Tag Archives: science fiction

[September 2, 1964] Taking on The Man (September 1964 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Tarnished Gold

I am an avid fan of science fiction magazines.  It would not be going too far to say that Galactic Journey's original purpose was to document these delightful digests as they came out (since then, our scope has crept quite a bit, even as far as the opening of a publishing company!)

If you've been following my column, you know that I view some magazine editors more favorably than others.  For instance, I have a great deal of respect for Fred Pohl, who helms Galaxy, IF AND Worlds of Tomorrow, all of them quite good reads.  Then there's Cele Goldsmith (now Lalli) who took on both Amazing and Fantastic, and while neither are unalloyed excellence, they are improved over where they were before she came on, and there's usually something excellent in at least one of the mags every month. 

My relationship with Fantasy and Science Fiction's Avram Davidson is more complicated; I understand he's moved to Berkeley and is retiring from the editorship of that magazine to devote himself to writing.  I think that's probably better for everyone involved.  Still, there have been some good issues under Davidson, and I can't let curses go without some grudging admiration.

And then there's John W. Campbell.

Look.  I recognize that his Astounding kicked off the Golden Age of Science Fiction, and that, for a while, his magazine (and its sister, Unknown) were the best games in town, by far.  But Campbell went off the deep end long, long ago, with his pseudo-science, his reactionary politics, his heavy-handed editorial policy that ensures that White Male Terrans are usually the stars (and writers) of his stories, and his inflammatory editorials that I gave up reading a while ago.

Asimov's long-since turned his back on him.  Even I've rattled sabers with him.  But the most poignant declaration against Campbell is a recent one, given by prominent writer Jeannette Ng at a local conference.  She minced no words, denouncing his male-chauvinism, his racism, his authoritarianism, and urged that the genre be freed from the overlong shadow he casts. 


Jeannette Ng, iconoclast

While Campbell's influence in SF is somewhat on the wane, Analog still has double the circulation of the next biggest competitor, four times that of F&SF, where the majority of the women SF writers publish.  It's people like Ms. Ng, pointing at the naked Emperor and noting the ugliness, who will advance the New Wave, the post-Campbellian era.

All I have to say is "bravo". 

The Issue at Hand

The ironic thing is that the current issue of Analog is actually pretty good (full disclosure: I didn't read the editorial, which is probably awful).  Just the cover, illustrating the latest Lord D'Arcy story is worth the price of admission.


by John Schoenherr

Opening up the pages, things are pretty good inside, too.  At least until the end. 

the risk takers, by Carolyn Meyer

This article on the use of mannequins in aeronautical and medical science is lively, much more Asimovian than most of the non-fiction Campbell has subjected us to recently.  And, it's the first time a woman author has graced the science column of Analog.  While the piece is comparatively brief and perhaps aimed at a more general (dare I say "younger") audience than the average Analog reader, I enjoyed it.

Four stars.

A Case of Identity, Randall Garrett

Randall Garrett is possibly the author I've savaged the most during my tenure running the Journey, but even I have to admit that the fellow's latest series is a winner.  Lord D'Arcy is a magical detective hailing from an alternate 1964.  In this installment, the Marquis of Cherbourg is missing, and coincidentally, an exact double has just been found dead and naked near the docks.  There's witchcraft afoot, and the good Lord, along with his sorcerer assistant, Master Sean O Lochlainn, are on the case.


by John Schoenherr

This story doesn't flow quite as smoothly as the first one, spending many inches on the historical background of this brand-new world.  It's still a superlative tale, however.

Four strong stars.

The Machmen, James H. Schmitz


by John Schoenherr

An interstellar survey group is overpowered by a group of ambitious cyborgs.  The goal of these so-called "Machmen" (presumably pronounced "Mash-men"?) is to forcibly convert the captured team of eggheads into brainwashed cybernetic comrades and start a colony.  But one the scientists has gotten loose, and he has a risky plan to thwart the nefarious scheme that just…might…work.

It's not a bad piece.  In fact it moves quite nicely, far more readily than the author's latest (and disappointing) Telzey Amberdon story.  But on the other hand, it reads like it might have come out in the 1930s.  I wonder if it's been hiding in a desk from the early days of Schmitz' career.

Three stars.

Sheol, Piers Anthony and H. James Hotaling


by John Schoenherr

This is an odd piece about the Government postman who delivers parcels to the oddballs who live in the suburbs.  It's quite deftly written, but there's weird social commentary that, while not offensive, feels Campbellian.  Tailor made for John, or doctored after the fact?  There's no way to tell.

Three stars.

Sleeping Planet (Part 3 of 3), William R. Burkett, Jr.


by Kelly Freas

Last up, we have the conclusion to Sleeping Planet.  What started out as a promising novel about the sudden subjugation of the Earth has ended up exactly as predicted.  The few unsleeping humans, along with their robotic allies (abruptly introduced near the end of the last installment), put on a movie show that convinces the invaders that the dead spirits of Earth are taking out their revenge.  This confusion facilitates the final gambit of the Terrans: to infiltrate and revive one of the planetary defense stations in El Paso.  After that, it's all over but the shouting.

There are several problems with this last part.  First off, it's essentially unnecessary.  There are no surprises, the human plan pretty much going as discussed in the last part.  That's the big picture.  Smaller picture issues include:

  • Why were Earth's defense centers even vulnerable to the sleeping dust in the first place?  Wouldn't it make sense for them to have their own air supplies against chemical/biological attack?
  • The amazingly human-like aliens (another Campbellian feature) are always played for suckers.  I was almost rooting for them to win at the end, so arrogant and annoying were the humans.
  • At the end, Earth's leaders make light of the attack, calling it a brief nap (but a warning as to what might happen NEXT TIME).  I understand this is largely to quell panic and outrage.  At the same time, though, it is mentioned numerous times that hundreds, maybe thousands of women were revived and rendered stupefied so that the might "service" the alien troops.  That this mass rape goes unaddressed and essentially laughed off really bothered me.  Honestly, even including this element was disgusting and unnecessary, especially in a story that mostly kept a light tone.

Two stars for this segment, two-and-a-half for the book as a whole.  We'll see if it gets picked up for separate print.

Summing Up

Thus ends another edition of the magazine that Campbell built, representative of the best and worst of the man.  This time, the positive aspects have won out, resulting in a 3.2 star issue.  This is surpassed this month only by Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4).  There was no IF this month due to a problem at the printers, the result of shifting from bimonthly to monthly.  That leaves the new New Worlds (3.1), Amazing (2.7), and Fantastic (2.6) scoring below Analog and F&SF.  An unusual month, indeed.

Women wrote 6 of 38 pieces (1 of 4 science articles, 5 of 34 fiction pieces), a fairly average month.  Despite the paucity of magazines, there was enough high quality material to make a decently sized issue.  Now that I'm in the anthology business, perhaps I'll do just that…

SPEAKING OF WHICH:

We have exciting news!  Journey Press, the publishing company founded by the team behind Galactic Journey, has just launched its first book.  We know you will enjoy Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), a curated set of fourteen excellent stories introduced by the rising stars of 2019. 

If you enjoy Galactic Journey, you'll want to purchase a copy today — available physically and virtually!  Not only will you find it excellent reading, but it will support our efforts and allow us to make more of the material you enjoy!  Thank you for your support!




[August 31, 1964] Grow old along with me (Brian Aldiss' Greybeard)


by Gideon Marcus

A slow burn

The British love writing about the end of the world.

Whether it's J.G. Ballard depicting a drowning world, Nevil Shute showing us clouds of atomic radiation slowly enveloping the globe, the cinema showing the day the Earth caught fire, or John Wyndham terrorizing a blind world with man-eating plants, the UK has been fertile ground for a particular kind of disaster story.  While presenting global catastrophes is not unique to Britain, U.K. authors are more apt to focus on the social ramifications, and also the aftermath, rather than the more flashy destruction scenes.  Moreover, British SF tends to take its time with disasters, letting you stop for a contemplative tea rather than maintaining a continuous mad dash.  Of course, Americans write contemplative post-disaster too (viz. Pat Frank's Alas, Babylon, but it's rarer.

Brian Aldiss, the vanguard of the British "New Wave" of science fiction, had already made his mark in this genre with Hothouse, a portrayal of Earth's far-future where humans have reverted to knee-high savages and plants have displaced virtually all of the animal kingdom.  A popular series and then a fix-up book, Hothouse was a hit, winning a Hugo a couple of years back. 

Now, the prolific Oxonion (by residence, not degree) has produced the latest in inexorable aftermath fiction: Greybeard.

Winding down

The basic premise of Greybeard is like a cross between On the Beach and John Christopher's The Death of Grass (No Blade of Grass in the United States).  In 1981, orbital atomic tests cause the Earth's protective Van Allen Belts to waver, and the Earth is scoured with extraterrestrial radiations.  Most large mammals are adversely affected; they sicken and die, they cease to breed true.  Humans are hit worst of all: half the world's children succumb to the ensuing illness, and virtually all humanity is rendered sterile.

Aldiss begins his story in 2029, after society has largely collapsed.  The viewpoint character is Algernon Timberlane, generally known as "Greybeard" for his signature adornment.  Of course, some fifty years after "the Accident", everyone is grey, but Algy stands out for being among the youngest of humanity's remnants, a spry 54-year-old in a world of old coots.  An intellectual and possessed of vigor, and also married to one of the youngest and loveliest women yet living (Martha Broughton), Greybeard stands out, and he has many years left for adventure.

Adventure he does, in a sort of quiet, understated fashion.  From the first chapter, the book wends in two chronological directions.  Going forward, Algy and Martha leave their authoritarian community of Sparcot after it is overrun with feral stoats, their goal to reach the coast and see what's left of the world before it decays completely to a natural state.  Going backward, we journey stepwise to the immediate aftermath of the Accident, first to the warlord era of 2018, then to the world wars of 2001 as nations struggled to secure the last viable children, and finally to Algy's youth, before humanity is certain of its doomed status.

A British manner of storytelling

Greybeard does an excellent job of exploring humanity with a hollowed out spot where its legacy should be.  It's a fascinating study, a story of old people (men and women equally represented) in a field normally dominated by the young.  At first, our species tries to carry on, business as usual.  We then fall by stages into strife and then a senescent blurriness.  In other words, as a race, we age and begin to die. 

Aldiss is never in a hurry to tell his story, letting the reader soak in the sights and smells of the slowly decaying civilization.  At the same time, neither does the pace lag, with Algy moving around quite a bit and meeting an interesting ragtag of other survivors.  The book is in many ways a travelogue of southeast England, with Aldiss' home of Oxford featuring prominently.  This intimate familiarity with the region adds verisimilitude to a very immediate-feeling tale.

The author also cuts the subtle horror of the situation with an arch sense of humor; for instance, the journalistic organization Algy joins after the wars, in order to document the last days of humanity, is called Documentation of Universal Contemporary History, for which Timberline is assigned to the English branch.  Yes — DOUCH(E).  The advancing senility of the people Greybeard meets is at once deeply chilling and comically ridiculous.  In other words, the situation is hopeless but not serious.

Hope or despair at the bottom of the box?

Of course, the overriding question on everyone's mind (particularly the reader's) is whether or not there are any viable children left on the planet.  There are hints given throughout; however, certain verification yea or nay is reserved for the very end.  Either answer would work, but would result in wildly different tales and messages.  I liked the path Aldiss chose.

In any event, Greybeard is definitely one of the stronger books of the year, and another excellent outing by Mr. Aldiss.  Four stars.


photo by John Bulmer


[We have exciting news!  Journey Press, the publishing company founded by the team behind Galactic Journey, has just launched its first book.  We know you will enjoy Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), a curated set of fourteen excellent stories introduced by the rising stars of 2019. 

If you enjoy Galactic Journey, you'll want to purchase a copy today — available physically and virtually!]




[August 25, 1964] Combat Zones (September 1964 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Wars Near and Far

The involvement of the United States in the conflict in Vietnam reached a turning point this month, with the signing of a joint resolution of Congress by President Lyndon Baines Johnson on August 10.


Doesn't look like much, for a piece of paper sending the nation into an undeclared war.

In response to the Gulf of Tonkin incident of August 2, when three North Vietnamese torpedo boats attacked the United States destroyer Maddox, the resolution grants broad powers to the President to use military force in the region. All members of Congress except Senator Wayne Morse of Oregon, Senator Ernest Gruening of Alaska, and Representative Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., of New York voted for the resolution. (Morse and Gruening voted against it, while Powell only voted present during roll call. Perhaps that was a wise move on his part.)

The name of the Navy vessel involved in the battle reminds me of the tragic domestic conflict in the USA over racial segregation. That's because restaurant owner and unsuccessful political candidate Lester Maddox shut down his Pickrick diner rather than obey a judicial order to integrate it. Let's hope this is the last we ever hear from this fellow.


This is a recently released recording of a news conference he gave in July defending his refusal to serve black customers. Please don't buy it.

The Battle of the Bands

With all that going on, it's a relief to turn to less violent forms of combat. After withdrawing from the top of the American popular music charts for a couple of months, the Beatles launched an all-out assault with the release of their first feature film, an amusing romp called A Hard Day's Night.


Wilfrid Brambell is very funny in the role of Paul's grandfather.

Of course, the title song shot up to Number One.


I should have known better than to think we'd seen the last of these guys.

Not to be outdone, crooner Dean Martin, no fan of rock 'n' roll, drove back the British invaders with a new version of the 1947 ballad Everybody Loves Somebody, proving that teenagers aren't the only ones buying records these days by replacing the Fab Four at the top.


The Hit Version; as opposed to the forgotten version he sang on the radio in 1948.

His victory was short-lived, however, as a three-woman army entered the fray. Just a few days ago, The Supremes replaced him with their Motown hit Where Did Our Love Go?


I assume he does not refer to Dean Martin.

Order of Battle

The stories in the latest issue of Fantastic feature all kinds of warfare, both literal and metaphoric.


Cover art by Robert Adragna

Planet of Change, by J. T. McIntosh


Interior illustrations also by Adragna

We begin our military theme with a courtroom drama, in the tradition of The Caine Mutiny. This time, of course, the court-martial involves the star-faring members of an all-male Space Navy rather than sailors.

Before the story begins, the crew of a starship refused to land on a particular planet, despite the direct orders of the captain. This seems reasonable, as previous expeditions to the mysterious world disappeared. The mutineers obeyed their commander in all other ways.

During the trial of the second-in-command, who subtly persuaded the others to rebel, the prosecuting attorney investigates the defendant's background. It turns out that records about his past life and service record were conveniently destroyed. Under questioning, the strange truth about the planet comes out.

At this point, I thought the officer was going to be exposed as a shape-shifting alien in human form. I have to give McIntosh credit for coming up with something more original. The secret of the planet is a very strange one. Without giving too much away, let's just say that previous voyages to the place didn't really vanish.

Because the story takes place almost entirely at the trial, much of it is taken up by a long flashback narrated by the defendant. This has a distancing effect, which makes the imaginative plot a little less effective. The motive of the second-in-command, and others like him, may seem peculiar, even distasteful. As if the author knew this, he has the prosecutor react in the same way. Overall, it's worth reading once, but I doubt it will ever be regarded as a classic.

Three stars.

Beyond the Line, by William F. Temple


Illustrated by Virgil Finlay

A war can take place inside one's self also. The main character in this sentimental tale is a woman who is well aware that her asymmetrical face and body are unattractive. After a childhood spent escaping into fairy tales, and later writing her own, she decides to face the harsh truth of reality. Just as she does so, however, a rose appears out of nowhere in her lonely bedroom. It is asymmetrical also, and fades more quickly than a normal flower.

So far this reads like a romantic fantasy, but the explanation for the rose involves concepts from science fiction. Some readers may find it too much of a tearjerker, but I enjoyed it. It reminded me, in some ways, of Robert F. Young and his reworking of old stories, mixed with his emotional love stories. It's very well written, and is likely to pull a few heartstrings.

Four stars.

Fire Sale, by Laurence M. Janifer

Back to the world of armies and soldiers in this variation on one of the oldest themes in fantasy literature. The Devil appears to an important American officer. His Soviet counterpart is willing to sacrifice a large number of his own people to Satan, in exchange for killing the American. The Devil asks the officer if he can come up with a better offer. The solution to the dilemma is a grim one, which could only happen in this modern age.

This mordant little fable gets right to the point, without excess verbiage. You may be a little tired of this kind of story, but it accomplishes what it sets out to do.

Three stars.

When the Idols Walked (Part 2 of 2), by John Jakes


Illustrated by Emsh

It would be tedious to repeat the previous adventures of the mighty barbarian Brak, as related in last issue. The magazine has to take up four pages in its synopsis of Part One. Suffice to say that he faces the wrath of an evil sorceress and the invading army following her. The story eventually builds up to a full scale war between the Bad Guys and the Good Guys, but first our hero has to survive other deadly challenges.

In our last episode, as the narrator of an old-time serial might say, Brak wound up in an underground crematorium, from which nobody has ever returned. In a manner that involves a great deal of good luck, he finds a way out, leading to a rushing river. Next comes an encounter that could be edited out without changing the plot. Brak fights a three-headed avian monster, whose heads grow back as soon as they are chopped off. As you can see, this is stolen directly from Greek myth, and the author even calls the creature a bird-hydra.

Once he escapes from the beast, he finds the city of the Good Guys under attack from without, by the war machines of the Bad Guys, as well as from within, by the giant walking statue controlled by the sorceress. A heck of a lot of fighting and bloodshed follow, until Brak gets to the mechanical controls operating another giant statue, as foreshadowed in Part One.

Jake can certainly write vividly, and the action never stops for a second. The story is really just one damned thing after another, and certain things that showed up in the first part never come back. What happened to the strangling ghost? Whatever became of the magician who fought the sorceress? This short novel is never boring, but derivative and loosely plotted.

Two stars.

A Vision of the King, by David R. Bunch

Like many stories from a unique writer, this grim tale is difficult to describe. In brief, the narrator watches a figure approach with three dark boats. They talk, and the narrator refuses to go with him. As far as I can tell, it's about death, one of the author's favorite themes. It's not a pleasant thing to read, but I can't deny that the style has a certain power.

Two stars.

Hear and Obey, by Jack Sharkey


Illustrated by George Schelling

War can be waged with words instead of weapons, of course. In this version of the familiar tale of a genie granting wishes, a man purchases Aladdin's lamp from one of those weird little shops that show up in fantasy fiction so often. The genie takes everything the fellow says literally. (It reminds me of the old Lenny Bruce joke about the guy who says to the genie "Make me a malted.")

After a lot of frustrated conversation, the man finally gets a million dollars in cash. Since we have to have a twist ending, the fellow says something that the genie takes literally, with bad results. The tone of the story changes suddenly from light comedy to gruesome horror, which is disconcerting.

Two stars.

2064, or Thereabouts, by Darryl R. Groupe

Let me put on my deerstalker hat and do a little detective work here. Take a look at the author's name. Remind you of anything? Well, there's a first name starting with D, the middle initial R, and a last name that is almost like group, which means a collection of objects, just like the word bunch.

Even before reading the story, we can guess that this is David R. Bunch again, under a different name to weakly disguise his second appearance. Once we get started on it, the style and theme are unmistakable.

The setting is a dystopian future full of people whose bodies have been almost entirely replaced by machines. An artist visits, eager to do a portrait of the most extreme example of the new form of humanity, with only the absolute minimum of flesh left. Their encounter leads to a grim ending.

The plot is less coherent than I've made it sound. Like the other story by Bunch in this issue, it holds a certain eerie fascination for the reader, even as it confuses and disturbs.

Two stars.

Mopping Up the Battlefield

With the exception of a single good story, this was yet another issue full of mediocrity and disappointment. Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because of the looming threat of global warfare abroad, and a new civil war at home. I should probably relax and watch a little television to get my mind off it, even if I have to put up with those lousy commercials.

[August 23rd, 1964] The Reign Of Boredom (Doctor Who: The Reign Of Terror [Part 1])


By Jessica Holmes

Ready for another historical episode? This serial of Doctor Who comes from the mind of Dennis Spooner, who I don’t think we’ve had a story from before. Interestingly, this is the first Doctor Who serial to be partially shot on location, instead of the airing cupboard at the BBC they usually use.

I want to start with a couple of things. One: I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, an expert on the French Revolution. And two: my opinion on this episode is objective fact and I shall not be tolerating any dissenters.

Let’s get on with it, shall we?

A LAND OF FEAR

The TARDIS lands in a nice spot of countryside, and in keeping with his promise at the end of the previous serial, the Doctor curtly informs Ian and Barbara they can go now, and not to let the door bang their backsides on the way out. However, considering this is the Doctor we’re talking about, Ian and Barbara aren’t about to just waltz off when they’re not even sure they’re on the right planet, so Ian manages to coax the Doctor out for a drink while they scope out the area.

Hearing some loud bangs as they leave the TARDIS, Ian rummages around in the bushes and drags out a small boy, who kindly informs them that they’re in France. To be fair, it’s not far off from Old Blighty. Get a ferry from Dover and you can make a day trip of it.

The boy runs off, and the others track him to a deserted house.

Ian and Barbara admit to themselves that they wouldn’t really be disappointed if they weren’t in England in 1964. Or should they come back to 1963? I’m not sure if it’s been as long for them as it’s been for us.

Finding the house empty, the companions promptly start plundering the owners’ belongings. Aside from some fancy frocks and dusty candlesticks, they find documents signed by Robespierre…and realise where and when they are.

And just to round things off, while exploring alone (always a bad idea) the Doctor gets a nice whack over the back of the head.

Meanwhile, the rest of the companions are helping themselves to some contemporary clothes. The garments look quite accurate to the location and time period, though I couldn’t say if the lack of corsets is excellent historical attention to detail (the corset having fallen out of fashion during the revolution in favour of simpler garments), or simply a lack of budget or modern clothing standards getting in the way of accurate period costuming.

That might all be a bit nit-picky, but I think the Doctor would appreciate my twaddle on whether or not everyone should be wearing a corset. This is, after all, his favourite historical period. I don’t know what that says about him but I think we should probably keep him away from any members of the aristocracy, just in case.

Oh. Too bad, because a couple just showed up. This farmhouse, it turns out, is their hideout. I’m not going to tell you their names because for one, I didn’t catch them, and for two, they’ll be dead in a couple of minutes so there’s no point.

They prepare to make a brave stand as a gang of soldiers come to capture them, only for one of them to chicken out and run outside, necessitating the other to come out and rescue him. He’s doing well at persuading the soldiers not to shoot them, right up to the point that he tells them that even if they have uniforms, they’re still peasants underneath.

To literally nobody’s surprise, that’s not a very clever thing to say to a bunch of gun-toting peasants.

R.I.P, French blokes whose names I don’t know.

Meanwhile, Ian’s trying to find where they stashed the Doctor, who is still out cold, but the soldiers barge in before he can, and drag everyone (except the Doctor, who is still having a nice nap) out into the courtyard.

The Doctor finally wakes up just as the soldiers are about to execute his mates. However, their leader persuades the men that they should take the companions to Paris, where they’ll be rewarded for delivering them to ‘Madame Guillotine’. How nice.

Before leaving, they decide to burn the house down, just to be thorough. Things sure don’t look good for the Doctor. Pity I literally don’t care. Of course I always know the Doctor or whoever is imperiled in the cliffhanger-of-the-week is going to be fine, but I am usually enjoying the episode enough that I can suspend my disbelief.

I didn’t know 24 minutes of television with multiple shootings and a house burning down could actually be this boring. Yes; this is the end of the episode! Is it just me, or would all these events normally take place within the first fifteen minutes?

2 out of 5.

GUESTS OF MADAME GUILLOTINE

I think I like the title more than I like the episode.

With the Doctor being slow-roasted French-style, the companions arrive in the city of lights, and Paris gives them a lovely warm welcome, by which I mean they’re immediately sentenced to death for being in the company of traitors of the revolution.

There we go. Show’s over, everyone’s dead.

…Sadly I don’t think I’ll get out of doing this write-up that easily.

Unfortunately there’s a backlog of necks that want chopping, so Ian, Barbara and Susan are going to have to wait a bit, in the company of a delightfully charming jailor who makes creepy implications about what Barbara could do for him to secure her release. Barbara gives him a slap instead. That’s my girl. Susan, on the other hand, wallows in misery, convinced everyone’s going to die. Tsk.

Oh, and the Doctor’s alive too. The little boy from last episode went into the house and dragged him out, which is nice of him. Don’t expect him to stick around, though, nice as it might have been for the Doctor to have a plucky young sidekick. The Doctor’s off to Paris!

On a real, actual road! With real sky! And a fake Bill Hartnell! Two out of three isn't bad. See, they didn't actually have the budget to transport any of the cast out to the filming location, so they had to make do with a double shot from a distance. That's pretty neat!

Ian, meanwhile, is sitting in a cell with a chap who is not feeling his best. He’s got a nasty gunshot wound, and it’s clear he’s not long for this world. The wounded man tells Ian to find an Englishman in Paris, who is in the city to gather information. There’s a war coming between England and France, because the day ends in a Y. I can’t even remember which historical war they’re gearing up for. There’s too many, and a ridiculous number of them are simply called the ‘Anglo-French War’. We’ve been at war, or preparing for it, pretty much ever since that William bloke paddled across the Channel.

I digress. The man imparts his wish, and dies, and I swear this should be more interesting to me than it is. It’s just not doing anything for me.

Out in the sunshine, the Doctor is having a nice walk in the countryside, and comes upon some ‘tax-dodgers’ being forced to work on the road. He tells their foreman that they might work faster if he actually picked up a pick. Astute observation, Doctor, and a great way to illustrate the difference between intelligence and wisdom, as this makes the foreman take offence, and investigate the Doctor's lack of travel papers. No papers, eh? Probably up to no good. And what do we do with people who are up to no good? We put them to work!

In Paris, Barbara and Susan are making progress on digging their way out of their cell. It looks like the ladies might be coming to the rescue.

Meanwhile, the man who was commanding the soldiers who captured the companions (I’m sorry, I didn’t hear his name) has come to investigate the death of the man in Ian’s cell, and asks if he and Ian spoke before he died. Ian lies to him, and says that they didn’t, but the jailor tells the commander otherwise, though he didn’t hear what was said.

Back in the ladies’ cell, Susan and Barbara find some rats in the hole they’ve made, and go into hysterics, because we womenfolk literally melt if we see a rodent, don’t you know? I don’t know. You cross the universe fighting priests who cut people’s hearts out and bug-eyed monsters and pepper-pots with death rays, and you go to pieces over a few rats?

Look. I’m scared of spiders. But if I’m going to be decapitated in the morning, and the only way out of it is to crawl through a tunnel filled with tarantulas, I’d absolutely, positively, definitely…get my last rites in order and sort out a will.

Perhaps I can’t really talk.

Meanwhile in the countryside….

Sometimes I do wish the characters would stay together for longer than five minutes so I don’t have to come up with a new way to re-introduce them every other paragraph to prevent things getting repetitive.

But meanwhile à la campagne, the Doctor gets in a boring and stupid and unnecessary scene that, unless there is some deep meaning in it that I’m too thick to get, is there just to pad out the episode. This whole thing with the roadworks is so pointless.

The Doctor distracts the foreman by making him stare at the sun, then steals his money, throws it on the ground, and while the foreman is digging through the soil, whacks him over the back of the head. Our hero, everyone!

Okay, so he was actually using the foreman’s greed against him by making him think he’d found a treasure trove, but he still knocked a man out cold while he wasn’t even looking.

To be fair, I was already thinking ‘why not just hit him with your pick’, and then he did, but that doesn’t reflect well on either of us.

Back in Paris (see? This is what I mean), the guards come for Susan and Barbara, and they’re taken with a bunch of other prisoners to the guillotine.

And all Ian can do is watch helplessly from his cell.

And how have I managed to write so much about an episode of little substance?

2 out of 5.

A CHANGE OF IDENTITY

Let’s introduce this one with a little scrap from my notes:

My chippy tea is going cold and I’m having to watch this.

Jessica from the past, you put it into words.

At least we’re finally getting to the bit where people’s heads start getting chopped off. Please?

The Doctor makes it to Paris, just as the women are on their way to have a little off the top, though of course he doesn’t know that.

In an alleyway, two men, noblemen by the looks of it, are lying in wait for the prisoners and soldiers heading their way.

And back in prison. Oh, back in prison. I can barely bring myself to go on. The jailor leaves the key to Ian’s cell…in the lock. Of Ian’s cell. And then rushes off because the commander chap is calling him. Leaving Ian free to grab the key-ring, nick his key, and put it back how he found it before the jailor remembers what he did with the keys.

I don’t even have the will to make a joke or be annoyed about it. It’s just not worth it.

Out on the streets of Paris, the horse towing Barbara and Susan on their way to certain doom throws a shoe, and Barbara plans to make a run for it when the guards unhitch the horse. Susan, however, has suddenly developed a very inconvenient illness and so can’t be running off anywhere, and Barbara, bless, won’t leave her.

Luckily the two men are nearby to save them because goodness knows they couldn’t possibly have rescued themselves in the face of this sudden narrative contrivance.

The Doctor, meanwhile, is shopping for new clothes. This is Paris, after all. Being in possession of no actual money, he trades in his old clothes and also a rather ugly ring, in return for…well. Wait and see.

Barbara and Susan make it to a safehouse. The blokes who saved them are called Jules and Jean, and they are posh, upper-class, and might as well have a dotted line around their necks labelled ‘chop here’.

Ian, meanwhile, is escaping, but not without notice.

I’ll just say, it’s not a very thrilling escape when the jailor is passed out on the floor and the only conscious witness is presumably hoping Ian will just lead him to the English spy, and so doesn’t lift a finger.

Susan and Barbara tell Jules and Jean about the farmhouse and the men they met there. They realise that their escape route has been compromised. A messenger arrives for them, a man called Leon.

Back in the dungeon….

Forget everything mean I’ve said about this episode. It’s just redeemed itself.

Behold the Doctor’s new outfit:

Besides being a genuinely funny reveal, the Doctor’s new outfit serves another purpose. It enables him to walk right into the prison in the guise of a regional officer, and interrogate the jailor as to the whereabouts of Ian, Barbara and Susan!

He learns of their escape, but before he can go off to be their knight in fabulous plumage, along comes the commander, who asks to see the Doctor’s papers. Of course, the Doctor remembered to forge some this time (perhaps the only worthwhile thing to come out of his little interlude in the countryside), so he’s not rumbled…yet.

However, the commander is on his way to have a chat with Robespierre himself about the execution lists, and extends an invitation to the Doctor, who can’t very well say no.

At least that might be interesting next time.

In what the French call le safehouse, Leon and Barbara make small-talk. Barbara tells him that she’s English, which he takes as an encouraging sign that she doesn’t really have a side in the whole revolution thing.

Look, she’s a history teacher. I can bet you she has opinions.

So that’s nice. And dull.

However, back at the prison, qu’est-ce que c’est? Or, as the English prefer to say, what is this that this is?

It’s the man from the clothing shop. He informs the commander that he has evidence of a traitor, and then (all together now), dun dun DUUUUUUUN…!

He produces the Doctor’s ring.

See, this is why I don’t wear jewellery. You never know when a duplicitous merchant of clothes might buy it off me and use it as evidence of me betraying the ideals of the revolution.

Okay, that’s it. I’m free. For now. I really hope things start picking up next time.

2 out of 5.

Final Thoughts

Well, having spent quite a lot of this review just making my own stupid jokes, how engaging do we think I found this serial so far?

Not very.

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but if I was going to hazard a guess, I would say that it’s the pacing. There is not enough plot here to stretch over a six-part serial, and so in dragging out individual plot points that might actually have been interesting in a more densely-plotted story, all the flavour is drained out of them. Think of it like jam scraped over too much bread.

Now, that’s not to say that a story must have a dense plot to be good. Not by any means. However, what a good story may lack in plot it absolutely must make up in terms of interesting character insight and development, and apart from the core cast, I don’t even know the names of any other characters here! The jailor’s a drunken lecherous lout, an embodiment of contemporary Royalist stereotypes about the Revolutionaries, right down to the tatty uniform. The commander? Well, I’d give you my judgement only I don’t have one. I don’t recall one thing about him! As for the young aristocratic men, they seem nice enough but about as interesting as white bread. At least the men in the first episode had the distinguishing characteristics of being a snob and a coward. Not the best characteristics, but I remembered them, didn’t I?

We’ll have to see how the rest of the serial pans out for me to lay down any greater judgement one way or another, but between you and me? I wouldn’t hold my breath.


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




[August 21, 1964] The Good News (September 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Reversing the trend

The United States is the richest country in the world.  By any reckoning, we measure in superlatives: biggest economy, strongest military, most movies, coolest cars.  But there is one outsized statistic we shouldn't bury in gloss — 19% of Americans live in poverty.

Several months back, newly installed President Johnson took an unscheduled trip through Appalachia, the poorest part of our country.  This region, between the Eastern seaboard and the Plains states, north of the agrarian South and the Industrial North, has traditionally been an economic backwater.  Shocked by what he found, LBJ promptly declared a War on Poverty, seeking to continue the efforts of President Roosevelt to bring up the nation and, in particular, Appalachia.

Yesterday saw a great step forward taken in that direction.  President Johnson signed into law the Economic Opportunity Act, designed to help the poorest families find their way out of their economic quagmire.  This will be achieved a number of ways, largely through the creation of new task forces and funding of groups whose goal is poverty relief. 

For instance, the newly created Job Corps and Neighborhood Youth Corps will provide work and training for the underskilled and underemployed.  Work Study college grants and Adult Basic Education will ensure that the poor are not barred from employment by illiteracy or lack of education.  There are also loan and grant programs for individuals and agencies. 

It's a smart system, not a simple redistribution of wealth but an investment in the next generation of Americans.  I have a lot of confidence that it will be successful — provided, of course, that the money gets put to good use.  Time will tell.

Big and small scale

Just as the White House has endeavored to improve the lot of Americans, so has Fantasy and Science Fiction's editor worked to address a disturbing trend.  In fact, this month's issue is easily the best one of the magazine that I've read in a while, and it's not even an "All-Star Issue".  It's just good.

So for those of you who came to hear me flog F&SF, you're going to be disappointed…

Mel Hunter's cover shows a post-Mariner 2 Venus, a cloudy inferno.  It's a beautiful piece, though it pertains to no story in this issue and is, perhaps, a better fit for Analog

The stories, on the other hand, are pure F&SF:

Chameleon, by Ron Goulart

Ron Goulart writes these flip, droll little pieces, with deft skill (if not great consequence).  This particular one stars Ben Jolson, member of a corps of secret agents whose special talent is shapeshifting.  People, animals, furniture, these superspies transform instantly and apparently without regard for mass considerations.  Jolson is a particularly adept, if eccentric, agent, grudgingly tasked with getting the prime minister of Barafunda to make a proclamation against the practice of using soulless, mass-produced people as slave labor.  By any means necessary: becoming a trusted adviser, inciting violence, even becoming the PM herself.

Goulart keeps things real enough to avoid farce, light enough to avoid melodrama.  If you like Laumer's Retief or Harrison's Stainless Steel Rat stories, this will be right up your alley. 

Four stars.

A Miracle Too Many, by Alan E. Nourse and Philip H. Smith

Dr. Stephen Olie discovers that being able to miraculously cure with a touch is a curse as well as a blessing.  Both Nourse and Smith are physicians, so it's no surprise that this piece involves the medical profession.  I liked everything but the ending, which felt a bit lazy.

Three stars. 

Slips Take Over, by Miriam Allen deFord

Ms. deFord, who is 76 today (Many Happy Returns!) offers up a tale of a man who slips between parallel timelines as easily and inadvertently as we might get lost on the streets of an unfamiliar city.  It's a neat idea, with the kind of great creepy atmosphere deFord is good at, but she doesn't do much with the story.  Plus, there are inconsistencies regarding what items do and do not travel with the hapless universe-crosser.

Three stars.

Olsen and the Gull, by Eric St. Clair

Eric, the husband of famed author Margaret St. Clair, is an author in his own right.  This is his first story not to be written for children and involving SFF elements.  In this case, it's a shipwrecked lout of a sailor whose only entertainment is to crush the eggs of the multitudinous seagulls while chanting "tromp tromp tromp."  One enterprising bird undertakes to distract Olsen the sailor by teaching him the art of summoning… with amusing and unfortunate results.

Four stars.

Carbonaceous Chondrites, by Theodore L. Thomas

Even Thomas' little column, usually sophomoric in the extreme, isn't bad this month.  He posits that the carbon compounds being found in certain meteorites are evidence of extraterrestrial life — but not the way you think!

Three stars.

Four Brands of Impossible, by Norman Kagan

The longest piece of the issue is by a new writer, a student at New York City College.  As befits a novice, the story, about a mathematician tapped to develop an illogical logic, is somewhat unfocused.  Moreover, when it's all done, I'm not exactly sure that anything of importance has happened.

On the other hand, there are bits in the story that are quite compelling, about space research, the value of an automated presidency, the folly of racism, etc., and I will remember the novelette for these if nothing else.

Thus, three stars.

The New Encyclopaedist-II, by Stephen Becker

A mock encyclopaedia article, about Jacob Porphyry, who reversed the trend toward malaprop and literary inanity by making his books hard to read.

It's cute once you get into it.  Three stars.

Theoretical Progress, by Karen Anderson

This first of two poems by Karen Anderson (Poul's other half), is a modern-day send-up of Antigonish

I liked it.  Four stars.

Investigation of Galactic Ethnology, by Karen Anderson

On the other hand, the second poem, a limerick, is barely worth a pained smirk. 

Still, that's the appropriate reaction to a well-delivered pun.  Three stars.

Elementary, by Laurence M. Janifer and Michael Kurland

Raise your hand if you want to murder your agent.  Goodness, there are a lot of you!  I shouldn't be surprised…I'm not even convinced that they're a necessary evil these days.  Anyway, this story is about a pair of authors who decide to put paid to their 10% bloodsucker only to find their efforts repeatedly thwarted.

This is another piece with a great beginning and middle, but the ending didn't quite work for me.  Perhaps you'll feel differently.

Three stars.

The Haste-Makers, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor's non-fiction article is on catalysts this time around.  I learned a great deal, but then chemistry has never been my bag.  The big revelation I got out of the piece was that catalysts aren't magic but merely a side effect of our living in an oxygen-filled environment (just like airplanes no longer boggle the brain when you realize that they don't fly on nothing — air just happens to be invisible).

Four stars.

The Deepest Blue in the World, by S. Dorman

When the stars become a battlefield, the men will go off to fight and die, and women will be brought to the Wedding Bench to conceive and rear the next batch of soldiers.  If they resist their breeding lot in life, it's prison and the mines for them.

A chilling story by an author with an uncanny vision of female subjugation.  A strong four stars.

Inconceivably Yours, by Willard Marsh

A bachelor worries that the failure of a contraceptive will end his bachelor days, but one God's curse is another man's blessing.  A fair story with a delicious title.

Three stars.

The Star Party, by Robert Lory

The astrologers presume to know a lot about people.  Unfortunately, master star-teller Isvara picked the wrong two Madison Avenue party attenders to cast readings on.  It's a nice little tale, though the astronomical inaccuracy at the end was unfortunate.

Three stars.

A Crown of Rank Fumiter, by Vance Aandahl

Last up, we have young Vance Aandahl, who started out strong and has been delivering weak tea indeed for several years.  This piece, about a recluse who, in the midst of death finds his humanity, is a refreshing change of direction — and thus a perfect capper for a surprisingly strong issue.

Four stars.

Summing up

I don't know that any of these stories hit it out of the park for me, but there were plenty of good pieces and no clunkers in the lot.  Even Davidson's introductions were entertaining.  This issue will certainly be a contender for best magazine this month.

More good news: F&SF has several foreign editions.  They've just started a Spanish edition, Minotauro, the first issue of which arrived by mail the other day.  My daughter, who is learning the language in high school, is currently working her way through Damon Knight's What Rough Beast and enjoying it, even translated.  So, if you speak Spanish, and you want a "best-of" issue of the magazine, you could do worse than to pick up a copy!


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




[August 15, 1964] What are you thinking? (The Whole Man aka Telepathist by John Brunner; The Universe Against Her, by James H. Schmitz)

[This month's Galactoscope features a pair of books with a common subject — but you already know what it is, if you possess the powers associated with that subject…]


by Victoria Silverwolf

Out of Many, One


Baby USA and the National Bird fighting over a ribbon.

It may seem highly eccentric to write a piece about a novel by a British writer with a title borrowed from a traditional motto of the United States. However, there is some method to my madness, as I have a few reasons for selecting the familiar phrase.

For one thing, the author prefaces his creation with a Latin quotation, and I thought I would return the favor. For another, the book is an example of the phenomenon, common in the science fiction world, known as the fix-up novel. That is to say, it incorporates previously published stories into a single work. Last but not least, the phrase fits not only the theme of telepathy, with multiple minds merging, but also the main character's transformation from a shattered personality into a complete human being.

I'll discuss each of these things at the proper time, but first let's take a look at mind-reading in science fiction, and at the career of the fellow who offers us the latest example.

Penny For Your Thoughts

Telepathy is a very common concept in SF; some might say, given John W. Campbell's promotion of ESP in his magazine, too common. There are far too many examples to discuss, so I'll just mention a couple of my favorites.


The first appearance of Bester's novel; cover art by Don Sibley.

Alfred Bester's novel The Demolished Man, the first book to win a Hugo, featured a man trying to get away with murder in a future full of telepathic police. This pyrotechnic work made use of typographic tricks to convey the sensation of reading another's thoughts.


The first appearance of Anderson's story; cover art by Emsh.

Poul Anderson's short story "Journeys End" dealt with the theme on a more intimate level, as two lonely telepaths find each other, only to have their meeting end in a bitterly ironic way.

These two works are, to my way of thinking, the finest examples of telepathy in fiction. Can anyone hope to match them? Meet a man who's willing to give it a try.

Precocious, Prolific, and Professional


From left to right, John Brunner and editor Ted Carnell at the 1957 Worldcon in London.

Born in the delightfully named English village of Preston Crowmarsh, John Kilian Houston Brunner began publishing science fiction at the tender age of seventeen. He hasn't stopped since, with nearly twenty books and well over fifty stories appearing under his name during the last dozen years. Many of his longer works appear in the famous Ace Double series. In general, he has a reputation as a producer of skillfully written, unambitious space operas.

Once in a while, he aims for something higher. The Traveler gave a glowing review to his novella Listen! The Stars! (Analog, July 1962) and I greatly enjoyed his novelette The Totally Rich (Worlds of Tomorrow, June 1963.) Will his latest novel reach the same level as these fine stories?

Don't Judge a Book By Its Cover


The American paperback.

Looking at the anonymous cover art, and the equally anonymous blurb that accompanies it, you might think this has something to do with a telepath and his beautiful companion, as they do something or other with some people in spacesuits. Nothing could be further from the truth.


The British hardcover.

My sources in the publishing industry gave me a peek at the version that will appear in the United Kingdom next year. The cover, which seems to combine photography with a simple drawing, is still anonymous, but less misleading. It's purely symbolic, of course, but at least it doesn't promise things it can't deliver.

When in Rome . . .

The novel begins with these lines from Virgil's Aeneid.

Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus
Mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscet.

My knowledge of Latin is limited to the Pig variety, so I did some research and found this translation.

The spirit within nourishes, and the mind that is diffused throughout the living parts of nature activates the whole mass and mingles with the vast body of the universe.

Apparently, the most important phrase in the quote is mens agitat molem (mind moves matter), because Brunner uses each of those three words as the title of a section of the novel. (By the way, mens agitat molem is also the motto of several institutes of higher learning, including the University of Oregon. Go Ducks!)

Born to Lose

First up is molem, or matter.

The plot begins with the birth of the protagonist, Gerald Howson, to an unmarried woman. The setting, judging by the names of the characters, is an English-speaking nation torn apart by a failed revolution. Armed United Nations peacekeepers restore order, with the help of telepaths. (In this future, the UN is much more powerful than it is today, and acts as a sort of world government.)

Gerald comes into the world with every disadvantage you can imagine. Not only is his mother without a husband, his father is a dead terrorist. He is also born severely disabled, with mismatched limbs and other deformities. Even as an adult, he is barely over four feet tall.

Gerald manages to survive a painful and impoverished childhood in a nation that is slowly returning to normalcy. By chance, he overhears a conversation between two criminals, and informs a rival crime boss. This earns him some money, but soon the police are after him. With nowhere else to go, he collapses in an empty lot.

A young woman, deaf and dumb since birth, cares for him. To his amazement, he can communicate with her telepathically. (It's implied that he actually read the minds of the criminals but thought he heard them speak.) His telepathy is so powerful, in fact, than even a telepath in a spaceship bound for Mars is able to detect his ability. UN forces soon arrive to take him to a place where he can make the best use of his powers.

Finding a Calling

The second section of the book carries the title agitat, or moves.

Gerald and the woman arrive in Ulan Bator. This city, the capital of Mongolia, is now an ultra-modern metropolis, and contains the headquarters of the World Health Organization. The woman's speech and hearing are restored, and she returns to her native land to lead a normal life. Unfortunately, the part of Gerald's brain that controls his body image prevents surgeons from correcting his deformities. He remains in Ulan Bator, under observation by UN officials.

Meanwhile, a crisis threatens the organization. It seems that some UN telepaths, under the strain of their responsibilities, suffer from a form of mental breakdown during which they escape into fantasy worlds. To make things much worse, they are able to take the minds of others into these imaginary realms as well. If not rescued, the people trapped in the illusion remain in a comatose state, to the point of death.

Gerald witnesses a formerly powerful mindreader, now weakened by a brain tumor, attempt to bring an important telepath out of a fantastic version of ancient Greece. When she fails, and cannot exit the dream world, he uses his own strength to save them both. This success inspires him to become a professional healer of damaged minds.

Physician, Heal Thyself

The third and last part of the novel, taking up half the book, is titled mens, or mind.

Unlike the first two sections, which are, as far as I can tell, completely new, this one makes use of two previously published novellas.

The first, City of the Tiger, appeared in the British magazine Science Fantasy in 1958. It was reprinted in the American publication Fantastic Universe the next year.


Cover art by Brian Lewis, illustrating Brunner's story.


Anonymous cover art, not illustrating Brunner's story

The original version takes place almost entirely within an imaginary, magical version of the Orient. The reader doesn't find out that the whole thing is only a telepath's fantasy until the end. In the book, we know right away that Gerald enters the false reality in order to draw out a telepath who has deliberately entered it, and taken several people into it with him.

The second novella was published under the title The Whole Man in Science Fantasy in 1959. The same year, it appeared in Fantastic Universe as Curative Telepath.


Cover art by Brian Lewis, but not for Brunner's story.


More anonymous cover art, still not for Brunner's story.

As its original title suggests, this novella forms the heart of the novel. Gerald returns to his native land, in search of his roots. He meets the woman who used to be deaf and dumb, now married with children. The reunion is an awkward one. She envies his fame and glamorous life as an celebrated UN telepath. He envies her normal life and healthy body.

Gerald meets a group of university students at a tavern and goes to a party with them. They accept him as a peer, despite his deformity. While at the party, he meets an artist who is trying to combine music with visual media. He realizes that his abilities would be an enormous help to this project. He also saves a man's life in a particularly dramatic way, further convincing himself that he is a worthy member of society. At the end, Gerald is, at last, psychologically healthy. As the novel says, he is a whole man.

The Sum of its Parts

I believe this novel marks a turning point in Brunner's career. Although it contains melodramatic incidents, it is primarily concerned with the way in which the protagonist grows and changes. Some elements seem implausible, such as the notion that a certain part of the brain controls body image, and that this prevents surgical intervention. Overall, however, it is a realistic account of what telepathy might be like, a cautiously optimistic vision of a future world recovering from many challenges, and an acute psychological portrait of its main character. Expect it to be on the Hugo list next year.

Four stars.


A recent book on theology and psychology which nicely symbolizes Gerald's state of mind at the end of the novel. And the author's name is strikingly similar to the writer we've been discussing! Coincidence, or ESP?


[Continuing the skein of telepathy, we come to another "new" novel — unique in perspective, if lacking in execution…]

The virtues and vices of recycling


by Erica Frank

The Universe Against Her, by James H. Schmitz

James H. Schmitz writes, in two parts, the story of Telzey Amberdon, a 15-year-old genius in her second year of law school, with a Federation Councilwoman for a mother and a father who's an executive officer at an interplanetary bank. She also happens to be a powerful xenotelepath, able to communicate mentally with alien species as well as humans.

I was disappointed to discover this "novel" is very obviously two separate stories now just called "Part One" and "Part Two." In fact, you've seen them before: This "novel" has two parts that were previously published in Analog; "Novice" was from the June 1962 issue, and "Undercurrents" was in two parts, May and June 1964. No hint of the events from Part One spill into Part Two. Even the way Telzey thinks about her psionic powers changes between the two stories – in the first, she is trying to puzzle out "symbols" and how to interpret them; by the second, she's more familiar with her abilities.

In the first story, she discovers that her pet sabertooth tiger (not what it's called, but obviously what's intended) is part of a sentient species that's been hunted to near-extinction. In the second, the guardians of a friend from school are planning to murder the friend before she can inherit. The stories have several similarities: In both, her ability to read and persuade animals is a key part of the plot. In both, Telzey's parent gets involved and provides administrative and legal support. In both, Telzey shapes the emotions and mental focus of the people around her.

That last point is more interesting than most of the plot, especially of the second story, which rambled. It involved complex legal and government hassles that required several minor characters whose sole purpose was to expound on aspects of galactic law. (Does that sound needlessly elaborate and dull? It was!) That was boring; Telzey's discomfort with her mind- and personality-warping abilities was interesting. Unfortunately, after having brought up the topic, Telzey quickly rationalized that this was "the only way" to make her friend safe. Then she returned to trying to manipulate both the court and government agencies, because apparently in her galaxy, clear evidence that "This person is trying to kill someone" is not enough to lock them up.

I loved some of the ideas, but the execution was weak; the second story was especially convoluted. I agree with the Traveler's assessments of the stories, which you should see as I've no need to restate them here. As a whole for the book: Three stars if you love teen-focused stories; two stars otherwise.

[Thus ends our presentation of telepathic twins.  Next time… well, you already know what's coming, don't you?]


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




[August 13, 1964] Plus ça change (September 1964 Amazing)


by John Boston

Still Long, Still Hot

Big surprise: Goodman, Chaney, and Schwerner, the three civil rights workers who disappeared in June in Mississippi after being pulled over for speeding in Neshoba County and then released, have been found dead, buried under an earthen dam, two of them shot in the heart, the third shot multiple times and mutilated.  The sheriff of Neshoba County had said, “They're just hiding and trying to cause a lot of bad publicity for this part of the state.” During the six weeks that law enforcement was failing to find their bodies, they did find the bodies of eight other Negroes, five of them yet unidentified—business as usual, apparently, in that part of the country.

The Issue at Hand


by Robert Adragna

The September Amazing has a different look from the usual hard-edged Popular Mechanics-ish style of Emsh and especially of Alex Schomburg.  Robert Adragna’s cover features surreal-looking buildings and machinery against a bright yellow background (land and sky), a little reminiscent of the familiar style of Richard Powers, but probably closer to that of the UK artist Brian Lewis, who brought the mildly non-literal look in bright colors (as opposed to Powers’s often more morose palette) to New Worlds and Science Fantasy for several years. 

The contents?  Within normal limits.  Business as usual here, too, though less grisly.

The Kingdoms of the Stars, by Edmond Hamilton

The issue leads off with The Kingdoms of the Stars, by Edmond Hamilton, a sequel to his novel The Star Kings, which originated in Amazing in 1947, and is to the subgenre of space opera what the International Prototype of the Kilogram is to the realm of weights and measures.  In The Star Kings, regular guy John Gordon of Earth finds his mind swapped with that of Zarth Arn, a prince of the far-future Mid-Galactic Empire, and ends up having to lead the Empire’s space fleets against the forces of the League of Dark Worlds (successfully of course, despite a rather thin resume for the job).  He also hits it off with Princess Lianna of the Fomalhaut Kingdom before he is returned to his own Twentieth Century body and surroundings.

The new story opens in a psychiatrist’s office, with John Gordon much perturbed by his memories of chasing around the galaxy and wooing a star-princess.  He wants to find out if he is delusional.  This may be a case of Art imitating Life, or at least imitating somebody else’s account of Life with the serial numbers filed off.  Hamilton surely knows of (and I think is sardonically guying) The Fifty-Minute Hour (1955), a volume of six case histories by the psychiatrist Dr. Robert Lindner, one of which, The Jet-Propelled Couch, involves a similar story of a patient with detailed memories or fantasies of living in a spacefaring far future, which he ultimately abandoned and admitted were delusions.

But shrink notwithstanding, Gordon is brought back into the future, corporeally this time, by the benevolent machinations of Zarth An.  Princess Lianna is anxiously awaiting him, but this time he’s in his own body and not Zarth An’s, and she’s going to have to get used to it.  Meanwhile, they trundle off to the Fomalhaut Kingdom to attend to the affairs the Princess has been neglecting.  En route, to avoid ambush, they head for the primitive planet Marral, ostensibly to confer with the Princess’s cousin Narath Teyn (who is in fact one of the schemers against her).  Various intrigues and diversions occur there, followed by a narrow escape that sets the scene for the next in what obviously will be a series.

One can’t quarrel with the execution.  Hamilton lays it on thick in the accustomed manner:

“Across the broad loom and splendor of the galaxy, the nations of the Star-Kings were marked in many-colored fire, crimson and gold and emerald green, blue and violet and diamond-white . . . the kingdoms of Lyra, Cygnus, Cassiopeia, Polaris, and the capital of the great Mid-Galactic Empire of Canopus.  The Hercules Cluster blazed with its Baronies of swarming suns.  To the south, as the cruiser beat westward toward Fomalhaut, the Orion Nebula sprawled its coiling radiance across the firmament.  Far northward lay the black blot of the Cloud, where drowned Thallarna lay now in peace.”

Oh, and don’t forget the “vast wilderness of the Marches of Outer Space” (in space, can anyone hear you march?), presided over by the Counts of the Marches, who are allied to the Empire.  And so on.  Along the way there is plenty more colorful decoration, not least the telepathic struggle between a sinister gray-cowled alien and the deeply loyal Korkhann, Fomalhaut’s Minister of Non-Human Affairs, five feet tall and resplendent in gray feathers.  At the end, Gordon concludes that this world beats hell out of the “sordid dream” of Twentieth Century life to which the psychiatrist wanted to confine him.  Fiddle-de-dee, Dr. Lindner!

But—kings?  It’s ultimately pretty depressing to be told that after two hundred thousand years, humanity hasn’t come up with something better than monarchy and all its cheesy pageantry.  Bah!  What this galaxy needs is a few good tumbrils and guillotines.

Three stars—a compromise between capable execution and shameless cliche.

Clean Slate, by James H. Schmitz


by George Schelling

There’s no monarchy in the issue’s other novelet, James H. Schmitz’s Clean Slate, but exactly what there is remains murky.  It’s fifteen years since the Takeover, when several “men of action” . . . well, took over, though there’s no more explanation than that.  There seem to be elections, or at least the risk of them, and public opinion has to be attended to if not necessarily followed.

The viewpoint character is George Hair, a Takeover functionary in charge of the Department of Education, and nominally supervisor of ACCED—a post-Takeover research program designed to develop “accelerated education” to produce enough adequately trained people to keep this complex modern civilization humming.  Problem is the high-pressure regime of experimental ACCED, very successful in the short run, causes severe psychological problems as the kids get a little older.  It seems having a personality gets in the way of this educational force-feeding for the greater good.

So they go to younger kids—less personality to get in the way–and when that doesn’t work, they get some newborns, who should have even less.  Still doesn’t work.  So they apply techniques of SELAM—selective amnesia—to get some of people’s inconvenient memories out of the way.

Maybe you’ve noticed that this is completely crazy.  It gets more so: hey, why not just get rid of all the memories, to create the clean slate of the title?  The guy running the ACCED program is the first subject of this total memory elimination, which, followed by intensive ACCED, will make him a superman!

But there’s a snag.  A big one, with huge implications for the program, and the government, and the story ends on the brink of a denouement that is hair-raising, not to mention Hair-razing.

The story is a meandering mix of scenes with actual dialogue and action and long stretches of Hair’s ruminations and recollections about the history of ACCED and the politics of the post-Takeover government and his place in it.  Like many of Schmitz’s stories, it really shouldn’t work at all, and does so only because he is such a smooth writer one is lulled into keeping on reading.  That smoothness also distracts one from the fact that what he is writing about—the subjection of children first to an educational program that destroys them psychologically, and then to the eradication of part or all of their memories—is utterly monstrous, worthy of the Nazis’ Dr. Mengele (also something not unknown in Schmitz).  Three stars and a shudder.  This one is hard to put out of one’s mind.

The Dowry of Angyar, by Ursula K. Le Guin


by George Schelling

Fomalhaut rears its head again in Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dowry of Angyar, which takes place on a human-and-other-sentients-inhabited planet in that system, one with enough contact with humans to be taxed for wars by them, but not much more.  Semley, a princess of the Angyar, covets an elaborately jeweled necklace which has somehow vanished from her family’s treasury, goes on a quest for it among the planet’s other sentient species, and gets badly burned by her greed and by not understanding enough about what is going on.  It’s very well written and visualized, as always with Le Guin, but its ostentatiously folk-taley and homiletic quality is a bit tedious to my taste, and it’s too long by about half—an off day for a class act.  Nonetheless, three stars for capable writing.

The Sheeted Dead, by Robert Rohrer


by Virgil Finlay

Robert Rohrer is back with The Sheeted Dead, blurbed as “A tale of horror . . . a story not for weaklings,” illustrated by Virgil Finlay in a style reminiscent of the old horror comics that were driven out of existence by public outcry and congressional hearings.  The story is written in the same spirit.  In the future, humans have fought wars all over space, and as a result, “great clouds of radioactive dust blew through the galaxy.” To avoid extinction, Earth has Withdrawn—that is, surrounded itself with some sort of electronic barrier so no radiation can get in, meanwhile leaving its armies stranded around the galaxy to die. 

A mutated virus brings the local deceased and decayed veterans to life, or at least to animation, in their mausoleums on Earth, and they set off for the illuminated cities searching for revenge for their abandoned comrades, and for the field generator, so they can turn it off, allowing them to see the Sun again, and also killing off everyone left alive.  William Blake said, “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.” We’re waiting.  Meanwhile, this is at least (over)written with a modicum of skill and conviction.  Two stars and a suppressed groan.

The Alien Worlds, by Ben Bova

Ben Bova’s The Alien Worlds continues his series on how humans could live on the planets of the Solar System, this time focusing on Mercury, Jupiter and the planets further out, and the planetoid belt (as he calls it, ignoring the more common usage “asteroid belt”).  The material is mostly familiar and rendered a bit dully, as is frequent with Bova.  Two stars.

Summing Up

Overall, not bad; most of the issue’s contents are at least perfectly readable, reaching the median through different combinations of fault and virtue.  As always, one would prefer something a little bit above the ordinary; as all too frequently, one does not get it.  In print and elsewhere.


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[August 11, 1964] Leigh Brackett Times Two: The Secret of Sinharat and People of the Talisman (Ace Double M-101)


by Cora Buhlert

So far, this summer has been cold and rainy. Even the cheery tunes of "Liebeskummer lohnt sich nicht" (Heartache does not pay) by Swedish singer Siw Malmkvist, which has been number 1 in Germany for almost as long as it has been raining, can't dispel the summer gloom.

Siw Malmkvist "Liebeskummer lohnt sich nicht"

However, rain outside means it's the perfect time to read. And so I was lucky to spot Leigh Brackett's latest in the spinner rack at the local import bookstore. Now a new novel by the queen of space opera, is always a reason to rejoice. And the latest Ace Double offers not one but two new novels by Leigh Brackett.

Though upon closer examination The Secret of Sinharat and People of the Talisman are not so new after all, but expansions of two novellas first published as "Queen of the Martian Catacombs" and "Black Amazon of Mars" in Planet Stories in 1949 and 1951 respectively.

The two novels are more closely connected than Ace Doubles usually are, because not only are both by the same author, but they also feature the same character, Eric John Stark, intergalactic mercenary and outlaw and hero of several stories by Leigh Brackett.

The Secret of Sinharat and People of the Talisman

The Wild Man from Mercury

Eric John Stark is a fascinating character. An Earthman born in a mining colony on Mercury, Stark was orphaned as a young child and adopted by natives who named him N'Chaka, the Man Without a Tribe. A few years later, Stark was orphaned a second time, when the tribe that adopted him was exterminated by miners from Earth who wanted the natives' resources for themselves. The miners put Stark in a cage and would have killed him, too, if Stark hadn't been rescued by Simon Ashton, a police officer from Earth. Ashton took the young Stark in and raised him to adulthood.

Though outwardly a civilised man, inside Stark is still N'Chaka, the wild boy from Mercury. There are parallels between Eric John Stark and Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan, who was one of the inspirations for the character according to the foreword by Edmond Hamilton, Leigh Brackett's husband. Eric John Stark is also a black man, something which is sadly still much too rare in our genre. Though you wouldn't know it from the covers, as both Planet Stories cover artist Allan Anderson as well as Ed Emshwiller, covers artist for the Ace Double edition, portray Stark as white.

Stark has little time for human civilisation, but a lot of sympathy for the plight of downtrodden natives throughout the solar system. He involves himself in an endless chain of uprisings and guerrilla campaigns, which are reminiscent both of the Indian wars, which were still within living memory when Brackett was born, as well as the various anticolonial movements currently sweeping through Africa and Asia. Stark's activities as a mercenary and weapons smuggler naturally bring him into conflict with the Terran authorities.

This conflict comes to a head in the opening pages of The Secret of Sinharat, which finds Stark on the run with Terran police officers led by Stark's mentor and surrogate father Simon Ashton in hot pursuit. Stark is facing twenty years in prison due to his role in a failed native uprising on Venus, but Ashton offers him a deal. Kynon, a Martian warlord, is planning to lead the desert tribes into a holy war with the help of off-world mercenaries. If Stark joins Kynon's army as an agent for Ashton, the Terran authorities will forget about Stark's crimes.

I really enjoyed the relationship between Stark and Ashton. Both men clearly have a lot of respect for each other and Ashton is probably the only person in the solar system Stark truly cares about. Ashton also clearly cares about Stark, but is not above using their relationship and Stark's sympathies for barbarian tribes, who – as Ashton reminds him – will suffer most from Kynon's holy war, to get Stark to agree to the deal. I would have loved to see more of Simon Ashton and his past with Stark. Alas, he only appears in the opening chapter, then Stark is on his own.

Martian noir

Planet Stories Summer 1949
Stark meets with Kynon and steps into a nest of snakes. For starters, Kynon is a fraud who claims to have rediscovered the titular secret, a device which can transfer a person's consciousness into a new body and therefore guarantees eternal life. Kynon is also surrounded by a cast of shady characters who wouldn't seem out of place in the one of the noir movies for which Leigh Brackett wrote the screenplay. There is Delgaun, a Martian gangster, Luhar, a Venusian mercenary and old enemy of Stark's, the Martian femme fatale Berild, who is both Kynon's and Delgaun's lover and seduces Stark as well, and Fianna, Berild's sweet and innocent maid who also takes a shine to Stark. None of these characters are what they seem and all but one will be dead by the end of the novel, either at each other's hands or at Stark's.

The Secret of Sinharat is chockfull of exciting action scenes and atmospheric descriptions of the dying Mars. Stark takes us on a tour of a Martian opium den, survives a deadly sandstorm and a gruelling trek through the blistering desert and explores the ancient city of Sinharat and the mysteries that lurk in its catacombs.

A Strangely Familiar Story

The Secret of Sinharat is a highly entertaining novel, which also seemed oddly familiar, though I knew that I couldn't have read the earlier magazine version. However, I realised that The Secret of Sinharat bore several parallels to a novel I reviewed two months ago for Galactic Journey: The Valley of Creation by Leigh Brackett's husband Edmond Hamilton, the expanded version of a story first published in 1948. The protagonist of both novels is a mercenary recruited to fight someone else's holy war, who realises that he is fighting on the wrong side. Both novels feature ancient technology which can transfer human consciousness into other bodies and both protagonists find themselves subjected to said technology. Both protagonists even share the same first name, Eric.

The Valley of Creation by Edmond HamiltonOf course, there are also differences. The Valley of Creation is set on Earth, in a hidden valley in the Himalaya, while The Secret of Sinharat is set on Mars. And Eric John Stark is a much more developed and interesting character than the rather bland Eric Nelson. Nonetheless, the parallels are striking. Edmond Hamilton and Leigh Brackett are not known to collaborate like C.L. Moore and her late husband Henry Kuttner did. But given the similarities of both stories and the fact that they were written around the same time, I wonder whether Brackett and Hamilton did not both write their own version of the same basic idea.

Into the Gates of Death

People of the Talisman, the other novel in this Ace Double, opens with Eric John Stark once again in a fistful of trouble. A dying friend entrusts Stark with the story's plot device, the talisman of Ban Cruach, an ancient king who founded the city of Kushat to guard a mountain pass known as the Gates of Death in the polar regions of Mars. Stark's friend stole the talisman, but now wants to return it, because without the talisman, Kushat and all of Mars are in grave danger.

Stark wants to honour his friend's dying wish. But before he can fulfil his mission, he is captured by raiders who take him to their leader, Lord Ciaran, yet another Martian warlord who wants to unite the tribes and lead them to victory over the decadent cities. Though Lord Ciaran is a much more interesting and memorable character than Kynon from The Secret of Sinharat. Ciaran is the illegitimate child of a Martian king who never acknowledged him. Hungry for revenge and power, Ciaran dresses in black armour, wields a battle axe and always wears a steel mask.

Ciaran wants Stark to join his army, but Stark is wary, probably due to his previous bad experiences with Martian warlords. Of course, Ciaran also wants the talisman and since Stark refuses to hand it over or say where it is, Ciaran has him brutally whipped.

Stark escapes. Half dead, he makes it to Kushat to warn the city of Ciaran's attack, but has a hard time convincing the city guard of the danger. Nor can Stark reveal that he has the talisman, for the rulers of Kushat have kept its disappearance a secret and would kill Stark to preserve it.

Planet Stories 1951 Black Amazon of Mars

Ciaran Unmasked

Ciaran's forces attack after all and in the pitched battle that follows, Stark faces off against Ciaran himself. Before striking the killing blow, Stark rips off the warlord's mask and gets a surprise that has already been spoiled both by Ed Emshwiller as well as by Allan Anderson on the original Planet Stories cover. For underneath the black mask, the warlord is a striking woman. The unmasking scene is reminiscent of a similar scene in "Black God's Kiss" by C.L. Moore, the story that introduced the swordswoman Jirel of Joiry to the world.

Ciaran is a fabulous character, a strong warrior woman, which is still all too rare in our genre even thirty years after Jirel of Joiry first took off her helmet. Though fascinated by Stark, Ciaran immediately decks him after he has unmasked her. Later, Ciaran tells Stark, "I did not ask for my sex. I will not be bound by it." I suspect Leigh Brackett agrees with her.

Every woman Stark meets in the two novels falls for him and Stark is only too happy to dispense "kisses brutal as blows" (apparently, Simon Ashton's education did not include how to properly treat the other sex). And so Stark falls in lust with Ciaran, even though she had him whipped half to death only days before.

Stark escapes with the talisman and a caravan of refugees through the Gates of Death to seek Ban Cruach's secret with Ciaran and her forces in hot pursuit. A battle ensues in which Ciaran is taken prisoner.

Now the novel takes a sharp turn into Lovecraftian territory. For beyond the Gates of Death lies an ancient city inhabited by alien beings (unlike the humanoid Martians Stark normally deals with). Initially, the aliens claim that they just want to be left in peace. But they quickly show their true colours and attack the humans.

Stark and Ciaran wind up fighting back to back. They escape and Ciaran agrees to leave Kushat alone and conquer the city of her deadbeat father instead. Stark goes with her in what may well be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Fiction versus Reality

I thoroughly enjoyed both novels, though they are clearly relics of an earlier age. Leigh Brackett's Mars with its deserts, ancient cities and even older ruins most likely does not exist, just as Mariner 2 revealed that the fog-shrouded Venus with its swamps and oceans that is a staple of pulp science fiction does not exist either. In fact, I suspect that the reason why Ace has not reprinted the third Eric John Stark adventure "Enchantress of Venus" (which I read in German translation a few years ago) is that the red gas ocean of Venus which Brackett described so evocatively is no longer plausible in our brave new age of space exploration.

Planet Stories Fall 1949 Utopia #95: Revolte der Verlorenen

Of course, it is the fate of most science fiction that it will eventually become outdated as science and knowledge march on. But even though we know that the solar system Leigh Brackett described is not plausible, the Eric John Stark stories still remain glorious adventure tales with a protagonist who is a lot more complex than the standard square-jawed heroes of pulp science fiction.

Something everyone can enjoy, rain or shine!

Bremen City Parliament building topping out
It stopped raining long enough to celebrate the topping out of Bremen's new city parliament building, sitting right next to the 13th century St. Petri cathedral

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[August 5, 1964] A Bit Of A Flub (Doctor Who: The Sensorites [Part 2])


By Jessica Holmes

So, where did we leave off last time we watched Doctor Who together? Let me check my notes. I can’t tell aliens apart, psychic powers are a bit rubbish, and Ian’s come down with a nasty case of Dramatic Cough of Doom Syndrome (or DCDS for short. It’s pronounced like the sound your typewriter makes when it gets jammed).

A RACE AGAINST DEATH

I hope Ian’s got his affairs in order.

With his life hanging in the balance, the Doctor and Susan go over everything they've done since arriving on the Sensesphere, and realise the only thing Ian did differently to them was drinking the local tap-water. Tsk, tsk. They do tell you in all the travel brochures not to do that.

Meanwhile, John’s having his brain fixed, and the city Administrator comes in to whine about it. He was the one who wanted to disintegrate everybody last episode, if you recall. He doesn’t seem to like anything about the humans. Not their names, which he reckons are absurd (cheek!), not their culture of egalitarianism (though I could dispute that), and not their stupid, ugly faces (pot, kettle!)

The conversation turns to Ian’s troubles with the water, and of course the Administrator doesn't believe that there's anything wrong with the water supply. No, Ian must be a great big faker.

John perks up a bit at this talk of the water, and goes off on his Goodness detector powers, yelling 'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVIL' at the Administrator. Shockingly, nobody pays him any mind.

And then he conks out. Well, at least he tried.

Carol comes along and asks how John is. The Admin gets his knickers in a twist over this. How dare she assume he's a mere doctor when his collar of office CLEARLY marks him as the city Administrator! She apologises and says that without the collars and badges, the humans would be unable to tell the Sensorites apart.

Gee, I wonder what’s going to happen with that.

We rejoin the Doctor attempting to convince the First Elder to let him back onto the TARDIS so that he can make use of the facilities aboard to cure Ian. It’s not going terribly well. The First Elder tells the Doctor he can use the lab on the planet, or no lab at all, prompting the Doctor to decry him as a fool in such a way I think he started to turn into an owl mid-phrase.

His hoot of indignation doesn’t go down well with the Sensorites, who interpret it as an acoustic attack. Susan apologises and gently explains that they didn't mean to use sound as a weapon. She's doing a really good job as a mediator, what with her gentle nature and her psychic abilities.

So of course the Doctor just leaves her behind to nurse Ian and leaves to check out the lab.

The Sensorites say they've tested the water and found nothing, but the fact remains that the current death rate is three in every ten citizens. Last year it was two in ten. Well, sounds like it's on the rise, whatever's going on.

Eventually, the Doctor finds atropine poison in the water in certain districts. Why only some districts, and why is the poison not always present when tested for? That’s not clear right now.

With the poison identified, it’s a simple job working out the antidote. The Doctor orders that the first batch of the antidote be sent to the First Elder's quarters and given to Susan, who can then administer it to Ian.

Well, that was easy. All’s done and dusted, right?

Wrong.

The antidote never makes it to Ian. Instead, on their way to deliver the antidote, the courier is waylaid by the Second Elder…or so they think. The real Second Elder is actually tied up in the disintegrator room, missing his sash of office. Who’s parading it about? Who do you think?

While that’s going on, the Doctor travels to the entrance of the aqueduct. It gets even more mysterious when it turns out that for some reason, the Sensorites can't seem to light it up, so it's kept in perpetual darkness. Hence, they instinctively avoid it. This seems fishy.

The Doctor insists on going in, but the Sensorite scientist tries to dissuade him. There are monsters in there. They've heard them.

Monsters in the dark, you say? That’s only going to encourage him.

The scientist reports back, and Ian, though literally dying right now, insists that the Doctor needs help, and he tries to get up and go himself. See, this is why I love Ian. Poor bloke is at death's door, feeling like absolute rubbish, but he still steps up when he thinks a friend's in danger.

Ian and Susan arrive safely at the aqueduct, which is pretty impressive considering Ian’s been drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the episode.

Inside the aqueduct, however, things are amiss. There’s deadly nightshade growing all around!

Belladonna? On another planet?

Hold that thought. Something just roared off-camera.

KIDNAP

Ian and company find the Doctor unconscious, with his jacket torn to shreds. What on Earth (or rather, the Sensesphere) happened to him?

Oh, and apparently Susan went all the way back to the laboratory and got more antidote. That explains why Ian seems to be so much better. I was beginning to worry my grandpa might actually be right about the health benefits of a brisk walk in the fresh air.

John tries to warn Carol of the plotters threatening them. The doctor (no, not that one) treating him thinks it's impossible. It's just not in the Sensorites' nature. On the bright side, they’re getting closer to fixing his mind.

The Sensorite doctor explains that, in essence, the bit of John’s brain that controls fear is broken, leaving him afraid all the time. Poor John. I get how he feels.

The Administrator continues with his plotting, forcing the Second Elder to summon the Senior Warrior and tell him to bring the firing key for the disintegrator. Before the Administrator can put it in, however, the Second Elder snatches it. He's killed in the struggle, but not before breaking the key.

Will that stop the Administrator? Of course not. He turns the situation to his advantage immediately, and toddles off to tell the First Elder that his second is dead, and what’s more, his associate saw the whole thing, and has proof of what happened.

Who murdered the Second Elder? The Doctor, of course!

They produce the broken firing key as evidence. His minion claims that the Second Elder was carrying the firing key through the courtyard, where he was set upon by the Doctor, who took something from his jacket and struck the Second Elder dead with it.

To be clear, they’re talking about the jacket that was torn to shreds at the start of the episode.

So the charge immediately falls apart, the mook is arrested for bearing false witness, and most importantly we don't have to sit through some utterly tedious plot of proving the obvious. Thank heavens.

Now the Admin starts up a story accusing the poor dead Second Elder of everything he himself is guilty of, which everyone buys hook, line and sinker. For his loyal service, the First Elder rewards the Administrator with a promotion to Second Elder, for real this time. I’m still going to keep calling him the Admin, however, to avoid confusion. It’d be much more helpful if he was just called Kevin.

John, meanwhile, seems to be on the mend. Gosh, he's actually smiling. Wouldn’t it be nice if mental illness was so easily treated in real life? On the downside (because there has to be one, hasn’t there?), his memory of his time with a frazzled brain is quite fuzzy.

But on the upside, while examining the items left behind by the humans who came to the planet years ago, someone brings up the city Administrator, giving Susan a bright idea. She asks John what it was about the one particular Sensorite he tried to warn everyone about. Something different about his clothes? His…collar?

And the penny drops.

The Admin, meanwhile, has released his minion from prison, and has him tamper with some devices.

The Doctor and Ian report their findings, and announce their intentions to make another expedition into the aqueduct. The Doctor also asks that Barbara be brought down to the planet's surface. I don't know why she didn't come with them in the first place. I can only assume that her actress was unavailable for filming.

They're given weapons, but it's the ones that the Admin had his minion fiddle with. He also manages to get his hands on the plan of the aqueduct that the Doctor is going to be using, and has it altered. Not only will Ian and the Doctor get hopelessly lost, they won’t even be able to defend themselves from whatever they encounter down there.

The First Elder laments over the death of his original second, and realises that if the humans didn't kill him, it must have been a Sensorite. But who? And why?

Carol and John begin to wonder where the Doctor and Ian are. Carol decides to go and see where they're at. Now that John’s better, we can see how smitten he is with Carol. It’s written all over his face.

That’s a pity. He’s going to be so upset when Carol doesn’t come back from her investigation.

A DESPERATE VENTURE

Carol falls into the clutches of the Administrator, who forces her to write to John and tell him that she’s gone back to the ship.

Cut to John reading the letter and not being at all convinced. More importantly, however, Barbara’s back! I’m sure she’ll sort this all out. It can’t be a coincidence that this is the final episode of the serial.

The First Elder agrees the letter is dodgy, but still clings to his belief that no Sensorite would have nefarious intentions, prompting John to very nearly lose his temper with him. It doesn’t really matter what the First Elder believes or doesn’t believe. Carol’s in danger, but they have all the clues they need to find her. The ink on the letter is still wet, so they realise it was written very recently, so it must have been written inside the palace, and according to the First Elder, only one room of the palace would make a suitable hiding spot: the disintegrator room.

Back with Carol, the Admin’s accomplice is being a nasty little git and gloating at her, but who should pop up over his shoulder other than John!

Bear in mind, however, where they are. The accomplice has but to touch Carol with the disintegrator device and she’ll turn to dust. However, while the accomplice’s attention is focussed on John, Carol yanks out the power lead to the disintegrator.

I suppose the Administrator couldn’t find himself a more competent accomplice.

Along comes the First Elder to arrest the minion, and thankfully he’s not so naive as to think this traitor acted alone, as he discusses with our friend the Administrator in a delicious little bit of dramatic irony.

Luckily for the Administrator, his accomplice is a loyal servant who refuses to confess who he’s working with. Unluckily for the minion, the Administrator is perfectly happy to throw him under the bus.

With all this sordid business wrapped up (or so they think) Barbara asks for a map to the aqueduct, so that she can lead a rescue mission for the hapless blokes.

Barbara had better hurry, because Ian and the Doctor aren’t alone in the dark. However, this labyrinth of tunnels has no minotaur– it has a man! Perhaps not all of the first humans to come to the Sensesphere perished, after all.

Back at the palace, Barbara asks to use one of the mind transmitters so that she can communicate with Susan as she travels through the aqueduct. The First Elder is impressed that Susan can psychically communicate without the transmitter. She says she's always been able to read the Sensorites' minds, but only when they allowed her to.

I wonder if, now that we're comfortable with the main cast, the writers of Doctor Who are going to continue building the mystique of the Doctor and Susan. After all, this whole adventure started because they were mysterious, and because Ian and Barbara were nosy. Who knows what sort of things might start coming out about them, and what new questions might come up?

In a quiet moment as Barbara prepares to leave, Susan and the First Elder get time to talk about more personal matters. The First Elder can sense that Susan is torn between wanting to go home, and an insatiable wanderlust. Susan hasn’t seen her home planet in ages. The sky is a burnt orange at night, and the leaves on the trees are silver. It’s definitely an alien world. And a beautiful one, by the sounds of it. I hope we get to see it.

Ian and the Doctor continue blundering around the aqueduct, and soon run into more company, although the Doctor doesn't immediately realise it, because he's too busy enjoying the sound of his own voice.

Barbara arrives at the entrance to the aqueduct, and takes the opportunity to test out her long-distance communication with Susan. It works, but Susan asks that she say her words aloud as she thinks them. It makes it clearer for her, she says. Cheers, Susan. It’s a lot clearer for me, too. I don’t understand the language of slide-whistles, or whatever they’re using to make the psychic sound effect.

Oh, we've got yet another human living in the aqueduct. It would appear that Ian and the Doctor have stumbled upon the three humans who were presumed to have perished in the spaceship explosion. This last human is known as the Commander, but he doesn’t look like one. He’s certainly not any cleaner than the others, to say nothing of his posture.

It seems these chaps are the culprits in the whole matter of the poisoned water supply, poisoning the supply to random sections of the city at random times using a logic only they can follow. For some reason, they think they're at war with the Sensorites.

Hold on a moment. They’re performing chemical warfare on a civilian population with the intent of destroying said population. I suppose we don’t have the Geneva Convention in the future?

The Doctor and Ian lie that the war is won and the planet is theirs. Unfortunately, the Commander gets quite defensive when Ian mentions the richness of the planet’s resources, fearing that he might get cheated out of his spoils. It looks like things might get quite nasty, and then to add the cherry on top, Barbara turns up with John. It takes some quick talking and faster thinking from the Doctor to get them all out of this mire and out of the aqueduct, where the Sensorites are waiting to take the ragged humans into custody.

With everyone safely back at the palace, the First Elder sadly laments that their minds must have been broken from all the exposure to the Sensorites’ psychic signals, so they were left playing their little game of war, and the innocent Sensorites of the city ended up paying the price.

And what of the Administrator? The discovery of the tampered map has revealed the Admin's treachery, so he's been banished.

Sadly we don't actually get to see the scene of all his schemes coming crashing down, some satisfying confrontation where everyone reveals themselves to be alive and produces evidence of his duplicity, and he's left with nothing to say before being booted out in disgrace.

I’d give bonus points if he got zapped with the disintegrator weapon which appears to be little more than a jammed Chekhov’s Gun.

Back in the TARDIS, Susan laments that because of the high-frequency signals on the Sensesphere (whatever that's supposed to mean), her latent psychic abilities won't really work anywhere else. Still, she clearly has potential in that area, so the Doctor promises her that they'll see if they can refine her abilities back at home.

Home? Could we perhaps get to see the Doctor and Susan’s homeworld?

It’ll be a wonder if he ever manages to find it with his navigational skills, but I wouldn’t say that to his face.

Not going by his reaction when Ian makes a good-natured quip that at least the human astronauts know where they’re going. He declares he’s going to put Ian off the TARDIS. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Touched a nerve, eh, Doc?

Final Thoughts

Here we are, at the end of another serial. I think the first half of this serial was the stronger, as the exploration of the mental effects of telepathy was more interesting there, but in the second half, the Sensorites just stick John in a machine to fix his brain and that’s that.

Also, I know the earlier humans had been mentioned before the reveal, and that the Sensorites weren’t sure what had happened to them, but I liked my own personal theory on what was happening with the poison better than the actual explanation.

A bunch of humans running around in the aqueduct like Gollum, fighting an imaginary war against the tricksy Sensoriteses? It’s not that it doesn’t make sense. It does, it makes perfect sense. It’s also just not terribly interesting.

Now, consider this: what if this had turned out to be the Administrator’s doing?

Nothing seemed to really be made of the fact that there’s a caste system in this society. Sure, we have the word of the elders that everyone’s happy in their place, but I’m sure that’s been the majority opinion of the ruling class in every heavily stratified society ever. It would not have surprised me one bit if it had turned out that the Administrator was targeting certain sections of the city in order to keep the hierarchy in place. Dark, yes, but thematically fitting.

Frankly, the ending was a bit naff. The humans in the aqueduct are introduced and dealt with too quickly for it to feel at all satisfying. There was justice for the Administrator, but I like to actually see events happen on-screen rather than just be told about them.

One more comment before I start saying nice things:

There are quite a few obvious line flubs in this serial. Did they genuinely run out of budget to reshoot, or at least over-dub?

Okay, now I’ll be nice.

As I said before, I liked the first half better than the second, but that was a really solid first half. I also got quite attached to the minor characters, which I don’t often. Especially John.

Though some opportunities were missed, there was some intelligent writing in this serial, with real consideration being given to the negative effects of mind-reading. It could be a public service announcement from the future against the perils of careless telepathy. And, as I believe I mentioned in my last review, I liked the bit of (intentional or not) societal commentary in how the astronauts treated John before he got treatment for his affliction.

It was also exciting to learn a little bit about where the Doctor and Susan come from, and I’m eager to learn more, hopefully sooner rather than later. Not too soon, though. That’d take all the fun out of speculation. Maybe they’re from a future Mars colony? They do look human, after all, and are from, as Susan put it: “…Another time, another world.”

This was an enjoyable enough serial, but I don’t think I'd have any particular urge to watch it again (if it is ever rerun). Still, I’ll be happy to watch more offerings from Peter R. Newman in future.

Until next time, then!

3 out of 5 stars


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[August 3, 1964] Running hot and cold (August 1964 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Summertime, but the livin' ain't easy

Summer is supposed to be the slow season, a time for relaxing away from school, hitting the beach, and soaking up the Sun.  Or sitting in the shade:

But as temperatures have risen, so have tempers.  On the heels of a landmark de jure victory in racial progress with the passing of the Civil Rights Act, the de facto conditions of segregation and discrimination still obtain across the nation. 

And so, sparked by decades of frustration and the still-distant prospect of true equality, riots have broken out in several of America's premier cities.  Some started as peaceful demonstrations, like the recent turmoil in New York City, sparked by the police shooting of 15-year-old student, James Powell.

Others needed just the tiniest of sparks, like the aimless violence that inflamed Rochester, New York last week.

These outbreaks began soon after Barry Goldwater, arch-conservative Senator from Arizona, was nominated as the GOP candidate for President at the Cow Palace convention in San Francisco.  Goldwater's position on civil rights compares starkly to the President Johnson's record, and there is justifiable fear that, should the Senator win the election, all recent progress could halt or even reverse.

To that end, the heads of the six major Black American organizations agreed last week that they would deprioritize civil rights demonstrations in favor of efforts to defeat Goldwater in November.  Whether this will damp the wave of rioting is an open question.

Interestingly, Johnson and Goldwater made a related pledge: neither will make civil rights a major talking point of the election. 

A Tepid Analog

But where the news is hot, Analog, the old warhorse of science fiction magazines, remains stubbornly lukewarm.  The United States struggles to make its way to the future; Analog is content to stick with the styles of the past.  This month's issue is no exception.


by John Schoenherr

How to Make a Robot Speak, by Dwight Wayne Batteau

The opening non-fiction piece is on engineering efforts to mechanically reproduce human speech.  Or perhaps to control robots through voice commands.  Or dolphins.  I really couldn't tell you — this article is more impenetrable than last year's matzah.

One star.

Genus Traitor, by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

A hundred years from now, Benjamin Fullbright, member of the first expedition to the Red Planet, stands trial before a world court.  His crime: giving the Martians the secret of interplanetary travel and laying the Earth bare to invasion.  But is the sole other survivor of the trip, Commodore Raul Murillo, telling the whole story of their trip?  And are the Martians really the bug-eyed aliens everyone thinks they are?

The latest from Mack Reynolds is reasonably engaging and often exciting, but definitely not at the high end of what the author can produce.

Three stars.

Satisfaction, by Damon Knight

I was surprised to see Knight's by-line here; his work tends to be more on the thoughtful,"softer" side of SF (though his awful The Tree of Time was straight pulp…and it appeared in F&SF of all places!) Satisfaction shows the lack of ambition that could become endemic should humanity get a hold of Artificial Reality technology, allowing them to live out their fantasies within a computerized simulation.

Knight does a decent job of conveying the lassitude of an addict, but his story doesn't go anywhere beyond that. 

Three stars.

Inter-Disciplinary Conference, by Philip R. Geffe


by John Schoenherr

If the name of Philip R. Geffe is familiar to you, you're either an engineer with an interest in electric filters (he literally wrote the book on the subject last year) or an amateur chess player.  Geffe's first science fiction story likely covers ground that is familiar to the author — an interdisciplinary conference at which scientists from several different fields fail to put the pieces of their research together to reach an externally obvious conclusion.

It's cute.  Three stars.

Sleeping Planet (Part 2 of 3), by William R. Burkett, Jr.


by Kelly Freas

When last we left this serial, the Llralan Empire had captured the Solar System of the 25th Century without a shot, its inhabitants having been rendered unconscious with a genetically tailored sleeping dust.  Now the "Larries" are holding half of the human race hostage as leverage in surrender negotiations with the Terran Federation.

The only fly in the ointment is James Rierson, an attorney and weekend hunter who is one of the nine souls who proved immune to the dust.  He has embarked on a one-man insurgency, which has been aided by the belief (spurred on by similarly immune truck driver Bradford Donovan) that Rierson is actually an avenging ancestor spirit with supernatural powers.  The added wrinkle in this installment is the army of sentient but subservient robots, also unaffected by the dust, who offer their services to Rierson.  It's a development that was not telegraphed earlier, and it comes out of nowhere.

The problem with Burkett's story is he can't decide if he's writing a farce or a serious SF book.  It comes off as too gritty for the former and too silly for the latter.  Still, it is readable.

Three stars.

Thermal Gradients

"It's readable" summarizes this latest issue of Analog, which is better than can be said for many of the mags this month.  Celle Lalli's (née Goldsmith) Fantastic and Amazing fared the worst, garnering abysmal 1.8 and 2.1 star ratings.  The once-proud F&SF got a lousy 2.3, and I hear it through the grapevine that its editor, Avram Davidson, is looking to leave his job.  On the positive side are Fred Pohl's digests, IF and Galaxy, both of which scored a solid 3.4, and which had the best individual stories, too.

For those keeping count, there were five women authors out of 34.  15% is actually a good month for that measurement.

So that's that for last month.  Next month, there's a new Lord D'arcy story.  God help me, I'm actually looking forward to Randall Garrett.,

And that's a hot one!


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