By Jessica Holmes
Welcome back, everyone! We finally, finally get to move on to a new story. Jumping off the back of the behemoth that was The Daleks’ Master Plan, The Massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Eve is a breath of fresh air at just 4 episodes long.
It’s also a pure historical (goodness, I’ve missed them), and what’s more it centres on a topic I don’t know much about. It’s time to put Doctor Who’s educational value to the test.
by Gideon Marcus
Tuckered out
Imagine training your whole life to run in the Olympics. Imagine making it and competing in the quadrennial event, representing your nation before the entire world. Imagine making perfect strides, outdistancing your competitors, sailing far out in front…and then stumbling.
Defeat at the moment of victory.
Ron Clarke of Australia, favored to win 1964's 10,000 meter race, is blown past at the last minute by American Billy Mills (and aced by Tunisia's Mohammed Gammoudi )
Every month, as a science fiction magazine reviewer, I am treated to a similar drama. Usually, the law of averages dictates that no month will be particularly better or worse than any other. But occasionally, there is a mirabilis month, or perhaps things are really getting better across the entire genre. Either way, as magazine after magazine got their review, it became clear that March 1966 was going to be a very good month. Not a single magazine was without at least one 4 or 5 star story — even the normally staid Science Fantasy turned in a stellar performance under the new name, Impulse.
It all came down to this month's Analog. If it were superb, as it was last month, then we'd have a clean sweep across eight periodicals. If it flopped, as it often does, the streak would be broken.
As it turns out, neither eventuality quite came to pass. Indeed, the March 1966 Analog is sort of a microcosm of the month itself — starting out with a bang and faltering before the finish.
Frontloaded
by John Schoenherr
Bookworm, Run!, by Vernor Vinge
by John Schoenherr
Norman Simmonds is on the lam. Brilliant, resourceful, and inspired by his pulp and SF heroes, he breaks out of a top security research facility in Michigan, his mind full of inadvertently espied government secrets. His goal is to make the Canadian border before he can be punished for his accidental indiscretion. Thus ensues an exciting cat and mouse chase toward the border.
Did I mention that Norman is a chimpanzee?
With the aid of surgery and a link to the nation's most sophisticated computer, Norman is not only smarter than the average human, he has all of the world's facts at his beck and call. His only limitation (aside from standing out in a crowd) is that he can only get so far from his master mainframe before the link is strained to breaking. The pivotal question, then, is whether Canada lies inside or beyond that range.
Bookworm is a compelling story whose main fault comes (in keeping with this month's trend) near the end, when we leave Norman's viewpoint and instead are treated to a few pages' moralizing about why such technology must never be allowed to be used by humanity lest one person gain virtual godhood. I have to wonder if that coda was always in the tale or if it was added by Campbell at the last minute to make less subtle the themes of the story.
Anyway, four stars for Vinge's first American sale (and second overall). I look forward to what he has to offer next.
The Ship Who Mourned, by Anne McCaffrey
by Kelly Freas
Speaking of intelligence in unusual forms, The Ship Who Mourned is the sequel to the quite good The Ship Who Sang, starring a woman raised nearly from birth as a brain with a shapeship body. In that first story, her companion/passenger/driver, Jennan, died, leaving Helva-the-ship distraught.
But with no time to grieve. Her next assignment comes almost immediately: take Theoda, a doctor, to a faraway world so that she might treat the aftereffects of a plague that has left thousands completely immobile, trapped in their nonresponsive bodies. Though Helva is initially frosty toward Theoda, they bond over their own griefs, and together, they manage to bring hope to the plague-blasted planet.
This is a good story. I'm surprised to see it in Analog in part because the series got its start in F&SF, and also because the mag has been something of a stag party for a long long time (even more than its woman-scarce colleagues). Despite enjoying it a lot, there is a touch of the amateur about it, a certain clunkiness of execution. McCaffrey may simply be out of practice; it has been five years since her last story, after all.
Nevertheless, I suspect that the cobwebs will come right off if she can get back to writing consistently again. A high three stars.
Giant Meteor Impact, by J. E. Enever
Asteroid impact seems all the rage this month. Asimov was talking about it in his F&SF column, and Heinlein may soon be talking about it in If. Enever describes in lurid detail the damage the Earth would suffer from an astroid a "meer" kilometer in width — and why an ocean impact is far, far scarier than one on land.
The author presents the topic with gusto, but a little too much length. It wavers between fascinating and meandering. Had we gotten some of the juicy bits included in Asimov's article, that would have made for a stellar (pun intended) piece.
As is, three stars.
Operation Malacca, by Joe Poyer
by Leo Summers
And it is here, at the two thirds mark, that we stumble.
Last we heard from Joe Poyer, he was offering up the turgid technical thriller, Mission "Red Clash". This time, the premise is a little better: Indonesia has planted a 5 megaton bomb borrowed from the Red Chinese in the Straits of Malacca. If detonated, it will wipe out the British fleet and pave the way for a takeover of Malaysia, Singapore, and the Philippines. Only a washed out cetecean handler and his dolphin companion can save the day.
Sounds like a high stakes episode of Flipper, doesn't it?
Well, unfortunately, the first ten pages are all a lot of talking, the dolphin-centric middle is utterly characterless, merely a series of events, and then the dolphin is out of the picture the last dull third of the story.
Unlike McCaffrey, my predictions for Joe's writing career are rather pessimistic. But we'll see…
Two stars.
10:01 A.M., by Alexander Malec
by John Schoenherr
At 10:01 A.M., a couple of joyriding punks cause the hit and run murder of a little girl. Within the space of an hour, they are swallowed by a floating "fetcher" car, hauled before a detective, thence to a judge, and capital sentence is rendered.
Malec writes as if he was taking a break from technical writing and could not shift gears into fiction writing. Compound that with a lurid presentation that betrays an almost pornographic obsession with the subject matter (both the technological details and the grinding of the gears of justice), and it makes for an unpleasant experience.
Two stars.
Prototaph, by Keith Laumer
And lastly, a vignette which is essentially one-page joke story told in three. Who is the one man who is uninsurable? The one whose death is guaranteed.
Except they never explain why his death is guaranteed.
Dumb. One star.
Tallying the scores
And so Analog limps across the finish line with a rather dismal 2.6 rating. Indeed, it is the second worst magazine of the month (although that's partly because most everything else was excellent). To wit:
Ah well. At the very least, Campbell took some chances with this issue, which I appreciate. And the first two thirds are good. There was just a lot riding on the mag this month. The perils of getting one's hopes up!
As for the statistics, I count 8.5% of this month's new stories as written by women, which is high for recent days. If you took all of the four and five star stories from this month, you could easily fill three magazines, which is excellent.
Always focus on the positive, right?
The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.
by Gideon Marcus
Inside the Modern Home
Interior decorating has always been a passion of mine, and few times have been as exciting to be a fan of home interiors than today. Gone are the pastels and pillows of the 1950s; the mid 1960s are a time of bold colors, Space Age shapes, and stark contrasts.
Dig this brightly hued dining and living space, vivid in primary colors but also subdued with its Japanese influence and pink walls. This is a pad screaming for a party.
If you want something more intimate, how about this shaggy, flame-themed family room?
(just don't tell these happy folks that their Albers painting is hung sideways…)
Of course, not all innovation is beautiful. Concrete has foundationed the New Brutalism, and I hate it. I understand the new La Jolla campus of the University of San Diego is going to be done up in this shelter chic, which is a pity. It's a good thing I'll never have to attend classes there (Lorelei, on the other hand, might well).
Inside the Modern Magazine
The changing vista of science fiction offers its beauties and eyesores, as well. Thankfully, the latest issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction offers a suite of worlds that, though I may not want to live in all of them, most of them were worth a visit.
by Gray Morrow
Angels Unawares, by Zenna Henderson
Is there anything more eagerly awaited than a new story of The People? In this case, as always, Henderson delivers. I believe this is the earliest story in the series, chronologically, taking place as it does some time in the 19th Century. A young woman and her mining engineer husband are heading West to the bustling copper town of Margin when they come across the burned remains of a home in the wilderness. Four charred bodies are inside, incinerated by zealots as witches. But a child survives, shocked into muteness but possessed of extraordinary powers. The settlers adopt her, and thus ensues a tale of pain, maturity, and rebirth like only this author can tell.
Stories of The People feature a set group of ingredients, and yet somehow Henderson manages to make a delicious new recipe every time. Five stars. Bon appetit.
I Remember Oblivion, by Henry Slesar
In an effort to replace brutality with mercy in our penal system, a young murderer is taken off Death Row and given new memories. Harsh, abuse-filled past is swapped for bright sunny days and love in the hopes of creating a well-adjusted psyche.
But the widower of the killer's last victim has other plans…
There's a kernel of a good idea here: are we the sum of our memories, or is there more to the human soul? Unfortunately, Slesar, a screenwriter who has yet to really impress me, goes for the cheap gimmick. The result is the least satisfying piece of the issue.
Two stars.
by Gahan Wilson
Tomlinson, by Rudyard Kipling
The author of The Jungle Book has been dead for thirty years, long enough (Editor Ed Ferman suggests) for a poem of his to be uncontroversially reprinted. A story of life after death, it's Tomlinson this and Tomlinson that, and Tomlinson go away, as he is rejected by both Heaven and Hell for being a fellow who neither sinned nor achieved good deeds.
Pleasant enough. Three stars.
Lil, Rorrity, and A Foamin' Sea of Steam Beer, by Richard Olin
"Daniel Rorrity was a short, stubby…fisherman," begins the tale, and so it ends as well. In between, from his well-worn stool 'Roarey' regales Lil, the B-girl, of the adventures he'd had and the places he'd visited before his back was lamed. And one day, he swore (when the beers were many and the mood was high), he'd buy his own boat and sail the world with his lady love. Karl, the disdainful barkeep, inadvertently provides the impetus to transform a boastful sot into a captain of fantastic seas.
It's a lot more style than substance, but the style is lovely. Four stars.
White Night, by John Tomerlin
In the South of France, a lost hiker takes refuge in a battered auberge. The serving girl takes a shine to him, and they spend the night together. But the morning reveals a hideous transformation.
A reasonable piece of trivial horror, though if the protagonist doesn't get eaten, I'm honestly not sure what the fuss is. It's not as if he didn't have fun, regardless of what she looks like now…
Three stars.
Grow Old Along with Me, by Julius Fast
In a twist on the Deal with the Devil cliché, Fast's tale is of a young man who declines the offered gifts of Old Nick, and in turn gains something better — a friend.
Lucifer ain't such a bad guy after all!
Three stars.
The Rocks of Damocles, by Isaac Asimov
If Mariner 4 taught us anything, it's that sizable planets are just as prone to being blasted by asteroids and meteorites as moons. In his latest article, the Good Doctor explains why it's only a matter of time before humanity gets walloped by an extraterrestrial bullet.
Sleep well! Four stars.
The Blind God's Eye by Kathleen James
It's our world, but in a bleaker, poorer future, and Alice, living a bleak, poor life, is just trying to muddle through widow-hood as a bar dishwasher. Then she meets Red, a burly young man with an iron liver…and a curious resonance of fate with Hugh Veron, an up-and-coming dictator who will be making a speech right in front of the bar in a few days.
A tale of love and tragedy, it's told in a sort of breathless, diary-like fashion that could have been grating, but for me was riveting.
Four stars.
Mickey Finn, by Doris Pitkin Buck
Lastly, another poem about the afterlife. A man goes to Heaven when he's ready for it, and not before, and when he gets there, it's as dingy as he expects.
Oddly placed and somehow trivial, it is not helped by the typo in the last line.
Three stars.
Digging the Decor
It's not often that a magazine manages to crack the 3.5 star barrier, but F&SF has done it twice in four months. Plus, Zenna Henderson makes any issue worthwhile (though I can't say I'm a fan of the lurid cover — I believe it's Gray Morrow's first for the mag). In any event, if you're looking for a clutch of science fiction to go with your mod decor, the March 1966 F&SF is a safe bet.
The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.
by Dana Pellebon
A Fortuitous Meeting
Hello travelers! I’m very excited to begin my journey with you. I had the pleasure of recently meeting Gideon Marcus at a fundraiser for Heifer Inc. While raising money for this important organization, I had the opportunity to talk with him about some of our shared interests. We found out that we were both born in California, enjoyed quite a bit of the same music, and have a shared love of sci-fi.
My love of sci-fi began with the release of the Godzilla movies from Japan. The fantastical storylines and the varied monster villains captures my imagination. The excitement of it all culminates with the King of the Monsters, Godzilla, taking over the screen, creating havoc, and establishing dominance. So when Gideon talked about writing something for Galactic Journey, it was an easy choice for me to say yes and then to cast about for an example of my favorite genre of sci-fi movies, giant monsters.
Gojira, 1954
It's Movie Time!
I was lucky to find a fine example of the genre from the last decade on television. Them! was released in 1954, the same year Godzilla first made landfall. Written by Ted Sherdeman and directed by Gordon Douglas, Them! is one of the pioneers of the nuclear monster movies and is one of the first overgrown bug features. At least, so it said in the newspaper. Thus intrigued, last weekend I settled into my couch with my Jiffy Pop popcorn to spend the next hour and a half transfixed.
Them!, 1954
The story opens with some fantastic mood music and sweeps over the desert with a bird’s eye view from a plane. That alone is already exciting. Soundtracks are so important to the feel of the movie and the soundscape immediately inspires dread and suspense. You see a figure walking alone, which is an unusual way out in the middle of nowhere, and it turns out to be a mute little girl. As soon as I see a kid wandering alone obviously traumatized, it immediately puts me on edge which heightens the already suspenseful moments. When the officers start to transport the young girl to the hospital, there’s a high pitched sound and you see her respond briefly unbeknownst to the officers next to her. But, it’s a disconcerting moment. Further investigation finds she is the sole survivor of an attack on her family. At this point, the movie sets the stage for a mystery and the suspense is already killing me to find out what’s next.
More Than Just A Pretty Face
Another killing and disappearance later, the police and FBI agents on the case are perplexed to learn two scientists from the Department of Agriculture are joining the investigation. Meeting them at the airport, the first exit from the plane shows the legs of a man, Dr. Harold Medford. On the second exit, you could see the shapely legs of a woman in heels. I am pleasantly surprised that the second scientist is a woman named Dr. Patricia Medford, the daughter of Dr. Harold Medford. The focus, however, is not on her as an attractive woman but as a researcher. She isn’t there as decoration but is an active, equal part of the investigative team. Having a female lead character where the central theme is her brains and not her beauty is a refreshing departure from how women are commonly depicted in film.
Drs. Patricia and Harold Medford deep in discussion while Agent Graham and Sgt. Peterson listen in
She and her father are myrmecologists and they take the lead on the investigation into the killings. They are very reticent to give information and are hostile to questions about their process. It is surprising how much leeway the scientists are given with the FBI and police. But, a strong woman lead makes me happy and it is a pleasant change of pace over the traditional paradigm. After the team starts investigating in the desert where the child was found, the gigantic ant reveals itself to attack Dr. Patricia Medford. The first ant vs. human shootout occurs on film and it is a gas! Even though the gigantic ant is a little corny and doesn’t move very fast, there is a palpable sense of urgency. After realizing hand guns are not doing the trick, the police officer brings out a machine gun and puts down the ant.
Ant attacks Dr. Patricia Medford and Agent Graham!
The rest of the plot becomes a cat and mouse game of finding the wayward ants and eradicating them. From cyanide gas to bombing to flamethrowers, humans go through great lengths to protect themselves and their territory. It is at this point that I feel pretty sorry for the ants. They really were just following their nature, foraging for food and being ants. In fact, the whole situation is really our fault: it is revealed that the ants were mutated by the atomic bomb tests of the 40’s. Our thirst for atomic bombs created literal monsters that then have to be killed. Dr. Harold Medford states the final lines of the film, which ends up being the most poignant moment for me personally:, “When Man entered the atomic age, he opened a door into a new world. What we’ll eventually find in that new world, nobody can predict.”
Final Showdown!
The Atomic Age?
I’m holding out hope that this new nuclear world Dr. Medford mentions won’t be in too much of a hurry to destroy itself. We've already seen the horrors it produced at Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 and we got a sneak preview of coming attractions during the Cuban Missile Crisis. And now I have to be on the lookout for giant animals when I’m back in the desert Southwest!
Nevertheless, I really enjoy this movie, which shares common themes with Godzilla. The conceit that humanity’s interests take precedence, regardless of the cost to nature (and the ensuing catastrophe this causes humanity) is something that gets played with quite a bit in those movies and I end up ultimately rooting for what many people consider to be the villain. Plus, in addition being morally resonant, Them! is just a lot of fun. I am now craving more “monster” movies and will be scanning the local listings to expand my palate of sci-fi.
Four stars.
The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.
by Victoria Silverwolf
Straight From the Horse's Mouth
The Noble Editor and my Esteemed Colleagues always do a fine job of informing our fellow Journeyers about what's happening on Earth and in outer space. There is one small piece of news, however, which seems to have escaped notice.
The last episode of Mister Ed appeared on American television screens last week. For those of you fortunate enough not to be familiar with this program, it's about a talking horse.
The star of the program. I believe there are some human actors as well.
I find it remarkable that a show with a premise that does not lend itself to a large number of variations has lasted for more than five years. For those of you who are counting, that's five times as long as the excellent, groundbreaking series East Side/West Side.
George C. Scott as New York City social worker Neil Brock. He doesn't seem happy about being outdone by a loquacious equine.
To add insult to injury, Mister Ed wasn't even original, but an obvious imitation of a series of low budget movies about Francis the Talking Mule, who appeared in no less than seven films from 1950 to 1956.
In Hollywood, changing a talking mule to a talking horse is known as creativity.
How Green Was My Valley
If the success of Mister Ed proves that entertainment was less than perfect in the recent past, a new novel suggests that the future of popular literature may lead to some tension among sensitive readers.
Every Night, Josephine! is a nonfiction book about the author's dog. I can't seem to get away from animals, can I?
Jacqueline Susann's first novel, Valley of the Dolls, appeared in bookstores a couple of days ago. The word on the street is that it is quite racy. I expect the author will earn a fair amount of greenbacks from this fledgling work of fiction.
A Songbird Flies Back
In the world of popular music, even a song a few weeks old can seem dated. A little more than a year ago, multilingual British singer Petula Clark had a Number One hit in the USA with her upbeat number Downtown, which I quite like. I might even say her past success is far from imperfect.
Now she's back with another smash hit. It makes me a little tense to realize that My Love isn't as good a song as Downtown, but I have to admit that the lady can sing, and I wish her more success in the future.
You're going to the top of the charts, dear.
Half a Century for Half a Buck
Given the fact that Fantastic and its sister publication Amazing are now filling their pages with lots of reprints, not all of them classics, we have plenty of evidence that speculative fiction's past hasn't always been perfect. The latest issue goes back in time nearly fifty years, but also features a couple of new works. Appropriately, many of the stories deal with threats from the distant past, while the only futuristic tale describes a tense situation that may confront the people of tomorrow.
Cover art by Frank R. Paul, reprinted from the back cover of the November 1940 issue of Amazing Stories, as shown below.
I don't think this is a very accurate picture of what the surface of the moon Titan might be like.
The Bells of Shoredan, by Roger Zelazny
Illustrations by Gray Morrow.
We've already met Dilvish, a warrior who escaped from Hell, a couple of times before. He returns to the material world to defend his homeland, with the aid of a being that takes the form of a steel talking horse. (There's that again! Francis and Ed, what hath thou wrought?)
In this adventure, he journeys to the ruins of an incredibly ancient, seemingly deserted citadel. His quest is to ring enchanted bells that will summon soldiers from the limbo where they have been trapped for an immense amount of time. Along the way, he acquires a temporary companion in the form of a priest.
The unlikely pair witness a ghostly battle.
Dilvish is an intriguing character, and the author gives readers just enough information about his past to make them want to know more. This sword-and-sorcery yarn is full of imaginative supernatural happenings and plenty of action. I could quibble about the author's attempt to sound archaic — he has a habit of inserting the word did before verbs in order to sound old-fashioned — but that's a minor point. Overall, it's a solid example of the form. I'd place it somewhere between Robert E. Howard and Fritz Leiber, and a little bit higher than John Jakes.
Four stars.
Hardly Worth Mentioning, By Chad Oliver
Cover art by W. T. Mars.
From the pages of the May/June 1953 issue of the magazine comes this tale of unexpected rivals of humanity from the mists of prehistory.
Illustrations by Ernie Barth.
A team of archeologists digging in rural Mexico discovers a plastic disk in a layer of soil from pre-Columbian times. The apparent paradox leads the protagonist to discover that another humanoid species, distinct from Homo sapiens, has been directing human history since the beginning. They even have the ability to travel in time, in order to correct little mistakes, like leaving the plastic disk where it could be found centuries later.
An army of the time travelers arrives in an ancient Indian village.
When the archeologist discovers the truth, the humanoids hurt him in the worst way possible. Knowing that he cannot fight them directly, he resolves to protect the future of humanity in a different way.
The author is an anthropologist by profession, so his portrait of the related field of archeology is completely convincing. The price the protagonist must pay for learning too much carries a powerful emotional impact. I was pleased and surprised to find out that the story avoids a melodramatic battle between the two species, but instead ends in a quiet, hopeful, bittersweet fashion.
Four stars.
Axe and Dragon (Part Three of Three), by Keith Laumer
Illustration by Gray Morrow.
In the first two parts of this novel, we journeyed with our hero, one Lafayette O'Leary, into another reality, that he seemed to create through self-hypnosis. After many wild adventures, he wound up getting blamed for the disappearance of a beautiful princess. Now he sets out to rescue her from a legendary ogre and his dragon.
This segment starts off with an even more comedic tone than the others, bordering on the just plain silly. Lafayette meets with some folks who are obviously intended to be cartoon versions of Arabs. They remind me of a famous novelty song from a few years ago, Ahab the Arab, by comic singer Ray Stevens. As an example of the goofiness, at a feast they not only consume Chinese and Hawaiian dishes, but bottles of Pepsi.
Anyway, Lafayette goes on to acquire a loyal steed in the form of a friendly dinosaur, and finally meets the ogre. The ogre has a very strange brother indeed. After an unexpected scene of bloody violence in such a lighthearted story, Lafayette returns to the palace. He meets an old rival, learns the truth about the king's mysterious wizard, saves the princess, discovers who was behind her kidnapping, finds out about his own special background, and gets the girl (although maybe not in the way you'd expect.)
The whole thing moves at a furious, breakneck pace, so that you don't realize it doesn't always make a whole lot of sense. Lafayette's ability to change reality, for example, seems to come and go, depending on how the author needs to propel the plot. There's a scientific explanation, of sorts, from the so-called wizard about what's really going on, but it might as well just be pure magic. It's entertaining enough to keep you reading, but hardly substantial.
Three stars.
Cover art by Clarence Doore.
The March 1954 issue of Amazing Stories supplies this brief tale, from a master of the short-short story.
Illustration by John Schoenherr.
From birth, a group of people are bred to survive on the surface of Mars. The narrator is one of these folks, and reveals their plans.
Some of Brown's tiny tales are masterpieces of a very difficult form. This one is not. I saw the twist ending coming. Maybe you will, too.
Two stars.
The People of the Pit, by A. Merritt
I have been unable to find out who drew this cover.
We jump back to the January 5, 1918 issue of All-Story Weekly for yet another yarn about danger from the remote past. It was reprinted in the March 1927 issue of Amazing Stories.
Cover art by Frank R. Paul.
Some folks head for a remote part of the Arctic in search of gold. A man who is nearly dead crawls to their campsite and relates his strange story.
It seems that there is an immense pit, bigger than the Grand Canyon, beyond a chain of mountains. Not only that, but a gigantic set of stairs, carved in the remote past, leads down into it.
The fellow descends into the pit, and encounters bizarre beings who enslave him. He tells how he finally escaped, and managed to crawl his way back up to the surface.
Illustration by Martin Gambee.
This story reminds me of H. P. Lovecraft, with its unimaginably old structures and creatures who are almost beyond the ability of the human mind to conceive. Given the original date of publication, I presume Lovecraft was influenced by it. The author creates a genuine sense of weirdness and menace. The old-fashioned use of a narrative-within-a-narrative slows things down a bit, and it's mostly description rather than plot, but it's not bad at all.
Three stars.
Your Soul Comes C.O.D., by Mack Reynolds
Cover art by Leo Summers and Ed Valigursky.
Once you get beyond the face of Joseph Stalin on the front of the March 1952 issue of Fantastic Adventures, you'll find the original appearance of this variation on a very old theme.
Illustration by Leo Summers.
A guy intends to summon a demon in order to exchange his soul for a good life. Before he can even perform the necessary ritual, however, a being appears, ready to make a deal. The man gains forty years of true love, prosperity, and a happy family. When it comes time to pay the price, he finds out what he bargained for.
A story like this depends entirely on the twist in the tail. I have to admit that the author took me by surprise and came up with a new version of the sell-your-soul premise.
Three stars.
How Did You Enjoy Today's Grammar Lesson?
Example of the past imperfect: I was reading Fantastic magazine yesterday.
Example of the future tense: I will finish this article today.
Well, that may not be the best way to study the structure of English, but it gives me something to think about while I sum up my feelings about this issue. For the most part, it was pretty good. Only the Fredric Brown reprint was disappointing, because I expected more from him. There was a good old story, and a good new story. The rest of the stuff was decent filler.
If you don't care for the way I'm acting like a language instructor, maybe you'd prefer something a little more technologically advanced.
Don't blame me if you don't like math.
The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.
[This month's first Galactoscope features an esteemed pair of science fiction novels. The first is by one of the genre's most accomplished veterans, the other by one of its newest and brightest lights…]
by Gideon Marcus
Fantastic Voyage, by Isaac Asimov
A defector from beyond the Iron Curtain lies dying on the operating table, a terrible secret in his brain. Only an operation from the inside has any chance of success. Thus begins a fantastic voyage in which five souls in a midget submarine are miniaturized and injected into the patient. Their destination: the blood clot that threatens the defecting scientist's mind.
A myriad of biological wonders and horrors awaits the team, from antibodies to circulatory typhoons. But even more dangerous to the mission is the possibility of a saboteur on board. Is it Owens, pilot and designer of the Proteus? Duval, the brilliant but antisocial surgeon? His expert laser technician assistant, Peterson? The cartographer of the circulatory system, Michaels? Or could it be Grant, the agent dispatched to watch the other four?
And can the saboteur be stopped before the miniaturization wears off, killing the patient and potentially the crew?
Voyage marks the author's return to novel-length fiction after a nearly a decade. The circumstances are unusual; I understand the book is actually a novelization of a movie script, though unusually, the movie is not due out for many months. Dr. A is, of course, a great choice for the job. With his chemistry and general scientific background, he renders just plausible what will likely be enjoyable folderol on the screen. He combines a vivid depiction of the inside of the human body with his usual competent pacing and plotting. And as an old hand at mysteries (he essentially invented the still meager science fiction/mystery hybrid genre), he does a good job turning a science fiction adventure into a whodunnit.
I suspect what I don't like about the book mostly derives from the original script. I found a lot of the action sequences a bit tedious. Frankly, I might have been happier with a book that was just a guided tour of the human body from within, so deft is the Good Doctor with his nonfiction writing. I also found Grant's incessant pursuit of Ms. Peterson (first name, Cora, like our esteemed fellow traveler) annoying — just let her do her job, man! Also, only two thirds of the book are devoted to the actual voyage, insertion not taking place until page 70. The build-up to the action feels a bit drawn out.
Nevertheless, it's a fine book and it's great to see Asimov flexing his fictional muscles again.
Three and a half stars.
Empire Star, by Samuel R. Delany
by John Boston
Samuel R. Delany has been quietly pumping out Ace paperbacks for a while, building a reputation from the bottom up. He’s up to six now with the newest, Empire Star, and I thought I’d better pay some attention.
by Jack Gaughan
Empire Star is your basic unprepossessing—actually, pretty ugly—half of an Ace Double, just under 100 pages, with generically goofy blurb: "He warped time and space to deliver a message to eternity." But open it up and it features epigraphs from Proust and W.H. Auden (a first for Ace, I'm sure), and then introduces us to Comet Jo. What? Is this the new Captain Future?
Fortunately not. Comet Jo is a yokel, galactically speaking, living on a satellite (of what, it’s not clear) in the Tau Ceti system. He’s physically graceful, with claws on one hand, and his hair is long and either wheat-colored or yellow depending on which paragraph you’re reading. He carries an ocarina wherever he goes. He works tending the underground fields of plyasil, more crudely known as jhup, “an organic plastic that grows in the flower of a mutant strain of grain that only blooms with the radiation that comes from the heart of Rhys in the darkness of the caves.” He got his nickname wandering away from home to look at the stars.
One day Comet Jo hears a menacing noise, sees a devil-kitten (eight legs, three horns, hisses when upset) which leads him to where “green slop frothed and flamed,” with writhing, dying figures visible in it. One of them breaks out—Comet Jo’s double—and tells him he needs to take a message to Empire Star, but dies before he can say what the message is. The kitten rescues a small object from the now-cooled and evaporating puddle. This is Jewel—“multicolored, multifaceted, multiplexed, and me”—i.e., the narrator, who we later learn is a “crystallized Tritovian.” Say what? High-powered miniature computer with a personality—at least that will do.
So Comet Jo (hereinafter denominated “CJ”) goes to the spaceport the next morning to head for Empire Star, which he knows nothing about, to deliver a message he doesn’t have. This farmhand gets hired on the spot to work on a spaceship, no questions asked. On the way he encounters the strikingly dressed San Severina, who tells him he’s a beautiful boy but he needs to comb his hair, gives him a comb, and offers him diction lessons. She proves to be the owner of the ship he’s working on, and of the seven Lll aboard—sentient slaves who are great builders and project their emotions of great sadness to anyone who gets close to them. Owning these slaves is not a lot of fun.
Why not free them? “Economics.” San Severina explains that after a war she has “eight worlds, fifty-two civilizations, and thirty-two thousand three hundred and fifty-seven complete and distinct ethical systems to rebuild,” and can’t do it without the enslaved Lll. She also tells CJ he has a long journey ahead and has a message to deliver quite precisely. How she knows this is not explained, and CJ still doesn’t know what the message is. This is one of many incidents in which the people CJ encounters seem to know more about his mission than he does.
During these events, and later, CJ is told that he and his culture are simplex, as opposed to complex and multiplex, terms which are tossed around throughout the book without being defined very precisely. (Where is A.E. van Vogt when you need him? Never mind, forget I said it.) We are told that multiplex means being able to see things from different points of view, and also it seems to have something to do with pattern recognition. Also the multiplex ask questions when they need to. It certainly means becoming more mentally capable. A big part of the story is CJ’s getting more plexy with experience.
San Severina leaves him on Earth on his own, but advises him to “find the Lump.” Say what? Only clue is it’s “not a people.” The Lump—which turns out to be a linguistic ubiquitous multi-plex, also part Lll, in the guise of a portly man named Oscar—finds him. They set out in separate spaceships, but CJ quickly bumps into something—the Geodetic Survey Station, whose occupants are up to volume 167, Bba to Bbaab—and narrowly escapes the wrath of a comical and homicidal pedant. At their destination, in orbit around the inhospitable planet Tantamount, CJ and Oscar encounter the poet Ni Ty Lee, who discloses that he worked on Rhys in the jhup fields before, and also played the ocarina once, which mightily disturbs CJ, and leads into a disquisition by the Lump on the works of Theodore Sturgeon, four thousand years gone by the time of the story. Ni Ty Lee discloses more things he has done before CJ, including hanging out with San Severina, and CJ gets even more upset. Ni isn’t happy either; he exclaims, “Always returning, always coming back, always the same things over and over and over!” Hint, in neon!
Enough synopsis. The book continues in similar style. It should be clear by now that large parts of this story make very little sense, starting with CJ’s determination to leave his farm job and head for the galactic capital with a yet-nonexistent message, because he was told to do so under the most bizarre and alarming circumstances. But that’s OK because it’s not really a story in the usual sense. Rather, it’s a story about a story, or about Story, or about the author moving game pieces about a board, each piece decorated with a piece of the stock imagery of pulp SF. (Towards the end there’s even a Prince leading a spaceborne army to take over Empire Star, and the heiress to the throne struggling to thwart him.) Maybe it’s better described as a confection. There is of course a revelation at the end that purports to rationalize everything, and does to some extent, but it’s almost beside the point.
My patience for this sort of construct is generally limited, but Empire Star is extremely well done. It’s enormously clever, with many pleasing and colorful displays along the way; there’s much more detail and incident than the foregoing half-synopsis hints, even if much remains unexplained or implausible. Enormous cleverness colorfully rendered is never to be sneezed at. Four stars.
[Note: We will have to read Tom Purdom's The Tree Lord of Imeton to finish this Ace Double, and also because, well, it's Tom Purdom! Stay tuned…(ed.)]
The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.
By Jessica Holmes
There were times watching this serial when I began to wonder if I would ever be free. I began to fear that long after all has come to dust and the cockroaches inherit the Earth, I’ll still be there, sat in the rubble, praying for the Daleks to get on with it and put me out of my misery.
You might say I’m being overdramatic, and perhaps I am, but I can say with sincerity that I’m thankful this is the last article I have to write for this one serial.
by Gideon Marcus
Hornet's Nest
Last month, I wrote a rather savage review of the January 1966 issue of Analog, one of the more egregious examples of Campbellian excess married with an aggrieving nadir of quality. In short order, my mailbox was deluged with denouncing letters asserting that:
It is instructive that when I give an issue of Analog a favorable review, which happens reasonably often, my mailbox stays empty. But disparage the mighty Campbell at your peril! Such are the occupational hazards of the Reviewer.
Anyway, what goes down must come up, and this month's issue of Analog is actually pretty good. Let's take a look at the final mag of the month, shall we?
The issue at hand
by Kelly Freas
The Searcher, by James H. Schmitz
Two guards at an interstellar space port watch with momentary horror as a purple cloud of radiation erupts from a star yacht and devours them in an instant. The alien marauder has traveled light years, from the dense nebula known as The Pit, in search of a purloined navigational beacon. Meanwhile, a local professor with an eye to make a buck, is preparing to fence said beacon, hoping to do so before two private agents hired by the University League thwart his plans.
Thus ensues first a cloak and dagger story followed by a crime thriller and topped off with a mad chase from alien horror.
by Kelly Freas
I was excited to see James H. Schmitz' name on the cover as he's written some of my favorite works. He also has a preference for writing women protagonists, which is refreshing. I'm afraid my review of this piece must be somewhat alloyed. The concept is great, the characters are interesting, and I enjoyed the piece. But.
I think the biggest problem with The Searcher is its length. Had this been a novel length story, Schmitz could have unfolded the mystery of the alien's existence and motivations more organically, rather than relying on straightforward exposition. We get a lot of solid chunks of explanation interspersing the action. And it's certainly not the case that Schmitz can't write action; he does so quite admirably, beginning with the very first scene.
Had I received this manuscript, I'd have asked for an expanded rewrite — and been happy to publish it!
As is, it's a promising but uneven three star work.
The Switcheroo Revisited, by Mack Reynolds
by John Schoenherr
A rather bumbling young Lieutenant in the KGB is dispatched to the United States to find a marvelous invention first depicted in the pages of a science fiction magazine (name unknown, but I think it starts with an A). He's intercepted by the CIA, but rather than simply arrest him, instead they do their best to convince the agent that the fictional invention is real. There's a cautionary sting at the end of the story.
Cute, but rather trivial for Reynolds. I do enjoy how the author has woven a future history of the Superpowers, though, based on his extensive world travels. The geopolitics and slang lend a tang of verisimilitude. Three stars.
Twin-Planet Probe, by Lee Correy
This is a fun piece that purports to report the results of the first Martian probe to the twin worlds of Earth and Luna, written so as to mirror the sparse and potentially misleading data obtained from Mariner 4. The moral of the story is that we don't have enough data to make sweeping conclusions yet.
Four stars (and let's get some more data!)
An Ornament to His Profession, by Charles L. Harness
Patrick Conrad, once a chemist, later an attorney, and now a patent lawyer, is a haunted man. Three years ago, he lost his chemist wife and their young daughter in a car accident. This trauma has left him in something of a working daze, redoubling his vocational efforts in an effort to put the pain out of his mind.
His current problem: the patenting of a company chemical is threatened from several corners, most trivially by the impending poaching of Conrad's highly efficient secretary by another department, more seriously by a key team member's certainty that he has made a deal with the Devil to ensure success of the chemical's synthesis, and most critically by the revelation that the patent is based on a previously published college thesis.
Conrad must untangle all of these intertwined issues, all while wrestling with the pain of loss that seems also to be directly involved with the patent somehow.
by Kelly Freas
While Charles Harness is a name that may be unfamiliar to you, as it is a byline that has not appeared in more than a decade, Analog readers will certainly remember "Leonard Lockhard", a pseudonym for the combined talents of Harness and Theodore L. Thomas, who currently writes for F&SF. I'm pretty sure Harness is a patent attorney in real life as his knowledge of the law seems prodigious.
In any event, Ornament is a beautiful story, lyrical and thoughtful — almost misplaced in this magazine, honestly. I'm not quite sure I understood the ending, though I reread the piece to see if I had missed something; I may have simply missed a subtle reference. In any event, it's my favorite story of the issue.
Four stars.
Minds Meet, by Paul Ash
by Kelly Freas
Lastly, we have the welcome return of Pauline Ashwell (a Campbell discovery from England who goes by both feminine and masculine bylines for some reason). In this tale, a human and alien finally achieve true communication after seven years of frustratingly dissatisfying, if technically successful, discourse. All it took was a little filthy intoxication.
A pleasant three stars.
Summing up
I'm sorry to disappoint those hoping to yell at me for "not understanding why people like Analog", but I liked this month's Analog. Indeed, this issue virtually ties the (similarly returned to form) latest issue of Galaxy with a 3.4 rating, the best of the month. Close behind are New Worlds (3.2), Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.1), and Science Fantasy (3).
Only IF (2.9) and Amazing (2.1) finished below the mediocrity line, and IF has the new Heinlein serial to commend it.
We are back to late 50s levels of female engagement in the genre: 10.2% of the new fiction was by women. There was also a full two magazines' worth of superior content this month, more than twice as much as in December. It really was a pleasure to be a fan this first month of January 1966!
Let's see how February fares…
The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.
by Victoria Lucas
The View from Here
[Six years ago, Daniel Keyes made science fiction history with his revolutionary novelette, Flowers for Algernon. The very height of his triumph was the author's undoing; though he has produced several stories since then, none have had the impact as that first great piece. It was perhaps inevitable that he would revisit the well in pursuit of the success that eluded him. Vicki Lucas, a relatively nufan who had not previously encountered Keyes' work, gives her take on the novelization of the original story.]
current edition of Flowers for Algernon
Try as I might, I have great difficulty thinking of this novel as a science-fiction story. It could be conceived of as a psychological thriller, but no one dies except a mouse. It is deeply psychological and delves as far into the brain as anyone can get right now, accepting Freudian analysis as routine, while it is Jung's "individuation" that the main character, Charlie Gordon, seeks without a guide except for his reading.
Epistolary writing rare in science fiction
As far as I can tell from the short biography I was able to get hold of the author's background is steeped in science fiction, horror, and comic-book-hero writing and editing for publishers. Keyes writes in a style unusual in science fiction but more well known in the horror genre, in which the narrative unfolds in a series of letters ("epistles") or reports. His knowledge and expertise in styles may be why he teaches creative writing at Wayne State University now. The epistolary style is perfect for this story, in which so much of the action takes place in Charlie's brain.
Sometimes the brain is a maze
The Experimental as Science Fiction
The reports are "Progress reports" from Charlie, who begins with an IQ of 68, seeks knowledge beginning with reading and writing, and early in the novel undergoes experimental surgery that rapidly increases his IQ to 185. In the 7 months from his surgery to, well, the ultimate failure of the experiment, he traverses a lifetime of knowledge, emotional turmoil, and sexual longing and finally fulfillment (which is why the book is banned in places). The theory and practice of the experiment of which he becomes a part is currently science fiction, although who knows what the future of biochemistry and neurosurgery will bring?
"Pulling a Charlie Gordon"
Charlie struggles with his anger, his longing, his need to be respected, and his lack of discipline that inevitably get in the way of his accomplishing what he finally wishes he had been able to do. His anger is the biggest hurdle, and he never conquers it, despite the therapy in which he participates. At first he is angry because a mouse who has also undergone the surgery, Algernon, beats him at solving a maze. Then he is angry because he does not like the way Algernon is treated and eventually absconds with him. And the list goes on, as he executes a more intelligent version of what the men who worked with him called "pulling a Charlie Gordon," in which he makes a fool of himself. It is the treatment of Charlie by his mother, little sister, other children, people he thought were his friends, and quacks who flim-flam his mother that has earned his anger. And I really can't blame him. Much of the novel details the kind of thing that happens to "morons," who are perceived as less than human and locked away, often in institutions. Late in the book we go along as he tours such an institution, and it is treated sympathetically, with recognition of those who devote their lives to people rejected and ill-used by society. Again and again he is faced by the need to stop being selfish and focus on others, but his emotional maturation cannot keep pace with his too-rapidly growing intelligence quotient.
Algernon at his most intelligent
From "Exceptional" to "Exceptional"
In an early progress report after his intelligence begins to increase, Charlie complains that, "Before, they had laughed at me, despising me for my ignorance and dullness. Now, they hated me for my knowledge and understanding." As he nears the peak of his intelligence, he has spiritual experiences that he describes with elegance: "It's as if all the things I've learned have fused into a crystal universe spinning before me, so that I can see all the facets of it reflected in gorgeous bursts of light," so that Charlie is "living at a peak of clarity and beauty I never knew existed." Unfortunately, these experiences are brief and he cannot learn from them any more than he can quell his anger to prolong a love affair that brings him great joy for a short time.
A Rorschach card
The climb is too quick after 33 years of persecution and pain. The fall, like the falls of all those who seek to climb too high in dramatic terms, is swift and complete. I recommend this book, no matter its genre, and hope that anyone who reads it finds him- or herself touched by the plight of both those who are "exceptional" on the low end and those "exceptional" on the high end.
What will you see in it?
I see five stars.
by Gideon Marcus
Near miss
Three days ago, a B-52 nuclear bomber crashed into a KC-135 tanker aircraft off the southern coast of Spain. The tanker was immediately destroyed, killing its four crew, and the B-52 crashed — four of its seven crew survived.
The payload of said bomber had a similarly mixed fate: two of the bombs exploded upon hitting the ground, though the nuclear device did not activate. As a result, there is now an irradiated zone near the fishing village of Palomares. The third bomb did not go off at all.
A fourth bomb fell into the Mediterranean Sea. We're still looking for that one; with luck, it will be found and all will be fine. I can't imagine Franco will want us flying our bombers over Spanish airspace anymore, though.
Turbulent flying
While The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has not plumbed the same depths it often did under the brief editorship of Avram Davidson, nevertheless Joe Ferman's F&SF has almost as many ups and downs as a Japan-bound 707 crossing a jet stream boundary. After last month's lousy outing (which followed the previous month's excellent issue), we're on something of a level flight path. The stories in this month's issue range from fair to middlin' with only one stand-out and one definite clunker.
by George Salter
The Gadge System, by Reginald Bretnor
Assembly line schmo, Joe Gadge, decides to quit his job and light for Burma. His goal: to secure the inset ruby of an idol whereby to become a millionaire and win the hand of his sweetheart. Thus ensues an amusing send-up of the typical pulp jungle adventure. I particularly appreciated the subversion of racist clichés.
Bretnor has mostly stayed away from the SFF scene, having devoted his energies instead to the monthly pun columns that used to curse…er…grace F&SF. This latest piece feels like a relic of the last decade, but it's pleasant reading.
Three stars.
by Gahan Wilson
Against Authority, by Miriam Allen deFord
Two young men and an extraordinary young woman are poised to rid New Turkey of "Authority", the long-installed dictator who sprang to power in the wake of a devastating alien invasion. But the revolt is subverted even as it starts, and the plot appears to be some kind of grooming by Authority himself to find talented agents.
Where one wheel exists within another, one can be certain a third ring remains to be discovered as well.
While this story is an enjoyable pageturner, the plot is archaic (no surprise — deFord is one of the genre's longest serving veterans) and it all ends too abruptly for satisfaction.
If the previous story scraped the line between three and four stars, Against Authority hovers just above this ranking's lower boundary.
An Afternoon in May, by Richard Winkler
A library is under siege, its elderly operators determined to turn its shelves into a literary Alamo against the ignorant mob of would-be book burners. May covers the same ground as Bradbury's The Fireman, though with a lighter touch ("The situation is hopeless, but not serious.")
Three stars.
Witness for the Persecution, by Randall Garrett
On a far off human planet in a binary system, Walt Gayle finds himself the target of a vigorous assassination plot after purchasing the secret of artificial gravity from the Interstellar Traders. He is only saved by the ministrations of one Jeremiah, who seems to be almost omnipotent. Why is Gayle hunted, and what lies at the other end of the chase?
I'm not sure why this story didn't get sold to Analog, where it would seem more at home. I do know that F&SF has been trying to get more space stories of late (to maintain the "SF" part of its name).
Anyway, it's not bad, but it's also nothing you haven't seen before, and you likely won't remember it next month. Certainly, the "surprise" reveal at the end is anything but.
Three stars.
Desynchronosis, by Theodore L. Thomas
There is a new malady that afflicts those of us in the Jet Set: "time zone syndrome". In this article, surprisingly bereft of the Thomas' half-baked SF story seeds, the author posits that there may be other cycles beyond the 24-hour one that rule our biology.
Three stars. I wish it had been a full length article.
The New Men, by Joanna Russ
In 1986, a East Bloc dignitary stranded in Poland by a broken down car seeks shelter in an ancient bougeois fortress. Its resident appears to be a 400 year old Count, dusty but well-preserved. Literate (if obtuse and veiled) horror ensues.
Russ is very good at aping older styles of writing, and she has produced some near masterpieces in the process. This latest story will not be one of them, I'm afraid. Perhaps I'm not versed enough in the legend it's modernizing.
Three stars.
The Way Back, by D. K. Findlay
Often, a science fiction story will be spawned by the latest scientific discovery. In The Way Back's case, it's the recent revelation that the universe not only was created in a Big Bang, but that it may eventually collapse under its own gravitation back into a gravitational point source.
This rather incoherent piece suggests that the process of collapse will begin in the next few decades (it won't) and that accompanying the collapse will be a gradual de-evolution of humanity (what?!)
Two stars.
Up and Down the Earth, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor takes up the subject of mountains, describing the highest heights by continent, and also under various other circumstances: distance of peaks from the Earth's core, height of mountains if the oceans were drained, etc. Missing is the most important statistic, of course: length of ascent from base to summit.
Another geographical dart throw. Three stars.
The Mountains of Magnatz, by Jack Vance
Speaking of mountains…
Despite the punnish name, there is no relation between this story and Lovecraft's swansong, In the Mountains of Madness. Instead, we have the sequel to the first story of Cugel the Clever, a charlatan tasked by a sorcerer to find and return an ancient magical relic. Cugel navigates whirlpools, deodands, and trecherous townsfolk in an adventure that is half Howard, half Baum.
A little too trivial to be sublime, it is nevertheless quite clever and a lot of fun.
Four stars.
Girls Will Be Girls, by Doris Pitkin Buck
Last up as sort of a postlude is a cautionary tale about telepathy. A young esper woman is weary of her access to the primitive and lewed thoughts of the men around her — but she's even more horrified when the thoughts of an intended beaux do not incline toward the crude.
At least, I think that's the point of this story.
Three stars.
Cruising Altitude
And so we make it through another month of F&SF, this time without any untoward accidents, but also without many memorable incidents. At some point, I expect the Vance will be fixed up into a book, and there won't be much reason to return to this issue.
I suppose tolerable mediocrity is better than significant dross. We're due for a really good issue, though, I hope we get one next month!
![[February 28, 1966] A Bloody Return To Form (<i>Doctor Who</i>: The Massacre of St Bartholomew’s Eve)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/660228pub-672x372.jpg)
![[February 18, 1966] Fixing up the old place (March 1966 <i>Fantasy & Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/660218cover-672x372.jpg)
![[February 16, 1966] An import-<i>ant</i> next step in my Sci-fi journey (<i>Them!</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/660216cover-672x372.jpg)
![[February 12, 1966] Past? Imperfect. Future? Tense. (March 1966 <i>Fantastic</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Fantastic_v15n04_1966-03_0000-3-672x372.jpg)
![[February 10, 1966] Within and without (Isaac Asimov's <i>Fantastic Voyage</i> and Samuel R. Delany's <i>Empire Star</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/660210cover-672x372.jpg)
![[February 4 1966] What A Waste. What A Terrible Waste. (<i>Doctor Who</i>: The Daleks' Master Plan [Part 3])](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/660204fleeing-672x372.jpg)
![[January 31, 1966] Milk of Magnesia (February 1966 <i>Analog</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/660131cover-672x372.jpg)
![[January 28, 1966] The Book as Rorschach Test (<i>Flowers for Algernon</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/laboratory-mouse-a55d9736-9685-4f2a-b530-192cdc8ee6a-resize-750-672x372.jpg)
![[January 20, 1966] Bombs, duds, and happy endings (February 1966 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/660120cover-565x372.jpg)