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[July 6, 1964] Busy Schedule (August 1964 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

SFlying Eastward

Today saw the Journey in the wilds of Utah, attending a small science fiction conclave out in the lovely summer desert of Deseret.  What could have impelled us to make another plane trek less than a week after having returned from a long sojourn in Japan?

Well, we were invited.  The things one does for egoboo…

Nevertheless, duty continues, and so I find myself pounding the typewriter keys early in the morning (to the chagrin of the folks in the neighboring rooms, no doubt) so you can read all about the first SF digest of the month, the August 1964 IF.

The Issue at Hand


by Fetterly

The big news is that IF is a monthly now after years and years as a bimonthly.  Lord knows where editor Fred Pohl is getting the material for this increased frequency, especially given that he also helms the sister books, Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow. Let's see how the new mag holds up under the compressed schedule:

The Slaves of Gree, by C. C. MacApp


by Gray Morrow

Young Jen wakes up spluttering in a pounding sea, his memories forgotten, with the trace of a foreign name in the back of his mind.  Who is "Steve Duke" and what is his relation to Jen?  The hapless jetsam of a man is rescued by his own kind, fellow slaves to the great Gree.  Jen soon gets back his memories, remembering that he belongs to the happy, harmonious Hive, a burgeoning galactic power. 

Or does he?

Turns out Jen is a double-agent, quite literally.  He has two personalities, which swap as needed.  One is one of the Hive's most promising subalterns, a puissant veteran of the space corps.  The other is Major Steve Duke, a rather unsavory Terran sent to topple the Hive from within.

There are the makings of a great story here, but it needs a lot of polish.  So much of the tale is told mechanically.  At one point, I counted ten sentences in a row beginning with "He [verbed]…"  Plus, I kept expecting a twist at the end, but instead, it's just a straight adventure story with (I felt) the wrong personality winning. 

Two stars, just shy of three.

A as in Android, by Frances T. Hall

A middle aged rebel against the system encounters an android with his face and imprinted with his memories – memories he'd sold for some quick cash a decade and a half before.  Has the robot, who was exiled to the hell planet called Cauldron, come for revenge or something else?

Frances Hall's first SF story (to my knowledge) is a solid triple.  Four stars.

The Prince and the Pirate, by Keith Laumer


by Nodel

The latest Retief story sees our favorite interstellar diplomat/super spy thwarting the topple of a monarchy.  Neither the best nor the worst of the stories in the series, it entertains reasonably.  Three stars.

The Life Hater, by Fred Saberhagen

How do you convince a machine that biological life is superior?  And in the parley between human and sentient, life-hating battleship, who is playing who?

Fred Saberhagen continues to impress with his excellent tales of the Berserkers — sentient dreadnoughts who scour the galaxy, ridding it of biological infestations.

Four stars.

Farnham's Freehold (Part 2 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein


by Jack Gaughan

Last up is the latest installment of Heinlein's most recent novel.  Last time, Hugh Farnham, a libertarian, nudist cat-lover (no resemblance whatsoever to his creator!) ducked into a bomb shelter with his family when the Russkies started to nuke America.  Instead of dying in the holocaust, however, Farnham et. al. found themselves transported to a virgin version of their world, one in which people had never existed.  Or so they thought.

At the beginning of this month's narrative, other people show up — technologically advanced black men who enslave the Farnhams (except for their house servant, Joe, who is black) and bring them to the Summer Palace of Ponse, Lord Protector of the region.  It turns out that this isn't an alternate universe, but rather some two thousand years in the future.  Descendants of the Africans now rule the world in a static society in which the whites are slaves.  Hugh must use his wits to carve a place for himself in this society before he is eliminated (or worse!) for trespassing.

This second part holds up a lot better than the first.  Near the end, we learn that there are still free savages hiding in the Rocky Mountains, an Part 3 will likely feature some kind of Farnhem-led insurrection.  All very patriotic and appropriate for Independence Day.

Four stars.

Summing Up

Truth to tell, I'd been dreading the Heinlein and leery of the rest of the issue.  In the end, though, Pohl managed to put together a readable (if not stellar) 132 pages of SF.  I will definitely be keeping my subscription!

Let's just hope that he…and I… can keep up this busy schedule.

[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…]




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[July 2, 1964] Completing the Tour (July 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Last Days

After three lovely weeks, our trip to Japan is sadly drawing to a close.  Someday, I can see relocating here for months out of the year — after all, my job really only requires a typewriter and access to a good postal service.  That's for the future, though, when the Young Traveler has finished school and left the nest. 

After Nagoya, we took a train to Hiroshima, the city made famous on August 6, 1945.

It has been nineteen years since the first atomic blast on Japan leveled a square mile of city and killed tens of thousands in an instant.  Hiroshima, a port city on the west end of the island of Honshu, has largely recovered since then, but the scars of that day still bear mute witness to the attack.

It is a sobering thing to visit a place of such megadeath, not dissimilar to the eerie feelings I experienced walking down "Bloody Lane" at Antietam, where thousands died in a few hours just miles away from where my wife's mother now lives.

Yet, life goes on.  Hiroshima is a vibrant city, peaceful and productive.  They're building a new train station that will further stimulate the local economy.  We like the people and the feeling here; this may well be come a standard stop for us in the future.

After several days in Hiroshima, we headed further south to our final stop, the island of Kyusuhu and the metropolis of Fukuoka.

Our main reason for stopping here was to visit our adoptive family, the Fujiis.  Just after the war, the Fujii family sent their teenaged daughter, Miwako, to the States for a few weeks as part of a student exchange.  The next year, my wife's little sister spent a year studying in Kyoto, where the Fujii's lived.  They accepted her into their family, even including her in the annual family photo.  Since then, Miwako, her sister Hideko, and their parents, Yuko and Yukio, have essentially become beloved in-laws, and we try to see them whenever possible.

Yukio, a former policeman, retired to his home town of Amagi, a little farm community a couple of hours from Fukuoka. He and Yuko reside in an ancient house there, a relic that dates back to before Commodore Perry sailed his black ships into Tokyo Harbor.

It's a beautiful, peaceful residence, and as luck would have it, Miwako, who had gotten married and moved to San Francisco, was also there for a visit.  With her adorable handful, Jin.

We all took turns playing with the tyke until he, in the way of small children everywhere, wore himself out and fell asleep in his grandfather's arms.

The Issue at Hand

It is appropriate that the end of our trip coincides with the wrap-up of the science fiction magazines for this month.  As always, the last magazine to be reviewed is this month's Analog.  So how did this oversized slick of a mag do this time?


by Kelly Freas

Origin of the Solar System, by William F. Dawson and Ben Bova

Opening up the issue is an informative piece on a rather unusual suggestion for how the planets came to be.  It lies somewhere between the Catastrophism of the stellar collision theory (which would make our solar system almost unique in the universe) and the Uniformitarianism of the "disk theory" which postulates that virtually all stars should be born with planets.  The hypothesis advanced by Bova and Dawson is that solar systems result in binary systems in which the second star is not of sufficient size to ignite and thus breaks up into a bunch of smaller worlds.

I don't know if I buy it, but since the article does a good job of presenting both this concept and more traditional ones, it's a decent read. 

Three stars.

Sleeping Planet (Part 1 of 3), by William R. Burkett, Jr.


by Kelly Freas

This new serial, written by a fellow I've never heard of, is a Mack Reynoldsy piece about an extraterrestrial attack on the Earth in the 26th Century.  The aliens use some kind of sleeping powder that puts all of humanity, save for a few immune holdouts, into a state of suspended animation.  Planet is the story of our resistance against the invaders.

I have to applaud Burkett for being willing to jump into the deep end on his first effort, turning in a novel-sized endeavor.  He's a good writer, too, with the first half of the installment quite vivid and engaging.  The aliens are just a bit too stupid, though (a big piece of the plot involves one of the survivors convincing the ETs that his dead grandfather will wreak vengeance on the invaders from beyond the grave…and they believe it!) and the light-hearted portions jar with the gritty ones.

Three stars so far, with a suspicion that this piece will end with a whimper, not a bang.

The Sea-Water Papers, by Raymond E. Banks


by John Schoenherr

An eccentric genius dies before he can explain how his desalination tablets work — is it the invention or the ingestion?

This is another too-cute piece starring clever garage-based scientists, the kind Analog editor, Campbell, loves.  The kind that champion dowsing, perpetual motion machines, and reactionless drives.

Two stars.

A Day in the Life of Kelvin Throop, by R. A. J. Phillips


by John Schoenherr

In this one, Mr. Throop, late of the Canadian Northern Territories Public Relations Division, tells the citizens what he really thinks of their letters.

Not particularly entertaining nor remotely science fiction. 

Two stars.

The Master Key, by Poul Anderson

Last up, we have the latest Let the Spacemen Beware.  This one is really Van Rijn's story, in which he tells of a frozen world that seemed ideal for trade, but the not-quite-human (or perhaps too-human) aliens become inexplicably hostile upon learning of our fealty to a God, ending the affair in tragedy.

With this piece, Anderson, who had been slacking of late, returns to form.  While the premise is a tad contrived, mainly so the reason for the aliens' change of heart can be explained neatly at the end, the telling is vintage Poul.

Four stars.

Doing the Math

On the whole, it's been a good month for SF.  Analog finished at 2.9 stars, just on the disappointing side of good, but that's more an artifact of the scoring system.  It's a decent issue, all things considered.  Decidedly worse were F&SF and Worlds of Tomorrow, both clocking in at 2.3 stars.

All the other mags were better, from the disappointing by comparison but still 3.1 stars earning Gamma, to the decent Amazing and IF (3.2 stars) up to the well worth reading New Worlds and Fantastic (3.5 stars).

It's enough to make me eager to go back home and collect my accumulated subscriptions for August! 

(Note: for those keeping track, women wrote 7 out of the 49 new fiction pieces published this month.  Not great, but not as bad as it has been previously.)

[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…]




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[June 30, 1964] A big Delta (June 1964 Gamma)

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by Gideon Marcus

Heading South

After four lovely days in the Japanese capital, we hopped the train for points southwest, toward the center of the country.  Sadly, we were just a few months too early to take the new "bullet train" which will be debuted in October in time for the Olympics.  The trip thus took many hours, but the scenery was nice (this year's "rainy season" hasn't been very) and I got a lot of reading done.

Nagoya is Japan's "fourth" city, after Tokyo/Yokohama, Osaka, and Fukuoka.  A drab, gray and brown place, it nevertheless was a must-stay location for us given its proximity to so many of our friends: A husband-and-wife couple teach at the local university, our dear friend Hideko (now recently married!) lives in Osaka, and a friend I met when she visited America, Juuri, lives in nearby Shizuoka.

And, of course, there is the super-energetic Nanami, who teaches schoolchildren in Nagoya.

Dan and Jen, whose nieces were visiting at the time, took us up to old Inuyama castle.  This is one of the few original castles still intact.  It gave us a commanding view of the area.

We also explored the nearby town of Oobu, and we were welcomed into a local home.  Here's the bedroom of a little boy who lived there.

The bustling, brash city of Osaka was as smoky and wild as ever.  Western culture has thoroughly soaked the place: clothing, music, and food.

The Issue at Hand

Somehow in the midst of all this, I found time to read and review the latest Gamma, a new magazine whose first two issues had greatly impressed me.  Sadly, it seems that the stock of great fiction the editors had accumulated prior to launch has been exhausted, and what's left is so much trunk work, the substandard stories by big names that hadn't sold elsewhere.  Pity.


by Morris Scott Dollens

The Girl of Paradise Planet, by Robert Turner

The first story illustrates my point well.  Here is a piece by a veteran, with a thousand stories to his credit, and it's just mediocre.  A fellow on vacation on a pleasure planet goes SCUBA-diving and encounters a young girl under the waves.  She's not a mermaid — she has a full complement of human limbs, yet she can breathe underwater.  The vacationer quickly falls in love, to the annoyance of his shrewish wife, and spends endless hours with his newfound paramour. 

Said romance feels solipsistic, like something a fourteen-year-old might come up with, including plenty of the protagonist's thoughts and precious few of the object of his intention.  In fact, near the end, we are led to doubt that the encounter was real at all, which would have made a lot more sense given the sketchiness of the girl's character, who prefers not to talk but rather mostly perform aquatic acrobatics.  And smooch.

Alas, it turns out the girl is real.  Joy for our hero, disappointment for us.  A weak three stars.


by Luan Meatheringham

(speaking of illustrations, Gamma has employed young Luan Meatheringham to produce drawings.  While the pieces are nice, in a fanzine-ish way, they don't relate to any of the stories, and I'm not sure why they're here, taking space.)

The Feather Bed, by Shelly Lowenkopf

Shelly (a man, despite the name) Lowenkopf writes of a future where, upon the expiration of copyright after 56 years, literary works are destroyed to a copy, and replacements commissioned as a kind of artistic welfare.  When a writer refuses to finish his assignment to rewrite King Lear he is fired, eventually becoming a plumber — an industry in which pipes are torn out and replaced every three years.

I like stories about a future with rampant unemployment and the need for makework, but this one doesn't make a lot of sense, even by its own rules (no good argument is made against creating new works) and the piece doesn't work as satire, either, because I'm not sure what it's supposed to be satirizing. 

Two stars.

Angel Levine, by Bernard Malamud

A down-on-his-luck tailor is visited by a shabby, black Jewish angel, who (eventually) eases the man's pain.

Not much to say about this one.  Three stars for atmosphere and dialect.


by Luan Meatheringham

The (In)visible Man, by Edward W. Ludwig

Here's a piece about a man who is such a nonentity that the world completely ignores him, and he is able to lead a life of crime.  That is, until the fellow finds love and confidence, causing him to become visible again.

I might have enjoyed this story more had Ellison not done it so much better in The Forces that Crush six years ago.

Three stars.

Inside Story, by Miriam Allen deFord

From the pen of one of the genre's most venerable creators comes the tale of a sentient world and the tsuris of a cold given it by a four-being scount team from the Galactic Federation.

Cute, but this is the sort of thing Bob Sheckley used to do, and much better.

Three stars.

The Birth, by George Clayton Johnson

We've seen a lot of Johnson on TV, particularly us fans of The Twilight Zone.  This forgettable piece, a first person account of the creation of Frankenstein's Monster, does not even have a Serlingesque twist to redeem it.

Three stars for competent writing.


by Luan Meatheringham

The Gamma Interview: Soviet Science Fiction

The most worthy piece of the issue is an interview with "Ivan Kirov", editor of a Moscow publishing house that produces science fiction.  It is worth picking this issue up just for this piece, even though it has an unfortunate ediorial accident that omits a crucial line.

Five stars.

Buttons, by Raymond E. Banks

Along similar lines, Banks offers up the story of a dying spaceman who transfers his consciousness to a set of computerized buttons until such time as his persona might be restored to a human body.  Said spaceman decides he likes being a disembodied being better.

It's well-written, but like the rest of the pieces in this magazine, it doesn't really go anywhere.

Three stars.


by Luan Meatheringham

Society for the Prevention, by Ron Goulart

Goulart is known for writing humorous pieces, so this light-hearted tale of the fortunate intersection of an interstellar merchant, his shipment of alien pots which are actually extraterrestrial invaders, and some rabid anti-capitalists is right up the author's alley.

Entertaining, though frivolous.  Three stars.

The Snail Watcher, by Patricia Highsmith

Finally, mystery writer Highsmith presents the tale of a man whose love for snails ultimately proves his undoing.  The moral: molluscs are for eating, not voyeuring.

Yet another atmospheric piece that doesn't do much.  Three stars.


by Luan Meatheringham

Summing Up

Thus ends one of the most mediocre collections of digest-sized pages I've ever read.  I have to wonder if this is a momentary blip, or if Gamma is doomed to be short-lived.  Only time will tell.

And now, off to Hiroshima!  See you in two days…

[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…]




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[June 28, 1964] Not Quite What You Think. ( New Worlds, July-August 1964)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

I’m back to New Worlds this month on its new bi-monthly schedule. Getting an issue every other month is taking a bit of getting used to, if I’m honest – I was so used to receiving a monthly issue – but I must admit I’m liking the changes. Perhaps waiting that bit longer has sharpened my appetite?

The issue at hand


by James Cawthorn

The July-August 1964 issue of New Worlds starts with another eye-catching cover by Michael Moorcock’s friend Jim Cawthorn. Like the one in May, it draws you in and makes you want to read it, which does the job it is intended to do. (Although, as I will say later, there is some dissent in the Letters pages.)

To the stories themselves.

Hang on – where’s the rest of The Star Virus, by Barrington J. Bailey? Last issue I thought that there was going to be a second part. However, it seems I was wrong. Apologies for the misunderstanding on my part. (please take another point off the rating)

The Fall of Frenchy Steiner, by Hilary Bailey

I said last month that the ‘new’ New Worlds seems to want to merge the old clichés of s-f with the new sensibility of the so-called New Wave. The title story is one of those, in that the idea of alternate history is not a new one for s-f, but here it is given a new energy and perhaps grittier realism.

Told through the enigmatic and moody “Lowry”, it is a story of what happens to Frenchy Steiner, a German bar singer with psi-powers in an alternate Britain in 1954 run by the victorious Germans. Expectedly, it is a setting full of grimness, all rationing, power shortages and curfews, with the Germans keeping control through propaganda and a strict regime. As well as a pub entertainer, Frenchy leads a double life, as we find out about her familial connections to the Third Reich and her importance to the Fuhrer.

The story starts slowly but builds a credible impression of England under occupation. However, by the end it moves a little too quickly towards its resolution and there’s a few plot points that lack the thought of the initial set-up.

If you are a long-time reader, you may recognise the author’s name. We have met work by Hilary Bailey before, with Breakdown in the October 1963 issue of New Worlds. Breakdown was odd and a little underwhelming for me, but Frenchy Steiner, in a longer novella format, worked much better for me, even though I felt at the end that it could have been better paced. Despite the slight whiff of nepotism (Hilary is also the wife of Mr. Moorcock) this was a great start to the issue. 4 out of 5.

Storm-Water Tunnel, by Langdon Jones

A new writer with his debut here at New Worlds, Langdon is described by the story’s banner as ‘a musician’ as well as a writer. Storm-Water Tunnel is a time travel story using the Moebius strip idea – you know, the one where time is a continuous journey that twists back upon itself. This is a story that does that, but the reasons for it doing so are not clear and so it remains an intriguing trifle. I can see why editor Moorcock likes this one, as it covers similar ideas shown in his writing. As an attempt to be different, it’s OK. I suspect that we’ll see more of this writer in later issues. 3 out of 5.

Goodbye, Miranda, by Michael Moorcock

And so, after a story by the wife of the editor and a story by a friend of the editor, we now have a story by the editor. The banner at the top claims that Goodbye, Miranda is a story about ignorance and the consequences of ignorance. To me it was an experimental piece that just reminded me of a bad Shakespearean tragedy where everyone dies at the end. Based on this, Mike needs to stick to editing rather than writing, at the moment. Awful. 2 out of 5.

Single Combat, by Joseph Green

And here is the return of one of the ‘old guard’, from the older version of New Worlds! We last read Joseph’s work in the July 1963 New Worlds with the so-so Refuge. Single Combat is the story of a fight between a King and a pretender to the throne on a world where the people are seven feet tall. The main difference is that in addition to the physical battle psi-powers are used, which means that most of the story takes place in the participant’s heads.

It is interesting to see how the old style New Worlds writer stands up to the reinvigorated aims of the new New Worlds. The answer is not particularly well, frankly. Away from the psi-powers angle story, the story’s a mass of clichés. The tribes are clearly modelled on the coloured peoples of Africa and the twist in the tale is that – gasp – one of the combatants is a woman. I’m less convinced myself by this old sheep in new clothing persona given to the author myself, but the editor seems to like his work a lot. This is on a par with the ‘old stuff’, so, unsurprisingly, it gets a 3 out of 5 from me.

The Evidence, by Lee Harding

And from one of the old familiars to another. Next is the return of another writer, that of Lee Harding, last seen in the August 1963 issue of New Worlds. The Evidence is described as a “moral tale in the vein of Kafka or Peake”. These are rather lofty ambitions which the story fails to reach, although it is a good try. It’s very paranoid in nature but makes its minor point that whoever uses thermonuclear weapons in warfare must eventually be brought to trial. 3 out of 5.

Miscellany

We then have some letters! One of the advantages of being bi-monthly is that you can have responses in the next issue about the one just read. So, we have comments about Ballard’s story Equinox, concluded this month, and opinions given on the new style New Worlds, but at the same time there’s also the valid point that serial stories may not be good for the new magazine when the issues are two months apart. At least we have a range of perspectives and the views are not all positive, which I think is a healthy position to take. But again, I noticed that there are letters from Jim Cawthorn and John Brunner, which suggests that Moorcock is relying on his friends a great deal. Nevertheless, Brunner’s comment on Brian Aldiss’s mathematical gaffe in his story last month is gently amusing.

The Editorial that follows – again, an unusual placing in the issue – is a report on the British Science Fiction Association Convention of 1964. As I wasn’t able to attend myself, it’s an interesting read on the state of the genre in Britain and a nice overview of the way things are changing in fandom at the moment, but I do suspect that the report is a rather sanitised version of proceedings and doesn’t entirely cover all of the high jinks usually experienced at such events. Nevertheless it is heartening to read that there seems to be an influx of new younger attendees, whilst at the same time an award was given to New World’s retiring editor John Carnell. Do such matters translate to readers in the US, I wonder? I’m not sure. But I guess we may find out, in that one piece of good news in there was the announcement that the 1965 Worldcon may be held in London.

I’m also very pleased to see the return of the book review column, reviewed by someone new, James Colvin. (But actually, it is not new. James is a pseudonym used by both Michael Moorcock and Barrington J. Bayley.)

It is divided into British publications and US publications. In the British part this month we have under the spotlight Gunner Cade by Cyril Judd, otherwise known as Cyril Kornbluth and Judith Merrill, and a non-fiction book named Science: The Glorious Entertainment by Jacques Barzun.

There’s also two paperbacks reviewed covering similar non-fictional themes – Arthur C Clarke’s Profiles of the Future and the perhaps lesser known Inventing the Future by Dennis Gabor.

In the US section there’s Budrys’s Inferno by (strangely enough) Algis Budrys, You Will Never Be the Same by Cordwainer Smith and lastly an Ace Double, The Dragon Masters and The Five Gold Bands by Jack Vance.

Equinox, by J. G. Ballard

In the first part of this story we followed Dr. Sanders on his mission to find his friend Suzanne Clair who had sent him an odd letter and then disappeared into the Cameroun jungle. Much of this part is about Dr. Sanders’ time at the town of Mont Royale on the border between the jungle and the jungle turning into crystal.

The descriptions of the things that have turned into crystal are vivid and imaginative but there’s little else to the story. The plot, such as it is, seems to mainly involve lots of walking and running about by Dr. Sanders through the crystalline landscape in search of his friends.

Whilst Sanders does this there are a number of characters that we also revisit. Generally, the characters seem rather unpleasant, aggressive or sad, though whether this is because of their own nature or as a result of the crystals is unclear.

It helps that we now get an explanation of the cause of the crystallisation, as the physical effect of the combination of our timestream and anti-time, although it is not really rooted in sensible science. Really, Equinox is all about the mystery and strangeness of the landscape and in this the story succeeds, whilst simultaneously showing Ballard’s melancholic obsession with change and decay. If the story’s purpose is to weird out the reader, then it succeeds admirably. Even if I’m still not entirely sure what it’s all about. 4 out of 5.

Summing up

With the second issue of this “magazine of the Space Age”, we are starting to get a better idea of this brave new vision for New Worlds. We have a mixture of the old-style s-f combined with the new, to keep the old readers but also entice new ones. I still get the sense that the editor is finding his feet and seems to be mainly determined to shock and confuse, but he does seem to be confident in what he’s doing, even if he’s resorting to using those that he knows to create a creditable issue.

This seems to be the right way forward. There was a letter in the issue this month that seems rather telling – the correspondent has said that they had bought the last copy of issue 142 from their newsagent, which had not been the case for a long while during the Carnell era. I hope that it is so.

I do feel that there is a change that is new and exciting, even when it doesn’t quite meet its aspirations. Compared with New Worlds of a year ago, the magazine is good.

On this new schedule the next issue will be out at the end of August. Until next time…

[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…]




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[June 22, 1964] The Bridal Path (July 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Here Come the Brides

June is the month for weddings, they say, and recent events seem to bear that out. 

Princess Désirée Elisabeth Sibylla, granddaughter of Gustav VI Adolf, King of Sweden, tied the knot with Baron Nils-August Otto Carl Niclas Silfverschiöld on June 4.  Those of you who aren't interested in royalty may wonder why I bother to mention this.  Frankly, I just love their names, although it gave my typewriter the fits to put in those diacritical marks.


The happy couple, during a serious moment of the ceremony.

Fittingly, a song about marriage is currently at the top of the American popular music charts.  The Dixie Cups hit Number One this month, with their very first single, The Chapel of Love.  No doubt many young women will be singing Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married to their boyfriends this summer.


The group is a trio; why are there four cups on the album cover?

From Miss Goldsmith to Mrs. Lalli

When I first opened up the pages of the latest issue of Fantastic, I thought there was a new editor.  I quickly realized that there are very few people named Cele, and it was too much of a coincidence to expect two editors to have that same first name.  Obviously, Cele G. Lalli is our old friend Cele Goldsmith, and she is now married to a Mister Lalli.  (I later found out that Michael Lalli also works for the Ziff-Davis Company, publishers of Amazing and Fantastic.  Sometimes, workplace romances work out for the best.) Will nuptial bliss have an effect on the contents of her magazines?  Let's find out.

The Issue at Hand


by Ed Emshwiller

The Kragen, by Jack Vance

Taking up half the issue is the cover story, a new novella from a writer known for colorful adventures set on exotic worlds.  His latest offering is no exception.

Centuries before the story begins, a starship full of criminals set out for a prison planet.  The inmates took control of the vessel and landed on a planet consisting of a single ocean, with no landmasses.  Their remote descendants have only vague memories of their origin, organizing themselves into clans based on the crimes of their ancestors.

(Vance indulges himself in a bit of humor here.  The clans have names like Procurers and Swindlers.  The Advertisermen have the lowest social status.)

The clans live on the gigantic floating pads of sea plants.  They survive on what the ocean provides, and are able to build houses and signal towers from plants, fish, and even human bones.  The people live a comfortable existence, for the most part, without glass or metal.

The only flies in the ointment are the kragens; large, squid-like sea creatures that prey upon the food supply of the clans.  The King Kragen, an enormous member of the species, chases the smaller ones away in exchange for offerings of food.

Our hero is a member of the Hoodwink clan, apparently descended from a con artist.  Now the name is literal; his job is to cover and uncover lights on a signal tower, in order to send messages to other floating pads.  One day a kragen attacks his home and food, and the King Kragen is not around to prevent the onslaught.  The protagonist takes matters into his own hands, defying tradition and killing the kragen after a long and bloody battle.  This leads to a crisis for the entire society, with the hero and his allies determined to continue their war on the kragens, and eventually to destroy the King Kragen itself, while the priests and rulers oppose them.


by Ed Emshwiller

The author creates a fascinating planet in vivid detail, while never letting the action stop for a moment.  In addition to violent battles with the kragens, the story contains courtroom drama, political debates, spying, kidnapping, plots, and counterplots.  The way in which the rebels obtain glass, metal, and electricity from their environment is interesting, even if it seems unlikely.  Vance adds a couple of footnotes to explain certain aspects of his setting, and this distracts from the story.  Overall, however, he does an excellent job of worldbuilding, while telling a compelling tale.

Four stars.

Descending, by Thomas M. Disch


by Robert Adragna

One of Goldsmith's – I mean, Lalli's – discoveries spins a haunting fable set in a department store.  A fellow down on his luck, without a job, without money, without anything to eat, buys food and books with his credit card, giving no thought to the inevitable consequences.  He purchases a meal at the rooftop restaurant the same way, then heads down the escalator, lost in the pages of a book.  (The volume he reads is Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray, which may be a clue to the story's symbolism.) I hesitate to say anything else about the plot, although the title provides a hint.  Suffice to say that exiting a building is not always as easy as entering it.

Disch develops a surreal concept with rigid logic, making the impossible seem real.  He keeps his tendency to be a smart aleck under control, perhaps because a young, struggling writer can identify with the desperate protagonist.  Whether or not I'm reading too much into the story, it's certain to remain in my memory for a long time.

Five stars.

The College of Acceptable Death, by David R. Bunch

Here is the most bizarre and gruesome tale yet from the mind of a highly controversial author of weird and disturbing imaginings.  The narrator instructs students by showing them the violent deaths of animals and people.  (If I'm reading the story correctly, these are only simulacra, which doesn't make them any less horrifying.) They also learn what it's like to be watched by an all-seeing God.  By the end of the lesson, the best thing they can expect is a peaceful death.

As you can tell, this is a grisly and depressing meditation on the meaninglessness of life.  I believe that many readers, maybe most, will hate its eccentric style, its violent images, and its nihilistic theme.  I can't deny that it has a certain compulsive power, but it's not a pleasant one.

Two stars.

The Boundary Beyond, by Florence Engel Randall


by Blair

As far as I can tell, only one other story by this author has appeared in the pages of a genre magazine.  That was One Long Ribbon, in the July 1962 issue of Fantastic.  I liked that one quite a bit, and I hope she continues to come up with equally enjoyable works of fiction in the future.  To my delight, her latest story is just as good.

The narrator looks back on the extraordinary event that occurred when she was a teenager.  Her older sister is engaged to a teacher.  (The theme of marriage appears again, this time in a sad way.) It's obvious that the narrator is in love with him as well, and that she is a better match for the dreamy, poetic young man than her superficial sister.  The fellow discovers a small, naked, delicately lovely woman near an ancient oak tree.  (We know from the beginning that she's a dryad, so the story depends more on mood than suspense for its effect.) The older sister met the same being when she was a very young child.  She hates and fears the dryad, leading to a tragic ending.

Beautifully written, this gentle and melancholy fantasy touches the reader's emotions with its insight into the human heart.  The author also displays a strong appreciation for nature, so that the fate of an oak tree is just as moving as that of a human being.

Five stars.

The Venus Charm, by Jack Sharkey


by Robert Adragna

I never know what to expect from Sharkey, even if it's rarely something outstanding, and I have to admit he took me by surprise again.  This oddball combination of space fiction and fantasy starts with a guy winning a seemingly useless object from a Venusian in a card game.  Later, he crashes his starship on a bizarre world and fights to survive.  The object turns out to bring both good and bad luck, depending on how it's used.  After reading about multiple misadventures, I suddenly found myself with a climax that amazed me with its audacity.

The planet the author describes is truly weird, and shows a great deal of imagination.  The wild twists and turns in the plot, as well as an extended discussion on the ambiguity of good and bad luck, left me dizzy.  I didn't suspend my disbelief for a single second, but the story held my attention.  Logic isn't Sharkey's strong point, so forget about plausibility and try to enjoy the ride.

Three stars.

The Thousand Injuries of Mr. Courtney, by Robert F. Young


by George Schelling

Full appreciation of this story depends upon familiarity with The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe and La Grande Bretèche by Honoré de Balzac.  I'll wait here while you read both stories.  (For those who don't want to bother tracking down those two Nineteenth Century tales of the macabre, let's just say that they deal with people getting bricked up.)

Mister Courtney goes home to discover his wife hiding someone in the closet.  True to his literary forebears, he bricks up the closet.  Because Mister Courtney is also working on a scientific project, the nature of which you'll see coming a mile away, this leads to an obvious twist ending.

Young is much better when he's coming up with original material, rather than retelling myths and legends, or writing pastiches of classic literature.  I like his science fiction love stories, and I wish he would go back to them.

One star.

For Better or For Worse

Despite a few low points, this was a fine issue, with some outstanding fiction.  Like a marriage, the relationship between a reader and a writer has its ups and downs.  If a particular magazine is disappointing, there's always something else to read.

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Magazine

[June 20, 1964] How low can you go?  (July 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

SFlying West

Once again, the Journey is brought to you from Japan!  Specifically, the nation's capital, Tokyo.  We've become old hands at making the trk across the Pacific, especially since Pan Am inaugurated direct 707 service from Los Angeles to Tokyo International.

This time, we stayed at a new hotel, in the shadow of the recently completed Tokyo Tower.  From the observatory deck of the hotel, the often elusive Mt. Fuji was clearly visible, thanks to a heavy rain that had occurred the night before.

Tokyo remains as it has been for the past 16 years (our first visit was in 1948!) Bustling, filled with energy and cigarette smoke.  There is a particular focus on renovation what with the Olympics coming to town soon.  Nevertheless, life otherwise goes on normally in the thoroughfares, wide and narrow.

TV cartoons have become a big deal here, with the recently debuted "Mighty Atom" inspiring tons of merchandise.

It's not all roses, though.  Up on the other side of the country, an earthquake struck off the coast of Niigata.  Then, a tidal wave swept in.  The property damage was immense and at least two dozen people have died.

More personally, though my tragedy hardly compares, this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction managed to limbo below the low bar recently set by Editor Avram Davidson (who fled Mexico and apparently now resides in my home state of California).

With a sigh, here we go again:

The Issue at Hand


by Ed Emshwiller

Cantata 140, by Philip K. Dick

It is said that too many cooks spoil a broth, and the SFnal corollary is that too many ideas spoil a plot.  Indeed, Dick's newest novella, the third in the "News Clown" series set late in the 21st Century, has so many handwaves that I could have used the magazine to fly to Japan.  The piece's 60 pages contain:

  • An overpopulated world with abortion but not Enovid (birth control medicine).
  • A satellite of prostitutes to relieve proceative tension.
  • A super cheap way to get to said satellite.
  • Precious few other satellites.
  • Teleportation.
  • Teleportation (accidental) to another world.
  • Suspended animation as the standard treatment for excess, unemplopyed population.
  • An American population that is more "Colored" than "Caucasian".
  • The Presidential campaign of the first "Colored" candidate (the "Event of 1993" caused the demographic shift such that Whites were outnumbered, yet it is not until 2080 that a Black candidate has a chance).
  • A two-bodied, one-headed mutant human crime lord.

For the most part, the plot follows Jim Briskin as he tries to become the first "colored" President of the United States.  Other things happen, including the "blink-and-you'll-miss-it" incident in which a balky teleporter somehow links Earth to a far-off, virgin planet.  It is very quickly taken as read that this is the solution to Earth's frozen overpopulation problem (creating the excuse for the rather esoertic title — it probably refers to Bach's "Sleepers wake!" composition).  I suppose if the story stuck to these two threads and developed them in a satisying manner, this could be a good read — especially since it's written by Dick, one of the genre's masters.  Instead, the piece is a jumbled mess, stuffed with clumsy jargon, and combining both implausible and contradictory elements with several overly conventional ones.

For example, race relations appear to be stuck in the 1960s even though the story takes place more than a century later.  The overpopulation angle makes no sense.  At first, I thought there might be moral objections to abortion and/or medical birth control, but given that state-assisted suicide is a sanctioned population stabilizer, I doubt it.  And how do the prostitutes not get pregnant?  And how do 5000 of them satisfy Earth's billions?

Inconsistencies aside, the narrative is neither interesting nor comprehensible.  If I can't have good SF, I'd at least like good satire.  If I can't have that, I'll settle for decent writing.

And if that's lacking, there's no rating I can give a story other than…

One star.

The Second Philadelphia Experiment, by Robert F. Young

From the lost pages of Ben Franklin's diary comes an account of the great scientist's further explorations into electricity.  It's a facile reproduction of Franklin's style but really just exists to set up a fairly flat joke.  I was feeling more charitable when I read it, but now I think it's fair to give it just two stars.

Balloon Astronomy, by Theodore L. Thomas

This month's nonfiction seed for science fiction articles suggests using balloon-mounted instruments to provide constant weather reports.  But don't they already do that?

Two stars.

The Scientist and the Monster, by Gahan Wilson

Wilson offers The Twilight Zone episode, "Eye of the Beholder" virtually unchanged except for a slightly improved moral message at the end.  Still just worth two stars.

A

The Happy Place, by Toni Heller Lamb

Ms. Lamb's first published story is a dark piece involving a young girl who finds the cemetery a more hospitable residence than any place of the living.  There is a nice final line, and the story is nice in a macabre sort of way, but otherwise it is unremarkable. 
Three stars.


by Ed Emshwiller

The End of the Wine, by C. S. Lewis

This poem, which follows a bedraggled Lemurian as he makes landfall in Stone Age Europe, is made all the more poignant by being the author's last creation (he died last year, same day as JFK).  Thus, the double whammy as we realize what we've lost as the man from Atlantis rues over same.

Four stars.

The Salvation of Faust, by Roger Zelazny

An interesting inversion of the Faustian Bargain, it entertains and then disappears.  Three stars.

All-Hallows, by Leah Bodine Drake

A tiny poem whose message is that nothing dies — it just becomes part of the world around you.

Three stars.

Nothing Counts, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor regales us with a nonfiction article on the evolution of Roman numerals and the utility of the zero.  It's well-written but there is very little useful information, and in particular, almost no history of the zero itself.

Three stars.

The Struldbrugg Reaction, by John Sutherland

New author Sutherland brings us a pointless Sherlock pastiche, the gimmick being that Holmes and Watson ("Bones" and "Dawson") are in their 90s and immortal (thanks to the Struldbrugg Reaction — see Gulliver's Travels to understand the reference). 

It's no Lord Darcy.  Two stars.

The Girl with the 100 Proof Eyes, by Ron Webb

Some schlubb decants a genie named Jeanie and coerces her to love him.  A delightful rape fantasy.  One star.

We Serve the Star of Freedom, by Jane Beauclerk

This final story, the first from Ms. Beauclerk, features a clever native of an alien world (inhabited by quite human extraterrestrials) who gets the best of traders from Earth.  It's a pleasant story, though more fable than SF.  Probably the best prose piece of the issue.  Three stars.

Summing Up

Good grief.  I do hope Avram Davidson's tenure at the helm of this once proud magazine will soon come to an end.  It's either that or my days of subscribing will.

Oh well.  At least I'm in Japan!

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Book

[June 18, 1964] Bad Comic Book Style and Good Comic Book Style (Galactoscope)

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[This month's Galactoscope features a trio of books by two authors filled with riproar and comic-style adventure. We think you'll enjoy this foray into the past…and future!]

The Valley of Creation, by Edmond Hamilton


by Cora Buhlert

The Valley of Creation by Edmond Hamilton

Captain Future was the first science fiction I encountered, therefore I will always have a soft spot for Edmond Hamilton. And so I was happy to find a new Edmond Hamilton novel in the spinner rack of my local import bookshop, even if The Valley of Creation is quite different from Captain Future. The latter is space opera, the former is an earthbound adventure in the style of the "lost world" stories that were popular around the turn of the century.

The Valley of Creation follows the adventures of Eric Nelson, an American soldier of fortune (as he euphemistically calls himself) who got stuck in Asia after the Korean war. Together with a motley multinational crew of mercenaries – a Dutchman, an Englishman, a Chinaman and a fellow American (and a black man, at that) – Eric is fighting in the Chinese civil war, offering his guns and skills to whatever local warlord is willing to pay.

But Eric and his merry band of mercenaries are in a tight spot. Their latest employer is dead, the People's Liberation Army is encroaching and the mercenaries are about to find themselves on the wrong end of a firing squad. Luckily, a man called Shan Kar shows up and hires them to fight his private little war in a hidden valley in the Himalayas, far from the reach of the PLA. A hidden valley where platinum worth millions is just lying around for the taking.

If you're reminded of James Hilton's novel Lost Horizon at this point, you're not alone. Alas, L'Lan, the titular valley, is no peaceful Shangri-La. It is a troubled paradise, where the conflict between Shan Kar's faction, the Humanites, and their enemies, the so-called Brotherhood, is about the escalate.

You'd think that a group calling themselves the Humanites would be the good guys. But you'd be wrong, because the Humanites are bigoted supremacists. The Brotherhood, on the other hand, is committed to equality between humans and non-humans. Non-humans in this case meaning sentient and intelligent animals, who happen to be telepathic as well.

Shan Kar hopes that the mercenaries and their modern weapons will turn the tide in his favour. But their attempt to infiltrate the Brotherhood's stronghold quickly goes wrong. Eric is taken prisoner and finds himself at the mercy of the Brotherhood. As "punishment", he has his consciousness transferred into the body of a wolf via quasi-magic technology.

Forced to literally walk in the paws of his enemy, Eric realises that he is fighting on the wrong side and vows to aid the Brotherhood against his former comrades. And just in time, too, because – quelle surprise – Eric's surviving mercenary pals reveal themselves to be murderous thugs willing to do anything in order to get to the platinum.

Startling Stories July 1948The Valley of Creation is an action-packed science fantasy adventure that feels like a throwback to the pulp era, probably because it is. For The Valley of Creation is an expanded version of a story first published in the July 1948 issue of Startling Stories. This has caused some anachronisms, e.g. at one point Eric remarks that he has been in Asia for ten years, which would set the story in 1960. However, the Chinese Civil War and the annexation of Tibet and the East Turkestan Republic, which are the reason why Eric and his comrades are in the Himalayas in the first place, happened in 1949 and 1950, i.e. shortly after the story was originally published.

The chapters that Eric spends in the body of a wolf are the highlight of the novel, for Hamilton makes a serious attempt to describe what the world would look, smell and feel like through the senses of a wolf. The other animals are characters in their own right as well, though the Brotherhood's commitment to equality between man and beast is undermined by the fact that their hereditary leader is human. But then, making the leader anything other than human would have been problematic, considering the plot requires Eric to fall in love with his beautiful daughter.

One can view the novel as a plea for animal rights. Or one can view it as an analogy for racial equality – after all, Eric muses at one point that equality between humans and animals seems as natural in L'Lan as equality between different races is in the outer world. That's an optimistic statement to make even in 1964, let alone in 1948. Furthermore, the Chinese mercenary Li Kin is a wholly sympathetic character, in a genre that is still all too often suffused with yellow peril rhetoric. Another member of the mercenary band is a black man, but unfortunately he is the main villain.

An entertaining novel that's well worth reading, even if it belongs to an earlier era of science fiction. 3.5 stars.

Outside the Universe, by Edmond Hamilton


by Jason Sacks

As the Journey’s resident comic book fan, I try to broaden my understanding of the industry’s creators by checking out some of their text-only work. This month brought two novels by prominent comic book writers. The contrast between the two works is strong.

First up is Outside the Universe by Edmond Hamilton, an Ace reprint of Hamilton’s final Galactic Patrol book. First published in a quartet of 1929 Weird Tales pulps, alongside work by Robert E. Howard, August Derleth, and — I kid you not — Lois Lane — Hamilton’s epic tale of titanic space battles, courageous heroes and intergalactic alliances is a breathless, often overwhelming weird tale.

Written in a long-winded style which reads like Hamilton was desperate to allow the words to tumble from his typewriter lest they find a stray period, Outside the Universe is a wild and wooly journey which involves a million-ship battle between a mighty galactic empire and evil space serpents. Battles are enormous and seemingly endless, and space seems filled with astonishing dangers which imperil every space ship which passes through them. Our heroes and villains fight their ways through bizarre radiation clouds and unexplained hot areas, stars arranged geometrically and people transformed into statues.

It’s a humdinger of a tale, a rousing yarn which throws the reader from cliffhanger to cliffhanger with scarcely a moment to catch their breath — unless they stop to diagram one of the hundreds (thousands?) of 50-word sentences in this book. Hamilton seems to have never internalized the idea of varying sentence length to keep his readers engaged. Perhaps this is an artifact of 1920s pulp writing, but I found I couldn’t keep focus on this book for too long without desperately getting impatient for a quick breather from all Hamilton’s verbosity.

Hamilton moved to comics, where he often wrote for his friend Mort Weisinger on the Superman family of comics. Notably, Hamilton's run on the "Legion of Super-Heroes" tales in Adventure Comics is well known for its breakneck pace — “a new planet every page”, as one critical wag labeled it — and complete paucity of characterization. Apparently Mr. Hamilton changed little as he aged, as this early work reflects those tendencies. Outside the Universe is a hoot but this story has no teeth.

Rating: 2.5

Escape Across the Cosmos, by Gardner Fox

Meanwhile, Gardner Fox has released his newest through the Paperback Library. Escape Across the Cosmos reads at times like a print version of Mr. Fox’s comic book work. In this volume, he delivers a novel about a kind of extradimensional space superhero.

That’s appropriate for the man who has written many classic tales for National Comics’ heroes line, including the memorable “Flash of Two Worlds”, in which the super speedster met his cross-dimensional counterpart. In fact, rumor has it that Fox will be assuming the reins on Batman later this year, taking over the moribund Batman and Detective Comics titles from a team which includes Edmond Hamilton.

Escape Across the Cosmos is the tale of Kael Carrack, a war-ravaged man whose body has been rebuilt to be nearly indestructible. His silicon skin, cybernetic strength and superhuman abilities are urgently needed to defeat the dreaded Ylth’yl, a Lovecraftian monster from another dimension who has killed nearly everybody of importance in his dimension and who hungers to transport his evil to our dimension. In fact, as the story unfolds, it seems Kael has a special connection to the evil creature, one which may save — or doom — our dimension.

In contrast with the Hamilton novel, Fox doesn’t squander characterization for adventure. He takes pains to show readers Kael’s confusion and allows us to become willing and excited participants in the hero’s journey to self-realization. As he and we do so, Kael finds true romance with a human woman, grows into a more perfected version of himself. It will betray any surprises to say that Kael begins to fulfill his destiny by the end of this short book.

This short novel is a clever, quick read. It shines in comparison with Hamilton’s overcrowded prose, as Fox takes pains to allow the reader to move ahead at his own pace. I would have loved to see more depth on the hero and his universe, but perhaps we’ll learn more about him at some point in the future when Fox delivers a sequel in one form or another.

Escape Across the Cosmos reads like an origin story for a new superhero, and for all I know Kael may appear in the pages of National’s Showcase try-out book in the next several months. Maybe Kael will be their next great sci-fi hero. I would certainly welcome him in my comics stack each month.

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Magazine

[June 16, 1964] Strangers in Strange Lands (August 1964 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

In the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

I belonged in Idle Valley like a pearl onion on a banana split.
Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

We've probably all felt out of place from time to time, like the philosophical private eye Philip Marlowe quoted above. I'll bet that the Rolling Stones, a British musical group newly introduced on this side of the pond, felt that way when they made a very brief appearance on the American television variety show The Hollywood Palace this month. Their energetic version of the old Muddy Waters blues song I Just Want to Make Love to You lasted barely over one minute. The sarcastic remarks made about them by host Dean Martin took up at least as much time.


Here are the shaggy-haired troubadours at a happier moment, shortly after their arrival in the USA.

In Tears Amid the Alien Corn

Similarly, the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow is full of characters who aren't where they belong, along with a couple of authors who might feel more at home elsewhere.


by Gray Morrow

I trust that the shade of John Keats will forgive me for stealing a few words from his famous poem Ode to a Nightingale, because they movingly evoke the emotions of those far from where they feel at home. The stories we're about to discuss may not have many tears, but they've got plenty of aliens, as well as, unfortunately, quite a bit of corn.

Valentine's Planet, by Avram Davidson


by Gray Morrow

Better known, I believe, as the current editor of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, a fact that does not endear him to all readers, Davidson may seem a bit out of place as the author of a long novella of adventure in deep space. Be that as it may, his story takes up half the issue, so it deserves a close look.

We start with mutiny aboard a starship. The rebels kill one of the officers in a particularly brutal way, sending the others, along with a few loyal crewmembers, off to parts unknown in a lifeboat. They wind up on an Earth-like planet, inhabited by very human aliens. (There's one small hint, late in the story, that the natives came from the same ancestors as Earthlings.) The big difference is that the men are very small, no bigger than young boys. The women are of normal size, so they serve as rulers and warriors. (There's a male King who is, in theory, the source of all power, but he's little more than a religious figurehead, living in isolation from the world of war and politics.)

The survivors of the mutiny get involved with local conflicts, while they try to find a source of fuel so they can make their way home in the lifeboat. Things get complicated when the insane mutineer in command of the starship lands on the planet, intending to plunder it. After a lot of hugger-mugger, and a dramatic final confrontation with the rebels, the Hero gets the Girl, achieves a position of power, and is well on his way to reshaping the local matriarchy into something more to his liking.

As you can tell, I was not entirely comfortable with the implication that replacing a woman-dominated society with a male-dominated one is a laudable goal. I'll give the author the benefit of the doubt, and assume he was aiming at nothing more than escapist entertainment. On that level, it's a pretty typical example. The feeling of the story changes from space opera to science fantasy halfway through, and the transition is a little disorienting. Davidson avoids most of the literary quirks found in many of his works, although he indulges in a little wordplay now and then. (I lost count of how many times he told us that the armor of the Amazon warriors was black, scarlet, black and scarlet, scarlet and black, black on scarlet, scarlet on black, etc. He also gives names to a large number of the political factions on the planet, apparently just to amuse himself.)

Two stars.

What Weapons Tomorrow?, by Joseph Wesley

A nonfiction article, among a bunch of tales of wild imagination, may seem, as the old song goes, like a lonely little petunia in an onion patch. In any case, this is a rather dry piece, imagining what the tools of war might look like in 1980. The author describes satellites that could rain destruction from above, and energy beam weapons that could defend against them. He then explains why neither of these methods is practical. It's informative, if not exciting.

Two stars.

The Little Black Box, by Philip K. Dick


by George Schelling

This strange, complex story begins with a woman who is definitely not where she belongs. She's an expert on Zen Buddhism, sent to Cuba in an attempt to distract the Chinese Communists living there from their political philosophy. This quickly proves to be a deception, as she's really there so a telepath can read her mind and track down a religious leader. It seems that the woman's lover, a jazz harpist so popular that he has his own TV show, is a follower of the enigmatic mystic Wilbur Mercer.

Mercer is a mystery. He broadcasts an image of himself walking through a desert wasteland on television. His devotees use devices that allow them to experience his sensations, primarily his suffering as he approaches his death. Both sides of the Cold War consider him a danger. There is speculation that he may not even be human, but some sort of extraterrestrial. The United States government declares the empathy machines illegal, driving the Mercerites underground. The story ends in what seems to be a miraculous way.

Like most stories from this author, this peculiar tale contains a lot of a characters, themes, and subplots. Sometimes these work together as a whole, sometimes they don't. It certainly held my interest throughout, even if I didn't fully understand what Dick was driving at. Your enjoyment of it may depend on your willingness to accept that some things have no rational explanation.

Three stars.

We from Arcturus, by Christopher Anvil

Everything about this story makes it seem as if it fell out of the pages of Astounding/Analog and landed in a place where it doesn't belong. That's no big surprise, since Anvil has been a regular in Campbell's magazine for quite a while. You also won't be startled to learn that it's a comedy about hapless aliens who fail to invade Earth. The author can write that kind of thing in his sleep by now, so he pulls it off in an efficient manner.

A pair of shapeshifting scouts from another planet suffer various misadventures as they try to prepare the way for their leaders to conquer the world. Five such teams have already disappeared, so the new duo is cynical about the chance of success. (Like in many of these stories, even when it's human beings making the attempts, you have to wonder why they don't just give up.) One big problem is that the aliens get all their ideas about Earthlings from television. Eventually, they find out why the other scouts vanished, and the story ends with a mildly amusing punchline.

It's refreshing to have a comic science fiction story that doesn't degrade into crude slapstick, and Anvil has a light touch that can provide a few smiles. It's a pleasant enough thing to read, even if it will fade from your memory as soon as you finish it.

Three stars.

The Colony That Failed, by Jack Sharkey


by Jack Gaughan

Here we have not just one person in the wrong spot, but a whole community. Colonists disappear, one by one, from an agricultural settlement on a distant world. Norcriss, a fellow we've seen before in the so-called Contact series, arrives to take care of the problem. As in previous stories, he uses a device that allows him to enter the mind of other beings. One problem is that, in this case, he doesn't know what mind to enter. Adding a touch of what seems to be the supernatural is the fact that the coffin of a dead woman burst open, her body went missing, and other colonists heard her voice after she died.

The author provides a scientific solution to the mystery that is interesting, if not extremely plausible. The story accomplishes what it sets out to do, without anything notable about it. At least Sharkey wasn't trying to be funny.

Three stars.

Day of the Egg, by Allen Kim Lang


by Nodel

Talk about being in the wrong place! This story was supposed to be in the April issue, but because of some kind of goof it's only showing up now. I can't say that its disappearance was a bad thing.

This is a silly farce, set in a solar system where stereotyped British folks rule one planet, stereotyped Germans rule another, and bird people rule another. The protagonist, Admiral Sir Nigel Mountchessington-Jackson (are you laughing yet?), competes with his nemesis, Generalfeldmarschall Graf Gerhard von Eingeweide (still not laughing?), to sign a treaty with the birds. The egg containing the new monarch of the avian planet hatches, and the baby chick thinks the German is her mother. The Englishman comes up with a scheme to turn the tables on his opponent.

I found the whole thing much too ridiculous for my taste. The way in which the British guy wins the day was predictable, and the jokes fall flat. The author makes Anvil look like the master of sophisticated wit.

One star.

Not Fitting In

Reading this issue made me feel like I should have been somewhere else, doing something else. The stories range from poor to fair, with only Philip K. Dick rising above mediocrity. Even his unique story fails to be fully satisfying, and seems to have been shoved into a place where it doesn't quite belong.  As science fiction fans in the mundane world, I'm sure we can all identify with that situation. 


This newly published book provides a fit metaphor, but don't bother reading it. It's all about the pseudoscience of matching people to their proper careers through physiognomy.

Nevertheless, we're also a hardy breed, and we know that even when times are rough, something good is right around the corner.  Like this month's Fantastic…

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TV

[June 14th, 1964] A Whole Lot Of Heartache(Doctor Who: The Aztecs)

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By Jessica Holmes

Friends and enemies, welcome back to another installment of Doctor Who. We’re diving into a pure historical serial today from the pen of John Lucarotti, concerning a fascinating Mesoamerican civilisation with quite the reputation: the Aztecs.

THE TEMPLE OF EVIL

The TARDIS lands in a burial chamber, and Barbara unleashes her inner magpie as she pokes around the grave goods, identifying the remains as belonging to an important Aztec who died around the 1430s. While admiring the grave goods, Barbara puts on a pretty bracelet she finds. That’s called stealing, Barbara. I don’t think he’s been dead long enough for it to count as archaeology.

Barbara exits the tomb onto a rather impressive set, showing us that we’re high above an Aztec city (possibly Tenochtitlan), presumably at the top of a pyramid. This is a bit curious, because as far as I’ve been able to find out, the Aztecs didn’t entomb their dead in their pyramids. Yes, I am going to continue being this pedantic through the entire review. No, I’m not sorry. You have been warned.

However, Barbara doesn’t get far before running into an Aztec priest.

The others emerge from the tomb and wonder where Barbara is. While they’re wondering, the door closes behind them, so they can't get back to the TARDIS. This does seem to happen a lot. You’d think the Doctor would get into the habit of parking in a more accessible location by now.

They’re met by a pair of priests, and in a pleasant surprise these holy men are downright friendly to the newcomers. I suppose it's too much to ask for authentic casting here. These priests are Tlotoxl, high priest of sacrifice (and also hammy acting, glorious hammy acting), and Autloc, high priest of knowledge. The Doctor is immediately suspicious of them, but the gang follow along and soon reunite with Barbara, who is a god now.

Don’t you just hate it when that happens? Put on a bit of bling and suddenly it’s all ‘hear my prayer’ and ‘please accept this sacrificial goat’.

Joking aside, the Aztec priests, having witnessed Barbara emerge from a sealed tomb with that stolen bracelet on, have come to the conclusion that Barbara is a goddess: Yetaxa.

I’m pretty certain that there is no Yetaxa in the Aztec pantheon, but who am I to argue with the chaps with the obsidian daggers?

Unable to get back to the TARDIS, the companions realise that they're going to have to keep up the ruse for as long as it takes to find a way back into the tomb, which doesn’t open from the outside.

Ian finds himself being groomed to lead the Aztec army. He is a servant of a god, after all. Who better to lead the mighty army of the Aztecs? Well, a man called Ixta, for one.

Ixta’s trained his whole life to be a warrior. He’s strong, he’s fearless, and he’s clever.

Ian is a science teacher.

They’re a little mismatched is all I’m saying.

Meanwhile, Autloc takes the Doctor to the Aztec equivalent of the old folks' home, where people in their golden years go to live out their days in peace and tranquility, doling out wisdom to any visitors. While exploring a lovely terrace garden, the Doctor takes a shine to a lady called Cameca, and the two get to talking about the architecture of the garden, and the pyramid it’s built upon.

Ian arrives to interrupt their nice little chat. He's not enjoying his time here nearly as much as the Doctor is. Why? Because there’s a drought on. You know what that means. Human sacrifice time!

To his shock, the Doctor urges him to just go along with things, both to maintain their cover, and not to interfere in the religious practices of the Aztecs. Easy for him to say, really. He’s not the one who’s going to get covered in blood.

In this sacrifice, however, Barbara sees an opportunity to flex her godly muscles. She’s a goddess, right? And everyone has to obey a goddess. Her idea is that if she can enact social change and eliminate the more disturbing aspects of Aztec society, by the time Cortez arrives they'll be perfect angels.

Perfect angels, Barbara, who will still be all but wiped out, either by the sword of the Conquistador in his lust for land and gold, or the uncaring indifference of smallpox.

I suppose her heart’s in the right place.

“You can’t change history. Not one line!”
The Doctor

Barbara doesn’t heed the Doctor’s warning, however, and when the time comes, she calls a halt to the sacrifice.

The victim, however, isn't grateful for the reprieve. By stopping the sacrifice, Barbara has denied him honour. Accounts suggest that many Aztec sacrifices weren’t just willing, they were eager for the honour of going to meet their gods.

Then again, the Aztecs did also like to sacrifice conquered enemies by the thousands. I don’t imagine they were quite so enthusiastic about the whole ordeal.

The victim, having been denied the obsidian blade, takes matters into his own hands as he flings himself off the pyramid. And lo! With death came rain.

And with this, Tlotoxl comes to an inescapable conclusion: whoever Barbara is, she’s no god. And for that, he shall destroy her.

A pretty good start to the serial, all in all, but nothing that really made me go ‘Wow!’. 3.5 out of 5.

WARRIORS OF DEATH

We pick up where we left off, and the high priest of scenery-chewing reaffirms his declaration that he shall see Barbara destroyed.

The Doctor and Barbara argue over her intervention, and how much danger it's put them in. The Doctor points out the victim wanted to be sacrificed, but Barbara wanted the Aztecs to see that the rains could come without it. The Doctor briefly loses his temper, upsetting Barbara. Realising what he’s done, he apologises for being harsh with her. I absolutely love this scene. There’s something so wonderfully human about it the emotions here. The anger, frustration, desperation, distress, remorse. It’s wonderful.

The Doctor goes off to meet with Cameca, leaving Barbara to verbally spar with Tlotoxl, who tries to trick her into revealing her lack of divinity. However, Barbara’s sharp wit parries every one of his jabs.

Meanwhile, Ian's with Ixta, and he has a trick up his sleeve; or rather, at the end of it: his thumb.

By pressing his thumb into the back of Ixta’s neck, Ian manages to knock him out cold.

I want to know both how he can do that, and how to do it myself. It’d come in handy. My brother can be quite annoying sometimes.

Ixta is humiliated, but he has one chance left to prove himself: a duel with Ian, at sunset.

Meanwhile in the garden, the Doctor enjoys the company of Cameca very much. For all his early causticness, it looks like the Doctor’s becoming a bit of a softie.

Cameca arranges for the Doctor to meet with the son of the architect who designed the pyramid. As it turns out, it’s Ixta! He agrees to meet the Doctor, and cryptically remarks “What better way to destroy your enemies than to let them destroy themselves?”

Sounds rather Sun Tzu.

Susan, meanwhile, is learning how to be a good Aztec housewife. It is not very interesting. I’m not going to even ask how she’s reading Aztec writing, let alone apparently speaking fluent Nahuatl.

Ixta tells the Doctor about his upcoming fight, but leaves out the fact that it's to be against Ian. Assuming that he wins, he’ll bring the Doctor the plans for the pyramid after the fight. In order to ensure Ixta's victory and continued assistance, the Doctor offers to help him. He gives Ixta a little concoction: a cactus spine stuck into a leaf. Impressive. The poison won't kill his opponent, but it'll slow him down.


Don’t look quite so pleased with yourself, Doctor.

When the Doctor tells Barbara what he’s been up to, he’s shocked to discover that he’s actually helped sabotage Ian’s chances of victory against Ixta. However, he’s unable to warn Ian in time, and in the heat of the fight, Ixta pricks Ian with the cactus spine.

The poison overcomes Ian, and he’s completely helpless as Tlotoxl urges Ixta to finish him off.

It looks like Barbara’s going to have to cook up a bit of divine intervention.


Just look at this costume, though. Isn’t it marvellous?

This was rather a good episode, possibly my favourite of the serial. 4 out of 5.

THE BRIDE OF SACRIFICE

Real or pretend, it’s a bad idea to mess with Aztec gods.

Sadly, Barbara doesn’t have the ability to call down bolts of lightning and start smiting people, but she finds herself the next best thing: a knife. With the dagger pressed to Tlotoxl’s throat, Barbara orders Ixta to leave Ian alone, or she’ll kill the high priest.

With Ian safe, Barbara talks with Autloc, who seems to be coming around to her way of thinking. In a few days there’s to be a sacrifice to the sun god, as there’s going to be an eclipse, and only blood will bring back the sun.

Ian wakes up from his little drug-induced nap to find Ixta standing over him with a knife, which is mildly alarming. Luckily, Ixta doesn't fancy killing him right now. He'd actually like to be friends, at least for the little while Ian has left to live. Next time, Ixta will kill him. Nice bloke.

Along comes Tlotoxl. He asks about the drawings Ixta has agreed to show the Doctor. It turns out he never had them! The secrets of the tomb died with Ixta’s father.

Back at the garden, Cameca's got some cocoa beans. The Doctor proposes that they take a cup of cocoa together. From the way she reacts, I think we're headed for a misunderstanding straight out of a romantic comedy.

…They do make a cute couple, though.

Ian sneaks up to meet Barbara and warns her that Tlotoxl is up to no good, as if she couldn’t have already guessed. In their conversation, Ian tries to convince Barbara that Autloc is the outlier among the Aztecs because he’s ‘civilised’ and not as eager for blood as the other Aztecs they’ve met. Um, what about Cameca? She seems nice and normal.

The conversation just leaves a bit of a bad taste in my mouth. Don’t get me wrong: the Aztec rulership and priesthood were incredibly cruel; it’s a big contributor to the neighbouring tribes turning on them with the arrival of Cortez. I just don’t like writing off an entire culture as Evil.

Along comes Tlotoxl, all smiles and friendliness, to offer Barbara a drink.

Barbara orders Tlotoxl to drink first. When he refuses, she flings the poison at his feet. He admits that he was trying to test her, and, furious, Barbara lets him in on her little secret. She’s not Yetaxa. She’s not any kind of goddess. But it’s her word against his, and if he tries any more funny business, she can have him killed.

Well, this has all taken a rather dark turn, hasn’t it? Let’s see what the Doctor’s up to.

The Doctor makes Cameca a nice cup of cocoa, but when Cameca delightedly says that she accepts his proposal, the look on the Doctor’s face is a joy to behold. Whoops!

Still, we can’t really blame the Doctor for this misunderstanding, and must instead shake our fists vigorously at whoever did the historical fact-checking here, because that’s not how the Aztecs proposed marriage. Marriages in Aztec society were arranged between the families of the couple-to-be, facilitated by an elderly female matchmaker.

I’m willing to forgive this outright fabrication, however, because it’s hilarious. And apparently the Aztecs did sometimes use chocolate as an aphrodisiac, so it’s not that far off.

Our two lovebirds retreat to the garden, where Cameca gives the Doctor a medallion with the seal of Yetaxa. It was given to her by Ixta’s father, who used to be in love with her. Oh my!

The Doctor shows Ian the medallion, and tells him of his suspicion that there's a tunnel linking the tomb and the garden; both have Yetaxa's seal on the walls. Oh, and he casually mentions his engagement. Ian's reaction is priceless.

The night before the ritual, Ian gets up, and sneaks off to the garden. However, he doesn’t go unnoticed.

Ian helps the Doctor pry open the seal on the garden wall, revealing a secret tunnel into the pyramid. Ian goes in to have a look, but while he’s in there, along comes Ixta, who blocks off the tunnel.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Ixta reveals another piece of information about the construction of the pyramid: these tunnels are used to carry water. A pretty impressive feat of engineering, but bad news for Ian! They’re bone dry at the moment, but not for long…

Uh oh.

This episode isn’t quite as good as the previous, but the hilarity of the accidental proposal makes up for the shortcomings. 3.5 out of 5.

THE DAY OF DARKNESS

Ian manages to lift up a slab in the ceiling and crawl through before the water takes him. Did you really think they’re going to kill off one of the main characters?

The Doctor begs Ixta to open the wall, admitting that Ian is in the tunnel. Ixta just laughs and walks off, leaving the Doctor thinking he's just got Ian killed.

On the contrary, Ian’s found his way into the tomb! He wastes no time rigging up some leather straps so that the door can be levered open from the outside.

Exiting the tomb, he runs into Barbara and the Doctor, who are very relieved to find him alive and well, if a bit dusty. All they need now is to get Susan and go, so Ian goes to look for her.

However, Tlotoxl has put Susan under Ixta's watchful eye. Ixta tells Susan that Ian is dead. We know better, but what Ixta doesn’t know can certainly hurt him, as Ian sneaks up from behind and subdues him with the old back-of-the-neck trick.

Off they go to leg it back to the TARDIS, but it seems that levering the tomb open is easier said than done. The door is just too heavy.

Ian and Susan head off to try the tunnel again, so that they can let the Doctor and Barbara through the other side.

However, on their way to the garden, they find Autloc on the floor, injured, and beside him is Ian’s club. He’s been framed! As Ian and Susan are hauled off, Autloc declares them servants of a false goddess. Our companions are fast running out of Aztec allies.

Up at the garden, the Doctor is whittling a wheel. He has an idea about making a pulley system to get the door open. The Aztecs don’t have the wheel, so he has to make his own. Cameca offers to intercede on Ian’s behalf. I like Cameca, and I like her dynamic with the Doctor. It’s a very nice relationship.

This makes it a bit confusing, then, when Cameca and the Doctor discuss the Doctor’s hopefully imminent departure. It’s rather cold and wooden, whereas their other scenes have been very warm and genuine. Maybe it was an attempt to show the pair of them putting on a brave face? I don’t know. I don’t know whether it’s the acting or the writing or what it is, but the scene doesn’t really work for me.

Autloc gives Cameca a Special Shiny Thing which basically represents all his wealth. She’s to give it to the man guarding Susan, in order to turn his head. Then, Cameca is to escort Susan up to the temple. Autloc, for his part, has a lot of thinking to do about his life choices, so he decides to leave the city and become a hermit.

We’ve all been there, Autloc.

The guard takes a while to think about the bribe, so Ian makes his mind up for him and clobbers his neck.

Cameca and Susan make a break for it, while Ian starts stripping the guard.

Cameca arrives at the tomb with Susan, and the Doctor sends her away. This farewell is a bit sadder and more sincere. Cameca only asks that the Doctor should think of her.

Let’s try not to think about what the likely consequences are for Cameca’s aid to the false goddess and her servants.

The ceremony arrives, and Tlotoxl tries to kill Barbara. However, he should have taken a closer look at the guards first, as one of them turns out to be Ian! Tlotoxl calls for Ixta’s aid, and it’s time for the ultimate showdown.

They fight atop the pyramid and unfortunately there are so many close shots that it's really hard to tell what's going on. That is, until Ixta has Ian on his back at the top of the steps. As Ixta goes to make the killing blow, Ian succeeds in throwing him off balance, sending Ixta tumbling down the deadly steps of his father’s pyramid.

Victorious, Ian rejoins the others, who have managed to get the tomb open with the Doctor’s pulley system. They all rush inside, and the Aztecs turn up too late to stop them.

Tlotoxl allows them to go. The eclipse has arrived, and the victim’s heart isn’t going to rip itself out.

Inside the tomb, Barbara is depressed about failing to save the collective soul of the Aztecs, and making Autloc doubt his faith. The Doctor tries to reassure her. She couldn’t save them all, but at least she saved Autloc.

It’s not really much comfort, is it? The sacrifices are going ahead, a good man has had his life ruined, goodness only knows what’s to become of Cameca, and in a few short decades, this civilisation will fall, and the native population of Mexico will decline over the following century by as much as 90%.

With a sense of defeat, the companions head off in the TARDIS once again, but it looks like they aren’t safe after all. The ship starts to make a funny noise, and one set of instruments says they’ve stopped, but another says they’re moving.

How can this be?

Perhaps they’ve landed on something.

Or…

In something.

Not a bad one, but lacking the intrigue of the earlier episodes, and a pretty lacklustre climax, I think I have to give this 3 out of 5.

Final Thoughts

In editing down the frankly absurd word count I had for the initial draft of this review, I found myself having to excise commentary on entire plot threads in order to get the article down to a reasonable length. It was while doing this that it occurred to me, that as I could excise these scenes from the review, a lot of them could have been taken out of the serial itself, and the story still would have made sense. There’s a fair bit of wheel-spinning (well, the Aztecs didn’t have wheels, but you know what I mean) in this serial. A lot of quite similar scenes keep popping up. Barbara talks to Autloc about human sacrifice. Tlotoxl tries to unmask Barbara as a false god. A companion is arrested, and released a scene or two later. I cut some of these out of the review because they just didn’t go anywhere.

That’s not to mention the many scenes where characters discuss in detail their plan to do something or other, then are shown doing that something or other. It just seems redundant. Just show the latter.

There’s clearly a lot of interest in Aztec culture on display here, though I do think there’s more interest in the more bloody aspects of Aztec culture and religion than there is in the more mundane side of things. That’s a bit of a shame, really, because I like seeing the aspects of a society that are often left out of the popular narrative. However, the Aztecs as depicted here are certainly interesting, so I hope that this serial prompts a young lass or lad to crack open a history book– provided that their parents let them watch the story in the first place!

That’s about all I have to say on The Aztecs. I hope you enjoyed my rambling and armchair history, and I’ll see you next month, when I’ll be reviewing the first part of the next serial of Doctor Who.

My overall rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

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Magazine

[June 12, 1964] RISING THROUGH THE MURK (the July 1964 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Wishing Waiting Hoping

Can it be . . . drifting up through the murk, like a forgotten suitcase floating up from an old shipwreck . . . a worthwhile issue of Amazing?

You certainly can’t tell by the cover, which is one of the ugliest jobs ever perpetrated by the usually talented Ed Emshwiller—misconceived, crudely executed, and it doesn’t help that the reproduction is just a bit off register.


by Ed Emshwiller

Mindmate, by Daniel F. Galouye

This hideous piece illustrates Mindmate, an amusingly hokey long novelet by Daniel F. Galouye, an improvement over his last two pieces in Amazing if not up to the standard of his Hugo-nominated novel Dark Universe.  In the near future, the Foundation for Electronic Cortical Stimulation, a/k/a the Funhouse chain, is raking it in selling ersatz experience, but is being chivvied by the Hon. Ronald Winston, chairman of the House Investigative Subcommittee on Cultural Influences, who thinks the Funhouses are addictive and should be stopped. 


by Ed Emshwiller

So the Funhousers do the only sensible thing—they kidnap Winston and, before killing him corporeally, use their technology to install him as a secondary personality in the brain of protagonist Sharp, who has been surgically altered to be a dead ringer for Winston.  It’s Sharp’s job to subvert the Subcommittee’s investigation, though he’s actually thinking of playing a double game. 

Sharp’s access to Winston’s memories and habits permits him to impersonate Winston quite successfully, to the point where he sometimes wonders whether he or Winston is really in charge.  And that, along with his mixed motives, sets the theme for the story: he’s not the only one playing a double game, or the only one with a double personality and questions about who is dominant. The attendant rug-pulling is executed reasonably well, though the author cheats a little: which personality emerges as dominant seems determined by plot needs and not by any identifiable aspect of the invented technology.  And it’s all acted out in the slightly incongruous context of a gangland melodrama.  But it’s sufficiently well turned and entertaining to warrant some generosity.  Four stars.

Placement Test, by Keith Laumer


by Virgil Finlay

There are two other novelets.  Keith Laumer’s Placement Test is one of his aggressively dystopian pieces, similar in degree of oppression but much different in mood from The Walls in the March 1963 Amazing, and less effective.  In a hyper-stratified future society, protagonist Maldon, who has done everything by the book, is excluded from his chosen career path through no fault of his own, relegated to Placement Testing for a menial future, and, if he doesn’t like it, Adjustment (of his brain). 

Instead of accepting his fate, he rebels, and through a combination of chutzpah and chicanery manipulates the rigid and stupid system to get what he wants . . . only to be told (here’s a revelation as massive as the cliche involved) that it was all a set-up, his rebellion was the real placement test, and he’s going to be a Top Executive (sic).  The hackneyed gimmick is offset by Laumer’s usual propulsive execution, so three stars for competence.  But if this is Laumer’s placement test . . . he’s not quite as promising as we might have thought from The Walls, It Could Be Anything, and others. 

A Game of Unchance, by Philip K. Dick


by George Schelling

The third novelet is Philip K. Dick’s A Game of Unchance, set among colonists on a Mars every bit as unrealistic as Ray Bradbury’s, but much more depressing.  A spaceship lands at a settlement, promising a carnival: “FREAKS, MAGIC, TERRIFYING STUNTS, AND WOMEN!”—the last word painted largest of all.  But the colony has just been fleeced by another carnival ship!  This time, though, the colonists have a plan: their half-witted psi-talented Fred can go to the carnival and win the games with the most valuable prizes.

The prizes turn out to be dolls with intricate internal wiring (microrobs, they’re called), which attack and escape, and later prove bent on harm to the colonists, wiring up the local fauna and the livestock.  The UN says the colonists will have to evacuate while they flood the area with poisonous gas; then a higher-powered UN guy shows up and says that they will probably have to evacuate Mars entirely in the face of this extraterrestrial invasion, for that is what it is.  At story’s end, yet another carnival ship has shown up—this one with prizes consisting of little mechanical devices claimed to be “homeostatic traps” that will catch the little things the colonists can’t catch themselves—and at the end, they are falling for it. 

In outline, this sounds like a tight little piece of irony, but on the page it’s quite atmospheric.  Dick has become hands down SF’s master of dreariness.  (“The night smelled of spiders and dry weeds; he sensed the desolation of the landscape around him.”) But more than that, he is a master of a particular kind of horror, the horror of being trapped, not necessarily physically, but in events and situations that can only have a bad end and that his characters cannot turn away from.  The fact that some of the situations (like this one) make very little sense does not detract from their power; this is a sort of dream logic at work.  It doesn’t work for everybody, but for my taste, four stars.

The Mouths of All Men, by Ed M. Clinton, Jr.


by McLane

Ed M. Clinton is a very occasional SF writer, with eight stories scattered over the past decade, almost all in second-tier magazines.  In his short story The Mouths of All Men, Soviet and American astronauts are launched simultaneously, intending to meet in space and return together in a show of brotherhood, but while they’re en route someone triggers World War III, destroying humanity.  So they match velocities, dock, and immediately try to kill each other; then they calm down, show each other their pictures of their now incinerated families, inscribe a proclamation on their viewport, and purposefully botch re-entry so they’ll be killed on the way down.  This is more of a harangue than a story—not a badly done harangue, but the sentiments are quite familiar to SF readers, and starting to get that way for everyone else.  Two stars.

The Scarlet Throne, by Edward W. Ludwig


by Blair

The Scarlet Throne by Edward W. Ludwig, a little more prolific but about as obscure as Clinton, is another Message story, this one less well done than Clinton’s.  Esteban, the patriarch of a poor Mexican family who lives near a desert rocket launching facility in the US, is troubled by the fact that space is being conquered while his family and his neighbors still lack indoor plumbing, and decides to take his message to the launch site where the President will be in attendance.  He doesn’t get far.  The story ends with a crude but appropriate joke.  The worthiness of the message is overtaken by the story’s heavy-handedness and the rather patronizing portrayal of the Mexican family.  Two stars.

Operation Shirtsleeve, by Ben Bova

Ben Bova soldiers on with Operation Shirtsleeve, discussing how to transform Venus and Mars so we can walk around in our shirtsleeves on them—i.e., terraform them, though Bova avoids this term for some reason.  Instead, he uses “shirtsleeve” as a verb at least once.  I don’t think that usage will stick.  Anyway, the answers, respectively, are bombard Venus with algae and bombard Mars ith energy and hydrogen.  (I am simplifying a little bit.) It’s the usual fare of interesting information presented dully. 

Bova does venture outside his specialties with one observation: “While the moon has some political and perhaps even military advantages, Mars is too far away for any nation to attempt to reach single-handedly.  Manned expeditions to Mars will probably be international efforts supervised by the United Nations.” I wonder if he’s giving any odds.  Bova then concludes: “The real question is: Why bother?  That is a question that can only be answered by the men who actually land on Mars.” I would think that the people who will pony up the trillions of dollars or other currency needed to pay for this project, and their representatives, might have something to say about it too.  But the fact that Bova is even asking this question gets him a grudging three stars.

In Conclusion

So: nothing terrible, everything readable, and a couple of items distinctly above average.  Celebrate! . . . while you can. 

Next month . . . Robert F. Young.

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