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TV

[May 12, 1964] Secrets Beyond Human Understanding (The Outer Limits, Season One, Episodes 29-32)

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by Natalie Devitt

No matter how much scientists, inventors and aliens try to control all the conditions for the experiments they conduct on The Outer Limits, things almost never seem to go as anticipated, and often result in them veering into much stranger territory. The most recent month certainly did not stray from the usual formula of experiments going wrong. Episodes included the following: aliens teleporting a suburban neighborhood and its residents to another planet to determine whether or not to enslave humans, only for the humans to discover this before the study is completed; an accident occurring during a test in a research facility releases an energy that takes over people‘s bodies; an intelligence agent goes undercover as an alien, only for him to adapt to his alien form a little too well; and two women deal with unforeseen complications when they meet an inventor capable of bringing the man they murdered back to life.

A Feasibility Study, by Joseph Stefano

A Feasibility Study is the story of a group of neighbors that wake up one morning to find that things seem a little off. At first, they notice the unusual weather, then some vehicles have difficulty starting and the phones lines seem to be down. One character tells her husband, "It’s not raining, but it’s doing something, and I’ll bet it’s radioactive." As it turns out, things are much more serious that they ever could have been imagined. Their entire neighborhood, including their homes and everything surrounding them, have been teleported while everyone slept to another planet called Luminos.

The people are imprisoned on Luminos for one reason and one reason only; as the opening narration states: "The Luminoids need slaves, and they have chosen the planet off which those slaves will be abducted." The whole thing is part of a feasibility study to see if humans would make suitable slaves for the Luminoids, who grow mentally sharper but less mobile with age. The only problem is that the inhabitants of the neighborhood realize that they have become "human guinea pigs" sooner than the Luminoids expected.

People always compare The Outer Limits and The Twilight Zone, and though they really are two different beasts, this episode is a real treat for fans of The Twilight Zone because most of the actors in it have made appearance on that show. Such actors include David Opatoshu, who starred in Valley of the Shadow, Joyce Van Patton, who was in last season’s Passage of Lady Anne, and then there is Phyllis Love of Four O’Clock.

A Feasibility Study includes incredibly realistic acting and impressive set design. The episode is also extremely atmospheric, with no shortage of fog. The score has a noticeably different and more experimental quality to it than most other entries in the series. Nowhere is it more effective than in a scene where one of the characters is driving through the fog as an alien hand reaches out and touches his car’s windshield. All of the subplots in the script work together very well, and only help to elevate the main plot. Overall, the episode was a easily one of the high points of the season. It deserves four stars.

Production and Decay of Strange Particles, by Leslie Stevens

Production and Decay of Special Particles involves an accident at a research facility, which ends up allowing an energy alien to possess the bodies of the employees at the facility one by one. The situation is explained as being similar to "a hole torn in the universe.” All of this leaves the head of the facility, played by none other than George McCready, who appeared in The Twilight Zone‘s The Long Morrow and in the vastly superiorThe Outer Limits’s episode The Invisibles to team up with his character’s wife in order to stop the creature, which is characterized as "something from another dimension" and capable of presenting itself in "a human form". He must also prevent it from getting beyond the confines of the property.

I have to admit that, as much as I was excited to see the show really dive into the hard sciences, this episode required a little too much outside knowledge for the average viewer to understand it, much less appreciate it. With little to no explanation, combined with the issue that the episode does not have much going on visually, things begin to drag real quick. In addition to these problems, there is some stock footage awkwardly edited into the episode and plenty of over-acting.

When I was not brushing up on my physics vocabulary, I spent much of the episode watching men in suits barely moving, with constant crackling noises in the background. While I am happy to see the show do something different with an episode more heavily-rooted in science, even if it involves yet another energy being, the episode needed something else to maintain an audience‘s attention. After taking all of these things into consideration, two stars is all that I can give to Production and Decay of Special Particles.

The Chameleon, by Robert Towne

Robert Duvall, who made The Twilight Zone‘s Miniature worth watching, plays Louis, a man with nothing to lose. Louis is hired by his former employer, the CIA, to undergo a dramatic transformation in order to play the role of an extraterrestrial. He is instructed to "become one of them.” He is provided with a cover story, which includes directives like, "once you are with them, you will tell them that you landed long ago on Earth, crash landed. You remember nothing of your origin. What little language you know, you got from humans.”

All of this is being done in order to collect information on an alien spaceship that landed and has already killed the last group of men to patrol the area. It is feared that the aliens in charge of the ship may be carrying "nuclear material,” so people are understandably reluctant to attack the aliens. The only problem is that things go a little "too well.” Louis becomes increasingly difficult to control, and once he is in alien form, his sympathies begin to shift.

Duval brings a vulnerability to the role of a washed up agent before he undergoes the transformation. He then becomes a man-made extraterrestrial, not unlike the man-made creature in The Architects of Fear. The aliens in The Chameleon, are of course odd-looking, with beady eyes and wrinkled faces. They also have veins that bulge out of their bald heads. The major twist with Louis changing sides was interesting enough, but at the end of the day, it is really Robert Duvall’s skills as an actor that earns this episode its three stars.

The Forms of Things Unknown, by Joseph Stefano

Psycho’s Vera Miles plays Kassia, one of two young women who poison the drink of a very unpleasant man named Andre, played by Scott Marlowe in his second appearance on The Outer Limits. Kassia’s accomplice is named Leonora. The ladies stuff Andre’s body into the trunk of a car, and drive around looking for the perfect place to dispose of it. Leonora ends up leading them to a big, old house, where they are told that they are welcome to warm themselves by the fire.

While inside, they notice the sound of several ticking clocks. They are told that the noise comes from "a special room upstairs.” Inside the room is where an inventor named Mr. Hobart "tinkers with time.” His experiments with time have become so sophisticated that he can cause the past to "tumble into the present.” Such experiments could bring Andre back to life, with some pretty disastrous results.

The part of the narrative involving Lenora and Kassia murdering Andre reminded me an awful lot of the 1955 French film Diabolique. Similarities aside, the plot in The Forms of Things Unknown, is a little flimsy. But that almost does not even matter, because the episode’s cinematography and set design are nothing short of perfection. The acting, however, was a little short of being consistently good. That said, Vera Miles delivers a fine performance and has a number of amusing lines. David McCallen returns to the show for another memorable performance after the great The Sixth Finger. Even veteran actor Cedric Hardwicke, who recently appeared in The Twilight Zone‘s Uncle Simon, shows up playing host to all the episode’s craziness. Despite some flaws this hour of the series is still definitely worth the watch. The Forms of Things Unknown earns three and a half stars.

All in all, it has been an interesting month on The Outer Limits.  Most episodes featured the kinds of stories and the quality I have come to expect of this series, while only one entry was a bit of a letdown. With this being the last set of episodes of the season, I have to say it has been a lot of fun watching this show really hit its stride. I cannot wait to see what new creatures and stories are in store for the series in the fall.

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Magazine

[May 10, 1964] STUCK IN THE MIDDLE (the June 1964 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Regression to the Mean

The June Amazing is . . . middling — a relief compared to some past performances—with nothing outstanding, nothing appalling, and much of it at least mildly interesting.


by Alex Schomburg

Tin Lizzie, by Randall Garrett

Like the previous issue, this one starts off with a hardware opera, but a much more agreeable one than last month’s.  Randall Garrett’s Tin Lizzie is a conscious throwback to older SF, say the late ‘30s just after John Campbell took over at Astounding but before any great transformation took hold, with the writers soberly exploring the engineering challenges of space travel to the inner planets.  No doubt it was too old hat for present-day Campbell, accounting for its appearance here at the bottom of the market rather than in Analog, Garrett’s most regular abode.  Nowadays you’re more likely to find this sort of thing in Boy’s Life than in the SF magazines, or by revisiting the older Winston juveniles you took out of the library years ago.


by Virgil Finlay

Our heroes are piloting a tugship back from Jupiter towing a big bag of a nitrogen compound, mined from Jupiter’s atmosphere and destined for the factories of Luna, when they get a Mayday call from Mars.  Turns out there’s a scientific expedition stranded on the surface in a damaged spaceship and needing help fast.  But the tugship can’t land there because it has no landing gear and its cupro-aluminum hull won’t stand up to an atmosphere anyway, especially the dinitrogen trioxide of the Martian atmosphere.  (Read that aloud in front of a mirror and practice looking authoritative.)

But!  On Phobos are a couple of abandoned “space taxis,” 80-year-old rocket-powered vehicles made for nothing but landing and taking off.  Only problem is that in this day of gravito-inertial engines, nobody knows how to fly a rocket any more . . . except for the centenarian General Challenger, about the only surviving rocket pilot, who is pleased to instruct the boys long-distance from the Moon so they can rescue the stranded scientists.  There’s an added fillip at the end about the primitive Martian life forms.

The story is very capably done, full of technical lectures which I am not competent to assess but which are slickly rendered for the lay person.  This sort of thing would get tiresome quickly if the magazines were full of it, but they aren’t, so it makes for a refreshing change from the usual more sophisticated (or pseudo-) fare.  It’s a moldy fig, but reasonably tasty.  Three stars.

Condition of Survival, by Barry P. Miller


by George Schelling

Garrett's is followed by a considerably longer novelet by Barry P. Miller.  Who?  A Barry P. Miller had a couple of stories in Ray Palmer’s Other Worlds Science Stories in 1956-57, just before the end—not an auspicious sign, if it’s the same guy. 

He certainly knows the drill; the story begins: “For a Greenwich Month, the BuGalEx ship, Wotan’s Beard, had maintained an observation orbit three hundred kilometers above the fourth planet of a G2 class sun near the base of the galactic limb of which Sol was a part.” And, on further exploration, it’s a pretty ambitious story, if ham-handedly rendered.

The BuGalEx folks have landed now and discovered small humanoids, whom they call the Elves.  Their attempts to establish communication with the Elves aren’t going well, so it’s time for Hillier, the Transferman, to do his stuff.  He has his consciousness projected into that of an Elf to figure out what’s going on, and meets a sort of demigod of the Elves’ consciousness, which transforms itself into his heart’s desire and tries to recruit him to help it (or, as he perceives, her) fend off the grasping Terrestrials.

Meanwhile, Hillier’s girlfriend, Linguist Betty Lee, has been fending off her ex, who tries to lure her back with a means of converting aural sensation to tactile sensation, i.e., to have sex somehow melded with or choreographed by Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, because on Earth these days, sexual prowess, born or made, is apparently all anybody cares about.  But Betty is really an old-fashioned girl looking for Mr. Right, whom she sees in Hillier, the naive guy from a colony planet, who seems to want more or less what she does, though it takes a while for them to figure it out.

Miller tries to integrate these two plots, with less success than one would like, partly because he is a glib but clumsy writer whose scenes of interpersonal interaction are nothing short of soap-operatic.  One longs to shout “Rewrite!” and get somebody in who could handle this material more coherently and with more plausible affect.  Theodore Sturgeon?  Sorry, he’s busy.  Anyway, three stars for a nice try and an interesting one, even if the author can’t quite bring it off.

The Pirokin Effect, by Larry Eisenberg

From the attempted sublime to the accomplished vaudevillesque: Larry Eisenberg, who perhaps has been reading too much Robert F. Young, proposes in The Pirokin Effect that the Lost Tribes of Israel ended up on Mars and are communicating by impulses detectable in restaurant kitchens in New York and Philadelphia.  It’s amusing enough and has the virtue of brevity, and is told with a strong ethnic flavor.  Three stars, or maybe the author would prefer three bagels with a schmear.

The Sphinx, by Robert F. Young


by George Schelling

And here is Robert F. Young himself with another silly Robert F. Young story, The Sphinx, which the editor introduces: “Continuing his series of up-dating Terran mythology and folklore. . . .” No brevity here—it’s almost 30 pages.  Protagonist Hall is scouting the area before a big space battle between the Earth and Uvelian space fleets, loses control to something unknown and crashes on a planet.  He reconnoiters and finds a Sphinx and several pyramids.  This Sphinx is alive and explains that she contrived the creation of the Sphinx and pyramids of Earth thousands of years ago, and her sister did the same for the Uvelians, and because this is Young there’s also an Egyptian girl (sic) whom the protagonist decides is (of course) the most beautiful he has ever seen. 

The space battle, which threatens to destroy the planet, starts, but then stops—that’s the Sphinxes’ contrivance too.  Etc., etc.  The best that can be said for this . . . well, contrivance really is the word . . .  is that it is less annoying than Young’s usual, told straightforwardly and not in the overtly arch, coy, cloying, or precious manner that we have come to expect from him.  He is a competent writer at the word-and-sentence level whatever one thinks of what he does with his competence.  I guess that’s why he is published so prolifically; can’t think of any other reason.  Two stars, barely.

SF Profile: John Wyndham, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz is back with another SF Profile, this one of John Wyndham, which as usual presents implausible praise and detailed plot summaries of his pulp stories of the 1930s.  It does give more attention than usual to his more sophisticated work of the 1950s, then reverts to form with two sentences about his most recent novel, Trouble with Lichen.  This one is lighter on interesting biographical detail than many of its predecessors.  Two stars. 

Statistical analysis

So: the issue is a good enough time-passer for those who have time they need to pass.  For anyone else, its attraction may be limited… 

[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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Magazine

[May 8, 1964] Rough Patch (June 1964 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

I think I've got a bad case of sibling rivalry.  When Victoria Silverwolf came onto the Journey, she took on the task of reviewing Fantastic, a magazine that was just pulling itself out of the doldrums.  My bailiwick consisted of Analog, Fantasy and Science Fiction, IF, and Galaxy, which constituted The Best that SF had to offer.

Ah for those halcyon days.  Now Fantastic is showcasing fabulous Leiber, Moorcock, and Le Guin.  Moreover, Vic has added the superlative Worlds of Tomorrow to her beat.  What have I got?  Analog is drab and dry, Avram Davidson has careened F&SF to the ground, IF is inconsistent, and Galaxy…ah, my poor, once beloved Galaxy…

The Issue at Hand


cover by McKenna

To Build a World, by Poul Anderson


by Morrow

Wham!  Kaboom!  A giant drilling machine is sabotaged while releasing the gasses pent up under the Moon's surface.  A man dies, and the lunar terraforming project is thrown into jeopardy.  It is up to the drill team's foreman, Venusian Don Sevigny, to go to Earth and sniff out the plot…before his life is snuffed out!

Sixty pages of stilted exposition punctuated by standard action scenes ensue.  Moreover, overcrowded Earth has exactly one woman on it (at least that we ever see), and though she turns out to be a villain, she's far too good-looking to remain one.  Sigh.

Poul Anderson vacillates between brilliance and boredom, and To Build a World is a swing of the pendulum hard toward the latter extreme. 

Let's hope the thing doesn't get stuck there.  Two stars.

The King of the Beasts, by Philip José Farmer

Twenty years ago, this utterly predictable vignette might have made acceptable filler in Astounding.  Here and now, it's an embarrassing waste of space.

One star.

The Man from Earth, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Giunta

On the crossroads planet of Duhnbar, the Samarkand of the stars, a visiting human trader fails to observe a minor religious rite.  Duhnbar's all-powerful Director decides to make an example of the man, imposing a long-lapsed death penalty.  In a futile act of defiance, the man preserves his pride, if not his life.

This is a nicely written piece, and the setup is genuinely interesting, but the ending is a let down.  Three stars.

The Well-Trained Heroes, by Arthur Sellings


by Jack Gaughan (and not one of his best)

People often have the misapprehension that colonization reduced population pressure.  It doesn't; it increases it.  Colonies always fill up.  Passage is expensive.  Inevitably, home remains as crowded as ever, but the folks living there are all the more disgruntled for being stuck there.

In Heroes, Earth's citizens yearn to go to space, but barely one in a million make the cut to join the astronaut corps.  Tension builds, and town after town goes into unrest.  It is up to a pair of astronauts to defuse would-be rioters by convincing them that space isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

Kind of a neat story, if a little meandering.  Three stars.

For Your Information: Anyone Else for Space?, by Willy Ley

After months of desultory articles, Willy Ley is back in form.  This month's column is nearly twice as long as it has been recently, and it's chock full of the latest news on rocket development outside the Big Two.  Having been to Japan's nascent launch facilities recently, it was exciting to hear about their latest developments (as well as those of the Europeans, the Israelis, the Egyptians, and the Indians!)

Five stars

Collector's Fever, by Roger Zelazny

Rock collecting is a fine hobby, provided the specimens aren't sentient and ready to deeble!  A slight, amusing piece that gets extra points for being told almost entirely in dialogue.

Three stars.

The Many Dooms, by Harry Harrison


by Nodel

On expeditions to hostile worlds, there is no margin of error.  When a cocky geologist's sloppiness threatens the lives of his crew-mates, fate (perhaps with a little push from human hands) deals with the problem.

I liked the writing on this one, and the subject matter is up my alley, but I found the ending both too straightforward and, quite frankly, disturbing.

Three stars.

An Ancient Madness, by Damon Knight


by John Giunta

On an island where breeding is artificial and strictly regimented, and romantic pairings are unheard of, one sixteen year old girl longs for a dramatic love.

A lot.  Loudly and repeatedly.  For twenty angst-infused, plot-stationary pages.  Then, in the final two paragraphs, she runs off with the Doctor to live happily ever after.

I'm not sure why this story was written.  I'm even less certain how I made it through the thing.

Two stars.

Men of Good Will, by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis

In the near future, the Cold War has spread to near-Earth space, occasionally sparking into moments of heat.  For some reason, however, the Moon seems to be a zone of armistice.  The Norwegian UN ambassador heads to the Earth's companion to find out the secret.

The secret (read no further if you wish to remain unspoilt): The Yanks and the Ruskies did shoot it out — once.  Those bullets achieved orbital velocity, and every 27 days, their orbit intersects with the bases, peppering them with new holes.  It's simply too dangerous to keep up the fight.

It's a cute premise, but of course, it makes absolutely no sense.  The periapsis of the bullets only intersects with the bases once out of 24 x 27 orbits; the rest of the time, the bullets should be hitting lunar hills.  They should have been stopped after the first grounding.

C'mon, Ben!  You're a science writer fer cryin' out loud.  Two stars.

The Sincerest Form, by J. W. Groves


by Cowles

Last up, we have a tale told from the point of view of imitative aliens, spore-like things that have no consciousnesses of their own, but which can become replicas of the beings they devour.  The process is imperfect, and the thought processes get a bit garbled.  In fact, it takes a while for the reader to figure out what's going on; it is only when the imitators encounter bonafide humans that things become clear.

I have to give Groves credit for an interesting concept, but the very trickiness of the idea meant that proper execution lay slightly beyond the author's ability.  Still, if he doesn't quite stick the landing, Groves does leave you with something to think about.

Three stars.

Summing Up

So, on the one hand, I am left grousing at my fate, stuck with a 2.7 star issue while Vic reviews the good stuff.  On the other hand, I'm not John Boston, resigned to review bottom-of-the-pack Amazing every month.  Plus, is that a new issue of Gamma I see peeking out from under the stack of bills?

I suppose I do have blessings to count!

[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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Book

[May 6, 1964] The Predicament: Transit by Edmund Cooper

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by Victoria Lucas

It Finally Came!

Just a wee plug.  My favorite publisher is Faber & Faber.  While I was wiping the drool from my face during a perusal of their last catalog, something caught my eye.  An interesting book, of course, but this time not a playbook (my usual fare, when I can afford it): it was a novel by a popular British author, Edmund Cooper.  If you saw “The Invisible Boy” (the movie), you saw a version of his The Brain Child, a book published the year before.  But the novel I finally counted my pennies and bought long distance was Transit.  The hype made it look delicious, and it had a February 1964 publication date.  So it arrived at last from the Isles.


Cover art by Brian Rigby

Richard Avery/Edmund Cooper

One of the things I learned about Cooper when I looked him up was that he has a number of pseudonyms: George Kinley, Broderick Duain, Martin Lester, … and Richard Avery.  On page one of Transit, in fact in sentence one I learned that the protagonist of this book is … Richard Avery.  I don’t know what that means that he was putting himself in this book, but perhaps it indicates somehow that Avery and Cooper share opinions about things?

In the first part of the book we learn mainly about Richard, but as he suffers “transit” to another planet in this “sector” of the galaxy, he — and we — are introduced to Barbara, then to Mary.  On the planet where Richard, Mary, and Barbara are marooned, we meet Tom, also late of London as well.  They find themselves in a “predicament.”


Edmund Cooper

Predicament under Achernar

The planet is the fourth orbiting Achernar, a blue giant in a binary system.  (The star is real; who knows about the planet.) The four strangers, already divided into two couples by the choices made by their kidnappers, find themselves on a beach of an island in a strange ocean, with just enough food to last them a single day, but with flashcards identifying useful and dangerous animals and plants, one gun and some ammunition for it, knives and hatchets, and general camping equipment, including tents.  Some of their personal belongings have arrived with them, although they don’t yet know how or why. 

The word “predicament” appears in this early characterization by the narrator, Richard: “The predicament … was, itself, neither clear nor sane.” Of course I looked up the word (as I always do when faced with any word that appears to be important or undefined).  Partridge’s Origins, “a short etymological dictionary of modern English,” delves into the earliest prototypes of the word, taking it back to the Latin for “proclaim.” It is something proclaimed, thus circumstantial, and by extension unpleasant.  One does not land in a predicament by one’s own power except by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Each of the protagonists looked down to see a crystal gazing up at them in Kensington Gardens or Hyde Park.  That was the wrong place at the wrong time that landed them on an island on another planet that had not heretofore been home to anything brighter than a crocodile-like creature.

From Kensington Gardens to The Garden

Like the garden populated only by Adam and Eve, this book concerns only four people (and some ghosts of the past haunting their brains) until close to halfway through the book, when unknown others make themselves known but not seen.  Before they begin to impinge on the solitude enjoyed by Tom and Mary, Richard and Barbara, the four (but especially Richard) are occupied by trying to figure out what has happened to them and why.  As they experience their first sunset under two moons, Richard considers the classic universe occupied by the 20th-century Christian, then continues, “But perhaps God had many children, and some of his children were adept at the manufacture of hypnotic crystals.  And other things.”

At first Richard misses London; then, as they camp out on an island on which they are apparently abandoned, he has a “vision of the morning rush hour packed with victims for the City’s concentration camp.” Richard considers that he is having entirely too many visions, and thinks, “Maybe I’m in a lovely nut-house in London” just before the hears the gunshots that herald the end of their idyl.  Instead of being ejected from a primeval garden by God, the two couples are rousted by what turn out to be another group of four dropped on the opposite shore of the island — but these are not humans.

Remaining Mum

To tell you any more about the plot would, I think, rob it of the elements of surprise on which Cooper depends to keep the story fresh.  I will disclose that it is an optimistic tale despite Richard’s and the other characters’ speculations, sufferings, and hardships.  Richard does speak of the “impossible unending promise of tomorrow,” and, particularly about their group, “the conspiracy of sex.” However, the really good thing about this book, aside from the quality of the writing, is the character development.  Most formulaic stories, including detective, romance, and science fiction — all of which Cooper has written — have little to no character development.  The people are often stock characters, Everyman or Everywoman, and they do not learn, change, or otherwise evolve during their stories.  This book is enough about evolution, change, development that I think perhaps “transit” is not just meant in terms of physically going from one place to another, but more like its synonym “movement” or the definition “pass through,” or (from the original Latin) “go across.”

Richard and his companions pass through many states of mind, grow and become different from the people they were when they first saw the crystals.  My criticisms below pale before this achievement.

The Demerits

You will be familiar with my first criticism.  It’s about the way women are generally treated in SF–even by women authors.  We are too helpless, too unintelligent, too timid to make our own decisions.  When they are first on the island, both women assert that “somebody has to be responsible for us” (the group of 4) and “make the decisions.” Barbara adds, “A man.” Of course it is Richard, who, despite a probationary period, remains the group leader afterward.  The women do learn to use weapons and to be responsible for themselves, but they do not make the decisions nor participate in them.

Second, the ending: I find it really unsatisfactory.  Without revealing too much, I feel as if Cooper, whose eighth novel this was, reached a word count and decided that was enough.  Perhaps he felt that with a wide-open future before his protagonists there was no need to expand further.  I’m too practical for that.  I want to know how their future could be accomplished with the tools they have, and I’m also pretty disappointed in the aliens who brought them to the garden.  The very qualities that they appreciate in the humans are the ones they seem to lack themselves.  Oh, well.  I say go read the book and see what you think.  I give it maybe 4 out of 5.  Pretty good.

Parting Note

And now for a word about my own future.  My own predicament is also “neither clear nor sane,” and I am doing the only thing I know to do about it, leaving for what I hope are greener pastures.  Look for me next month in San Francisco.

[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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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 4, 1964] A Matter of Proportion, Revisited

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[The Journey meets extraordinary people in its travels, many of whom go one to join the endeavor.  A fan we met at the most recently attended convention tore into the back issues and promptly fell in love with one of the featured stories.  It led to an epiphany, which resulted in this lovely article you see below, on navigating the Symplegades of sex and gender in our modern year of 1964…]


by Napoleon Doom

There’s something undeniably rewarding about stumbling upon a piece of literature that resonates with you. “A Matter of Proportion” by Anne Walker, had lain in wait for me like a literary landmine, set in 1959. Though the piece is now five years old, considering the social milieu at present, this is worth revisiting, and not just because it’s an excellent read.

The story is narrated through Special Corps Squad Leader, Willie. Their squad is charged with laying mines to stop a nebulous enemy force, simply called Invader. Upon my first reading (and prompted by the art accompanying the story), I presumed Willie to be male.

However, on subsequent readings, I took notice of how careful the author was to never address Willie by specific pronouns. Aside from the singular use of the term “Daddy-o,” by second in command Clyde Esterbrook, the narrator is addressed in the neutral. This use of slang may be more indicative of Willie’s position as the head of the unit, or perhaps even Clyde’s own beatnik leanings than of Willie.

When the Special Ops team is planting mines along an elevated railway, Willie “felt the hum in the rails that every tank-town-reared kid knows.” There is a conscious effort to avoid claiming Willie as a tank-town boy or girl.

When Willie delves into the unusual past of second in command, Clyde Esterbrook, he responds, "You're the only person who's equipped for it. Maybe you'd get it, Willie." The use of the term “person” here, instead of man or woman, keeps Willie’s gender objective. The reader is allowed to embody this character, and ascribe the gender of their choosing.

I’ve struggled of late with being seen as an ill fit for my gender. How lovely a notion to not be held hostage by it! With Betty Freidan’s “The Feminine Mystique” flying off the shelves, women for the first time feel free to take an introspective look at themselves and what it is they truly want from life. While this is potentially a step forward, the truth is that at this moment in time, we have no point of reference for what a self-actualized “person” looks like, only a self-actualized man. Ergo, the natural inclination is to imitate the masculine, and forsake all things feminine in pursuit of self-fulfilment. There’s an irony in that.

We see this in the fashions coming out of Europe. Shift dresses, devoid of waistlines, disguise the curves indicative of womanhood. Femininity must be hidden. This isn’t equality; it is conceding that women are inferior and erasing them.

Yet I have a sickness, perhaps even a perversion. I confess, I have a love for all things feminine and glamorous. This is exacerbated by the fact that I am, myself, a woman.

Femininity, even in its most unadorned form, is viewed as a kind of manipulation. The mere feminine form forces some people to feel things against their will, licentious, disgraceful things. Perhaps because of this, women are encouraged to be understated and subdued — that is, if they want respect. A sound, intelligent woman must become the picture of neutrality for society to condone her. She exists not for herself, but to graciously reflect the wants of those around her — just as Willie does for the reader.

Willie clearly lives in a distant future. Co-ed military forces, lead by a person of unresolved gender aren’t the only suggestion of this. In Willie’s time, walkie-talkies have been abandoned in favour of “ICEG—inter-cortical encephalograph”. These are communication devices “planted in [an operative’s] temporal bone”, allowing all members of a team to enjoy a sort of mechanical telepathy.

This collective mind becomes the driving force behind this story, as the special ops team rides piggyback on ICEG mate, Clyde Esterbrook’s, senses. They watch through Clyde’s own eyes as he performs impossible feats of bravery, with an almost preternatural grace. This piques their curiosity. Who is Clyde, and how did he come by these uncanny skills?

Clyde is perhaps as much an anomaly as Willie. He is described as a “big, bronze, Latin-Indian with incongruous hazel eyes.” I imagine a non-white person among the higher brass would be something quite shocking to many enlisted men. Clyde of course seems unbothered by what others may think of him. Rather than feeling violated by their compatriots digging through his skull, Clyde seems pleased by the opportunity to scatter his heroic chestnuts.

“There's always a way… if you're fighting for what you really want.”

Brave though he may be, Clyde proves far more reluctant to divulge memories from his past. When Clyde lays claim to having been a survivor of Operation Armada, Willie immediately knows something is amiss. That particular mission had only one survivor, Edwin Scott. He had been a medical student, rendered paraplegic by the ordeal. Scott had been a “snub-nosed redhead” and Clyde most definitely was not.

Bothered by his deception, Willie asks Clyde what he knows about Edwin Scott. Clyde’s answer is one that could never have been anticipated.

"Well, I was Edwin Scott, Will."

Clyde goes on to make the claim that the body he now inhabits was formerly that of “a man called Marco da Sanhao”, a former wrestler from Brazil. He had been rendered brain dead during a bombing, and thus became specimen for an experimental brain transplant procedure. Edwin Scott was willing to do whatever it took to be the recipient of this abandoned body and escape his wheelchair. 

Scott, an educated white man, enjoying all the benefits granted to him by society – save the limitations of his disability- elected to live the rest of their life as a person of colour. Race, every bit as much as gender, is used to consign people to a certain station in life. Scott’s freedom however, is not one defined by race. The promise of having returned function of his body outweighed any fear of judgement.

While we can’t know the political climate of Willie and Clyde’s world, we live day to day in that of their creator. Willie and Clyde represent two methods of coping with the mercurial demands of society, which is what I imagine Invader is symbolic of. Invader has no real name, no affiliation, no identifiable features, not even a clearly understood motive. It is simply a force that attacks and compels those who would oppose it into submission.

In the battle against Invader, Willie fights camouflaged in shades of neutral, becoming invisible and pliant. For civilians, like you and me, our minds are an escape. We have a certain freedom that Willie no longer enjoys now that their mind is one with the ICEG collective.

Clyde, conversely, undergoes a metamorphosis into something more conspicuous, a “big, bronze, Latin-Indian with incongruous hazel eyes.” He is unafraid of the societal consequences if it means he has a chance for his own self-fulfilment. At the same time, he believes this fulfilment can only come from shedding his disabled body.

As a female author, I was especially struck by Walker’s execution of these two characters. I am well aware of the prevailing attitude towards women authors as being subpar. Women, they say, are consumed by sentimentality, and romantic caprices. Their work lacks substance or innovation, and is just a pale imitation of the craft. Like Clyde, I had come to see myself as being handicapped. It’s why I adopted a male nom de plum, hoping to have my work evaluated on its merits alone.

Like many writers, I insert myself into my stories. I enter the literary world not as an androgynous omnipresence like Willie, but as a man. In my dreams, graphic novels and audio-dramas, I fashioned myself a new body from words and pictures of my own creation. This body, the body of Napoléon Doom, doesn’t have to live shrouded and subdued in exchange for respect. Napoléon can be flamboyant and bold without apologies- in fact people adore him for it, he’s such an iconoclast!

It’s a fantasy of course. People celebrate effeminate men like those long-haired The Beatles, or the mod boys of Carnaby street, so long as they remain on stage or in magazines. In the mundane world, such men are far from adored. They are ridiculed, or worse, violently brutalized as punishment for their failure to conform. Perhaps they too force some people to feel things against their will, licentious, disgraceful things.

In much the same way, I imagine Edwin Scott fantasized about life inside Da Sanhao’s body. In wartime, Clyde was appreciated for his strength and cunning. People might have been willing to overlook the fact that he was a “big, bronze, Latin-Indian” so long as he served a function in Special Ops. However, Clyde has never existed in the mundane world.

Scott had experience with the injustices suffered by the handicapped. He chose to abandon his body because of them. As Clyde, he has yet to experience racial prejudice. We can hope that in this distant future, society has evolved to be more accepting. The problem with society of course, is that it’s made up of people, and people are notoriously intolerant of differences.

I’m well aware of the sideways glances I receive, and the whispers that go on behind my back. I’m a sad throwback to a bygone era when glamour and beauty were cherished rather than denounced as tools of oppression. Mocking people like me helps others distinguish themselves as sophisticated and modern by comparison. Yet, I’m satisfied with myself, or rather selves. The rest of the world seems split into factions, all equipped at birth with their own ICEGs. They are one mind, with many eyes, easily falling in step with the unwritten rules reverberating through their heads. I am not among them.

I think about my nieces and nephews, and the future they might live in. Regardless of gender, there will be some flaw, some difference that they will be shamed for. I have no expectations of this world becoming a more sensitive, caring place. I instead hope that they will learn to be confident, and satisfied in themselves, rather than living costumed in the expectations of others.

I wonder how Clyde will fare? He can never take his costume off.

[You can meet Napoleon Doom and see her amazing projects at her own abode…]




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Book, Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 2, 1964] The Big Time (May 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Making it

Many people harbor a desire for fame — their face on the screen, their star on a boulevard, their name in print.  That's why it's been so gratifying to have been given plaudits by no less a personage than Rod Serling, as well as the folks who vote for the Hugos. 

But it wasn't until this month that one of us finally made the big time.  Check out this month's issue of Analog, for in the very back is a letter whose sardonic commentary makes the author evident even before one gets to the byline.  Yes, it's our very own John Boston, Traveler extraordinaire.

Bravo, Mr. Boston.  You've got a bright future.

As for Analog… there the outlook isn't so clear.

The Issue at Hand


Cover by John Schoenherr

The Problem of the Gyroscopic Earth, by Capt. J. P. Kirton

Captain Kirton's treatise on the link between the galactic magnetic field and Earth's precessions is both unreadable and ludicrous.  Basically (he argues), as the axis wobbles, pointing the poles at different sections of the sky in a many thousand-year cycle, the Milky Way works its voodoo and causes mass extinctions.

Pretty pictures are included, but I believe Kirton was indulging in some of Dr. Leary's happy juice when he wrote this.

One star (and only because the scale doesn't go any lower).

Undercurrents (Part 1 of 2), by James H. Schmitz


by John Schoenherr

Two years ago, James Schmitz introduced us to Telzey Amberdon, a 15 year old girl whose telepathic abilities allow her to establish the sentience of an alien species.  It was sort of like Piper's Little Fuzzy, and while it wasn't the most adeptly written piece, the premise and the protagonist were so intriguing that I wanted to see more stories about them.

The good news is that I got another story.  The bad news is that it isn't very good.

In this installment, Telzey goes off to the planet of Orado for advanced schooling at Penhanron College, along with Gonwil Lodis, an older girl on the threshold of adulthood and heir to a vast fortune.  When Telzey makes telepathic contact with Gonwil's fierce canine bodyguard, Chomir, she learns of a plot to murder Gonwil, but the details remain frustratingly out of reach.  Telzey must use her wits and her ever increasing talent to find the would-be assassins before they complete their mission.

It sounds pretty fantastic when written like this and, condensed down to its bare essentials, Undercurrents could be a great story.  But the thing is padded to oblivion with pointless exposition, with whole pages of content that get explained again in a few paragraphs later on anyway.  Moreover, I'm pretty sure that the dog is the lynchpin to the crime — I'll wager that in the conclusion, Chomir will turn out to have some sort of conditioning to turn on his owner.

I'll keep reading because I love the character, and I appreciate that there are a plethora of interesting women in Schmitz's world, but this could have been so much better in the hands of a more skilled (or interested?) writer.

Two stars.

Fair Warning, by John Brunner


by Michael Arndt

On a Pacific atoll, moments before the atom bomb's big brother is about to be set off, a supernatural being manifests to adjust the device's detonator and ensure that it can go off properly.  There's a Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin air about the event, but delivered with a sly smile.  Horrified, the scientists get drunk and smash their equipment. 

It wasn't badly written, but I found it kind of pointless.  Two stars.

Once a Cop, by Rick Raphael


by John Schoenherr

This is the second installment in Raphael's "Code Three" universe, featuring a future where the North American continent is crisscrossed by mile-wide freeways.  Cars hurtle from town to town at speeds over 200 mph, and the job of the Highway Patrolman is more necessary — and dangerous — than ever.

Once again, we follow the exploits of the seasoned Sergeant Ben Martin, rookie Clay Ferguson, and surgeon Kelly Lightfood, crew of "Beulah", a 60-foot patrol behemoth.  The piece depicts a number of crises, from a drunk speedster who soars off a highway curve, to a trucker who gets lost in a sandstorm, but the main arc involves a spoiled rich kid who is taken into custody after zooming through a closed lane and almost plowing into an accident scene.  Said kid's father is a big wheel in corporate America, and he tries everything from bribery to blackmail to get his son out of trouble. 

I hadn't expected to like this series so much, but Rafael does an excellent job of presenting the technical aspects of the story smoothly, and all of the vignettes are exciting.  It reads less like a cop show (viz. the TV show Highway Patrol) and more like a series on firefighters.  Plus, I dig that there is a prominent and tough woman in the crew.

Four stars, and keep 'em coming.

A Niche in Time, by William F. Temple


by Laszlo Kubinyi

Artists are a moody bunch, and apparently, most of the greats had profound moments of doubt that almost stymied their careers.  It turns out that, for many of them, the difference between throwing in the towel and going on to make masterpieces is an organization of time travelers.  They appear on the doorstep of the depressed creators and take them to the future to see the laurels of success.  Then the artists' memories are wiped, but the impetus remains.

No, it doesn't make a lot of sense, and this story would veer strongly into two-star territory if not for the final twist.  And, while the premise is hard to swallow, it is consistent unto itself.

Three stars.

Hunger, by Christopher Anvil


by Laszlo Kubinyi

Last up, we get a look at a failing settlement on a colony planet, whose inhabitants have been laid low by disease and mechanical failures such that just two men and a baby remain.  Their only hope is the sack of potatoes one of the fellows has managed to obtain from another straggling settlement.

The fortunes of the three are made all the worse when a pleasure yacht arrives from Earth and proceeds to set the forest afire with negligent aplomb.  The two colonists are left with but one option: use their resourcefulness to capture the yacht and make the jerks stop their wanton destruction.

This story was almost quite good.  The setup was interesting and I like a story that starts with one problem and then brings in another out of left field.  What keeps the piece solidly in the three-star range is the page of moralization at the end, in which a character opines that it's struggle that makes happiness possible, but then takes things too far by saying, "Back home, they're always talking about abolishing hunger.  They might think about it some more."  Plus, there's just some awkwardness and nastiness about the ending, and the suggestion of women as prizes that rubbed me the wrong way.

So, three stars.  Maybe it was better before Editor Campbell got his paws on it.

Summing up

April is done, so let's close the books and do the numbers!  Starting from the bottom, we have Amazing, managing to earn just two stars.  Some folks liked the Smith and Brown better than John Boston, but in general, it was a stinker.  That's a shame since it may be the only magazine to date with more words penned by women than by men.  The Analog we just got through, Boston letter notwithstanding, gets 2.6 stars.  Meanwhile F&SF earns an uninspiring 2.7 stars, but it did feature good stories by Clingerman and Carr (and if you like Ballard, by him, too).  Finally, Fantastic gets 2.9 stars, but if you're a Leiber and/or Moorcock fan, it might earn more from you.

This leaves three mags at three stars or higher, which is pretty good, actually.  IF gets exactly three, with the Cordwainer Smith story making it a worthy acquisition.  Worlds of Tomorrow has got some great stuff in it, even a good Jack Sharkey tale fer Chrissakes, and scores 3.3.  And the new New Worlds gets a respectable 3.4.

Women wrote 4 of the 43 new fiction pieces this month.  And despite the somewhat low showings of a lot of the mags, there were more standout tales this month than most.

Onward to June!

[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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Book, Magazine

[April 28, 1964] Out With the Old…. (New Worlds, May-June 1964)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would have anything to report to you this month. The changes in ownership and editorship at New Worlds last month had left things in a fair degree of confusion and chaos. Although new hands were at the wheel, it wasn’t clear when exactly we would see the fruits of their labours. Well, here we are, with an issue that seems determined to ring in the changes and make a dramatic impact.


cover by James Cawthorn

The issue at hand

This is a magazine with surprises from the start. The first shock I noticed when I unwrapped my copy, freshly delivered by the postman, is that the magazine has physically changed shape, from the traditional pulp digest size format to a more shelf-friendly paperback size. This strikes me as a good idea, possibly prolonging time on the newsstands or even in the shops where it can sit happily with the latest paperbacks at W. H. Smiths or John Menzies. 

I was also surprised that the magazine/paperback is cheaper than the old magazine, from 3/- to 2/6 [that's from about 72 cents to 60 cents for the Americans in the audience (Ed)]. This might make new readers more willing to ‘give-it-a-go’.

The next immediately noticeable change is the cover. Gone are the bland old unicoloured covers with boring type, replaced by something that immediately catches the eye. It’s deceptively simple, yet immediately striking. Whilst the artwork by James Cawthorn is not like that created by older artists such as Brian Lewis, Gordon Hutchings and Gerard Quinn, it is a very welcome alteration from those of late. Perhaps more importantly from a practical perspective it is also immediately recognisable, as different from the previous covers as it is from Astounding, Galaxy and the like, which should generate a much-needed unique identity.

The cover also highlights that the lead story is one written by one of the vanguards of this New Wave of stylish fiction. J. G. Ballard made quite an impression with his last story, The Terminal Beach in the March issue – astounding many and confusing and confounding others. Equinox thus arrives with high expectations.

But first, new editor Michael Moorcock sets out his stall with a bold mission statement in his editorial, A New Literature for the Space Age.  Quoting “controversial” American writer William Burroughs, Moorcock states that the new New Worlds will emphasise literary merit over science which suggests to me a focus on softer science fiction based around the social sciences rather than the old-style cliches of spaceships and planetary exploration. More inner space than outer space, perhaps! The choice of Burroughs as a quoted influence (and as an article later in the issue) is a clear sign that things are being deliberately shaken up. It also highlights that the expansion of consciousness through drugs is now part of the British mainstream – or at least amongst the young. To this we can add sex and what some might consider obscene language in order to, as Moorcock puts it, ‘(provide) a kind of SF which is unconventional in every sense and which must be recognised as an important revitalisation of the literary mainstream.’

This ambitious aim seems new and original, but actually is not that different from what previous editor John Carnell was attempting to achieve, admittedly with varying degrees of success. Perhaps with such a bold statement and a newer, younger, fresher face at the helm, the new New Worlds might just reverse the present trend of declining sales.

To the stories themselves. 

Equinox, by J.G. Ballard

And so, in this new age of literary SF, we begin with a bang. The latest in J. G.’s stories here in Britain is more straightforward than his last (The Terminal Beach, March 1964) and more similar in tone to his previous take on a disaster novel, that of The Drowned World (1962).
It’s all rather grim to begin with. Doctor Sanders is on a boat travelling up the Matarre River in the Cameroun. We discover that this is not a journey for leisure. He is in search of an old friend, Suzanne Clair, another doctor working at a leper colony and much of this first part of the story is about his journey into the unknown.
All of this is most un-science-fictional. It reads more like a tale of colonialism in the Third World, combined with the physical and metaphysical journey taken in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.  This first part of Equinox builds the tension to create the now standard Ballard tone of grubbiness and decay, a world in decline.
And then it takes a left turn into the strange. The Ballardian twist is that the jungle is somehow changing things into crystal, by means and for reasons unknown. It’s both beautiful and yet also odd. Nobody writes like Ballard, which is why this is a good start for the new order.  4 out of 5.

[This story is definitely in the same universe as this month's The Illuminated Man. (Ed.)]

Never Let Go of My Hand, by Brian Aldiss

Aldiss’ latest gives us his usual sense of humour but this one also has a serious element towards the end. The beginning of the story starts like a comical Aldiss story.  Two humans, an elderly mother and her middle-aged son, are abducted by aliens and kept for observation. There’s some initial amusement over the strange nature of the aliens, which are weird. I feel that Aldiss has been staring at his fruit bowl too long for inspiration – one being banana shaped and the other pear-shaped! The humans discover that in their new environment normal laws of physics do not seem to exist and that time appears to run backwards. This has the result of them getting younger, which has consequences at the end of the story. It is also weirdly Freudian, up to the unconvincing end, which loses the story a point. Overall it feels like two ideas jammed together that don’t work well together. As an attempt to be different it’s OK, but not one of his best. 3 out of 5.

The Last Lonely Man, by John Brunner

Above this story, there’s a blurb that says that John is perhaps bigger in reputation with you in the States than here. That may be true, but this story doesn't represent his best work.

There’s a great idea within: in the future, instead of dying, people can choose to be transferred to another person’s body in a process known as Contact. People make contracts with family and friends so that they can continue after death, eventually being assimilated into the other person’s body. Where this one gets interesting is that there is a plot point where Mr. Hale, our main protagonist, has a chance meeting in a bar with someone who persuades him to take on a Contact contract as he has no one else to Contact with. It’s an intriguing premise, though the consequences of this arrangement seem too convenient and the ending is rather predictable.  3 out of 5.

The Star Virus, by Barrington J. Bayley

And here’s another author we know already, though the name may not be entirely familiar. ‘B.J. Bayley’, as his name is written on the contents page, is perhaps better known to you as Barrington J. Bayley, who has frequented New Worlds before, last as “P. F. Woods” in the April 1964 issue. He has had many pseudonyms – even the editor states at the beginning of this story that he has been ‘hiding his light under a bushel of pen-names’. 

The Star Virus is a space opera story involving space pirates and an alien artefact. Initially, it is strangely old-fashioned, to such an extent that, at first, I wondered if the author’s intent was to parody the old-school pulp SF story. It involves Rodrone, a space-adventurer, and his latest find, The Lens. (I’m sure that the Lens artefact is something that EE ‘Doc’ Smith may have misplaced or has had borrowed for a while.) Escaping arrest on a planet called Stundaker, with The Lens he rocks around the galaxy in a tale that feels like it would not be out of place in the Golden Age of the 1940’s. Where this tale is made more contemporary is by making the characters quite unpleasant and the story grimmer and more downbeat than anything from the Golden Age. It’s fast moving and feels like an attempt to tap into the old sense of wonder but with a modern, grittier perspective, which is admirable but didn’t quite work for me.  High marks for effort but I think for me it’ll depend on where it goes in the second (final) part next issue. 3 out of 5.

(Turns out I was wrong — this is a single-parter, and earns just 2 of 5 for it [MY 6-8-64])

Myth-Maker of the 20th Century, by J.G. Ballard

We finish with an article penned by J.G. Ballard, this time giving a non-fictional account of someone who both Ballard and Moorcock feel is a major new influence in the genre: William Burroughs. It’s a little generous in its hyperbole, but it is clearly heart-felt. As an agenda for the new style magazine it makes a good case.

As might be expected, there is no Book Review section and a very brief Letters page. I’m sure these will be added over time as the new magazine settles into its new form. It’ll be interesting to see what readers make of these changes and whether they agree with these major changes in direction.

Summing up

And there we have it – the first issue for a new age. Moorcock has pulled out all the stops here, managing to bring in many of his friends, the people who are reshaping the genre, in order to send out a clear message: this is new, this is different and they’re not afraid to take risks.

The future of British science fiction is uncertain, but based on what I’ve read here, it does appear to be vibrant, exciting and guaranteed to create a response. This issue is reflective of the current state of the British genre scene – very different to what has been before. It is hoped that such a bold statement will also pick up additional readers responsive to that, but only time will tell. 

This issue makes me realise that things at New Worlds have needed a jolt for a while, and this issue shows what can be done with new energy and enthusiasm. It’s not perfect, but I’ve not been as excited over an issue as this one for a long time. New Worlds is dead – long live New Worlds! Now it remains to be seen if this standard can be maintained or improved.

One last wrinkle – the magazine has changed from a monthly issue to a bimonthly release – at least for now. The next issue will therefore be out at the end of June (fingers crossed!), which is probably when I’ll speak to you next. 

[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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TV

[April 26th, 1964] The Start Of A Wild Ride (Doctor Who: The Keys of Marinus, parts 1 to 3)

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By Jessica Holmes

Hello, everyone, and welcome back to my monthly ramblings on Doctor Who. We’re in for a treat this time: Terry Nation’s back with another serial! This story sends the companions zipping about a planet with screaming forests and acid seas in a twisted scavenger hunt where the prize is a bit more special than a bottle of bubbly or a box of chocolates: the TARDIS.

THE SEA OF DEATH

Our journey begins on a pretty beach, and being interplanetary tourists, the companions immediately set out to explore. However, they aren’t alone on what turns out to be an island. A small fleet of one-man submarines makes landfall, and soon they have an unwanted tag-along shadowing their steps.

That’s not the only danger on the island. When Susan tries to go paddling in a tidal pool, she loses her shoe. No, it didn’t wash away: it dissolved!

Well, the sea doesn’t seem quite so appealing any more, does it?

One of the poor chaps in the mini-submarines learned that the hard way. One little crack, and all that’s left of him is his rubber suit.

Spotting a pyramid-like structure in the distance, the group investigate. Time for the educational content. This time, we’re looking at architectural history!

When Ian and Barbara notice that there's no mortaring on this pyramid, because the stonework is so precise, Barbara offers up real-world examples in the Egyptians and the peoples of central and south America. I wonder if it’s in the contract that the writers have to include an educational element, because it does feel a bit shoehorned.

Meanwhile, Susan’s off in her own little world, and her uncanny knack for putting herself in mortal peril sends her falling straight through a wall. Moments later, the Doctor enters the pyramid the same way.

Susan narrowly avoids death when a knife conveniently finds itself buried between the shoulderblades of her web-footed assailant, but she’s not out of the woods yet; there’s someone else in this pyramid.

Ian makes it through the spinning wall too, and to Barbara's surprise, so does she, with an unsettling shot revealing the hooded figure to be waiting just on the other side.

Moments later, Ian comes to the defence of the stranger when one of the web-footed invaders tries to kill them, and their tussle ends with Ian shoving him into a pit in the floor, which leads right to the sea.

The sea of acid.

So, I have to linger here for a moment, because I have a couple of things to say.

For one, who on EARTH (or rather, Marinus) put that in? If I built a house over an active lava lake, which is of course my life's ambition, I wouldn't put a great big hole in the floor where anyone could fall or be pushed in, for heaven’s sake.

For two, Ian just killed someone. A family show!

We finally get to meet the hooded figure, whose name is Arbitan, and it seems that he’s friendly. Or at least friendlier than the wetsuited invaders, who are called the Voord. Ian says he should have thought the pyramid impregnable, to which I say: pardon? Ian, the whole lot of you breached the outer walls by accident.

Arbitan shows the companions the device this pyramid was built to hold: the Mind of Marinus, which Arbitan’s people used as a moral arbiter, and later, a moral enforcer, actively manipulating the minds of men to force moral correctness.

Well, that is extremely creepy.

I don’t care that everything was supposedly hunky dory. Taking away the free will of a populace, even for a noble goal, is a genuinely frightening concept. However, unlike with The Daleks, it doesn’t appear, for now at least, that Nation is interested in interrogating this idea as he did with the virtues and pitfalls of absolute pacifism.

No, instead the companions are roped into a plot to restore this machine to full functionality, but not of their own free will — Arbitan holds the TARDIS hostage.

Oh, and the Voord came to be when one person managed to resist the machine, and freed a bunch of other people from its control.

Are we sure the Voord are the baddies, here?

There are five Keys Of Marinus, scattered far and wide, and they need to be retrieved if the Mind Of Marinus is to regain control of the Voord. Arbitan provides the companions with a set of teleport dials, worn on the wrist like a watch, and asks them to keep an eye out for his daughter while they’re looking for the keys.

And because Doctor Who is surprisingly comfortable for a family show with showing on-screen death, no sooner have the companions departed than Arbitan gets knifed by a Voord.

The Doctor, Susan and Ian arrive at their destination to find that Barbara has vanished. Ian finds her travel dial on the floor. And there's blood on it!

Fun episode, this one. An easy watch.

4 out of 5.

THE VELVET WEB

This is where things get weird.

Very weird.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the group to track Barbara down. What fate has befallen her? Oh, it’s simply dreadful.


Honestly. Leave her alone for five minutes and she turns into Cleopatra.

She’s lounging on a daybed, dressed in fine silks, while servants feed her fruit.

Along comes a young man to hopefully clear a few things up. In this city, everything is perfect. It’s a post-scarcity society. Everyone is perfectly content, because you can get whatever you want, whenever you want. If it sounds too good to be true, that’s because it probably is. That’s both commentary on the episode and life advice.

Once the group have gone to sleep, one of the servants comes back into the room and places a mysterious device on each of their foreheads. However, Barbara’s device falls off, and when she awakens, she sees this place for what it really is. The fine silks? Rags. The crystal glasses? Dirty old mugs. This city of luxury? A trap that’s about to snap shut.

Barbara flees, unable to convince the others, and their host reports her perception to his own masters…who are brains in jars. With eyestalks, no less. They look silly and unsettling at the same time. These are the true rulers of this society, all the humans in the city being mind-controlled slaves.

The inherent horror of mind-control aside, it’s funny to watch the others fall over themselves in amazement when presented with worthless junk.


"Never seen anything like it!"

Barbara runs into the servant who placed the devices, Sabitha, and quickly works out that this is Arbitan’s disappeared daughter. However, though she remembers that Arbitan sent her here, she can’t remember anything else. She manages to save Barbara’s life, however, when the creepy host attacks her. She can’t save her from a brainwashed Ian, however, who drags her before the rulers of the city.

Then they order him to kill her.

Barbara manages to escape his grasp, but does she make a run for it? No way! She goes straight for the brains in jars, who for all their intelligence, haven’t accounted for the fragility of glass, or how good humans are at breaking things when we feel like it.

With the brains all smashed up, the humans of the city are freed, and what’s the first thing they do? Burn the place to the ground!

Barbara, you sparked a revolution…and found a key!

It turns out that the young man is actually one of Arbitan’s folk, and he was sent out to complete the same task that has fallen to our companions: recovering the keys. A friend of his was also sent out, but it appears he has got into trouble. The Doctor volunteers to see if he can track the friend down, and if not him, the key. The rest of the group decide to look for the other keys, and they agree to meet up in a week.

I’m sure it’ll go fine.

Susan, not one for long farewells, is the first to leave, but to her detriment, for she winds up in the middle of a forest…and all the trees are screaming.

This was a real cracker of an episode. Loved it.

4.5 out of 5.

THE SCREAMING JUNGLE

As the forest quiets down, the rest of the group catch up with Susan, but she’s still in a state of terror.

I think Susan could do with a bit of toughening up. For someone who ends up in trouble so often, you’d think she’d be a bit harder to scare. Apart from being a poor example to set for girls her age, it’s just getting to be a bit annoying.

Barbara spots a strange idol down a dark, almost hidden path, and in her infinite wisdom goes and starts poking at it. She finds the key attached to the statue, but as she attempts to retrieve it, the arms of the idol come to life and grab her, and the wall swivels, taking away both Barbara and the statue.

Well, at least they got the key. Or did they?

It’s a fake! The others go on ahead to look for the next key, leaving Ian to stick around to recover Barbara, and the real Key of Marinus.

Still, this is Ian we’re talking about. He makes his way to the other side of the wall the same way Barbara did, and on the other side finds another statue, this time wielding an axe. Unwittingly triggering a pressure plate, it’s only Barbara’s timely intervention that saves his head from splitting like a watermelon when the axeman takes a swing at him. It looks like this whole place is booby trapped!

The pair start looking for a way out. A door opens, and Barbara, channelling the first person to get bumped off in any horror flick, goes inside, promptly gets trapped in a net, and then the wall above, covered in bamboo spikes, starts to descend.

For goodness’ sake, Barbara, don’t just bleat at Ian for help. It’s a fishing net. I’m sure you can manage.

Luckily for Barbara, before she can become a human pincushion, a hooded man intervenes. However, while he’s trying to confirm that Barbara isn’t a Voord, an inconvenient vine pops through the window and starts strangling him.


You just can’t trust nature. This is exactly why I never go outside.

Ian and Barbara save him from the overgrown ivy bush, but it’s too late. The old man holds on just long enough to give Ian a cryptic string of letters and numbers, then drops down dead.

So, they have a code, but what for? A safe? It doesn’t look like it. They get to combing the room, and Ian finds the old man’s diary, learning from it that he was working on growth acceleration, speeding up the natural world. Well, I think we can guess as to why the forest is so weird. When night falls, its growth accelerates so much that it can overrun the building within minutes.

That doesn’t really explain why the plants have minds of their own, or why it’s just at night (unless I missed something), but there you go.

As the plants are on the verge of overwhelming Ian and Barbara, they realise that the code is not a code at all, but a chemical formula, and when they find the right jar, they find the key. In the nick of time they hop to their next destination: a freezing mountainside.

I can’t wait to find out what happens next!

I don’t think I liked this episode quite as much as the previous, but it was still a jolly good romp.

4 out of 5.

CONCLUSION

In this serial, Nation seems to be going for a more episodic than serial format, stringing together a series of smaller adventures to build a greater whole. I think it works very well, building up a breathless momentum which I hope will hold with the next few episodes.

Doctor Who can sometimes suffer from slow pacing, and if that’s a problem for me, an adult, I can only assume it’s a problem for the younger members of the audience too. Nation has found a way to mitigate this problem, and while I don’t think it can be used for all stories (nor should it be), I do hope that Doctor Who makes use of this format more often.

All in all, I have thoroughly enjoyed these episodes, and I look forward to watching the rest with all of you.

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TV

[April 24, 1964] Some Justice to Mete Out (The Twilight Zone, Season 5, Episodes 25-28)

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by Natalie Devitt

Exploring how a person’s conduct can shape the direction their life takes has been a big part of The Twilight Zone, and this past month has been no exception. In some episodes, poetic justice seems to have been achieved by the episode‘s conclusion. Other times, characters are given punishments that do not quite seem to fit the crime. This month’s morality plays include a story about a dying man’s last wish to make sure his greedy relatives get what he thinks they deserve, a town is blanketed in darkness the morning it is scheduled to execute someone who may have been wrongly convicted of a crime, a man that annoys those around him with obnoxious noises is suddenly unable to block out sounds that he finds unpleasant, and a broke ventriloquist who pays the price when he is convinced by his dummy to take up robbery to improve his finances.

The Masks, by Rod Serling

Actress-turned-director Ida Lupino and star of The Twilight Zone’s The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine returns to the show for The Masks. This time, she is not in front of the camera but in the director’s chair. The Masks is set in New Orleans against the backdrop of Mardi Gras. In the episode, character actor Robert Keith plays Jason Foster, a rich and elderly man, who is told by his doctor that he can measure what is left of his life “in moments.” After receiving his grim prognosis, Jason vows to live at least until midnight in order to take care of some unfinished business, which includes gathering with his family for a very unusual farewell.

During the family gathering, Jason states in a very matter-of-fact tone, “You all came here for one purpose: to watch me go and cry bon voyage, to put coins on my closed eyes, and with your free hands start grabbing things from my shelves.” He tells them in order to inherit his entire fortune, they must wear hideous masks until midnight, which proves to be much harder than expected. The masks he provides them with are from “an old Cajun” and “they have certain properties.” They are told that each mask represents the “antithesis of the wearer.” But what they do not realize is that each person wears a mask that actually reflects their true nature. Also, that Jason has one final surprise planned for them at the midnight unmasking.

With a story like this, I cannot help but wonder about the events that led Jason’s family to where they are when the episode starts. The anger and the resentments building up over the years, and whether Jason may have contributed to the situation. In any case, this episode featured one of Rod Serling’s better scripts this season. In addition to Rod Serling’s stronger script, The Masks featured a mostly good cast and some of the more impressive special effects makeup I have seen on the series in recent memory. Overall, the month got off to an impressive start with this episode, which is why it earns four stars from me.

I Am the Night, Color Me Black, by Rod Serling

The Hustler’s Michael Constantine plays Sheriff Charlie Conch, who arrives at work nervous about the day’s planned execution. Oddly, it is past the time the sun usually rises and the sun still is yet to come up. One of his deputes mentions to him, “It’s 7:30 in the morning and it’s pitch black outside. I’ve never seen it any blacker.” What is strange is that surrounding towns do not seem to be experiencing the same phenomenon.

Paul Fix of television’s The Rifleman plays Colby, a reporter who questions the department’s handling of the case. Colby reminds the men at the sheriff‘s department that, “ The murdered man was not a decent man. He was a cross burning psychopathic bully who attacked the man in there.” The accused is named Jagger, and he was protecting members of a church from a racist when the alleged murder took place. Ivan Dixon, who appeared in the earlier episode The Big Tall Wish, stars as the church’s reverend.

Practically everyone in town shows up for the hanging in “the remote, little mid-western village.” It is getting closer and closer to the execution time and the sun still has not risen. While the rope is being prepared for Jagger’s hanging, the journalist asks one of the deputies, “Did it ever occur to you that there is something odd going on around here? Perhaps we better dispense with business as usual until we find out exactly what is going on.”

I Am the Night, Color Me Black, looks great and features a number of outstanding performances, but it would have benefited from being a little more subtle. For anyone willing to look past how heavy-handed the moralizing in this entry can be, it is a good but not amazing episode. Three stars.

Sounds and Silences, by Rod Serling

John McGiver returns to the The Twilight Zone after appearing in The Bard. In Sounds and Silences, he plays Roswell G. Flemington, a man who takes delight in making noise. As Rod Serling’s opening monologue states, Roswell’s “noise-making is in inverse ratio to his competence and his character.” Roswell runs a model ship company, spending much of his free time blustering around the office like a modern day Queeg, and listening to blaring recordings of fighting battleships, much to the dismay of those around him.

One day, his wife tells him that she just cannot take it anymore. She complains, “What was once an idiosyncrasy of yours is now an obsession. This insistence on blaring noises and running a household like it was a destroyer escort on convoy duty- the combination has now become quite impossible and I can’t live with it.” After a couple decades of marriage, they are finished. But Roswell is happy about his marriage ending, because now he can devote more attention to making noise.

Shortly after, while trying to sleep, he wakes up to the sound of a leaky faucet, unusually loud and unpleasant. Once the faucet stops making noise, another sound begins to bug him. Soon little noises are driving him to the brink of madness. Eventually, he has to seek professional help. Is this punishment for what he has put others through all these years?

The episode has few redeeming qualities. The script leaves a lot to be desired. I think this entry is supposed to be funny, but it I do not remember laughing once. The main character acts like a giant child, which I know is kind of the point, but that begins to wear thin after a while. Most of the characters, which include his wife and his employees, are not much more tolerable than he is. It was hard resisting the urge to change the channel, so one and a half stars is all that I can give to Sounds and Silences.

Caesar and Me, by Adele T. Strassfield

Former child star Jackie Cooper is perfectly cast as Jonathan West, a penniless ventriloquist in Caesar and Me. He and his dummy, Caesar, perform under the name Little Caesar and Jonathan. Jonathan has difficulty securing a stable source of income, but he dreams that one day Little Caesar and Jonathan will be a headlining act. Jonathan has an unhealthy attachment to Caesar and tells the dummy that they are “together forever.” Caesar is mentioned in Rod Serling’s opening monologue as being a “small splinter with large ideas.” Jonathan considers supplementing his income with a side job until his work with Caesar starts to bring in the big bucks. The only problem is that Jonathan has never held down a “real job.”

But Caesar has been paying attention. One day Caesar asks him, “Just a little money for food and rent, is that it? Is that all you want out of life?” Caesar convinces Jonathan that robbery is the solution to his money woes, saying “Open your eyes. Look around you. The streets are paved with gold, and it’s sitting out there, waiting for us.” Caesar feeds Jonathan more lines like, “After tonight’s job, we’ll be on easy street.” Of course, things do not go exactly as planned.

I tried to watch Caesar and Me with an open mind. It is not really bad, just frustrating because it feels too much like a rehash of The Dummy. It brings absolutely nothing new to table. In fact, they even reused the same dummy. The talented Jackie Cooper could not completely save this episode. Then there was the ending, which while mildly entertaining, is hardly fair. Poor Jonathan just cannot seem to catch a break. Caesar and Me receives two and a half stars.

Characters during the past month of The Twilight Zone have encountered some interesting and sometimes unexpected outcomes as a result of their actions. Regarding the quality of the episodes, however, two were enjoyable while the other two offerings were a little disappointing. With only two months left before the end of the season, I hate to admit that I am a little nervous about the forthcoming episodes.

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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine

[April 22, 1964] World Affairs (May 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Hail, Britannia

To the surprise of absolutely nobody, the Beatles again have the most popular song on the U.S. charts.  This time is it's a cheerful little melody called Can't Buy Me Love.


You'd be grinning too, if you were that popular.

I suppose there will be no end of imitations.  My sources in the UK tell me a new group just released its first album.  You can't tell from the minimalist cover, but they're called the Rolling Stones.


I thought they were called Decca.

The album isn't yet available on this side of the Atlantic, so I can't tell you what it sounds like.  Judging by the haircuts, I assume it will be a lot like the Fab Four.  Fantastic Five, maybe, if Marvel Comics doesn't object.

The British don't just export music, of course.  They also supply us with sex and violence, in the person of James Bond, Agent 007.  From Russia With Love, the sequel to the hit movie Dr. No opened on Yankee screens this month.


One should always be properly dressed while wielding a pistol.

All's Fair

Other nations besides the United Kingdom have a chance to impress Americans for the next couple of years.  The New York World's Fair opened to the public today, with exhibits from dozens of foreign countries, as well as several states and business corporations.


That's the Unisphere, symbol of the Fair.  I call it a globe.

Those of us with long memories will recall the 1939 New York World's Fair.  It's hard to believe that a quarter of a century has gone by.


The pointy one is the Trylon and the round one is the Perisphere.  They look more modern than the new one, don't they?

It would tedious to try to describe all the stuff going on at this extravaganza, but let me point out a few highlights.  Science fiction fans will want to visit the Space Park.


NASA shows off their fancy equipment.

The state of Wisconsin brags about its most famous products.


Does that mean the World's Largest Cheese gets in free?

Noted puppeteers Sid and Marty Krofft will present a stage spectacular called Les Poupées de Paris (The Dolls of Paris.) So what?  Who cares about a kiddie puppet show?  Well, this musical revue is for adults only.  Seriously.  You have to be at least twenty-one years old to get in.  It's just too sexy and too scary for the little ones.


Here's one of the scary parts.  I can't show you the sexy parts unless you have proof of age.

For those of us who can't make it to the Big Apple this year or next, at least we can explore strange new worlds in the pages of our favorite magazines.  Let's head for the main gate and see what the latest issue of Fantastic has to offer.

Tickets, Please


art by Ed Emshwiller

Adept's Gambit, by Fritz Leiber

Our first exhibit is an oldie but a goodie — this issue's Fantasy Classic deserves the name, and I won't complain about filling more than one-third of the issue with a reprint.  It appeared in the pages of the 1947 Arkham House collection Night's Black Agents.


Cover art by Ronald Clyne

Just over three thousand copies of the book exist, so most fantasy fans won't be familiar with this novella featuring our old friends Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.

A brief introductory note explains that the two adventurers are no longer in their usual fantasy realm of Nehwon.  Having made their way through passageways that connect all possible worlds, they are now on Earth.  To be specific, the Eastern Mediterranean area, in what seems to be ancient times.  Don't expect historical fiction, though.  This is a place full of enchantment and supernatural menace.

As they often do, the pair relax after their struggles in the arms of beautiful young women.  Things quickly go wrong when Fafhrd's paramour turns into a sow.  He suspects his companion of playing tricks on him, but this theory explodes when the Mouser's girlfriend changes into a giant snail.  Both ladies regain their normal shapes after a while, but whenever either of the heroes embraces a woman, the same thing happens.

This is, of course, an intolerable situation.  Reluctantly, they seek out their eldritch mentor Ningauble of the Seven Eyes.  That bizarre being sends them on a weird quest, in the company of a mysterious woman.  A long flashback sequence, narrated by the woman, relates the strange connection she has with her brother, a powerful practitioner of black magic.  It all leads up to a final confrontation with the evil sorcerer.

Nobody writes sword-and-sorcery adventures as well as Fritz Leiber.  This tale has just the right balance of wit, imagination, action, suspense, fully realized characters, colorful descriptions, and more than a touch of the macabre. 

Five stars.

To the Victor, by Leo P. Kelley


Cover art by George Schelling

We exit the giant Leiber pavilion and enter the first of four smaller exhibits. 

The setting is a planet inhabited by primitive aliens.  Humans colonized the place long ago, filling it with vast, high-tech buildings.  They want more elbowroom, and the aliens don't want their environment sacrificed to the newcomers.  Conflict is inevitable.  This isn't the usual kind of war, however.  One human being and one alien face each other in single combat.

A man well over one hundred years old, with doubts about what humanity has done to the planet, is the protagonist.  He witnesses the battle, and makes a symbolic gesture of his own.

The author contrasts the rapaciousness of the technological invaders with the aliens' love of the natural world.  I appreciate the point he's trying to make, but he does it in a heavy-handed way.  The combat scene involves odd, almost comic Rube Goldberg devices, which spoils the story's somber mood.

Two stars.

Master of Chaos, by Michael Moorcock


Cover art by Virgil Finlay

Time for a brief excursion outside the American section of this paper World's Fair, and a quick look at what the British have on display.  Will they offer us something as groundbreaking as the Beatles?

Well, not really.  Like the lead novella, this is a swashbuckling fantasy adventure yarn.  The hero goes to a castle that lies at the edge of the Earth.  After nearly losing his way inside its labyrinthine corridors, and doing battle with a monster, he confronts the sole inhabitant (As tradition demands, a beautiful and seductive sorceress).  Their meeting leads to a new challenge.

The most interesting and original concept in this story is the idea that Earth is surrounded by ever-changing Chaos.  As Chaos is conquered, Earth grows.  It's a striking notion, and adds a novel touch to an otherwise typical example of the genre.

Three stars.

All For Nothing, by David R. Bunch


Cover art by Lutjens

Back to the States with a writer like no one else, for good or bad.  In this offbeat creation, written in the author's eccentric style, a man creates an exact duplicate of himself.  His mad scheme is to challenge God to accept the double in his place, so he can escape from life and the afterlife.  Adding to the horrific mood is the elaborate machines the fellow intends to use to kill himself in a particularly slow and painful way.

I don't know what to make of this grim account of someone who doesn't want to exist in Earth, Heaven, or Hell.  It certainly held my attention, if only in a depressing way. 

Two stars.

Gulliver's Magic Islands, by Adam Bradford, M. D.


Cover art by Blair

If Fritz Leiber's name brought me into the fairgrounds, then Adam Bradford's made me want to find the exit.  Fair is fair, however, and I have to give the man a chance to redeem himself.  His last two Swiftian pastiches failed to add anything to the original, and missed the satiric point.  Will he stumble again?

(By the way, the magazine's editorial reveals that the author's real name is Joseph Wassersug.  He's a physician who writes medical articles.  As far as I can tell, he's never published any fiction other than this series.  The editorial also promises – or should I say threatens? – another one to follow.)

Once again, the narrator follows in Gulliver's footsteps.  He visits Balnibarbi, the island of scientists; Laputa, the flying island that floats above it; Glubbdubdrib, the island of magicians; and Luggnagg, the home of the immortal struldbrugs.  Not much is done with any of these except Balnibarbi.  I have to admit that the author provides some decent satire on the way in which scientists have to chase after money for their projects.  For that reason, this entry is a little better than the others.

(One odd thing that struck me.  The inhabitants of Glubbdubdrib are described as dark-skinned.  The name of their leader is Loother Krring.  All other words made up by the author seem to be meaningless, but this one appears to be an allusion to Doctor Martin Luther King, the famous civil rights leader.  What the point of this reference might be escapes me.)

Two stars

After the Fair is Over

As night falls and we leave the fairgrounds, souvenirs in our hands, we look back over an eventful day.  Obviously, the Fritz Leiber pavilion was the highlight of the fair.  If the other exhibits were disappointing, well, that's life.  At least we can send a postcard telling the folks back home all about it.

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