chapter One. This novel, more than any other, caused me to confuse Harry Harrison for Keith Laumer (as dinAlt and Retief are rather similar in nature and tone) everafter.
This third piece is a little more closely bound to the original. The premise: all of the city-dwellers of Pyrrus who could make peace with the planet have already left the original settlement for the countryside. What's left is the hard-core who cannot change their mindset. Eventually, the planet must defeat them.
Jason has a proposal that may appeal to this remainder. The planet Felicity has resisted all attempts at establishment of a mining colony. Specifically, the northern half of the planet's sole continent is peopled by savage horse barbarians who steadfastedly resist any attempt at civilization. dinAlt suggests that the Pyrrans form a planetary exploration and pacification company; after all, who in the galaxy could be tougher than a Pyrran? About 400 city-dwellers agree to the plan.
Upon landing on Felicity, Jason is immediately konked on the head and made a captive of Temuchin, leader of the dominant barbarian tribe. This chief has slowly gained the vassalage of all of the other tribes, cementing his control over the windswept northern steppes. dinAlt manages to escape, making a trek across the barren wastes. But the trip back to his ship, the Pugnacious, is only the beginning of his worries. In order to topple Temujin, Jason and his fellow Pyrrans will have to playact at being a new barbarian tribe, and subvert the chieftain from within…
The tone flipflops between light and deadly serious, and the horse barbarians are a thinly disguised retread of the Mongols (look in your encyclopedia for the birth name of Genghis Khan), though made redheads for some reason. That said, I read the whole thing in two quick sittings, and I'm enjoying it more than Engineer so far.
Four stars for this installment.
To Make a "Star Trek" by G. Harry Stine
You know our favorite TV SF show has made the big time when Analog makes it the topic of the nonfiction science article! Stine, a model rocket enthusiast, offers up a fascinating bit of background on the program, including praises of its implementation of technology, and some behind-the-scenes information that must have come straight from show-runner Roddenberry (indeed, this schematic of the Enterprise has been reprinted in current Trekzines.
Four stars, and a must read for Kirk/Spock buffs.
"If the Sabot Fits … " by Leigh Richmond and Walt Richmond
by Kelly Freas
The psychic man-and-wife author team returns with this mildly diverting piece. A series of catastrophic computer failures in a Midwest town coincides with a particular broadcast at a public education station. Could there be a connection?
I'm not sure if the science is sound, but it might be–Walt is an electrical engineer (Leigh, reportedly, just types his mental emanations, but I suspect she is actually the storytelling talent of the pair).
A freelance helicopter pilot spots a flying saucer out in the southwest desert. The aliens, who have already made contact with a local population, do their best to avoid widening their diplomatic contacts.
I appreciate the idea of alien relations with individual nations/groups as opposed to with planets as a whole. Science fiction writers tend to forget that planets are big places, and they can house more than one embassy/colony/climate.
But.
The story is twice as long as it needs to be, and Poul really doesn't do "light and funny" competently, certainly not in the same league as Laumer, Harrison, or Sheckley.
Two stars.
Dowsers Detect Enemy's Tunnels, by Hanson W. Baldwin
"American soldiers find tunnels in Vietnam, a country riddled with underground passageways. ONLY DOWSERS CAN BE THE REASON!"
Seriously, John? One star.
The God Pedlars, by Jack Wodhams
by Kelly Freas
The ugh continues. An interstellar corporation is selling computers to primitive tribesmen. The pitch: they are actually idols representing a great and wise god. These "gods" tell the indigenes how to live their lives, build technology, etc. Of course, it's all for the good of the natives.
In addition to being a rather specious premise, this isn't really a story. It's a mouthpiece and a straw man having a conversation such that the point is beaten into the reader with a mallet.
Editor Campbell would give this story five stars. I give it one.
Optimum Pass, by W. Macfarlane
by Leo Summers
Last up, a sequel to Free Vacation, in which Layard and his fat partner (he never gets a name, but his girth is an important aspect of his character) manage to get themselves thrown in the pokey again such that they can get another free trip to an alien world. Their official mission is to tough out 30 days to determine the suitability of the planet for colonization. Their personal mission to look for evidence of "The Prodromals", the original galactic civilization.
More light fun, albeit a bit less coherent than the last tale. Still, three stars.
Unbalanced scale
Despite the auspicious beginning, this month's issue of Analog finished at 2.7 stars, making it the least of the February 1968 magazines. Even Amazing scored slightly higher (still 2.7 when rounded), followed by IF (2.8), Fantasy & Science Fiction (3.1), New Worlds (3.3), and Galaxy (a slightly higher 3.3)
It was actually a good month for good fiction: out of six magazines released, one could fill two, possibly three with exceptional (four and five star) stuff. Women, on the other hand, continue to be underrepresented, with just 7% of published new fiction.
So, while Analog was a mixed blessing this month, all in all, the pages of the digests made for much more pleasant reading than the newspapers. Would that we could have good news in both. I guess we'll see how February fares. It is my birthday month; surely that counts for something!
The year is 2018, disasters are running rampant, and there’s a dictatorial Doctor doppelganger at the centre of it all. The first half of this serial was excellent, but does the second half follow through? Let’s have a look at the last few episodes of The Enemy Of The World.
EPISODE FOUR
After the failed attempt to rescue Denes, Astrid flees back to Australia, where she meets back up with Kent and the Doctor. Fariah soon arrives unexpectedly, and offers her assistance to their cause. Her loathing of him, which was barely concealed in the first half of the serial, is now on full display. Whatever Salamander did to her, it must have been pretty awful.
In order to rescue his friends (who Fariah says will have been brought to Salamander’s base) the Doctor finally agrees to Kent’s plan to impersonate Salamander. However, there’s a catch. If the Doctor wants Kent’s help rescuing his companions, he’ll have to do more than just impersonate Salamander—he’ll have to kill him. The Doctor is vehemently opposed, of course. Kent, on the other hand, might be a little too eager. However, they don’t get to argue the ethics of the business for long.
Salamander’s deputy, Benik (Milton Johns), has been watching their movements, and is about to launch a raid. He doesn’t plan on taking prisoners. Benik very quickly establishes himself as a deeply unpleasant little man who enjoys his modicum of power far too much, using it to indulge some rather sadistic impulses.
Not everyone makes a clean getaway from Benik's troops. A soldier shoots Fariah as she tries to escape, and Benik, nasty little creep that he is, tries interrogating her as she lies dying. To her credit, Fariah goes out with real style. She refuses to tell him anything, and gets a fantastic line of dialogue:
“I can only die once… and someone’s beaten you to it.”
To punctuate her point she uses the last of her strength to slap him. Oh, why did they have to kill her off so soon? She was cool, clever, and was starting to take control of her own story—are we only allowed one female character with those traits per serial?
It’s a crying shame, but an excellent death scene.
At Salamander’s base, a smug Benik reports back to the man himself. A little unnecessary bloodshed doesn't bother Salamander, but it makes security chief Bruce uneasy.
Later on, it's revealed that the base's records room conceals the entrance to a hidden underground complex. What's Salamander hiding? About two dozen people who haven't seen the sun in five years. Salamander's been really smart about the whole deal. Not only are the captives kept secret from the outside world, they don't even realise they're captives! They believe the surface of the Earth to have been devastated by an ongoing nuclear war. Salamander goes to the surface to scavenge supplies, even though the radiation is (supposedly) slowly killing him. How brave of him.
They’re not just waiting out the storm, though. They’re trying to bring it to an end. How? By engineering natural disasters to bring down the aggressors.
Now that’s what I call an underground resistance.
I apologise.
In all seriousness, the captives are blissfully unaware that they’re killing innocent people, and are just grateful to be alive. Well, most of them. One of the youngest of the group, Colin (Adam Verney) is…how do I put this nicely? Whiny. Every time he pops up he’s just banging on about wanting to go to the surface like a little brat who wants to go to Disneyland.
To be fair, he has been down here since he was a teenager. So has his friend Mary (who exists mostly to give Colin someone to moan and complain to. I suppose two cool female side characters was the limit!), but she doesn't whinge nearly as much.
Back at the surface, the Doctor has regrouped with the surviving conspirators at Kent’s cabin, and he is ready for his close-up. With a generous heaping of bronzer and a bit of a comb, he’s the spitting image of Salamander, but first he’ll have to deal with an unexpected visitor…
I’m not keen on the whole brownface-and-stereotypical-accent aspect of Salamander, even though I do like him as a villain. It’s bordering on caricature, serving as a distraction from Troughton’s otherwise very good performance.
EPISODE FIVE
The unexpected guest turns out to be Bruce, who has noticed their arrival at the cabin (wow, Kent and company are terrible at espionage), and would like to hear them out. He also brings them the news of Fariah’s demise. Though initially reluctant to trust one another (to put it mildly), the Doctor manages to calm everyone down and win Bruce over. He agrees to let Bruce accompany him on his infiltration mission, leaving Kent and Astrid behind.
Down in the secret bunker, the captives are unloading food. One of them, Swann (Christopher Burgess) finds something troubling stuck to one of the boxes. It’s a scrap of newspaper, something about a holiday liner sinking. But why would there be holiday liners in the middle of a nuclear war? Realising something is amiss, Swann immediately confronts Salamander in his private quarters.
Caught in the lie, Salamander has no choice but to dig himself deeper. He ‘admits’ that the war is over, but the people left behind on the surface are evil mutants ravaged by radiation. It’s still too dangerous. As for the disasters, Salamander tells Swann that they’ve been targeting the mutated surface-dwellers. They’re unfit to live, it’s a mercy if anything. It’s a familiar fascist talking point, and Swann doesn’t buy it.
There’s actually a couple of cases in this serial of minor characters questioning authority. Earlier, when Benik was giving orders to shoot to kill, the leader of the soldiers was uneasy—but ultimately passed down the order, and it got Fariah killed. Here, Swann pushes back against Salamander’s genocidal rhetoric. He insists on seeing the surface for himself. Who knows how many lives that might have saved?
Starting to panic a little, Salamander tells Swann to inform the others that they’re taking a trip to the surface. Of course, Colin whines that he doesn’t get to go.
On the upper floors of the base, Jamie and Victoria awake to find themselves in unfamiliar surroundings and in unwelcome company. The slimeball Benik has come to interrogate them, and he is going to enjoy himself. I cannot overstate the sheer creepiness of Benik. Salamander might be a supervillain, but Benik is the one who makes my skin crawl.
It’s lucky for them that the Doctor and Bruce arrive to dismiss Benik. Of course, they don’t know that, and start screaming at him for killing Denes and kidnapping them. When ‘Salamander’ informs them that their ally Fariah is dead, Victoria snaps. The Doctor finally breaks character to dive under the table and pathetically (and quite hilariously) wail at her not to hit him.
Meanwhile, Benik has a strop at the guards for not letting him know that Salamander was on his way. This comes as news to the guards, who haven’t seen him leave the records room. Uh oh.
Outside, Astrid and Kent start to get a bit impatient. Rather than wait for the Doctor and Bruce to come back, Kent plays dead, then Astrid runs off, leading the guard away—and leaving Kent unattended. Wait,they only had to deal with one guard? Astrid could have taken him in a fight any day.
Still, the trick is pretty clever, faking Kent’s assassination by sniper with a broken window and some ketchup.
As Astrid leads the guard on a merry chase, however, she comes upon something unexpected. It’s Swann, abandoned and bleeding. Salamander left him for dead.
EPISODE SIX
Back at the base, the Doctor keeps up his ruse, which leads to him discovering that the base’s provisions are far more than enough for the number of people stationed here. There must be other people hidden on the base.
Not as many as there were yesterday, sadly. Swann only lives long enough to learn from Astrid that there was never any war, and to tell her to rescue the other captives. His death scene isn’t as good as Fariah’s. No swan-song for Swann.
Following his guidance, Astrid finds her way into the tunnels and discovers the secret bunker for herself. The inhabitants are just as surprised to see her as she is to see them, and a little hostile. After all, they’re frightened. Colin calms them down (pretty much the only useful thing he does), and Astrid proves that Salamander has been lying about the surface radiation. The machine he was using to measure the radiation is a fraud. Furious, the captives start clamouring to come to the surface. They’d like a few words with their 'saviour'.
As Salamander, the Doctor gives orders for Jamie and Victoria to be released and escorted to the perimeter of the base. Things are likely to get more dangerous, and he’d rather they were out of harm’s way.
As for Kent, he successfully makes it into the base and sneaks into the records room, where he confronts his enemy at long last. Rather than just getting on with it and shooting Salamander where he stands, Kent milks the moment. Locked outside the room, Benik and Bruce can only watch the situation unfold via a security camera.
Even at gunpoint, Salamander continues to taunt Kent. He tells him he’ll never get out alive, but Kent reveals a little secret: he knows about the tunnels under the base. And furthermore, he knows about the cache of explosives stored down there, so he can stop anyone following him.
It’s then that the Doctor drops his ruse, thanking him for this new information. The dumbfounded Kent then finds himself face to face with Astrid, and she’s not at all happy to see him him. Kent didn’t just know about the tunnel and the secret lab—he helped set it up. Like the pied piper, he led all those people down there in the first place. At some point, Kent and Salamander had a spat, and went their separate ways. Kent’s enmity with Salamander isn’t based on moral principle, it’s professional rivalry. He's not saving the world from Salamander, he's trying to take his place.
Well, he was, but now all he can do is flee into the labyrinthine tunnel network.
With the secret beneath the base revealed, Benik tries to make a run for it. Bruce promptly places him under arrest. Well, he certainly deserves it, but it’s not as cathartic a comeuppance as I would have liked.
As Kent flees through the tunnels, he encounters Salamander again, but this time it’s the real McCoy. In an attempt to save his own skin, he proposes to Salamander that they team back up again. However, Salamander only keeps assets that are useful to him, and Kent certainly isn’t. Salamander shoots him, but Kent gets his own back. Before dying, he manages to set off the explosives, rocking the base and collapsing the tunnel on both of them… Or so it appears.
At the TARDIS, Jamie is very relieved to see a familiar face show up, but little does he know that it doesn’t belong to the Doctor. It’s a very battered and quite badly hurt Salamander. The Doctor’s done such a good job impersonating him, why not have a go himself? However, it seems he can’t pull off the accent, so he wisely keeps his mouth shut. However, Jamie soon realises that something is amiss, and the real Doctor turns up in the nick of time to set things straight.
Finally coming face to face with his double, Salamander attacks the Doctor. It’s a pretty well done effect, though it’s only brief so we don’t get time to properly scrutinise it. In the fight, Salamander activates the dematerialisation switch—but the TARDIS doors are still wide open!
The Doctor, Jamie and Victoria hang on for dear life as the TARDIS lurches onto its side, but Salamander isn’t so lucky. Losing his grip, Salamander is flung out of the TARDIS, plummeting through time and space…perhaps forever.
Final Thoughts
What a treat this serial turned out to be! The plot was fun, well-paced, and a welcome change from the usual alien monsters. There’s nothing wrong with a bug-eyed alien but it makes a nice change to have a good strong human villain.
It’s a strong cast of characters all around, actually, from the love-to-hate Salamander to the strong and capable Astrid. And they’re played very well, dodgy accents aside. For the most part. Colin’s a bit overwrought, but he’s not a big part of the story so it’s not really a problem for me.
I like my television to be progressive, and this serial is in a bit of a weird limbo in that regard. On the one hand, Fariah’s a smart, determined black woman who isn’t reduced to a stereotype (unlike Toberman in Tomb Of The Cybermen) and gets a bit of independence, though it doesn’t last long. Still, an improvement. And you’ve got Astrid, who is awesome. On the other hand, there’s Salamander and his exaggerated accent. Oh, and Mary, who has about as much personality as a bunch of wet tissue paper. So there’s still room for improvement, but it’s encouraging!
I will say that the ending feels a bit rushed, which is a chronic problem in Doctor Who. I would have at least liked to see Astrid retrieving the captives. Still, the confrontation between Salamander and the Doctor at the very end? Excellent. I don’t know how well the effects would have held up if the scene had lasted longer (shooting body doubles from behind only works up to a certain point), but they were very good for the brief time they were shown.
On the whole, I think this might be my new favourite serial. I hope the next is just as good!
I got a letter from Ted White the other day. Seems he's no longer assistant editor over at F&SF, which is a shame. Apparently, he was once under consideration for editor at Fantastic (and possibly Amazing) back when Celle Goldsmith (Lalli) left! Boy, would that have been an interesting tenure–certainly more interesting than what we got under Sol Cohen.
Anyway, keep reading, because this isn't the only time Ted's name will come up.
by Ronald Walotsky
The Colonies
Stranger in the House, by Kate Wilhelm
We've been seeing a lot more of Kate Wilhelm, lately, which is generally a good thing. Stranger seems as if it will be a fairly typical, if sinister, haunted house story. A middle-aged couple moves into a house in the country, a surprisingly good deal, to escape the hustle and bustle of the city after the husband suffers a heart attack. Immediately, the wife begins to suffer fainting spells and strange visions. A little research uncovers that, since 1920, the place has seen an inordinate number of deaths and inexplicable illnesses amongst its ocuppants.
Is it a vengeful spook? Radon poisoning? Actually, as we quickly learn, it's an alien in the basement. Not just any alien: this one was sent on a first contact expedition. The hope of its race was that they would get to see that transient moment when a species first makes the jump into space.
The problem is, said aliens are hideous, live in a toxic atmosphere, shed acid, and communicate via a telepathy that is about as conducive to human communication as an icepick in the forehead. How, then, can there be a meeting of the minds?
I love a good "first contact" story, and I appreciate that Wilhelm has created a truly alien being. What keeps this piece from excellence are a couple of factors. For one, it is overlong for what it does. More importantly, much of the story, particularly that told from the alien's point of view, is detached and told in past tense. This lack of immediacy in a story that deals with turbulent emotions puts a muffling gauze over the proceedings. I wonder, in fact, if the whole story might have been improved by only including the human viewpoint.
Three stars.
The Lucky People, by Albert E. Cowdrey
Why stay hitched to three channels on the boob tube when you can watch the cannabalistic mutants that prey on your neighbors from the comfort of your own picture window?
Notable for being the first mention of Star Trek I've seen in print science fiction, it is a cute but frivolous tale.
Three stars.
The Stars Know, by Mose Mallette
A young ad exec, graduate of Dr. Ferthumlunger's 40-week handwriting analysis course, is convinced that his boss, the comely Lorna D., is in love with him. How else to explain "the sex-latent capitals, the rounded n's and m's, the generous o's and a's, and the unmistakably yearning ascenders in late."
Never mind that the note which our hero has examined is an angry exhortation to get his work done on time.
The misunderstanding continues, with Lorna actually becoming infatuated with the exec, but said exec steadfastedly refuses to believe it, analysis of subsequent notes revealing (so he believes) that she isn't interested at all. Of course, he doesn't actually read the contents of the notes. He only looks at the handwriting.
What seems a silly story at first is actually, upon further analysis, an indictment of those who miss the forest for the trees: the mystics, numerologists, saucer enthusiasts, and what have you, who ignore the evidence and invent their own patterns to reinforce their beliefs. It's really quite brilliant satire!
Or…perhaps I'm reading too much meaning into the thing.
Three stars.
by Gahan Wilson
Aperture in the Sky, by Theodore L. Thomas
Thomas' essays are usually not worth the single page they are written on. This time, however, he's hit on a good'n: artificial satellites designed to occult radio sources for better measurement of their distance. It sounds rather brilliant to me.
Four stars.
From a Terran Travel Folder, by Walter H. Kerr
Less successful is this one page program, I think advising aliens on the joy of eating people. I read it a few times and did not find myself enjoying it.
Two stars.
He Kilt It with a Stick, by William F. Nolan
Then we hit the nadir of the issue. The author of Logan's Run offers up a tale of a man who hates cats and does horrible things to them until they get their inevitable, macabre revenge.
Not only is this story cliché in the extreme, but if I never read another account of cruelty to cats, it'll be too soon.
One star. For shame.
Wednesday, Noon, by Ted White
Quality returns with this short piece by Ted White. When the rapture comes, the music may not be heavenly in origin, but it'll be compelling, all the same. This story took a whopping three and a half years to be printed from the date of submission (latter 1964), but I'm glad it finally made it. White has a real knack for living in his characters, conveying their sensory experience and internal monologues with visceral effectiveness. Wilhelm's piece could have used his touch, I think.
It helps that White lives in New York, the setting of the story, and lived through that brutal summer when Martha Reeves' classic first hit the airwaves…
Four stars.
The Locator, by Robert Lory
Gerald Bufus, accountant, is meticulous to the extreme. He also has a hobby: tracking the visitations of flying saucers to ensure he can one day be present at a landing. Sadly, his overwhelming addiction to symmetry compells him to greet the alien ship at the exact center of their predicted arrival site.
The three human crewmembers of the first interstellar flight go mad in hyperspace, and presently, none are left alive aboard the vessel except the one robot steward, who mechanically goes through the motions of serving the dead humans.
The twist at the end is ambiguous: has the robot also gone insane? Or is he actually a fourth crewmember, who has retreated behind a fictional metal shell in his own kind of insanity?
Four stars.
To Hell with the Odds, by Robert L. Fish
I love "deal with the Devil" stories, and this one, about a washed-up golfer who bargains to win this year's Open, is great all the way up to the end…where it flubs the finish. The problem I have is the clumsy phrasing of his final wish (an attempt to get out of the deal, which of course backfires,) given that he had 18 holes to perfect it.
Three stars.
The Predicted Metal, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor continues his series on the discovery of metals, this time recounting the creation of the Periodic Table. It's a fine piece, but I feel as if it was recycled from his 1962 book, The Search for the Elements.
Four stars.
The Veiled Feminists of Atlantis, by Booth Tarkington
The last is a 40-year old piece. Two scholars meet to discuss a legend of Atlantis in which the women not only win equality, but then fight a cataclysmic war with Atlantean men for the right to retain the distinction of their femininity–the veil.
Tarkington wrote the piece to poke a bit of fun at the war between the sexes that was waging in the 20s, whereby women had the temerity not only to demand the vote, but also to engage in male or female fashion and hobbies as they chose, and men were affronted by their cheek.
Interesting as an artifact, I suppose. Three stars.
Summing up
All in all, a decent but not outstanding magazine this month. And now onto something in an entirely different vein…
by Fiona Moore
At the outset of The Magical Mystery Tour, which premiered in black and white on Boxing Day but which was released in colour on 5 January this year, we are promised the “trip of a lifetime,” and, later on, we are assured that everyone is “having a lovely time.” Whether or not this includes the viewer is more open to question.
The Mystery Bus attempting to flee its critics.
The movie has the loose framing premise of Ringo Starr taking his Auntie Jessie on a Mystery Bus tour, in the company of the other Beatles, a few swinging hip types, an assortment of British pensioners who seem a little nonplussed by the proceedings, and The Courier, a Number Two figure who leads the tour assisted by Miss Winters and Alf the Driver. What follows is a series of short musical interludes featuring a selection of numbers from the eponymous album, interspersed with sketches that are a cargo-cult cross between At Last The 1948 Show and The Prisoner, which seem to miss the point of either.
There’s a sketch with a sergeant-major drilling the tour participants; a sort of school games’ day and car race around an airfield or test track (featuring Angelo Muscat, the Butler in The The Prisoner); a whirlwind romance between Auntie Jessie and a character named Buster Bloodvessel; a tent in a middle of a field that turns out to be bigger on the inside than on the outside. But no real sense of what all this is supposed to be saying to the audience.
Yes, but why?
The highlights of the film are definitely the musical interludes. “Flying”, when seen in colour, is actually rather beautiful (which is rather lost in the black and white version). There are also short films for “Blue Jay Way,” featuring George Harrison playing on a chalk-drawing piano, and “Fool on the Hill”, with Paul McCartney standing on, well, a hill. Everything really comes together, though, in “I Am the Walrus”, with the surreal costumes of the performers echoing the imagery of the song, and the Beatles all seem to be enjoying themselves. This is far from true of the other sketches, in which John and, in particular, George seem more than a little surly.
Everyone having a lovely time, apparently.
The film hit its nadir, for me, with a rather disgusting dream sequence of Auntie Jessie being served mountains of sloppy spaghetti by John Lennon in a restaurant, while the bus crew sit around half-naked drinking milk. Similarly peculiar was the decision to have a sequence where the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band perform their song “Death Cab for Cutie” in a strip club complete with stripper, watched by George and John. And the movie more or less ends right there, with that sequence going straight into a 1950s Hollywood-musical-style production of “Your Mother Should Know.”
I’d say this is definitely one for Beatles completists more than anything else.
Two out of Five stars.
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As people who read my review of last year’s Orbit will recall, I loved Joanna Russ’ new fantasy hero Alyx the Adventuress. These stories combined a modern sensibility, great characterization and the kind of fun you would get from Howard or Leiber.
Needless to say then, I was extremely excited to learn we would be getting a new novel of Alyx’s adventures so soon afterwards. Trying to go into the book with as little foreknowledge as possible, I found it was definitely not the story I was expecting.
When we last left Alyx she was escaping Orudh and planning her next move. In the opening paragraph of Picnic on Paradise we are reintroduced to her:
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cannot believe you are a proper Trans-Temporal agent; I think-” and he finished the thought on the floor his head under one of his ankles… “I am the Agent, and My name is Alyx.
To understand what a sharp diversion this is, imagine picking up Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Conqueror and finding it opens in 1917 with Conan at the Battle of the Somme. A fascinating choice but also one that requires a lot of readjustment of expectations as well as explanations.
Eventually what we piece together is that while she was escaping by sea after robbing the Prince of Tyre, she was somehow brought to the future and has come to work for the transtemporal agency. Although she has learnt some elements and language of this future millennia and these weird new worlds, she is still largely a stranger.
What is continued from the previous installments is Alyx’s impatience for impractical people. Here it is the tourists she must shepherd across Paradise. They are all different representatives of this future, showing different facets of the time, but for Alyx they are all fools in one way or another, coddled by society and unable to survive without it.
In some ways this could be seen as a version of Montaigne’s Des Cannibales but it significantly improves upon it. Whilst the original uses cultural relativism as a means to critique contemporary society, Russ sets up two opposing societies as alien to us as each other: the ancient Mediterranean of Alyx and the highly complex future of the tourists, and compares them to make more complex points as well as building fascinating worlds.
It should not be thought as an old-fashioned kind of text at all, as it does not pull any punches. Instead, we have explorations of drugs, sex, religion, complex psychology, violence, humanity and much more. It is like all of society attempting to be distilled into one perilous journey.
I know it is only January but if this isn’t to be my favourite novel of 1968, something really special will have to come along in the next 11 months.
A very high Five Stars
by Victoria Silverwolf
Short and Not So Sweet
I recently came across a trio of new works of speculative fiction that don't require a lot of time to read. In fact, I was able to finish all three books in one day. Each features a fair amount of disturbing material, even though one is a comedy, one is intended for younger readers, and one is a action-packed thriller. Let's take a look at these brief, dark-tinged novels.
I use the word new loosely for this satiric Russian novella from an author who died in 1940. It was actually written in 1925, but has never been officially published in the Soviet Union. (I understand that copies of it have been circulated in the underground form known as samizdat.) Michael Glenny's translation is its first appearance in English, I believe.
Cover design by Applebaum & Curtis, Inc., according to the back cover, but the artist remains anonymous.
In classic horror movie fashion, a Mad Scientist adopts a homeless pooch for the bizarre purpose of transplanting a dead man's testicles and pineal gland into the animal's body. (The detailed descriptions of surgery are the gruesome parts of the book. Dog lovers beware.)
The mutt changes into a man, of a particularly vulgar sort. The canine fellow claims to be a loyal Communist, turning against the aristocratic scientist and siding with the bureaucrats who want the doctor to give up several rooms in his apartment.
It's obvious that the author is attacking the Bolshevik revolution in his portrait of the dog-man and the other collectivists. He also satirizes quack medicine of the time.
The narrative alternates from first person, in the dog's point of view, to third person, sometimes in a single paragraph. Some readers may find these sudden transitions jarring, although otherwise the book is quite readable. (Kudos to the translator.)
Despite the blood-soaked scenes of surgery and the savage satire of Communism, much of the novel is pure slapstick. There's an extended sequence in which the newly created man chases a cat, leading to the flooding of the apartment. Overall, the book is both amusing and thought-provoking.
Next we have an unusual fantasy for young people. I think this is the author's first book.
My sources suggest that this art is by John Holder.
We jump right into a scene of nail-biting suspense. A sixteen year old boy and his kid sister are trapped on a small rock in the sea off the coast of England. Folks with spears are ready to kill them if they make it back to shore. The tide is rising, ready to drown them.
The boy got hit on the head by one of the mob and has amnesia. This gives the girl a good excuse to tell her brother (and the reader) what's been going on for the last five years.
A mysterious something made the inhabitants of Britain hate machines. They've gone back to a medieval way of life. The boy was caught messing around with a motorboat, and his sister was seen drawing pictures of machines. The fanatical locals are ready to execute them for witchcraft. (Apparently the anti-technology effect has worn off on them.)
The boy is a weathermonger; that is, he can control the weather with his mind. (Every village in England has one, it seems. I suppose it's a side effect of the machine-hating phenomenon.)
He uses this power to create a fog. The siblings escape, make their way to the forbidden motorboat, and reach France. (The anti-technology effect is limited to Britain.)
That's just the start of their adventures. The French authorities, seeing that they are immune to the phenomenon, send them back to track down its source. Thus begins a wild odyssey to Wales, making use of a snazzy 1909 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost stolen from a museum. (I get the feeling the author is in love with that classic car.)
It's an exciting book, with one heck of a climax. The explanation for what's going on strains credibility, even for fantasy. The story is too intense for very young readers, I think, but it should be fine for teenagers. Adults who don't mind reading so-called juveniles should enjoy it as well.
The cover makes it clear that this is the start of a series. The name of the series, and the illustration, suggest that we're in for the kind of SFnal sword and sorcery yarn you might find in an old copy of Planet Stories. That's pretty accurate, but there's a bit more to it.
Cover art by Jeff Jones, who also provides a couple of interior illustrations.
The author doesn't waste any time. In just a couple of pages, a starship is destroyed by a weapon launched from the planet it's orbiting. A scout ship carrying two guys crashes on the planet. A few pages later, one of them is dead.
Let's catch our breath and see where we are. See the tiny black dot in the middle of the left side of the map? That's where the scout ship landed. The sole remaining hero won't get very far from that spot by the time the book ends. He just travels a bit to the northwest, not even reaching the coast. There are a few references to other places on the map, but the vast majority of the rest of the planet is going to have to wait for other volumes in the series.
The map art is not credited, but might be by Jeff Jones as well.
If you think the geography is complicated, wait until you hear about the population. There are humans of many different cultures present, for reasons explained later. There are at least four species of aliens, broken up into subgroups. The aliens who give the book its title, for example, are divided into the Old Chasch, the Blue Chasch, and the Green Chasch.
Complicating matters is the fact that some humans are (pick one) servants/slaves/worshippers/devotees/imitators of the various aliens. One such person is the book's most amusing character.
With all this going on, we still have a nonstop action-packed plot, as our hero sets out on a seemingly hopeless quest to get back to Earth. Along the way, he meets the traditional beautiful princess, whom he has to rescue from captivity no less than three times.
(At this point, I had to wonder if the author was poking subtle fun at the kind of work produced by Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard.)
The story is full of violence and, frankly, kind of puerile. What distinguishes it from a typical thud-and-blunder yarn is the extraordinarily intricate setting. The author is a master of creating exotic cultures, and that's a lot more interesting than the endless killing and corny plot.
If the male characters are two-dimensional, the females are one-dimensional. The princess exists only to be stunningly beautiful, get kidnapped, and fall in love with the hero. There's a cult of priestesses who hate men and loathe attractive women. There are no other female characters of any importance, just servants and the like.
Taking a break from her various long-running series, Andre Norton, one of the most prolific science fiction novelists, has produced a new one-off. It's a simple, dare I say, old-fashioned tale wherein ex-GI Ray Osborne gets inadvertently whipped into the distant past when he stumbles across an experimental time travel beam. Emerging into the primeval forests of "The Barren Lands" that will one day be North America, he is quickly captured by a party of Atlanteans (as in from the lost continent of Atlantis) and turned into a galley slave. Fortunately, he is able to make his escape, with the help of a fellow prisoner named Cho. The two, now sword-brothers, secure passage on a warship commissioned by Atlantis' rival, the Pacific continent-nation of Mu. On said ship, Ray and Cho make their way to the land of the Sun, where Ray is elevated to the aristocratic rank of Sun-born and welcomed.
But Ray is in for more than he bargained, as he is imbued with a subconscious geas to infiltrate the perfidious former colony of Atlantis and stop their nefarious plan to bring in other-worldly demons, their doomsday weapon in a cold war about to turn hot…
Operation: Time Search is all very Burroughsian in its setup and execution, up to and including the pseudo-scientific, modern era bookends (that do not add much to the book save padding). It's essentially riproaring action from beginning to end, and Norton delivers it competently. There are also agreeable relationships between the sword-brethren Ray and Cho, as well as, later in the book, Ray and a buccaneer captain named Taut.
This is a peculiarly shallow book, however. The Murians are portrayed as universally good and just (even when they commit actions that are not so nice, as in making Ray an unwitting weapon). The Atlanteans are foul in every respect. This could be fine–after all, when has Conan been subtle? But the writing is peculiarly sparse, almost oblique, when describing the many visceral horrors and foes of this bloody world, almost as if Norton were censoring herself (or perhaps she was censored after the fact). An encounter between Roy and "The Loving One", a gruesome Lovecraftian menace, in particular suffers for this.
Plus, I was sad that the potentially interesting Lady Ayna, captain of a Murian warship, essentially disappears shortly after her introduction. The saintly Lady Aiee, Cho's mother, is not nearly so compelling; in any wise, she is gone halfway through the book, too. Really, there just isn't a lot to become attached to in this book: Ray isn't a good enough character, and the setting is too one dimensional.
All in all, it felt like Norton was just going through the motions on this one. Three stars.
Until now, the protests and unrest have been confined to the bigger cities, particularly West Berlin. My hometown of Bremen did have its share of protests, but those were mostly just a few dozen people standing around on the market square, holding up placards. Though protests are getting bigger even here. On the day before Christmas, there was a protest against the war in Vietnam of several thousand overwhelmingly young people outside the US general consulate.
Right now, however, Bremen is seeing the biggest protests since the Bremen Soviet Republic fifty years ago. And for once, those protests are not against the war in Vietnam or the West German emergency laws or a visit of the Shah of Persia or former Nazis in positions of power, but about something far more mundane, namely an increase in bus and tram fares from 60 to 70 Pfennig for single tickets and 33 to 40 Pfennig for group tickets popular with students and apprentices. On the surface, this increase seems modest. However, for students, apprentices and young people in general who neither have cars nor a lot of money and rely on public transport to get around the city, even a small fare increase is a big problem.
The tram protests started small on January 15 with approximately fifty students of several Bremen high schools protesting the fare increase on the Domsheide square, one of the main tram traffic hubs in the city center. When the protest was ignored, the students decided to stage a sit-in on the tram tracks. The police removed the students, whereupon the protest continued outside Bremen central station – another major traffic hub – where other young people joined in.
Protesting youngsters on the Domsheide squarePolice officers face teenaged protesters on DomsheideProtesting students stage a spontaneous sit-in on the tram tracks.
In the following days, the protests continued to grow. On January 16, there were roughly 1500 young people staging a sit-in on the tram tracks, holding placards with slogans like "70 Pfennig – Lieber renn' ich" (70 Pfennig – I'd rather walk). The initial protesters had been high school students, but by now they were joined by students of the technical and pedagogical colleges and apprentices of various local companies. The protest managed to bring tram traffic in Bremen's city center to a complete halt with a backlog of trams stretching all across town.
Student leaders speak to the protestersStudent leader Christoph Köhler addresses the protesters.Young protesters hold up a banner saying "70 Pfennig – I'd rather walk"More placards. One protester announces that he will henceforth go by bike, while another declares "Avoid the tram – 70 Pfennig is crazy".
And the protest was still growing. The next day, there were 5000 young people protesting and blocking the tram tracks to the point that the public transport company BSAG suspended all tram traffic across the entire city.
Police officers stationed on the Domsheide square.
Bremen's chief of police Erich von Bock und Polach, who was a Colonel in the Waffen-SS before he reinvented himself as a member of the Social Democratic Party, proved that he had learned nothing whatsoever from the tragic events in West Berlin last June and ordered the Bremen police to attack the protesting students with truncheons, batons and water cannons. Hereby, the police not only managed to beat up several innocent bystanders, but the resulting unrest also caused damage to twenty-one tram cars and fourteen busses.
Sadly, we have seen pictures like these all too often. Police officers beat up a protester.A police water cannon attempts to blast protesters on Bremen's market square, but only manages to hit the stall of the Bürgerpark tombola and the Roland statue.A police water cannon blasts protesting students in front of the St. Petri cathedral, whose rector supported the protesters. Note the trams in the background.Two young protesters face off against water cannons and are clearly loving every minute of it.The police arrest a very dangerous protester who appears to be fourteen or fifteen at most.Police officers drag off a protester and chase a very dangerous kid on a bicycle.The editor of this student newspaper thought that marking his car as "press" would protect him from police violence, but the police officers dragged him out of the car anyway.This protesters holds up a placard asking the police not to beat up protesters, but negotiate, sadly without success.Protesters hold up placards decrying police violence.
Chaos on the streets of Bremen
And still the protests grew. The workers of the AG Weser shipyard and the Klöckner steelwork, the two biggest companies in Bremen, employing thousands of people, many of whom rely on public transport, declared their solidarity with the protesting students and apprentices. By January 18, twenty thousand people were protesting in the city center.
By January 18, the protest had grown to twenty thousand people and the protesters are no longer just teenagers.A representative of the metal workers' union speaks to the protesters.
The city was in utter chaos by now and the Bremen senate held an emergency meeting. Thankfully, cooler heads than the noxious chief of police von Bock und Polach prevailed and so Bremen's new mayor Hans Koschnik, who has only been in office since November, met with representatives of the protesters in the townhall, while the protests were still going on outside and threatened to boil over into violence again.
Bremen's new mayor Hans Koschnik has only been in office since November and really deserves better.The police has cordoned off the area around the townhall to allow members of the city parliament to attend the emergency meeting.
An unlikely heroine emerged in 54-year-old Annemarie Mevissen, deputy mayor and senator for youth, sports and education. Mrs. Mevissen left the relative safety of the townhall and went out to talk to the protesters directly. On the Domsheide, where the protests had begun four days earlier, Mrs. Mevissen climbed onto a crate of road de-icing salt, grabbed a megaphone and spoke to the protesters, explaining why the fare increases were sadly necessary, but also expressing sympathy for the protesters. Annemarie Mevissen's speech as well as the meeting with Mayor Koschnik did the trick and the protests gradually ceased. As of today, trams and busses are mostly running again.
Senator for Youth, Sports and Education and deputy mayor Annemarie Mevissen speaks to the protesters to express sympathy and call for calm.Annemaire Mevissen is a remarkable woman. Since she also is Senator of Sports, she is showing off her ball kicking skills while meeting with young football players.
By chance, I was shopping in the city center on the second day of the protests. I could still get into the city by tram, but by the time I wanted to go home I had to walk several kilometres to where I had parked my car. However, I still found the time to stop at my favourite import bookstore to peruse their spinner rack of English language paperbacks.
The Return of the Dynamic Duo: The Swords of Lankhmar by Fritz Leiber
Fritz Leiber's delightful pair of rogues, Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, have had a troubled publication history. They debuted in the pages of Unknown, Astounding/Analog's fantasy-focussed sister magazine, almost thirty years ago. After Unknown's demise in 1943, Fafhrd and Gray Mouser were left adrift, until they finally found a new home in Fantastic under the editorship of Cele Goldsmith Lalli. However, with the sale of the Ziff-Davis magazines to Sol Cohen, the appearances of Fafhrd and Gray Mouser in the pages of Fantastic became scarce. It seemed the dynamic duo was homeless once again, unless they shacked up with Cele Goldsmith Lalli over at Modern Bride magazine, that is.
So imagine my joy when I spotted the brand-new Fafhrd and Gray Mouser adventure The Swords of Lankhmar in the spinner rack of my trusty import bookstore. Nor was this adventure short fiction, like the duos' previous outings, but a full length novel. So of course I had to pick it up, even if I had to carry it five kilometres through the city, dodging protesters and aggressive police officers.
The story
Fafhrd and Gray Mouser return to Lankhmar, only to find themselves first attacked and then hired by Lankhmar's overlord Glipkerio Kistomerces to escort a fleet of grain ships to a neighbouring city. The fleet's cargo is a gift to Movarl of the Eight Cities in exchange for some help with a pesky pirate plague. Also aboard the grain ships – and another gift to Movarl – are the Demoiselle Hisvet, daughter of Lankhmar's wealthiest grain merchant, her maid Frix and Hisvet's twelve trained white rats. The ship's captain isn't happy about the presence of the rats, because rats and grain don't mix. Meanwhile, both Fafhrd and Mouser are fascinated by the Hisvet and her maid.
It does not take long for trouble to find Fafhrd and Mouser, who soon find themselves fighting off monsters, pirates and rat attacks. The two rogues also have their hands full with Hisvet and Frix. Luckily, they get some help from Karl Treuherz, a German-speaking time-travelling hunter capturing monsters for Hagenbeck's Zeitgarten. Karl Treuherz (his last name means "true heart") is a delightful character, particularly if you're German and can understand not only his dialogue in flawless German (kudos to Mr. Leiber), but also understand that Hagenbeck's Zeitgarten is a riff on Hagenbecks Tierpark, the famous Hamburg zoo, which apparently will open a time- and dimension-travelling dependency in the future. Cover artist J. Jones clearly likes Karl Treuherz, too, and put him on the cover.
The distinctive main entrance of Hagenbecks Tierpark in Hamburg. So far, they don't yet display alien monsters, but it's only a matter of time.
Something smells of rat here
If the story feels a little familiar, that's probably because it is. For the first half of The Swords of Lankhmar appeared under the title "Scylla's Daughter" in the May 1961 issue of Fantastic. That novella ended on a cliffhanger with the treacherous Hisvet and Frix escaping aboard one of the ships, leaving Fafhrd and Mouser marooned.
Fantastic's cover artist clearly liked Karl Treuherz as well.
The novel follows the two ladies as well as Fafhrd and Mouser back to Lankhmar, where even more intrigues await. For sinking a fleet of grain ships was just the start for Hisvet and her twelve trained rats. It turns out that Hisvet and her father are members of a race of intelligent rats, who live in Lankhmar Below and want to take over the entire city. Mouser shrinks himself down to rat size to spy on them, only for the mad overlord Glipkerio to ignore his warnings in favour of building a contraption that may or may not send him to a parallel universe. The way of defeating the rat invasion is as obvious as it is ingenious by using the rats' hereditary enemy against them.
The Lankhmar Below scenes were my favourite parts, probably because as a kid, I envisioned thumb-sized beings, both humans and animals, who inhabit a parallel city in the sewers, basements and walls of our world. In order to cross between the two worlds you needed a magical shrinking potion. Reading Leiber's descriptions of Lankhmar Below felt as if he had reached into my mind to bring my own fantasy world to the page. Or maybe there really is a parallel world of intelligent rodents and both Fritz Leiber and I somehow stumbled upon them in early childhood.
My imaginary parallel world of little people and animals sprang from the collection of small figures kept in this cookie tin featuring a picture of the Cologne Cathedral, hence I called them "church box people".
An ode to interracial and interspecies romance
Because this is a Fafhrd and Gray Mouser story, there also are plenty of romantic entanglements. Mouser falls for Hisvet and finds himself wondering if she's human or rat underneath her floor-length gown and if it even matters to him. Fafhrd prefers Frix, but Hisvet likes Frix, too. Furthermore, Mouser is fascinated by Reetha, a maid at the overlord's palace who is completely hairless, while Fafhrd starts a relationship with Kreeshkra, a ghoul with transparent skin and flesh who is basically a walking skeleton.
Over the past few years, the amount of sex in science fiction and fantasy has been creeping upwards, as the sexual revolution makes it possible to write about previously taboo subjects. This is not necessarily a good thing, since some writers feel the need to foist sexual fantasies that had better remained private upon the unsuspecting reader – see Piers Anthony's Chthon or John Norman's Gor books. Thankfully, Leiber does not go this route, even though there is quite a bit of sexual content, including sexual content of the more unusual sort, in The Swords of Lankhmar. However, nothing here is even remotely as prurient as Chthon or the Gor books. Instead, Leiber's message – even spelled out at one point – is that love is love, no matter the gender, race or species of the participants. And indeed, none of the women Fafhrd and Mouser become involved with in this story are in any way standard love interests. Frix is a black woman, Reetha's hairlessness does not match any classic beauty standards, Hisvet may or may not be part rat and Kreeshkra is essentially a walking skeleton. Furthermore, there are several not so subtle hints that Hisvet and Frix are in a romantic relationship as well.
All in all, The Swords of Lankhmar is a thoroughly enjoyable fantasy adventure and a welcome return to the world of Nehwon and its most famous rogues. However, the plot meanders a bit, particularly in the second half. The genre that Robert E. Howard pioneered in the pages of Weird Tales almost forty years ago and that Fritz Leiber named sword and sorcery works best in the short form. Almost all of Howard's tales about Conan the Cimmerian or Kull of Atlantis, C.L. Moore's adventures of the medieval swordswoman Jirel of Joiry, which I hope will be reprinted eventually, as well as Michael Moorcock's stories about Elric of Melniboné and all previous Fafhrd and Gray Mouser stories have been novellas and novelettes. A genre that focusses on action and adventures thrives best in the short form and tends to meander at novel length, a problem that's also apparent in Robert E. Howard's sole Conan novel, The Hour of the Dragon, recently reprinted as Conan the Conqueror.
It’s hard to contain the joy that this episode brings to my heart. I’m a sucker for gangster films, like “Ocean's Eleven” and “Bonnie and Clyde”, but I have to admit, I’m always wary when a film does time travel. Period pieces tend to get things wrong one way or another, but “A Piece of the Action” somehow gets it all wrong in exactly the right way. This episode is chock full of amusing interactions that will engage you if for no other reason than it being delightfully fun.
Earth-like alien planets with humanoid populations have awkwardly made their way into Star Trek (e.g. "Miri", "A Taste of Armageddon"). This time, we finally get a plausible explanation for one. In this week's episode, the Enterprise is ordered to report to Sigma Iotia II. The spaceship Horizon went missing about 100 years earlier and is suspected to have contaminated the culture of the planet. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beam down to the planet’s surface to meet with a Mr. Oxmyx to see what they can do about the contamination.
Let the contamination begin!
They are greeted by armed men wielding Tommy guns in an old-fashioned city suspiciously similar to America in the 1920s. Our landing party is escorted to see Oxmyx and discover that the Horizon crew left an old Earth book called “Chicago Mobs of the Twenties” on the planet. It was mentioned that the Iotians are imitative, which would account for their desire, given a blueprint, to emulate our past. It explains the culture and style, but it's clear the mimicry is skin-deep, which makes sense if they only have one book to go on. For example, during their negotiations, Oxmyx haphazardly shoots billiard balls around the table, and in the next scene when the henchmen are playing poker, it’s not any version that I’ve ever seen. It’s convincing until it’s not, but it’s convincing because it’s not.
"Don't tell me how to play Old Maid!"
Kirk interrupts their game to show them fizzbin (a fictitious game in which Kirk improvises the rules). It’s so absurd that he contradicts himself while explaining the rules of the game. Do you want a third Jack or not? Only Kirk knows. While the henchmen are distracted, Spock and McCoy clobber their captors and successfully escape to the radio station. Kirk decides to split off to find Oxmyx and is captured by Krako’s men. Typical.
Krako, Boss of the south side territory, is seen awkwardly throwing darts over his shoulder before Kirk enters, escorted by Krako’s men. He attempts to negotiate a deal with Kirk that would make Krako top Boss. Kirk isn't necessarily opposed; his aims aren't actually that different from that of the Iotians: Each Boss wants to take enough territory to become top Boss and Kirk thinks a unified government is a good idea, too. The difference is method–Kirk wants negotiation to determine the top Boss, not war. The deal falls through, of course. Krako doesn’t seem like the type to negotiate, stating that, “the book tells us how to handle things.”
A wild series of events ultimately gives Koik the perfect excuse to play a hunch. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Koik and Spahck don the local garb and comically make their way back over to Krako’s place. The deal is that the Fed is takin’ over and he’s offered a piece of the pie, but little does he know, Koik’s got other plans. They put the bag on all the mob bosses while Krako’s on ice, ya see. Koik shows a small display of power and negotiates a deal to have Oxmyx be the head of the Syndicate with Krako as his lieutenant. The Federation gets a 40% cut.
What happens when you mess with the Federation.
This episode gives us a lighthearted look at the mob and a unique perspective on how an alien species might mimic a culture. Without minor details to guide them, it’s understandable that they wouldn’t know the rules to 9-ball, poker, or darts. Shatner’s Shatnerisms played well in this setting, and it was fantastic to see Spock have every logical reason to not object to Kirk playing a hunch. Not only that, but he gets to deliver the best line in the episode (adapted to title this article). The supporting cast was wonderful, and I’ve got no beef with this episode.
Five stars.
Against the Odds
by Lorelei Marcus
I will be the first to admit that, despite all it accomplishes, Star Trek has some major recurring flaws. Any show, particularly one that presents a world technologically beyond anything we can understand today, requires a modicum of suspension of disbelief. Such suspension becomes tested as increasingly outlandish claims are thrown around by the characters (particularly our beloved Captain Kirk) and such theories become the basis of the solution for an entire episode. Think Kirk divining the original purpose of the Doomsday Machine, or Jack the Ripper's ghost haunting across space-time (seriously THAT'S the most logical explanation for a series of interplanetary murders?) Sometimes the setup itself can destroy one's immersion, like "Miri" beginning with a planet completely identical to Earth. Or maybe it's a contradiction of preestablished rules in the universe that breaks an episode; Kirk seems to conveniently forget about the Federation's noninterference clause in "The Apple" and "Return of the Archons".
"A Piece of the Action" does everything I've mentioned above, but it does it right. I had my doubts when I first saw the preview for this episode. The Tommy guns and pinstripe suits made me expect another time travel jaunt like "City on the Edge of Forever". Instead, the explanation for the 20s gangster background is quite reasonable and SFnal: a hundred years ago the Federation tampered with a preindustrial planet, and the society of that planet has been modeled around the information the Federation left for them, including a textbook on gangs in the twentieth century. How concise and satisfying an explanation! And it also provides reason for why the Federation later implemented the noninterference clause – to avoid situations like this.
Imagine what they might have found if the Horizon had left the Bible…
This is the cue for Kirk, in his cowboy Kirk fashion, to decide that the structure of the society is not up to his personal moral standards and therefore he has the right to change it. Except this time it makes sense. As Kirk explains the episode, the anarchist state of this planet is the Federation's fault, and in this special case the noninterference clause has limited application because they have to fix the damage they've caused.
Even then, they try to minimize contact between the natives and Starfleet's advanced technology to allow the society to progress and mature on its own course. This has the added bonus of leading to some rather amusing fistfights.
Finally, while the solution of the episode does rest on Kirk's hunch, this too is set up in advance. Kirk both consults the ship's computer and Spock to suss out a logical course of action to save the planet. Only when both sources fail to give him answers does he decide to act on instinct instead. And when he finally carries out his plan, it actually makes sense! He manages to unite all of the gangs into a central government by posing as a larger, more threatening authority. All it takes is Shatner's progressively more dramatic Chicago accent.
I couldn't give this episode higher praise. It elegantly evades the pitfalls of Star Trek while also telling an engaging, funny, and science fiction story.
Five stars.
Embracing the Absurd: A Motto
by Andrea Castaneda
Truth be told, I had a difficult time formulating my thoughts for this episode. At first, I wanted to discuss the themes of authoritarianism. Then I was tempted to look at the governmental structures of a “lawless” society. But the more I thought back on the episode, the more I realized I was overthinking it. “A Piece of the Action” had me laughing with delight rather than putting me in deep thought. And perhaps that was the intention: a lighthearted way to play “cops and robbers” through the world of Star Trek. But even if one can peel back the layers, one can glean a simple lesson: when you find yourself standing in absurdity, embrace it.
First and foremost, I have to commend the writers for playing to Shatner’s strengths. From the comically over the top accent to donning a pinstripe suit, you could tell Shatner was having a gas the entire time. If I were a betting woman, I would wager good money that he was bouncing up and down in his chair as he read the script. Spock, meanwhile, did an excellent job at playing the “straight man” to Kirk’s ostentatiousness. His rigid and awkward attempts at playing a mobster not only highlighted how ridiculous the situation was, but also gave us some great deadpan deliveries.
As for the story itself, well, we’ve established how absurd the premise is. In fact the show explicitly states that there are no logical solutions out of this, shown when Spock goes through his various computer simulations. So, what can the crew of the Enterprise do? The only “logical” thing: outdo the absurdity. And that’s where the episode shines.
"What's the computer suggest, Spock?" "I've…got…zilch."
A mobster henchman foreshadows the concept at the start of the episode, telling Kirk, Spock, and McCoy “that innocent act don’t work on me.” And as predicted, their attempts at peaceful diplomacy only get them into more trouble. But their luck starts to turn when Kirk realizes the mobsters, in all their bluster and moxie, are pretty easy to manipulate. Playing to their sense of stubborn pride, he makes up a card game and flatters them enough to get them to drop their guard. When dealing with the bosses, he learns to come down to their level, framing concepts like taxes into terms they understand. Finally by the end of the episode, Kirk has smooth talked his way into becoming the head honcho of this cartoonish cabal of bosses and wise guys. It’s ludicrous, but still plausible enough to work.
This episode could have very easily become inane, puerile, and flat out stupid. But the self awareness from the writers and actors alike, combined with Shatner’s enthusiasm, gave it a charm that had us laughing along with them the entire way.
If I were one for clichés, I could say that embracing absurdity is a lesson we all can benefit from from time to time. But being realistic, I would say the writers wanted a palate cleanser for what appears to be a much heavier episode next week. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll be rummaging through my closet to see if I have anything pinstripe.
Four stars.
Pinch-hitting
by Gideon Marcus
Last week, I noted that the usual show runners had gone AWOL, to the detriment of the episode's quality. This week, I was made trepidatious by the unknown names "David P. Harmon" (writer) and "James Komack" (director). Moreover, the previews had led me to believe that this was going to be another silly time travel episode.
In fact, what we got was not only a thoroughly entertaining second-contact story, but one of the best made episodes of Star Trek we've seen in a while.
The editing and cinematography is some of the crispest and original we've seen to date. There's nary a flat moment, thanks to the quick cutting and innovative camera wrangling. Even the music, which I think was entirely from the library, fit the episode to a "T" – from the lilting strains lifted from "The Trouble with Tribbles" to the bombshell introduction tune from "Mudd's Women".
The director did an excellent job of reining in Mr. Shatner this time around. While many of his favorite tics were on display, they did service in differentiating "Koik the Boss" from "Kirk the Captain." And while Shatner often shone, he did not steal the scene.
Part of that was the snappy writing that put truly funny and effective lines in the mouths of Bones, Spock, and Scotty. Part was the performances Komack elicited from his stars. Even Uhura, though she gets very few lines, is memorable; the smile she gets when she realizes what Kirk has planned for Jojo Krako is just delightful.
Speaking of which, how about those guest stars? Anthony Caruso (Bela Oxymyx) is an old hand, of course, and Vic Tayback, who is everywhere these days, and who does a creditable impression of George C. Scott in The Yellow Rolls Royce, is fantastic as Krako.
George C. Tayback
Finally, the sartorial touch of giving each gang's henchmen different headgear (fedoras for Oxmyx, straw hats for Krako's, bowlers for Tepo's) was brilliant.
Five stars!
This week, the Enterprise will be fighting the paramecium of doom!
Join us tomorrow at 5:00 PM Pacific (8:00 Eastern) or at 8:00 PM Pacific (11:00 Eastern)!
A few weeks ago, President Johnson signed into effect the Public Broadcasting Act. Its purpose, among other things, is to turn a decentralized constellation of educational stations and program producers into a government-funded network. It's basically socialism vs. the vast wasteland.
Given the quality of programming I've seen produced by National Education Television, particularly on independent station KQED-San Francisco (e.g. "Jazz Casual" and "The Rejected"), I am all for this move. Indeed, I've recently come across a show that has really sold me on public television.
NET Journal is a series on political matters of the day. In December, they had a program that showed the results of a week-long workshop in which 12 affluent young men and women of a multitude of ethnicities lived together and discussed their prejudices. What they determined was surprising to them, and maybe to us. As we saw in the film Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, even in the most bleeding heart liberal, there is prejudice; and it's not just directed from whites to minorities.
This week, we caught an interview with four journalists in Saigon. Recently, LBJ and General Westmoreland have been cheerleading the effort in Vietnam, saying that the three-year commitment of half a million troops is bearing fruit. The South Vietnam-based journalists dispute this rosy view. They say progress has been slow, that the South Vietnamese army is hopelessly corrupt and must be reformed from the head down if it is to operate effectively without American support, and that we are not engaged in "nation-building" because there is currently no nation. The elections are meaningless so long as there be no real choices to be made, so long as bribes and payoffs accomplish more than the rule of law.
Withering stuff. Next week, the program will be on draft-dodgers.
On the small page
Galaxy Science Fiction is also an exellent, long-running source of information and entertainment. This month's issue is a particularly good example.
Anderson has established a reputation for producing some of the "hardest" SF around, laden with astrophysical tidbits. On the other hand, his quality varies from sublime to threadbare. Luckily, his latest novella lies far closer to the former end of the scale.
Tragedy takes place in what appears to be the far future of his Polysotechnic League history. The loose interstellar confederation of planets became an empire and subsequently went into decline a la the worlds in H. Beam Piper's Space Viking universe and Asimov's Foundation setting. I really like these "after the fall" stories of folks trying to patch a polity back together, maybe better than it was before.
by Gray Morrow
This particular story is the tale of Roan Tom, Dagny, and Yasmin, the crew of the merchant-pirate Firedrake. Their ship is in desperate need of repairs, and the only planet within range of the married trio is a Mars-sized world around a swollen orange sun. Luckily, said world was once a human colony of the Empire and thus may have the resources needed to fix a starship.
Unluckily, the planet has been recently plundered by pirates, and the inhabitants do not take kindly to strangers–especially ones that call themselves "friends."
There's a lot to like about this riproaring tale of aerial maneuvers, overland evasion, and fast-talking diplomacy. For one, two of the main characters are women, and highly competent ones at that. Moreover, it is an ensemble cast, with each of the three coming into the spotlight for extended periods of time.
There is also a mystery of sorts, here…or several, really, all woven together: how does this undersized planet have an atmosphere? Indications are that this is a young world, but why, then, does the dense planet have so little surface metal? And why is the star so unstable, prone to devastating solar storms that play hell with the planet's weather? Solving this astronomical puzzle proves key to addressing the Firedrake crew's more immediate problems.
Of course, you have to like detailed explanations of stellar and planetary parameters and phenomena. I personally love this sort of thing, but others may find their eyes glazing. On the other hand, there's plenty to enjoy even if you decide to let the science wash over you. The sanguine antics of Roan Tom, the determined toughness of Dagny, the more refined and tentative brilliance of Yasmin. These are great characters, and I'd like to see more of them.
Four stars.
The Planet Slummers, by Terry Carr and Alexei Panshin
A pair of young thrift store bargain hunters are, in turn, scooped up by a pair of alien specimen collectors. I think the story is supposed to be ironic, or symbolic, or something.
Ah, but then we have the story of a different couple: a superannuated trillionaire and a dewy (but flinty) eyed young starlet. There's is a love fated for the ages, but not the way you might think.
Just a terrific tale told the way only Leiber (or maybe Cordwainer Smith) could tell it.
Five stars.
Street of Dreams, Feet of Clay, by Robert Sheckley
by Vaughn Bodé
Imagine moving to the city of the future: clean, architecturally pleasing, smog-free, crammed with creature comforts. Now imagine the city is run by a computer brain…with the personality of a Jewish mother.
Bob Sheckley is Jewish, so I suspect he didn't have to strain his imagination much for this one. Droll, but a little too painful and one-note to be great.
Three stars.
For Your Information: Epitaph for a Lonely Olm, by Willy Ley
This is a pretty dandy story about a sightless cave salamander that lives its whole life in the water, thus eschewing the amphibian portion of its nature. Thanks to this creature, we have the concept of "neoteny"–the retention of juvenile traits for evolutionary advantage. The blind, pale beast also ensured the fame of Marie von Chauvin, a 19th Century zoologist.
Four stars.
Sales of a Deathman, by Robert Bloch
by Jack Gaughan
How do we combat the exploding birth rate? By making suicide sexy, thus exploding the death rate!
Bloch's modest proposal would be better suited to a three line comedy routine than a several-page vignette. Three stars.
Total Environment, by Brian W. Aldiss
by Jack Gaughan
Crammed into a ten-story self-contained habitat, 75,000 persons of Indian descent live a life of increasing desperation and squalor. At first, we are given to believe that the settlement is a natural response to the crushing pressure of overpopulation. As it turns out, the Ultra-High Density Research Establishment (UHDRE) is actually a deliberate experiment in inducing psychic abilities through exposure to unique pressures. Just 25 years ago, the site had a population of only 1500. Now, teeming to bursting, the hoped-for psionic adepts are appearing–and an empire in a teapot is arising on UHDRE's Top Deck to take advantage of them.
Aldiss writes a compelling story. One thinks it's just the second coming of Harrison's Make Room! Make Room! until it isn't. In some ways, this actually hurts the story, causing it to lose focus. On the other hand, the setting is so well-drawn, and the situation suspenseful enough, that it still engages and entertains.
Four stars.
How They Gave It Back, by R. A. Lafferty
by Gray Morrow
The last mayor of Manhattan finds The Big Apple isn't worth the bother, now that it's degenerated into a ruined, gangland state run by a quintet of bandits. Thankfully, the original owners will buy it back–for its original fee.
Again, this might have made a humorous short bit. As is, you see the punchline from the first words (the title and illo help), and the slog isn't worth the ending.
Last up, a frothy adventure featuring a TV star recruited to infilitrate the last cannibal island in the South Pacific to thwart a nefarious Soviet scheme. This is yet another in the recent spate of stories involving total sensory television in which hundreds of millions viscerally experience the lives of actors.
Unlike Kate Wilhelm's or George Collyn's spin on the subject, Laumer doesn't do very much with the gimmick. Instead, it's another of his midly amusing but eminently forgettable yarns.
Two stars.
Summing up
Despite a sprinkling of clunkers, the latest Galaxy delivers the goods. Two good novellas, a fine nonfiction piece, and an excellent Lieber short would have filled F&SF nicely. So just pretend that the other stories don't exist and enjoy the good stuff.
And then tune in to NET Journal the next few weeks while you wait for the next issue!
The February 1968 Amazing, the second under Harry Harrison’s editorship, displays two themes on its face, both noted last issue. The first is puffery: this issue says WORLD’S LEADING SCIENCE-FICTION MAGAZINE at the top of the cover, which also boasts “Katherine MacLean’s outstanding new novelet,” and the table of contents lists this “New Outstanding Novelet,” a “Classic Novelet,” and a “Special Novelet.” The second theme is protesting-too-much discomfort with the mostly-reprint fiction policy, evidenced by the prominent display of “New” on the cover: MacLean’s “Outstanding New Novelet,” “New Features,” “New Article,” “New Frank Herbert Novel.”
by Johnny Bruck
But there’s a third, more substantive theme: commendable initiative in the small amount of space left open by the reprint policy. The “New Features” listed on the contents page include the first of a promised series of articles on the “Science of Man,” by Leon E. Stover, an anthropologist now at the Illinois Institute of Technology. The book review column features a long and interesting essay-review by Fritz Leiber of a translation of a book by French author Claude Seignoll, with comments about the state of Gothic fiction generally. (See below concerning both of these.) There is also the London Letter, said to be the first of a series to include a Milan Letter, a Munich Letter, etc. This one is by Harrison’s pal Brian Aldiss, and it amounts to an extemporaneous stand-up routine which probably took Aldiss 20 minutes to write. Parts of it are amusing.
These items are all touted by Harrison in his editorial, but they are not his main matter; the editorial is titled Amazing and the New Wave, and its first half amounts to a disappointingly smarmy exercise in having it both ways:
“There is no New Wave in science fiction. Or, to put it another way, Amazing is the New Wave. . . . Science fiction is the new wave that washed into existence in 1926 with the first issue of the magazine. . . .
“To me there are only two kinds of science fiction: the good and the bad. . . . It is exactly what it says it is, and it is what I happen to be pointing to when I say the magic words ‘science fiction.’ And that is all the definition you are going to get out of me.
“The present New Wave is therefore two things: it is bad SF and it is good SF. When bad it should be consigned to the nether cellars of our building with the rest of the cobwebbed debris of the years. When it is good there are plenty of rooms it can slip into and feel comfortable.”
So Harrison spends a page on a subject of current controversy while ostentatiously saying nothing of substance about it. This banal babble from an otherwise obviously intelligent editor is presumably his way of trying to ingratiate himself and the magazine with everyone while offending no one—a bad idea that will fool nobody and which one hopes is not repeated.
Meanwhile, the actual fiction content of the magazine, except for the above-average serial, is more or less what it has been since the departure of Cele Lalli and the advent of Sol Cohen.
Frank Herbert’s serial Santaroga Barrier, begun under the previous editor, concludes in this issue, and exits honorably. To begin, the protagonist Gilbert Dasein, who teaches psychology at Berkeley, is driving to the isolated and reclusive California town Santaroga, hired by an investment company wanting to know why their chain stores were forced out of town. In Santaroga, there is no reported juvenile delinquency or mental illness. Cigarettes are purchased only by transients. Nobody moves away; servicemen always return there upon discharge; and outsiders find no houses for rent or sale. Jenny, Dasein’s not-so-old flame, moved back to Santaroga when she finished at Berkeley, telling him she couldn’t live anywhere else. (The profs fooling around with the students? Shocking!) There’s a dominant local industry, the Jaspers Cheese Cooperative, but it doesn’t produce for the outside market—the stuff “doesn’t travel.” Also, Dasein is the third investigator sent to Santaroga, the two predecessors having sustained accidental deaths.
by Gray Morrow
These cards dealt, Dasein arrives at the town’s sole inn, where he tries to call his handler in Berkeley, but the line goes out, and stays out afterwards. He is then overcome in his room by a leak from an old gas jet, and rescued just in time. Jenny, alerted to his presence, and seemingly very happy about it, shows up with breakfast. It turns out she never received the letters he sent her after her return.
Dasein quickly learns that everyone seems to know who he is. He encounters new manifestations of the town’s insularity. Nobody has TV, except for a hidden room full of people whose job it is to monitor it. There’s a local newspaper, but it’s subscription only, and its concept of reporting the news is unusual: “Those nuts are still killing each other in Southeast Asia.” All commerce appears to be local. Dasein also learns that Jaspers is not just a brand name, but a substance, one which is near-omnipresent in food and drink. And he notices a “vitality and a happy freedom” in the movements of people on the streets.
Meanwhile, the Jaspers (which is referred to later as “consciousness fuel”) is having an effect on him (“he had never felt more vital himself”), which he doesn’t entirely grasp. He’s getting a little deranged, though hardly without cause, since he also keeps having near-fatal accidents—tripping over a carpet and being narrowly saved from a three-floor fall; a kid absent-mindedly loosing an arrow that barely misses him; a garage car lift collapsing; a waitress unknowingly poisoning his coffee; and more. As for his derangement, shortly after the carpet incident, still suffering from a sprained shoulder, he takes a dangerous nighttime climb down into the Jaspers factory, clambering down and through its ventilation shafts despite his injury. Eventually he is questioning his own sanity.
It becomes apparent that consumption of Jaspers has created some sort of shared consciousness among the Santarogans, though Herbert remains vague about exactly how it works. The people responsible for his “accidents” (poisoning his food, shooting an arrow at him) seem not to have consciously intended harm, but to have unknowingly acted out the hostility and fear of the Jaspers collectivity. (Monsters from the id!) Jenny hysterically acknowledges that phenomenon: “Stay away from me! I love you! Stay away!”
Dasein also begins to see some less attractive features of the Jaspers-permeated community. On his first visit to the Jaspers factory, he finds that Jenny—trained as a clinical psychologist—works on the inspection line. Leaving, he sees through a door left open a line of people with their legs in stocks doing menial work, “oddly dull-eyed, slow in their actions.” He later learns these are the people who flunked the Jaspers initiation—about one in 500. After wondering where all the children are, he finds them working in the greenhouses, marching and chanting. Dr. Piaget, the designated spokesperson for the Santaroga way, says: “We must push back at the surface of childhood. . . . It’s a brutal, animate thing. But there’s food growing. . . . There’s educating. There’s useful energy. Waste not; want not.”
At this point, Herbert’s thriller has become a philosophical novel, or at least a novel about philosophies. Dr. Piaget elaborates on Santaroga’s child rearing practices, which reflect Santaroga’s departure from the usual human understandings about everything: “We take off the binding element. Couple that with the brutality of childhood? No! We would have violence, chaos. . . . We must superimpose a limiting order on the innate patterns of our nervous systems.” Hence, child labor; got to get 'em disciplined early."
Dr. Piaget continues: “We know the civilization culture-society outside is dying. They do die, you know. When this is about to happen, pieces break off from the parent body. Pieces cut themselves free, Dasein.” And Dasein acknowledges the obvious: “Dasein knew then why he’d been sent here. No mere market report had prompted this. . . . He was here to break this up, smash it.” Piaget again: “Contending is too soft a word, Dasein. There is a power struggle going on over control of the human consciousness. We are a cell of health surrounded by plague. . . . This isn’t a struggle over a market area. . . . This is a struggle over what’s to be judged valuable in our universe.”
There is more denunciation of “outside” (another character says, with elaboration, “it’s all TV out there”), and much ambivalence on Dasein’s part about both outside and Santaroga, resolved in a final confrontation when the man who sent him to Santaroga comes looking for him.
This is a pretty solid SF novel, much better than Herbert's previous serial The Heaven Makers, with an interesting if somewhat vague idea capably revealed through a plot dense with incident, though there are minor points where things don’t hang together well. Though talky, it’s much less of a turgid slog than some of his other work (Ahem, Dune). The hive-mind idea is not entirely original, but Herbert takes a different angle and asks different questions than some of his predecessors. In fact, the novel can be viewed almost as the anti-More Than Human—do you really want to give up your individuality and privacy for the comfort of such close and inescapable community? Especially when you might end up acting violently without even realizing it? Four stars, with a couple of planetoids thrown in.
Note the portentousness of some of the names in this novel. An SF fan’s first thought about Gilbert Dasein is likely that it’s homage or satirical swipe at Gilbert Gosseyn, protagonist of van Vogt’s The World of Null-A. But that’s probably wrong. “Dasein” is German philosopher Martin Heidegger’s term for existence, as it is experienced by human beings. Karl Jaspers is another German philosopher. Jean Piaget is a Swiss psychologist famous for his studies of child development, some of whose work looks as much like philosophy as psychology. A student of philosophy, which I am not, might make something of these names, but I’d suggest that the novel works well enough without that kind of gloss.
Katherine MacLean contributed a number of incisive stories to the SF magazines from 1949 into the early ’50s (Defense Mechanism, —And Be Merry, Incommunicado, Contagion, etc.), and a few since then (mainly Unhuman Sacrifice). Her novelet The Trouble with You Earth People isn’t on that level; it’s an amusing and mildly bawdy story of cultural misunderstanding between doggish alien visitors, whose understanding of humanity is based on watching television, and an easily scandalized elderly scientist. It reads like it could have used another draft. Three stars.
Remote Control, by Walter Kateley
To the reprints. Walter Kateley’s Remote Control (from Amazing, April 1930), opens with the narrator’s friend Kingston showing him around a large construction project. It is being carried out by animals—whales and sharks carrying heavy freight, apes and elephants unloading it, and as for the typing and computation required for such a project: “The machines were being operated at lightning speed, not by lady typists, as one might expect, but by bushy-tailed gray squirrels!”
by Hans Wessolowski
The author now flashes back to an earlier time, when Kingston has joined the narrator on his family farm, and assists with his observations of ants. The two are puzzled by the ants’ efficiency in carrying out cooperative tasks without anything much resembling a brain and with no indication of how their activities are coordinated. Then an accidental mixture of buttermilk and cedar oil gets on one of their lenses, and—revelation! Now they can see tiny bright lines of energy leading from the ants back into the nest, which when followed to their source reveal a tiny brain that is apparently coordinating all their activity. The possibilities are obvious, and it’s a short hop from these naturally manipulated ants to whales and elephants working construction, with squirrels on typewriters in the office, and human puppet masters somewhere off premises.
This one is amusing at first, but quickly gets tedious, since the story consists mostly of Kingston and narrator lecturing each other, with the narrator at one point reading aloud a passage from his favorite entomology text. Fortunately this “novelet” runs only 18 pages of large print and is over quickly. Two stars.
Rog Phillips’s “You’ll Die Yesterday!” (from the March 1951 Amazing) is a piece of yard goods by one of Ray Palmer’s stable of hacks—but a pretty capable one. Phillips published some 44 stories in a little over six years before this one, mostly in Amazing and Fantastic Adventures, and clearly has the knack to meet Palmer’s famous editorial demand to “gimme bang-bang.” Protagonist Stevens, author of a successful book, is giving a lecture; an audience member asks a question but is shot before Stevens can answer; the killer runs out of the auditorium but inexplicably disappears. Before the cops arrive, Stevens swipes some papers carried by the decedent, Fred Stone, and shows by home carbon-dating that they are from the future. Also, Stone was carrying a “T.T.” permit (figure it out) and a printed copy of Stevens’s speech, which was extemporaneous, so it could only have been prepared later from a transcript. Next day, Stevens’s girlfriend sees Stone, alive, on the street. Turns out his body is missing from the morgue.
by Julian S. Krupa
More developments come thick and fast and there’s a revelation at the end which actually doesn’t resolve much, but might seem to if the reader wasn’t paying close attention, as I suspect was the case with much of the Palmer Amazing’s readership. So it’s a clever if insubstantial riff on the time paradox theme. Three stars for good workmanship.
The Great Invasion of 1955, by David Reid
The Great Invasion of 1955, by David Reid, from the October 1932 Amazing, is another tedious old story in which the Japanese are invading the United States and are vanquished by new technology based on now out-of-date science. It may be of interest to those interested in speculative helicopter design. Otherwise, one star.
Turnover Point, by Alfred Coppel
Alfred Coppel, author of Turnover Point (Amazing, April-May 1953), helped fill the SF pulps and lower-echelon digests with mostly forgettable material from the late ‘40s until the mid-‘50s, when he disappeared from the genre, briefly reappearing in 1960 with the well-received post-nuclear war novel Dark December. This story is a bucket of cliches—a Bat Durston, i.e. a displaced Western—which is a surprise, since it appeared in the first issue of the magazine’s brief flirtation with high pay rates and higher quality content. But here it is, alongside Heinlein, Sturgeon, and Bradbury. A sample:
“The Patrol was on Kane’s trail and the blaster in his hand was still warm when he shoved it up against Pop Ganlon’s ribs and made his proposition.
“He wanted to get off Mars—out to Callisto. To Blackwater, to Ley’s Landing, it didn’t matter too much. Just off Mars, and quickly. His eyes had a metallic glitter and his hand was rock-steady. Pop knew he meant what he said when he told him life was cheap. Someone else’s, not Kane’s.”
by Ed Emshwiller
The bad guy hiring Pop’s battered old spaceship turns out to be the one who killed Pop’s son, a Patrol officer who “was blasted to a cinder in a back alley in Lower Marsport.” Pop knows Kane is going to kill him after “turnover point”—the point at which the spaceship is turned around (a maneuver accomplished with a flywheel) so its business end faces the destination for deceleration and landing. But Pop has the last laugh—he didn’t turn the ship around to decelerate for landing, but made a full 360 degree turn, so it continues on towards the outer reaches of the solar system, where Kane can starve, suffocate, and go crazy after it is too late to do anything about it. Whoopee! Two stars, barely, since it’s at least capably written for what it is.
Science of Man: Neanderthals, Rickets and Modern Technology, by Leon E. Stover
Prof. Leon Stover’s article suggests that the Neanderthals died out because they wore clothes, shielding themselves from sunlight and therefore from vitamin D. Vitamin D deficiency causes rickets, which has serious enough consequences to affect evolutionary success. Clothing was the Neanderthals’ technological solution to the glaciation of their habitat; what saved them then killed them off. Vitamin D absorption, or lack of it, also accounts for the distribution of races: dark skin absorbs less than light skin, so dark-skinned peoples flourish in the tropics where there’s a surfeit of sunlight, while light-skinned people dominate at higher latitudes. The moral: people must assess the consequences of their technological development, as the Neanderthals failed to, and we need a lot more technically trained people than we’ve got.
It all seems plausible and is lucidly enough written. Is he right? Beats me. Three stars.
The Future in Books
Ordinarily I don’t rate the book review columns, but this one is unusual, containing Fritz Leiber’s review of French writer Claude Seignolle’s The Accursed: Two Diabolical Tales. Leiber traces the current revival of “Gothic” fiction, recognizable by the paperback covers depicting an anxious-looking woman, with a large house in the background displaying a single lighted window, and notes the less formulaic older books being reprinted under cover of this new wave (excuse the expression) of yard goods.
This brings us to Leiber’s typology of “the true Gothic or supernatural-horror story,” of which there are two flavors: “Can such things be?” and “Such things are! So let’s go whole hog!” He continues: “The first type of story aims to make a sensitive, intelligent reader question for a deliciously scary moment the stable, science-proved foundations of the world in which he trusts. The second provides a feast of grue for those who relish such banquets.” Seignolle’s two novellas (one featuring a young pyrotic, the other a young lycanthrope) are firmly in the second camp, as Leiber shows by judicious description and quotation.
This is all lively and informative, above and beyond the usual book review, though Leiber disappointingly fails to describe where Seignolle’s work fits into the fantastic tradition (or lack of it) in his native France. Also, the book is introduced by Lawrence Durrell, a rather large noise in contemporary literature after his Alexandria Quartet; Leiber does not mention what Durrell has to say about the book, or about Seignolle generally. So, three stars; a good piece that should have been better. (And this rating in no way reflects the other review here, a distasteful hit job on Roger Zelazny’s Lord of Light bylined “Leroy Tanner,” well known as a pseudonym of Harrison’s.)
Summing Up
So, a good novel (though one begun under the previous regime), a decent new story, the usual uneven bunch of reprints, and some stirrings of life in the non-fiction departments. I’m not sure that adds up to “promising”—more like “steady as she goes”—so we’ll have to leave it with a version of the baseball fans’ lament: “wait till next issue.”
Nichelle Nichols is a delight so it’s always exciting to see Uhura on the bridge in the opening scene, and after Walter Koenig’s performance in the last episode, I was really looking forward to more Chekov. When they were both called to be part of the landing crew at Gamma II, my hopes were high that this might be a repeat performance of “I, Mudd”. Unfortunately, “The Gamesters of Triskelion” featured William Shatner, and little else.
Immediately after stepping on the transporter platform, Kirk and the party were abruptly teleported away by an unknown force. They were met by hostiles on a planet that was clearly not Gamma II. While Uhura and Chekov were quickly captured, Kirk went on to not just best his opponent, but continue to fight until he was blindsided by another hostile. Upon which, they were greeted by, “Galt, master thrall of the planet Triskelion” who is tasked with training those that have been abducted by The Providers.
"All I want for Christmas is a pair of arms."
Meanwhile, on the Enterprise, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty are doing everything they can to figure out what happened to their captain and crewmates. In their typical way, Spock and McCoy share a moment of banter that adds some levity to the situation as their search continues. The interactions on the Enterprise continue to escalate as McCoy and Scotty disagree with Spock following a trail leading them nearly a dozen light years away from Gamma II. It’s not uncommon for McCoy to be at odds with Spock, but Scotty usually has a good head on his shoulders when it comes to command. This was not one of those times. As commanding officer, and apparently the only person currently with any sense, Spock continues to follow the trail that, you’ve already guessed, eventually leads to Triskelion.
"Have you looked under your bed, Spock? How about on Mars? We should check all the angles before following your hunch. Who do you think you are? The acting-captain?"
On Triskelion, Kirk, Uhura, and Chekov attempt to escape but quickly discover that the collars they wear are not fashionable accessories, but a means to correct and control them. A few questionable interactions later we find Kirk seducing his Barbarella-esque drill thrall, imposing his sense of western morality, and then exercising his physical prowess yet again. (Let’s be honest, there are a few questionable interactions during this scene as well.)
“What is so questionable,” you might ask? It wasn’t enough that one of the thralls enters Uhura’s chambers and we are left to wonder if something horribly indecent is happening over an entire commercial break, but a bound black man is brought out to be an exercise dummy during their training. That is until Kirk comes to the rescue and redirects the torture onto himself and is resurrected… sorry, wrong story… proceeds to defeat his torturer, a thrall that is quite literally twice his size, by strangling him from behind. I may not be a martial artist (well, okay, I am) but it doesn’t seem like Kirk took much advantage of the brute’s weak left eye, as he was advised to do. Obviously, dispatching armed opponents twice his size is just a day in the life of David. I’m sorry, I keep getting my stories mixed up. Must be all the biblical references Spock keeps making (apparently Vulcans don't have their own bible.)
"You do realize how tacky this is, right?"
The Providers are so impressed that they have a bidding war over who gets to own the “newcomers” and at this point, it shouldn’t be lost on anyone that the Providers are slave masters betting on gladiators.
If that wasn’t enough William Shatner for you, he’s featured shirtless and sporting a training harness for the rest of the episode as he charms his battle-hardened drill thrall, attempts to escape, and outsmarts The Providers by agreeing to battle three thralls to free himself, his crew, and the remaining thralls. He wins, of course. Was there any doubt?
"How about a real wager? If I win, I get to dress like this all the time."
Ultimately, the Enterprise reaching Triskelion did nothing but put the rest of the crew in danger, Uhura’s and Chekov’s involvement had little significance to the plot, and Kirk is our savior against an omnipotent being once again.
This is one of the hopefully rare occasions where the writing, directing, and editing failed to deliver. Appropriate with the number of characters featured in this episode, I rate it one star.
The B Team
by Gideon Marcus
Last year, Green Beret Gary Sadler warbled eloquent over the virtues of "Twelve Men, invincible… the A Team". The latest episode of Trek was very definitely the product of The B Team.
We always scan the credits eagerly at the beginning of each episode. Many is the time we've been treated with the bylines of some of our favorite science fiction authors. Even when one turns in a substandard script ("paging Bob Bloch, Mr. Bob Bloch…"), there's still the thrill of being able to say, "I know that guy!" And if a writer be unknown, the director is often one of a stable of familiar names: Marc Daniels, Joseph Pevney, Ralph Senensky.
This time, we got a script by a "Margaret Armen" and a director named "Gene Nelson". While it's always nice to see the creative wealth spread around, this time the new talent let us down.
For one thing, we've now gotten to the point where writers are portraying caricatures of our favorite characters rather than developing them. In this episode, McCoy and Scotty spend endless hours bickering with acting-Captain Spock. While it's true that McCoy loves to take an adversarial position with respect to the Vulcan, Scotty does not (recall that he was the only one to have no truck with the insubordinate nonsense of "The Galileo Seven".) Uhura and Chekov might as well not even exist, despite a tantalizing promise of activity.
Nichols and Koenig are stunned to learn they won't have any more lines this episode.
Instead, we get Kirk nobly educating the savages and their masters about the virtues of democracy and freedom. Even more, we are treated to every kink and fetish the writer has ever wanted expressed on celluloid. Lurid harnesses from space-age materials, whips, pain collars, and more Shatnerian tongue than we've seen in all the prior episodes combined.
Speaking of Shatner, Gene Nelson's sin is not overdirection but lack of it. Kirk's actor made it clear this summer that he was going to throw in more stylized, personal traits into the captain; Nelson let go of the leash, letting Shatner run wild. The smarmy chuckle, the goggle-eyed outstretched arm and cry (which ends two of the acts), the hunched shoulder and wide-armed delivery, the…punctuated…delivery-of-lines.
Indeed, one wonders if Shatner had anything to do with the script revision process, because if he has any tendency toward line counting, he sure made certain he got 80% of the lines spoken this time around. I like Trek best when it's an ensemble show. This was the Kirk show.
Add to that the entirely recycled score, the recycled costumes, and the recycled sets (we don't even get to see the trinary sun), the recycled plots ("Arena", "Metamorphosis", "Menagerie") and Gamesters ends up a very tired affair.
1.5 stars (I liked the bit between Tamoun and Chekov, and also the fact that Uhura was able to fend off her would-be-rapist all by herself).
Do One Thing and Do it Well
by Joe Reid
I imagine some stories are a lot like people. At some point in their lives men and women must decide who they are going to be. They come to realize that the choice is theirs. If that epiphany doesn’t come to them, they hopefully can accept who they do become, whether by intent or circumstance.
This episode of Star Trek was striving to be something; sadly, it didn’t know what. Did it intend to be a reminder of the wickedness of American chattel slavery, using the crew as the enslaved? Was it trying to be a tale of manipulation of a naive innocent? Perhaps it was an attempted telling of a mutiny on the Enterprise or a gladiator epic on an alien world or an echo of Forbidden Planet?
Knowing my history and seeing free people abducted from their homes, being restrained, and sold as property to me harkens back to the horrific institution of American slavery. If that wasn’t clear enough, two other scenes in the episode drove it home for me. In the first scene, Lars, one of the overseer thralls, attempts to force himself onto Uhura, who being “property” should have no right to refuse his advance. Thankfully, our gal proved she was no helpless damsel. The second scene involved an “alien”, looking unmistakably like a black man, about to be punished for disobedience by another overseer. Uhura again refused to participate in that and was about to be punished in the man’s place, until Kirk stepped in to take her place. These scenes might mean nothing to most people, but to me they clearly reflect our dark national history. They blatantly demonstrated the subject in a way that grade schoolers could understand. Then it suddenly chose to be something else entirely. It became “Svengali”.
Beautiful, young, and inexperienced. A woman is introduced to emotions and feelings she had never felt before by a seductive man. Being violently manipulated by him, so that he could gain access to the hidden players behind the curtain…
"How can you resist me? We're showing virtually the same amount of skin!"
Then it became “Ben Hur”.
“Captain” and his friends are forced to fight for their lives as gladiators for the amusement of powerful rulers, who see them as toys for their entertainment. Can he beat the odds and survive the death games of Triskelion…
A silver-bikini clad minx fights and loves while trying to avoid the wrath of the unfeeling Providers… I’ll stop here.
I found the thematic shifts in the episode jarring. Especially since it attempted the last three things simultaneously, after ceasing to be a slavery epic. I neglected to mention the poor man’s rendition of “The Bounty” back on the Enterprise. An almost-mutiny with comical quips between emotional McCoy and logical Spock which fell flat for me.
This entry, with Five and Dime versions of Ming the Merciless and Deeja Thoris didn’t satisfy. Had this episode tried to be one thing well, instead of many things poorly, it could have been better. Sadly, the excellent characterizations of Uhura and Spock, were forgotten as the thematic layering took hold.
Two stars
Neither Fish nor Fowl
by Janice L. Newman
A couple of weeks ago Robert Bloch attempted to mix supernatural horror with Star Trek’s style of science fiction, with uneven results. “The Gamesters of Triskelion” attempted a fusion of a different genre with science fiction: sword and sorcery, first born in the pulps and lately enjoying a revival. In the right hands, like those of Leigh Brackett, such a mix can be compelling and interesting.
Unfortunately, the author of the “Gamesters of Triskelion” script was not the right hands.
Is "Margaret Armen" actually a pen name for Jon Norman?
Simply throwing various elements from popular sword and sorcery stories into a blender does not make what comes out at the end a classic, especially when the elements chosen are: slavery, gladiatorial-style games, hand-to-hand combat with primitive weapons, grotesque yet humanoid monsters, physical punishments via whips, ‘magical’ punishments via devices, an evil ‘wizard’, and a naive maiden warrior who must be ‘taught’ what ‘love’ is.
Nor does taking various elements from Star Trek and throwing them into a blender make a good Star Trek episode. McCoy being intransigent with Spock, Kirk seducing a beautiful woman to secure his escape, Kirk getting his shirt ripped off, Kirk fighting a death match to the exciting strains of the “Amok Time” score…these have all been used to more or less good effect in previous episodes. Sadly, here they felt nonsensical, annoying, and contrived – to the point that the episode felt more like a piece an amateur might write for a fanzine than a polished script for a nationally-broadcast TV show.
In the end the result is neither a good sword and sorcery story nor a good Star Trek story.
One star.
Next episode might be better – don't miss Thoroughly Modern Billy (Shatner)!
Join us tonight at 5:00 PM Pacific (8:00 Eastern) or at 8:00 PM Pacific (11:00 Eastern)!
![[February 10, 1968] It's a Man's World (March 1968 <i>Fantastic</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/cover-2.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[Feb. 2, 1968] All creatures great and small (<i>Star Trek</i>: "The Immunity Syndrome")](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680202title.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[January 31, 1968] Too much and too little (February 1968 <i>Analog</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680131cover.jpg?resize=651%2C372&ssl=1)
![[January 28th, 1968] Double Trouble (<i>Doctor Who</i>: The Enemy Of The World [Part Two])](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680128facetoface.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[January 22, 1968] The Magical Mystery Tour (February 1968 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>…plus the Beatles movie!)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680122both.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
The Mystery Bus attempting to flee its critics.
Yes, but why?
Everyone having a lovely time, apparently.![[January 20, 1968] Alyx and Company (January 1968 Galactoscope)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680120covers.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[January 18, 1968] I Would Advise Yas ta Keep Watching (<i>Star Trek</i>: "A Piece of the Action")](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680118title.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[January 16, 1968] Worthy programming (February 1968 <i>Galaxy</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680110cover.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[January 14, 1968] As Is (February 1968 <i>Amazing</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/amz-0268-cover.png?resize=492%2C372&ssl=1)
![[January 12, 1968] Shatner Trek: Arena of Triskelion (<i>Star Trek</i>: "The Gamesters of Triskelion")](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680112title.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
