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[Dec. 3, 1963] Dr. Who?  An Adventure In Space And Time

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By Jessica Holmes

A New Science Fiction Series Lands At The BBC

Hello, class! Some of you may remember me from last month's article on the Arecibo observatory. For those who don't: hello, my name is Jessica, and I am an artist who likes science.

A lot of people think of the arts and sciences as being at odds with one another, and although I lean towards the arts, I don't see why they have to be separated. The structure of a DNA helix is like a work of sculpture. The exquisite tile patterns found in buildings around the Islamic world are designed according to mathematical principles. Science can be art, and art can be science. So, why am I waffling on about this? Because I believe that the adventure we're about to embark on will prove my assertion.

Produced by Verity Lambert (the BBC's youngest and only woman producer), Doctor Who is the new science fiction series from the BBC, about the mysterious eponymous old man and his machine that allows him to travel through time and space. Along with him are his granddaughter, Susan, and two of her school teachers, Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright. Together, they'll travel backwards and forwards through history, and upside down and sideways through the universe. According to the Radio Times, each adventure may bring them to the North Pole, distant worlds devastated by neutron bombs (well, THERE'S a relevant story for you!), and even the caravan of Marco Polo. I also hear this show is to have a bit of an educational element, so I'll be looking forward to seeing how that goes.

I wouldn't normally cover such a mundane thing as opening credits, but I think in this case it would be remiss of me not to draw attention to them. The theme music itself is exciting and memorable, and sounds truly from another world from the first few bars. Accompanying this is a novel visual effect (or at least, one I haven't seen before) of abstract swirls pulsating and contorting. I did a little research into how it was done, and it turns out this effect is actually quite simple: it's feedback. Much as placing a microphone close to its own output speaker produces an extremely unpleasant screech, pointing a camera at its own output monitor yields 'howlaround' feedback in the form of these abstract waves.

Enough technical talk. On with the episode.

Wandering the Fourth Dimension

We had a bit of an unusual situation in the release of this premier episode. It was shown, in fact, last week, but for obvious reasons not a lot of people watched it, not to mention the nationwide blackout we suffered that night.  It was shown again immediately before the second episode of the serial, which I shall be covering next time.

We fade in from the opening onto a dark, misty shot of a police officer on the beat, passing by a gate labelled with the words 'I.M. Foreman, Scrap Merchant, 76 Totters Lane'. The music gives its cue something is about to happen. The camera closes in on the gate, which swings open to reveal…a junkyard. Shocking, I know. We track forwards into the scrap merchant's yard, passing by a police box as we pan upwards, and then, just as the viewer starts to wonder what we're supposed to be looking at, back to the police box, from within which comes a low hum.

We zoom in on the familiar sign—well, familiar to those of us in my country, anyway. They're quite common, these big blue boxes, though they are sometimes found in other colours, dotted around Britain's streets. Inside each is a telephone connected directly to the local police station, allowing both the public and local police to quickly and easily call for assistance wherever they may be. They can even be used to hold detainees until reinforcements arrive, and I won't even get started on their other, less orthodox uses.

And now we see the title card: An Unearthly Child. This episode was written by Anthony Coburn.

Just when I think we're about to find out what's inside this police box, we cut away to the sound of a school bell, and find ourselves at Coal Hill School, where we meet two of our main characters for the first time: Ian Chesterton, science master, and Barbara Wright, history teacher. These attentive (or perhaps it'd be more accurate to call them nosy) teachers have a conundrum on their hands. It's not an academic matter that ails them, but one of their students, a strange girl named Susan, possesses knowledge far beyond either of them in some fields, while not even being able to say how many shillings are in a pound. It is indeed quite perplexing how such a common piece of knowledge could slip by an otherwise intelligent fifteen year-old (for those unfamiliar, there are twenty shillings in a pound, and twelve pennies in a shilling.) How this girl manages to buy anything without understanding how money works, I couldn't say. She certainly doesn't seem to be from outside Britain; her diction would make my grandmother weep with joy.


From left to right: Jacqueline Hill, Carole Ann Ford and William Russell as Barbara Wright, Susan Foreman, and Ian Chesterton respectively.

Perhaps more perplexing than Susan herself is her address: 76 Totters Lane — the junkyard we saw at the beginning of the episode. In an effort to talk to Susan's grandfather, her only guardian, Ian and Barbara travel to the junkyard one night and await his arrival.

And this, in my opinion, is where the episode starts to get good. It's all been fine up to this point, but there's nothing terribly exciting about watching teachers talk about a difficult student. With the return of the junkyard, the humming police box, and a haze of smog over everything, the mysterious atmosphere kicks back in in full force, and soon enough, my favourite part of the episode arrives.

Enter the Doctor, William Hartnell. There's a good chance you've already heard the name before; he's been in more films over the last decade than I care to mention. Not being the biggest fan of war films, I admit I haven't really seen him in action much, but this Doctor is a far cry from the military men Hartnell normally steps into the shoes of. From the moment he steps into frame, we see just why this programme is called Doctor Who. For all the mystery about Susan, the Doctor blows it out of the water.


William Hartnell as the Doctor.

The Doctor is strange. We get the impression we only hear perhaps a tenth of what he's really thinking, and that his is a mind that races far faster than theirs. It's also clear that this is a man with something to hide; every word out of his mouth is an attempt to deflect the teachers, to persuade them to leave well enough alone. But there's a mischievous twinkle in his eye; we almost get the impression he thinks of this all as a game, an amusement to pass his time. The teachers notice quickly that he's suspiciously keen on keeping them away from the police box. All comes to a head when Susan's voice calls out from inside the box, and fearing her to be in danger, the teachers burst in. At last we get the truth—or at least, our first slice of it.

The police box is bigger on the inside.


All aboard the TARDIS.

Gone is the gloomy junkyard where we had to squint to see; now we're in a bright, open room, lined with all manner of electrical equipment and control panels, and in the centre, a console. This is the TARDIS, short for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It is both a space ship, and a time machine.

Susan and her grandfather are exiles from another time, another world, cast adrift in time and space, never able to settle in one place for too long, for fear of situations such as these. It's clear both long for home, or at the very least, stability.

"Have you ever thought what it's like to be wanderers in the Fourth Dimension? Have you? To be exiles? Susan and I are cut off from our own planet – without friends or protection. But one day we shall get back. Yes, one day."
The Doctor

The teachers may be people of learning, but this is quite beyond them, as the Doctor notes with a derisive comment. Believing the Doctor to be quite mad and his TARDIS to be an elaborate hoax, the teachers attempt to leave, but to no avail. The Doctor has locked the doors!

In a confrontation with her grandfather, Susan demands that he allow her and the teachers to leave. Seemingly the Doctor acquiesces, but as the rest of the crew make for the door, he begins to laugh in a way greatly reminiscent of the cheeky chuckle my grandfather makes whenever he's cheating at a board game.

With the flick of a switch, that mischievous gleam in the Doctor's eye betrays a hint of malice, or perhaps madness. Quick at work on the controls of his machine, the teachers' pleas to be released fall on deaf ears; his ship is launching, and they're along for the ride.

A wheezing, grinding cacophony rises, the swirling lights from the opening titles return, and all aboard have an expression of great discomfort. Clearly, travel through the extra dimensions is a little more uncomfortable than a ride on the London Underground (if such a thing is even possible). The wheezing noise fades away, and we cut to the outside of the box, but not to the junkyard. Outside the TARDIS is a barren landscape stretching as far as the eye can see, desolate and lifeless. Or is it?

Final Thoughts

So, that was an interesting start to what I hope will be an interesting series. The episode was perhaps a little slow to get going, but things really pick up at the halfway point, with some excellent decisions made by director Waris Hussein. In particular I want to praise the contrast between the dim junkyard and the bright interior of the TARDIS. The jarring transition leaves us as agape as the teachers. The mundane world of modern Britain falls away, and now we're in a place where anything can happen. Good performances all around, but especially from Hartnell, who has a real charm, even if I'm not quite sure as to the motivations of his Doctor character. Eccentric or plain mad? Mischievous or malicious? It's too early to say. The Doctor is an intriguing character, and I'm very excited to see more of his antics, and follow along on the adventure.




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Conventions/Performances, Magazine, Science / Space Race

December 1, 1963 Last stop (December 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

LosCon in Los Angeles!

It's been an exciting November for the Journey.  After a sad interlude on the East Coast, which saw the untimely death of our President, we flew back to Los Angeles for a small science fiction convention put on by the Los Angeles Science Fiction Society.  It was great fun, a real class act.  Not only did we get to put on a show (in which the assassination, of course, featured prominently), but we also met Laura Freas, wife of Kelly Freas, the illustrator who painted Dr. Martha Dane.  As y'all know, Dr. Dane graced our masthead until very recently, and she remains the Journey's avatar.

And for those of you who missed the performance, we got it on video-tape.

At last, success for NASA

I read an article in Aviation Weekly that noted that 1963 just hasn't been a great year for NASA space shots.  There have only been eight successful missions thus far.  Unlike in the old days (you know, five years ago), when satellites didn't fly because of balky rockets, now missions are more likely to be delayed for lack of funding on the ground or for thorny technical issues as mechanisms get more complicated.

But successes do happen, and on November 27, Explorer 18 soared into orbit.  Also known as the Interplanetary Monitoring Platform (IMP), it is essentially a deep space explorer.  At the closest point in its orbit, it zooms at an atmosphere-scraping 160 kilometers in altitude, but at its furthest, it flies up to a quarter million kilometers out — more than halfway to the moon.

IMP is the first of seven satellites that will monitor the sun's output over a long period of time, measuring its ups and downs over the course of its 11 year activity cycle.  It will also measure interplanetary magnetic fields, the speed and composition of the solar wind, and the strength of the cosmic rays that shower the solar system from intergalactic space.

In many ways, Explorer 18 continues the missions of Explorers 10 and 12, spacecraft that made incredible discoveries about our local space environment.  What makes IMP so special is its size and endurance: it will be in space much longer than its predecessors, and its more advanced instruments are capable of more refined measurements. 

It is also hoped that IMP will be for interplanetary space what TIROS is for Earth — a weather satellite providing up to date information on the environment "up there."  Thus, Explorer 18 will not only expand our knowledge of interplanetary physics, it will also be an early warning system, alerting astronauts as to upcoming solar flares and other potentially dangerous events. 

Pretty neat!

Last magazine of the year

Every month, the Journey does its level best to review every science fiction magazine that gets published.  As far as I can tell, we cover all the regular American ones plus the British New Worlds (only Science Fantasy, also British, escapes our coverage).  By tradition, Analog is the covered last, and thus, the December 1963 Analog is the last magazine of the year.  Once this one is reviewed, we can finally get down to the fun business of determining the stats: which mag had the best stories, the most consistent quality, the most women published, and so on.  Call it SFnal baseball.

So how was this last issue?  Read on!

The Nature of the Electric Field, by John W. Campbell

In addition to a nonsensical editorial, Editor Campbell wastes several oversized pages with the reprint of a century-old treatise on electricity.  I guess it's to show how times change, and therefore, we shouldn't be so quick to denounce things like Dianetics, reactionless drives, psionics, dowsing, and other pseudo-sciences.

One star.

Cracking the Code, by Carl A. Larson

Larson's article is on DNA and scientists' attempts to understand how a sequence of amino acids can be the blueprint for all of life's manifestations.  It's a subject that would have been better handled by Asimov…or really, anyone else.  On the other hand, some of Larson's poetical turns of phrase are cute, like analogizing cells to an alien race whose environment is so utterly foreign to our ken, and that's why it's taken so long to decipher their language.

Two stars, I guess.

Dune World (Part 1 of 3), by Frank Herbert

I was mistaken when I called this new serial Herbert's first novel.  He had a serial back in 1956 called Under Pressure that I must have read some seven years ago, but I couldn't tell you what it was about if you put a gun to my head.

Anyway, this new one seems to be generating a lot of buzz, and I can see why.  It features Paul, 15 year-old scion to House of Atreides, whose father, the Duke of Atreides, has been granted the fiefdom of Arrakis.  Arrakis — desert planet — Dune.  This barren wasteland, where water is worth its weight in platinum, offers but one export: Melange, the geriatric spice that affords immortality, cures ailments, and tastes really good, too.  As Arrakis is the only source of melange, control of the planet is a sought plum, indeed.

Except, the Duke knows it is a trap set by the planet's former masters, the Barony of Harkonnen.  In collusion with the Padishar Emperor, Harkonnen has hatched a complicated plan to humiliate and discredit (and probably kill) the Duke, a scheme which whose intricacy might even give Machiaveli pause.

There is a lot to admire in this new work.  It's a fresh universe, highly developed, with a lot of attention to detail and inclusion of many foreign cultural influences.  Women play a prominent role, with the genders being apparently somewhat segregated, each having their own spheres of power.  There are at least two important female characters, something I'm always delighted to find in my science fiction.

One of the aspects of Herbert's world is the conscious disdain for, and even ban on, the use of computers.  Instead, human "mentats" have been bred for the ability of calculation.  This not only creates an interesting new class of person, it neatly relieves the author of predicting the development of electronic brains.

Dune Planet is not, however, an unalloyed success.  In the hands of Cordwainer Smith or even Mack Reynolds, folks who have a deep grounding in other cultures as well as the writing chops to convey them, it would be a masterpiece.  Herbert, on the other hand, is a pretty raw writer.  His stuff can be creaky and dull, the viewpoint shifts from paragraph to paragraph, and his use of ellipses dots is…exuberant (they say we hate most in others what we dislike about ourselves; Herbert writes a bit like I did not long ago before certain editors whipped me into shape).

So, three stars so far, but I'm still reading and look forward to more.

Conversation in Arcady, by Poul Anderson

In George Pal's The Time Machine, Rod Taylor arrives at the far future and discovers humanity living under (seemingly) idyllic circumstances.  They no longer need toil for food, shelter, or clothing.  They do not fight each other nor feel the need to rule.  At first impressed, the time traveler is dismayed to find that the desire to advance, the struggle to improve has been lost.  In perhaps the most effective scene of the movie (at least, it was for me), Taylor finds shelves of books that crumble to dust at the slightest touch.

Poul Anderson's latest is a note for note copy of this scene with the exceptions that 1) Anderson's Eloi are not so simple and childlike, 2) there are no Morlocks fattening up people for supper, and 3) the time traveler can see nothing positive about the situation whatsoever.

I think Anderson is trying to say something poignant, that our race is nothing without the need to better itself.  Or perhaps he's striving for a subtler point — that those who only find meaning in struggle can never find peace, and maybe peace isn't a bad thing.  Or maybe he's saying both things at the same time.

I think he was going for just the first, though.  Three stars.

The Right Time, by Walter Bupp (John Berryman)

John Berryman's series is set in the current world but where psionics are common (but secret).  It's a perfect fit for Analog what with Editor Campbell's peculiar pseudo-scientific beliefs, yet somehow Berryman's stories manage to be good.  This one, about a telekinetic precog with the ability to predict and potentially heal a fellow's heart attack, is my favorite yet.  Four stars.

Thin Edge, by Johnathan Blake MacKenzie

Author Randy Garrett is back under the pseudonym he prefers when he writes about life in the asteroid belt.  This latest piece is about a Belter who is killed by Earthers for the secret of the super strong cording used for rock towing, and about the other Belter who comes to Earth looking for revenge.

It's written with some facility, but the Belters are always too clever and the Earthers too dumb.  A low three or a high two, depending on your mood.

All right!  It's time to tabulate the data for December!

Analog finished in the middle of the pack with 2.8 stars, above F&SF (2.1) and Fantastic (2.2), but below Galaxy (3.2), Amazing (3.2), and New Worlds (3.2), not to mention last month's issue of Gamma, which I didn't get to until this month (3.3).

There were 44 pieces of fiction between the seven magazines, four of which were written by women.  9% is fairly standard these days, sadly.  I'm not sure what's causing the decline, though the numbers were never that much better.

Next up, we'll be covering the UK's newest SF TV show, and beyond that, 1963's Galactic Stars!

Stay tuned.

[The party's still going on at Portal 55.  Come join us for real-time conversation!]

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TV

[November 29, 1963] An old doll's new tricks (Twilight Zone, Season 5, Episodes 5-8)

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by Natalie Devitt

The latest season of The Twilight Zone is back in full swing, complete with great storytelling and acting that still outshines most other shows on the air. For those of you who may not be staying up every Friday night to catch The Twlilight Zone, allow me to bring you up to speed.

The Last Night of a Jockey, by Rod Serling

In The Last Night of a Jockey, Mickey Rooney plays Michael Grady, a man who has based his self worth on his success as a jockey. When he is suspended from racing after being accused of race fixing, he isolates himself in his tiny apartment. All alone, he dwells on his fears that his career is over. After having devoted to his life to the race track, he worries that he will be left with few career opportunities, except perhaps as a driver to a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park.

Grady is small in stature, and this experience leaves Grady feeling even smaller, so he wishes one night to be taller. The next morning, he wakes up to find his feet hanging over his bed. He looks in the mirror and sees how he towers over everything in his studio apartment. Initially pleased with his sudden growth spurt, he declares, “I’m big, honey, you understand that? I’m b-i-g.” As the story progresses, he begins to realize that everything in life is a trade-off.

The Last Night of a Jockey feels like a bit like a chamber play. It all takes place in one room. Rooney is the only actor who is ever shown on screen, so Grady reveals information about himself and his feelings by either speaking to himself or through phone conversations, where the other characters are never present. The episode is only a half an hour, but even that felt a little too long because The Last Night of a Jockey does not have much going on visually. It could have used a little more emphasis on the lighting or maybe different camera angles to make it look less flat. The script relies almost too much on dialogue, which I hate to say because I like dialogue driven stories, but it can be difficult to do effectively when the other person’s reactions are never shown. In addition, The Last Night of a Jockey suffers from being one of the less effective The Twilight Zone entries with the message “be careful what you wish for.”

Having said that, Rooney really shows his dramatic range as Grady. His role in The Last Night of a Jockey stands in stark contrast to his breakout performance as Andy Hardy in all of MGM’s Hardy films. The Last Night of a Jockey receives two and a half stars from me, which is entirely for Mickey Rooney’s performance.

Living Doll, by Charles Beaumont

Living Doll tells the story of Talky Tina, a doll that, you guessed it, talks. Tina has recently found a new home with a little girl named Christie. Christie lives with her mother, played by Bye Bye Birdie’s Mary Laroche and stepfather, portrayed by Birdman of Alcatraz’s Telly Savalas. She and her stepfather, Erich, have struggled to build a relationship with one another. When Christie, played by little Tracy Stratford, first receives Tina, the doll seems like any wind-up toy, telling her, “I love you very much.” However, when Christie’s stepfather is alone with the doll, he soon realizes through a series of not so subtle hints that Tina is no ordinary doll. The first of which is her telling him, “My name is Talky Tina and I don’t think I like you.” Shortly after that, the doll winks at him. Testing the doll, he lights a match in its face and threatens to hurt to hurt her, only for Tina to react with, “Not really, but I could hurt you.”

Erich grows more and more suspicious each time he sees the doll. At one point, he theorizes that his wife has installed a walkie-talkie in the doll as some sort of prank, but he soon finds holes in that theory. Things continue to escalate. Fed up, Erich throws the doll in the trash. Thinking he is finally free from Tina, he receives a phone call with what sounds like Tina on the other end, now threatening, “My name is Talky Tina and I am going to kill you.” Startled by this, Erich checks on his stepdaughter in her bedroom, where he finds Tina next to Christie in bed. Things erupt into an all out war as he confronts Tina, but can he defeat a seemingly indestructible doll?

Living Doll is interesting because it can be looked from different angles. Is the doll’s behavior a reflection of Christie’s feelings towards her stepfather or rather or a reflection of Erich’s own insecurities? The story never really answers all of my questions, which I think makes the episode all the more frightening. Dolls, especially porcelain ones, can be scary, perhaps due to their incredibly life-like appearance. The episode certainly brings to mind Michael Redgrave’s living dummy in Dead of Night, and I would imagine that The Twilight Zone fans would probably be reminded of The Dummy.

The already strong story is topped off by very believable performances by all of the actors involved. Living Doll is easily one of the strongest episodes of the season, which is why I rate it at four stars.

The Old Man in the Cave, by Rod Serling

It is the year 1974, ten years since a nuclear war. One group of people who have survived it have had difficulty finding a reliable food source. When they finally do find some canned goods, conflict arises. Is it worth the risk to eat food that could have been exposed to radiation? To settle things, they look to the title character: the old man in the cave, a mysterious entity. The men and women in the group never see him, but he always gives reliable advice. His track record is so good that when word returns that the food is not safe, the people decide not to take a gamble on the possibly contaminated food.

Not long after, some soldiers, led by The Magnificent Seven’s James Coburn, arrive in town. Coburn plays the role of Major French. French and his men claim to know of other survivors, but he may not be completely trustworthy and could just be after the cans of food. Nevertheless, this sows the seeds of doubt and leads some folks in the town to question the old man’s words.

The Old Man in the Cave seems like it could be about anything — from religion to politics to technology. In addition, it could easily be about hardwired human behavior. In fact, the episode lends itself to so many different interpretations, which is what I think makes it an interesting watch. The work of actors like James Coburn and John Anderson do not hurt, either. While The Old Man in the Cave is not as strong as other The Twilight Zone tales that have taken place in a post-apocalyptic world, such as Time Enough at Last, it certainly is a worthy entry to the series. I happily give it three stars.

Uncle Simon, by Rod Serling

How much can a person take? This question never left my mind while watching Uncle Simon, an episode directed by Don Siegel, director of 1956's Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Television actress Constance Ford stars as Barbara, a woman who has devoted her life to caring for her cruel elderly uncle Simon, perfectly cast as theater and film actor Cedric Hardwicke. Each day Barbara endures insult after insult from her uncle. It may one day pay off when Simon passes away and she inherits his fortune, but is it worth the days she spends dutifully by his side at every beck and call until that day comes? When Simon is not busy looking for any reason to put Barbara down, he spends his time in the basement, working on an invention that he goes to great lengths to keep secret from Barbara.

One day Barbara decides that she is going to find out exactly her uncle is working on down in the basement, but he catches her breaking into his lab, which results in an altercation. Simon falls and Barbara allows him to die as a result of his injuries. After he passes away, Barbara is not really free from her uncle after all. In fact, the terms of his will state that she must care for his secret invention, which Barbara comes to find out is a robot, in order to inherit his estate. Simon has figured out a way to keep her trapped, even in death.

Uncle Simon is pretty depressing and difficult to watch. It’s easy to say Barbara should leave, but I am willing to bet most of us have had situations in life that where we tolerate things for much longer than we should, which is part of what makes this story so depressing. Simon certainly has a lot of memorable one-liners, some of which are quite good while others are a tad silly.

On the bright side, Uncle Simon does have Robby the Robot. I must add that while I sometimes complain that The Twilight Zone reuses too many things from Forbidden Planet and I know I sometimes fail to take into account the budget for television, the robot designed by Robert Kinoshita was very welcome, and certainly made a dark episode a little brighter. While not bad, Uncle Simon is a bit draining emotionally. Maybe that shows its effectiveness. I could just be the tone of this entry that I find so off-putting. In any case, I am going to have to I give it two stars.

All in all, The Twilight Zone continues to move along, with stories that still intrigue and challenge its audience. Living Doll and The Old Man in the Cave are certainly great examples. I must say that I look forward to the episodes that are still forthcoming.




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Magazine

[November 27, 1963] … Death, Doctors and Mythology ( New Worlds, November 1963)

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by Mark Yon

Hello again.

It is difficult to write about things fictional after world events of the last few days. Whilst I look on with horror at some of the observations of fellow travelers, the assassination has been noted here in Britain with a surreal quiet. The news, and indeed political commentary generally, has been oddly muted and yet remarkably acute. If comments at work and on my daily commute are anything to go by, the man on the street here has reacted with both revulsion and sadness. The world is a different place since last we spoke. Whatever your political persuasion, the event is a sobering one for us all.

Our BBC correspondent Mr. Alastair Cook, who writes a Letter from America every week for our radio summed it up for us so well. I cannot say it better than this master of the English language, so I leave his radio broadcast as an effective response via the spoken word

The surreal events of November 22nd have managed to alter what I was hoping to spend more time talking about this month. The debut of the BBC television science fiction series Doctor Who was made the day after the assassination.

Despite the grim news preceding the programme, I really liked it. I think the series has potential, so much so that I think that it is one of the most exciting things I’ve seen on British television recently, despite being mainly for a family audience, which limits its depth. The actor portraying the Doctor, Mr. William Hartnell, is by turns wonderfully enigmatic and impressively grumpy. I look forward to seeing where this series goes.

To the magazine, then.

This month’s cover is a surprisingly lurid shade of purple, which undoubtedly stands out, even if it makes the title print difficult to read. 

s-f and mythology, by Ms. Roberta Rambelli

Another factual piece this month for the Editorial, in the form of a transcribed lecture given at the recent Trieste S-F Film Festival.  It’s undoubtedly informative and educational, one for those who want to know the difference between their teratomorphical, their theriomorphical and their anthropomorphical categories of s-f. But it does seem to be an easy way out to writing an editorial – there’s no argument, no debate, no attempt to generate discussion here. As interesting as the article is, it doesn’t feel like an editorial. 

To the still annoying lower-cased-titled stories!

relative genius, by Mr. Philip E. High

And here we have the return of Mr. High, last seen in May 1963 with the underwhelming point of no return. By comparison, this story of penal reform is better. The story begins with a bit of a “Prisoner of Zenda/Count of Monte Cristo” situation, with a man in a luxury prison with no memory of who he is and why he is there. Our man plots his escape and the tale turns into an entertaining jailbreak story. It’s not a patch on other similar stories, but it was entertaining, though the twist at the end didn’t really work for me.  3 out of 5.

when I come back, by Mr. Jonathan Burke

This is a creepy tale of people seemingly being possessed by things from somewhere else through their dreams, and the consequences of what happens as a result. On first reading I thought it was OK, but this is one I keep coming back to afterwards, because of its unyielding bleakness. It’s not particularly new – I’m reminded of Jack Finney’s American version of identity theft, The Body Snatchers , for example – but it does prey on the reader’s imagination rather well. Consequently my favourite story of the month.  4 out of 5.

the cliff-hangers, by Mr. R. W. Mackelworth

Mr. Mackelworth’s latest is a tale of future corporate shenanigans as one big business tries to outdo another. It’s a little like Mr. High’s story this month in that it reads as a tale of one group of people trying to get one up on another, though this story is rather on the side of the nasty people, at least at first. All get their come-uppance in the end. This is the latest of Mr Mackelworth’s rather bleak visions of the future, which rests easily alongside his previous stories of future justice and personal freedoms. I don’t think it is one of his strongest, however.  3 out of 5.

no brother of mine, by Mr. Robert Presslie

Another returning writer. Mr. Presslie’s story this month is about something youngster Davey finds in the family’s nuclear fallout shelter, a creature which, despite its strange alien appearance, may have more in common with humans than we, at first, believe. I think it is meant to be sad, but I was strangely unaffected by it.  3 out of 5.

Tee Vee Man, by R. A. Hargreaves.

In a month that seems appropriate with Doctor Who beginning and the death of a man widely regarded as the first President of ‘the television age,’ here’s a story that shows how pervasive the box in our front room may become. It reminded me of Mr. Robert Heinlein’s Future History stories, in that it’s a story of proficient people getting on with their jobs in a bright new future. Here our capable hero is in charge of maintaining a global network of television signals via satellite and the consequences of what happens when a developing African country loses their connection. The feel is a little less positive than Mr. Heinlein’s “can-do” version, but it reads well, and I could see more stories from this scenario in the future.  3 out of 5.

The Dark Mind (Part 2 of 3), by Mr. Colin Kapp

The second part of Mr. Kapp’s serial continues in the same fast paced, relentless manner of the first. Our hero, Ivan Dalroi, was left last issue in a dilemma – that he was being put into transfinite space by Failway without any means of support. Unsurprisingly, the cliffhanger plot point is quickly resolved in a rather psychedelic manner and what should have been a disaster ends up as a triumph. Dalroi returns from transfinite space a different man to unleash vengeance on his enemies, as a weapon and not a victim. Trains derail, lorries crash and buildings explode as Dalroi travels between worlds and vanquishes his enemies. It all gets rather frantic as Dalroi’s power is described with increasingly purple prose worthy of 1930’s pulp fiction.  At one point his actions are shown by a series of words in bigger and bigger print, often with exclamation marks for emphasis, which seems a little unnecessary. Despite this, it’s still a fun read, even if some of the deathless dialogue is wince-inducing. 3 out of 5.

Lastly, we have the return of Mr. Leslie Flood’s Book Review page. This month Mr Flood comments on a number of novels and collections new to us but not to you: Mr. Walter M. Miller’s “very well observed” story collection Conditionally Human, Mr. James Gunn’s “brilliantly executed and conceived” The Joy Makers, Mr. Isaac Asimov’s story collection Nine Tomorrows (“Good stuff”) and two from Mr. Robert Heinlein: Methuselah’s Children (“Superlative science fiction of the grand scale”) and his juvenile Time for the Stars.

Of the books new to print here, Mr. Michael Moorcock’s fantasy hero Elric is given faint praise (Elric is “given an individual touch by deepening the purpleness of his prose and double-dyeing his mighty warrior with a dabbling of sorcery and insatiable blood-lust”), and even less positive is the review of Messer’s Greg and Geoffrey Hoyle’s The Fifth Planet, “a heavy-handed attempt to achieve topicality and neo-realism with a creaking plot.” Has Mr. Flood read any of the stories in New Worlds lately, I wonder?

In summary, this month’s New Worlds is a solid one, using the talents of a regular coterie of writers. The general feel is of standard work often well done but rarely outstanding, although this issue feels less erratic than some of the issues of late. The Editorial was an interesting one, even if it feels that something rushed out to fill a space. Nevertheless, in a time of uncertainty for sf magazines generally here, I guess that I should be glad that New Worlds has made it to the end of the year. There have been concerns over the year that, like some of its contemporaries, New Worlds may not do so.

And with that more positive note I will wish you a Merry Christmas from here in the UK.  Here’s hoping that 1964, despite the events of recent days, may turn out to be an optimistic one.  On a more positive note, The Beatles are doing a Christmas tour – 100 000 tickets over 30 shows, all sold out. Their pop dominance reigns supreme. Despite everything, some things still endure.

Until next month – and next year.




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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine

[November 25, 1963] State of Shock (December 1963 Fantastic)

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[At time of publication, the state funeral for our late President, John F. Kennedy is underway.  Given the tumult of the last few days, we can only hope this article marks the resumption of some kind of normalcy, such as may yet be possible…]


by Victoria Silverwolf

My colleagues have already written eloquently about the horror and sorrow felt by people everywhere on Earth after the murder of President Kennedy.  There is very little I can add.  The killing of alleged assassin Lee Harvey Oswald by nightclub owner Jack Ruby, witnessed on live television by millions of viewers, only added to my feeling of shock, leaving me emotionally numb.

Even listening to Top Forty radio reminds me of the recent tragedy.  Holding the Number One position is I'm Leaving It Up to You by Dale & Grace.  The popular singing duo were among other entertainers who waved at the presidential motorcade shortly before the shooting began.

I hope that loyal readers of this column will forgive me, therefore, if I approach the task of reviewing the latest issue of Fantastic with little enthusiasm.  As much as I would like to escape from the nightmare of the last few days, I'm afraid that even the limitless imagination of writers of science fiction and fantasy cannot completely erase bad memories.

After a Judgement Day, by Edmond Hamilton

A devastating plague caused by mutated bacteria threatens to wipe out humanity.  Two men remain on the Moon, facing the possibility that they are the only survivors.  They are part of a project to send mechanical replicas of human beings to the planets of other solar systems, in order to see if people can survive there.  Because the original purpose of the project is now meaningless, they decide to make use of the devices to make one last gesture on behalf of the human race.  This is a simple story with no surprises in the plot, but the conclusion has strong emotional appeal.  Three stars.

Lilliput Revisited, by Adam Bradford, M.D.

The name of the main character in this story is the same as that of the author, so I suspect it's a pseudonym.  An American physician discovers the journal of Lemuel Gulliver and sets out for the island of tiny people described in Jonathan Swift's famous book.  There he discovers that the Lilliputians are no longer ruled by an Emperor, but instead live under communism.  He also learns about their system of medical care, which places more emphasis on treatment than diagnosis.  Most of this story consists of the narrator's actions before he reaches the fictional island, and is not very interesting.  The author's intention is satiric, but his target is unclear.  The narrator seems to deplore the Lilliputian form of government, but admire the health care system.  In any case, this is a weak sequel to a classic work.  One star.

The Soul Buyer, by Keith Laumer

A professional gambler and his manager are the main characters in this fast-paced tale.  A disreputable fellow forces the gambler to accept a lottery ticket.  From then on, he has nothing but good luck, winning every poker game and every horse race.  Unsatisfied with his fortunate condition, he investigates the man who gave him the ticket.  This leads to strange and deadly encounters with alien beings.  This story is written in the style of hard-boiled crime fiction, with elements of science fiction and horror.  The constant action and weird elements in the plot keep the reader's interest, but one can't help wondering if the author is just making things up as he goes along.  It's an enjoyable rollercoaster ride, but somehow hollow.  Three stars.

Witch of the Four Winds (Part 2 of 2), by John Jakes

The arcane adventures of Brak the Barbarian continue in the conclusion of this short novel.  Trapped in the lair of a gigantic worm, he survives only to fall into the clutches of an evil sorceress.  Bloody battles with men and monsters follow.  There is very little here that could not be found in the yellowing pages of a 1930's issue of Weird Tales.  The author creates a convincing pastiche of Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan, but adds nothing new.  Two stars.

I cannot be certain if my negative review of this issue reflects its contents accurately, or if my mood distorts my taste in literature.  I can only wait for time to dull the pain of recent events, and hope that next year begins in a less depressing way than this year is ending.

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Book

[November 21, 1963] Words for bondage (Laurence M. Janifer's Slave Planet)

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by Erica Frank

I opened Laurence Janifer's latest novel, Slave Planet with trepidation. Slavery is an intense topic whose abhorrent nature should not be open for debate, but using it in the title implies some kind of conflict related to it. I doubted the plot was, "noble hero discovers planet of slaves, destroys evil masters, frees the oppressed," especially since the tag line is "a world at stake in a deadly game of galactic strategy." Strategy plus slaves means a focus on profits-vs-ethics that any decent person should reject without thinking.

Sure enough, by chapter two, we have the background: Fruyling's world is the source of a rare and valuable metal, and on it lives a race of "uncivilized" aliens who are forced to work to mine that metal. Most of the human Confederation employees on Fruyling's are born and raised there; they cannot leave, lest the general public realize that their beloved government, in which personal rights and liberties are treasured, keeps a whole planet of alien slaves.

The aliens are an obvious homage to Walt Kelly's cartoon alligator:

"They were called Alberts, after a half-forgotten character in a mistily-remembered comic strip dating back before space travel, before the true beginnings of Confederation history. If you ignored the single, Cyclopean eye, the rather musty smell and a few other even more minor details, they looked rather like two-legged alligators four feet tall, green as jewels, with hopeful grins on their faces and an awkward, waddling walk like a penguin’s. Seen without preconceptions they might have been called cute."

The story follows a handful of characters. The most interesting is Dr. Anna Haenlingen, the head of the Psychological Division, who designs the programs that keep the slaves happy. She is ancient and formidable. She's also the only woman who talks about something other than the men: she's focused on the future of the world after the Confederation discovers its unsavory practices.

For the most part, the men talk about how to train the aliens and about the ethics of slavery and servitude. (The women mostly talk about the men; even Dr. Haenlingen's assistant, who speaks with her about Division plans, gets caught up in a romance.) The aliens mostly talk about how good it is to serve the masters, and how hard it would be to live any other way.  It is clear that the author is not promoting this idea, but showing how hard it is to argue against it with simple, easy-to-understand vocabulary.

These are, after all, the same arguments used nearly a hundred years ago to justify human slavery: the proponents claimed that the slaves "had a better life" than they would in their "savage" homelands, and that servitude and "correction" of mistakes or insolence was necessary to be able to keep "helping" the slaves. The fact that the slave owners got profits and the slaves didn't, and that a major industry relied on slave labor, which was cheaper than complex machinery, was conveniently left out of the discussion.

Janifer, fortunately, does not leave that out. It is mentioned that machinery was considered, but rejected for its cost, which would raise the cost of the metal throughout the Confederation. Most of the human characters are uncomfortable with the fact of slavery; however, the book portrays their discomfort as a form of suffering, as if slavery were equally damaging to the humans and the Alberts. Some of the characters in Slave Planet constantly give their justifications for slavery, and the tone is so dry and matter-of-fact that it's impossible to tell if this is intended to be ironic or if Janifer is actually claiming that ownership of sentient beings is a complex issue with many sides.

Some of the on-planet employees believe they're "helping" the natives by providing them with health care and infrastructure they would not otherwise have. Others are pretty sure that no, there is nothing about the company's activities that are motivated by altruism. Some of the Alberts believe that the masters are good since they supply food and shelter, and that following the humans' orders is the natural way of things. Some disagree, but since they have been raised to serve the humans, they don't even have the language to explain why freedom is important to them, nor why they feel slavery is wrong.

Dr. Haenlingen is the only one in the book who does not try to moralize or justify slavery. She is aware that it is an economic arrangement, and not one created for the benefit of the Alberts. At first, she comes across as refreshingly level-headed and quite practical. Later, she seems almost evil: she would be willing to go to great lengths to protect the system on Fruyling's world. Her practicality prevents her from doing so; she is the first to recognize that once the public learns of the Alberts and how they are treated, the entire regime will quickly fall.


Commemorative stamp to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation

Overall, the book was a pleasant read, although the moralizing got a bit heavy-handed in spots. The book kept me interested. Although the ethical issues were straightforward, I could not guess what would happen next, even though there were no last-minute surprises. The world described in the opening chapters continues through the end. This is not a bleak story, but it is also not a cheerful one. The Alberts' philosophies were fascinating: they had arguments both for and against slavery in simple language, without the benefit of a well-rounded education. They did not seem stupid, just woefully lacking in vocabulary and a structure for their thoughts. The writing style is engaging and the characters distinct, but I rolled my eyes more than once at the human masters' claims that they were also victims. Most of the characters were a bit flat, but I would happily read an entire series about Dr. Haenlingen.

Three stars




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Magazine

[November 19, 1963] Fuel for the Fire (December 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

The once proud golden pages of F&SF have taken a definite turn for the worse under the Executive Editorship of onef Avram Davidson.  At last, after two years, we arrive at a new bottom.  Those of you with months remaining on your subscription can look forward to a guaranteed supply of kindling through the winter.

The Tree of Time (Part 1 of 2) by Damon Knight

Gordon Naismith is professor of Temporal Physics at an early 21st Century university.  We quickly learn that this 35-year old veteran has lost all memory of his life prior to a crash that occurred five years ago.  Moreover, he keeps suffering blackouts, during which people close to him are killed, fried by unknown energies.  Who is he?  Is he even human?  And what is the nefarious scheme of the pair of froggy humanoids from the 200th Century who kidnap Naismith before the police can nab him?

Damon Knight, an ofttimes brilliant author, seems to have taken a bet.  His challenge: to recreate the hoariest, most cliche-ridden dialogue and style of the "Golden Age of Science Fiction," the sort of stuff A.E. Van Vogt did much better.  66 pages is far too much space to take up with a joke.  And this is only Part 1! 

Two stars.

The Court of Tartary by T. P. Caravan

A stodgy professor of the classics wakes up as a bull the day his herd is scheduled for the stockyard.  Attempts to convince the wranglers of his humanity prove fruitless, and in the end (as an astute reader will have figured out), we learn that his circumstances were not unique.

Some might find it droll.  I thought it pointless.  Two stars.

The Eternal Lovers by Robert F. Young

The same Robert F. Young who gave us the brilliant To Fell a Tree has been reduced to cranking out overly sentimental shorts.  This one stars the astronaut whose ship misses the moon and the adoring wife who shanghais her own craft to join him on his voyage to nowhere.

The story relies on the notion that astronauts cannot stand the mental rigors of being alone in space for "any length of time," an hypothesis clearly disproven by Comrades Tereshkova, Bykovsky, Nikolaev, Popov, and Titov (not to mention Captain Cooper).  The rest of the details are equally woolly.  Even for a poetic tale, it's lazy.

Two stars.

Pete Gets His Man by J. P. Sellers

Don Kramer is hounded by Pete Kelly, the most famous, most handsome, and most fearless detective in the world.  Is Don a criminal?  A jealous rival?  The answer to this question is the brilliant spot in an otherwise pedestrian tale of a descent into madness.  Three stars.

Roll Call, by Isaac Asimov

Like Willy Ley over in Galaxy this month, Asimov has decided to phone things in for his nonfiction article.  It's about the origin of the names of the planets.  Schoolboy stuff.  Three stars.

What Strange Stars and Skies, by Avram Davidson

Damon Knight is not the only one aping an out of date style in this issue.  Editor Davidson, in an impenetrable imitation of interwar British composition, writes the tale of a do-gooder Dame who is abducted by aliens to do-good elsewhere.

I'm sure my readers will point out that Davidson has done a perfect send-up of some 1920s writer or other, thus exposing me for the boor that I am.  Nevertheless, I was only able to soldier halfway through this dreck before skimming.

One star.

While I appreciate Mr. Davidson's earnest desire to augment his (dwindling number of) readers' coal supply, all the same, I think I'd rather have my favorite SF magazine back. 




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Book

[November 17, 1963] Galactoscope (Three Ace Doubles!)

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by Gideon Marcus

Here at the Journey, we read virtually every piece of science fiction and fantasy published.  Our goal is not only to provide you with a complete encyclopedia of available works, but also to ensure we can make informed decisions come award-giving time.

Now, that's a lot of printed words.  It used to be that I would publish a separate article for each book, but with such a big backlog of books waiting to be reviewed, I decided it'd be best to do the queue all at once, like they do in the review columns of the various magazines (for instance, Amazing's "Spectroscope").

As it turns out, the volumes you'll hear about today are all Ace Doubles (published with two complete books back-to-back and reversed), so if you're a fan of these odd blue-and-whites, this will help you manage your 1963 shopping list.

Alpha Centauri or Die!, by Leigh Brackett

Leigh Brackett is a legend.  One of the relatively few women in the SFF arena, she is also a renowned scriptwriter, having penned the screenplay for The Big Sleep and Rio Bravo.  Brackett has managed to keep plugging along in Hollywood in spite of the prevailing opinion of the last decade that women just don't get "male" genres like crime dramas and westerns.

Her SFF works have been recommended to me with increasing volume and frequency so I was delighted to have a chance to enjoy her latest novel, luridly titled (as all Ace Doubles are) Alpha Centauri or Die!.  This book is really two stories in one: Part 1 involves a rebel movement on Mars led by the human, Kirby, and his love, the Martian humanoid named Shari.  They dare to steal a manually controlled space ark, filled to the brim with colonists eager to emigrate, and evade the robotic sentinel spaceships that patrol the solar system.  Their destination: an inhabitable planet in the triple Alpha Centauri system.

There's a lot of action and chases, both planetbound and in the black gulf between the stars, culminating in a an exciting scene in which a squad from the fleeing Lucy Davenport boards and deactivates a pursuing robot fighter ship.

Part 2 takes place on the newly colonized world, which shortly after settlement, is besieged by unseen, psionically equipped aliens that kidnap terrans via teleportation.  Will this diabolical race end the colony, or is it all a misunderstanding?

That the two sections are so different in subject matter and tone is no coincidence.  Alpha Centauri or Die! is a fix-up of two stories from the early 1950s, both published in Planet Stories.  I'd only previously read The Ark of Space (on which Part 1 is based) so I can't tell you if the two tales were ever meant to be linked.  In any event, the resultant novel is not a great introduction to Brackett's works.  Particularly frustrating is the short shrift the women characters get, even at the hands of a woman author.  With the exception of Shari, they are a herd of complaining housewives.  The Martian heroine fares a bit better, joining the raiding party against the robot starship and using her esper powers to help deduce the nature of the beasts of Alpha Centauri, but her exploits point out just how alone she stands in representation of an entire gender.

Aside from that, Alpha Centauri or Die! is a competent but not groundbreaking action piece, slightly less than the sum of its parts, not progressing far from the pulp era in which Brackett made her first appearances.

Three stars.

Legend of Lost Earth, by G. McDonald Wallis

It's common practice in SFF for women to initialize their first names (or flat-out take on male pseudonyms).  I have been told vociferously by one of my readers that this practice has nothing to do with any bias against women in the genre; nevertheless, it is puzzling that men don't seem to do it.  In any event, the "G." stands for Geraldine, and this is her second Ace Double, the first being The Light of Lilith, which I have not read.

Lost Earth takes place on the dusty, red world of Niflhel, its atmosphere foul with the soot of a million mines.  Even the memory of Earth, destroyed by a human-caused catastrophe, is taboo.  But Giles Chulainn is seduced by the teachings of a secret society that keeps the half-remembered dream of their home planet alive.  A cat and mouse game ensues, with Giles taking on the role, by turns, of a subversive, a double, and then a triple agent. 

The true nature of the barren colony world and its connection with the lost verdant fields of Earth is ultimately revealed, though by the time you get there, you might not care, having been increasingly bombarded with a bamboozle of pseudo-scientific mysticism, Celtic legend, and plot incoherence. Nevertheless, Lost Earth does have a strong first half and a nice flavor throughout.  Three stars.

Captives of the Flame, by Samuel R. Delany

Delany is another author I'm catching on his second Ace book, the first being The Jewels of Aptor, which came out last year.  He is noteworthy for being the first black SF novelist (I believe; correct me if I'm wrong).

Captives of the Flame takes place on a blasted Earth, the remnants of humanity confined to just one city and its adjacent shoreline and islands.  Around it lies a radioactive barrier that has constricted over the years: just two generations before, it engulfed the city's neighboring polis, forcing its inhabitants to flee.  It is implied early on that the barrier is not of human origin.

The novel details the efforts of a mismatched band of heroes, including an exiled member of the royal family rendered invisible by the radiations, a young woman acrobat/thief, and an ambitious Duchess, to determine the true nature of the alien incursion and to use the extraterrestrials' powers to right the bellicose, corrupt human government. 

On the plus side, the novel features an interesting world and a refreshingly varied set of characters, male, female, and alien.  On the red ink side of the ledger, the plot is sketchy, and viewpoints shift with little warning or context.  I have to wonder if this is the author's fault or simply a result of Ace's hatchety editing style. 

Three stars.

The Psionic Menace, by Keith Woodcott

Those in the know are aware that "Keith Woodcott" is a pseudonym for English writer, John Brunner.  And those who have followed this column since the arrival of author Mark Yon will soon find that The Psionic Menace is an Ace-style retitling of Crack of Doom, which appeared under the Woodcott name in two issues of New Worlds last year.  It's about a universe-spanning psychic distress call, and the efforts humanity takes to decipher it.

It is word for word the same book, which means you will enjoy it as much (or little) as the serialized version.  Mark gave it three stars.

The Rebellers, by Jane Roberts

What a beginning on this one!  Gary Fitch is an artist on a crushingly overpopulated Earth.  His job is to take old classics and make copies as vehicles for conveying government propaganda.  He and his colleagues live under lock and key in a barracks, barely receiving enough sustenance for survival.  Yet their situation is the enviable one for outside their prison walls lies the teeming masses of humanity, hungrier and denied access to the books and artworks the painters have.

One day, rioting plebeians storm the prison walls, providing Fitch an opportunity to escape — from the frying pan into the fire.  The artist hooks up with an insurgent organization, "The Rebellers" (why not simply "The Rebels?") but their motives aren't as simon-pure as advertised.  Worse yet, a virulent plague is spreading, threatening to wipe out the human race once and for all.  Can Fitch take over the remnants of local government to avoid complete catastrophe?

Roberts' book starts out strong but resolves abruptly and rather implausibly.  For instance, it is discovered that the plague largely affects pregnant women and mandatory birth control becomes the linchpin on which combating the virus turns.  If birth control is so ubiquitous and effective, why wasn't it in common use before our planet was choked with people? 

This is the first novel by Roberts, whose short fiction I've greatly enjoyed.  While this book is a mixed success, she may get the hang of the form in time for her next effort.  In any event, it's nice to see her back after a four-year hiatus.

Three stars.

Listen!  The Stars!, by John Brunner

Last up is the novelization of John Brunner's Listen! The Stars!, a novella that appeared in Analog last year.  The tale of the "Stardroppers," who use extra-dimensional telescopes to plumb the unknown depths of the universe was one of my favorites from Brunner.  In fact, I gave it a Galactic Star.

Unlike The Psionic Menace, this Ace version is significantly revised.  The story's no different, and all the same scenes are there, but Brunner (or the editor) has padded every paragraph with enough extra words to fill 96 pages.  Or maybe Analog's editor, John W. Campbell, had cut the original to fit the pages of his magazine.

In any event, both versions are good, worthy of five stars.  If you want a shorter read, find the magazine, and if you want something lengthier, well, you get this and the Roberts novel, too.

So there you have it, a typical grab bag of Ace production.  A good half of it was scoured from the pages of the magazines, and only the Brunner (under his own name) really hits it out of the park.  Still, at 20 cents a novel (40 cents for a double), all of it at least readable, you could do a lot worse.

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TV

[November 15, 1963] A Sign of Things to Come? (The Outer Limits, Episodes 5-8)

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by Natalie Devitt

Last month I questioned whether it was worth the average person’s time to watch The Outer Limits. Sure, The Architects of Fear was a great episode, but all of the other episodes during the show’s first month on the air were not nearly as strong. After continuing to watch the program for yet another month, I finally have reached a verdict, and the answer yes. The Outer Limits really seems to come into its own this month. Allow me to explain.

The Sixth Finger, by Ellis St. Joseph

In The Sixth Finger, Edward Mulhare stars as a scientist named Professor Mathers, who has developed a process that he hopes will improve the fate of mankind. The scientist hypothesizes that by speeding up man’s evolution that man will somehow become so intelligent that he will become more peaceful. Of course, the plan goes haywire when Mathers actually tests his hypothesis out on a real human subject. David McCallum, who you may have recently seen in The Great Escape, plays Gwyllm Griffiths, a miner who volunteers to be a test subject for Mathers. Shortly after the process begins, Mathers realizes that Griffiths is not only becoming smarter at a speed much faster than he ever could have predicted, but also that Griffiths has begun undergoing a number of physical transformations, including growing a sixth finger. Also, as time passes, Griffiths becomes more and more difficult to control.

This is the first very satisfying episode of The Outer Limits since The Architects of Fear. Part of what made both episodes so effective was the special effects makeup. Similar to The Architects of Fear, an actor in The Sixth Finger undergoes a pretty impressive transformation over the course of the episode. In this case, Griffiths’ hair thins while his skull increases in size. His ears take on more of a pointed shape, and let’s not forget the finger referenced in the episode’s title.

While I am sure the novelty may wear off at some point, I am finding myself a little excited to see what kind of alien or monster is going to be at the center of each week’s story. The creations made for The Outer Limits may not be quite level of some of Jack Pierce’s makeup for Universal’s movie monsters, like Frankenstein or the Wolfman, but they certainly are unique and ambitious for a weekly show. This is a case where great makeup really helps an already strong story reach its true potential. The Sixth Finger easily earns three and a half stars.

The Man Who Was Never Born, by Anthony Lawrence

The Man Who Was Never Born is about Joseph Reardon, an astronaut who accidentally drives his spacecraft thorough a time portal into the future. In the year 2148, he lands and realizes that much of Earth’s population has been almost entirely wiped out. The one survivor he does meet is a disfigured man named Andro. Andro is played by none other than North by Northwest actor Martin Landau, an actor who I am sure viewers of The Twilight Zone are very familiar with, having starred in Mr. Denton on Doomsday. He and Joseph decide to go back in time to stop the scientist responsible for creating Andro’s disfiguring disease, which left him looking a bit like Lon Chaney Sr. or Charles Laughton in the 1923 and 1939 versions of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I know, the premise sounds similar to just about any plot on The Twilight Zone. A recent story such as No Time Like the Past could come to mind. So, if you are thinking this is yet another run-of-the mill time travel tale, you’re in for a pleasant surprise. An episode with a familiar beginning suddenly turns into a surprisingly good retelling of Beauty and the Beast, which I must admit I never saw coming.

What really sets this episode apart is its impressive cinematography, which was clearly inspired by Jean Cocteau’s 1946 adaptation of the story. The Outer Limits’ take on the classic fairy tale also utilizes a lot of point-of-view shots. Each shot is very expressionist, so how Andro is shot differs greatly; depending on who is looking at him and their feelings towards him. The classic Hollywood high-key lighting, shots with Vaseline on the lens and the use of images superimposed on top of one another make the viewer feel like they are actually inside a fairy tale. The whole thing concludes with a very striking shot. The Man Who Was Never Born is a feast for the eyes, which is why I give this entry in the series four stars.

O.B.I.T., by Meyer Dolinsky

Senator Orville, played by Maverick actor Peter Breck, is investigating a murder that took place at a military base. While conducting his investigation, Orville begins to uncover what seems to be a poor work environment. Behind the work-place drama, he finds a machine called O.B.I.T., which stands for Outer Band Individuated Teletracer. O.B.I.T. not only tracks employees on the base, but also records anyone within a five hundred mile radius without their consent or knowledge. As troubling as that is, that is not the worst of it. Those who use it, cannot stop using it. One user describes the machine by saying, “No one can joke or laugh. It watches. Worst of all, I watch it. I can’t stop. It’s like a drug, a horrible drug. I can’t resist it. It’s an addiction.”

Initially, O.B.I.T. seemed more like something you would find on Perry Mason rather than on The Outer Limits. Not being a big fan of courtroom dramas myself, I was not terribly interested, but when the plot started to feel more like a George Orwell novel, I suddenly felt more engaged as a viewer.O.B.I.T. is not very visually stimulating; it is an episode that really is carried by the strength of its script and the ideas contained in the script. This is an episode that stayed with me, and it became more disturbing, the more I thought about it. For me, the total erosion of privacy is terrifying because it is something that could actually happen, but O.B.I.T. is interesting whether or not you subscribe to the belief that people with nothing to hide have nothing to fear. I give O.B.I.T. three and half stars.

The Human Factor, by David Duncan

The Human Factor takes place on a remote outpost in Greenland. One of the people at the outpost is Major Brothers, played by Houseboat actor Harry Guardino, a man who feels responsible for the death of one of his soldiers. A soldier who Brothers thinks may have returned to haunt him as a ghost. Major Brothers’ goes through great lengths to rid himself of hallucinations, and ends up paying a visit to Doctor Hamilton. Doctor Hamilton, played by All About Eve actor Gary Merrill, has recently created a device to help him read other people’s thoughts. Doctor Hamilton tries to use the machine on Brothers, only for things to not go as planned. The two men end up accidentally switching minds. Brothers is now in Hamilton’s body and poses a threat to those around him. Unfortunately, nobody will believe Doctor Hamilton, who is stuck in Brothers’ body.

The Human Factor is only fair. The acting is more than good enough, but without a strong story, the episode goes nowhere. On the surface, the episode has a little bit of something for everyone, including action and romance, but the whole thing really struggled to maintain suspense and my attention for the full hour. Sadly, the brief glimpses of the ghost haunting Major Brothers were the only moments of excitement for me. As a result, I can only give it two stars.

If this past month is any indication of where the show is headed, I am very excited. So, if you have not turned into The Outer Limits yet, I highly recommend you start. As the opening monologue says, “Experience the awe and the mystery which reaches from the inner mind to – The Outer Limits.”



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Magazine

[November 13, 1963] Good Cop (the December 1963 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Amazing is starting to resemble a good cop/bad cop routine, and this December 1963 issue is brought to us by the good cop. 

The cover story is To Plant a Seed, a longish novelet by Neal Barrett, Jr., in which this still fairly new writer earnestly wrestles with one of the more familiar plots in SF’s cupboard: Earthfolks go starfaring, encounter colorful primitive aliens, usually highly religious; observe them under a strict rule of noninterference; then the aliens start doing really strange stuff.  After the mystery is milked for a while, the revelation: typically, the aliens aren’t so primitive after all, or at least they are the remnants of something greater. 

Here the aliens are the barely humanoid Kahrii, who cultivate the Shari, plants which are the only other life form here on the extremely hot and otherwise barren Sahara III (and how likely is that ecology?).  The Shari provide their food, clothing, and everything else they have.  So why have they suddenly cut down their entire crop and begun using the pieces to build something in this desert that looks like a boat, which they could never have seen?  And should the human observers break the command against interfering to stop this racial suicide?  Barrett wrings a decent amount of suspense out of these questions; one knows generally what is going to happen, but why and how remain interesting enough. 

As for the human observers: these are Gito, the assigned observer (male of course), and Arilee, whose job title is Mistress, the latest of several in Gito’s career.  But she’s pretty smart for a Mistress—a Nine, in fact, on some completely unexplained social ranking scale—and Gito has allowed her to wander around the tunnels of the Kahrii and make her own observations.  Despite her formal designation as a male plaything, she is a significant actor in the story, and she ultimately saves Gito’s bacon.  And in fact that’s part of Barrett’s point, that she transcends the condescending role she occupies.  But it’s still frustrating and annoying to see a reasonably capable SF writer displaying more imagination in devising a completely alien society than in thinking about the likely future of his own.  Aside from that, this is a pretty solid performance on a well-established theme.  Three stars, towards the top of the range.

The other novelet is The Days of Perky Pat by Philip K. Dick, who has now had stories in three consecutive issues.  This one is far better than the others, which I described as resembling rambling stand-up routines.  Here he reverts to his long-standing preoccupation with life after catastrophe, in this case, as in many others, a nuclear war.  The characters, called “flukers” because it’s only by a fluke that they survived, live underground in the old fallout shelters, kept alive by the grace of the “careboys,” mollusk-like Martians who drop food and other goods to sustain the flukers’ lives. 

The adult humans are completely preoccupied with Perky Pat, a blonde plastic doll that comes with various accessories including boyfriend, which the flukers have supplemented with various improvised objects in their “layouts,” which seem to be sort of like a Monopoly board and sort of like a particularly elaborate model train setup.  On these layouts, they obsessively play a competitive game, running Perky Pat and her boyfriend through the routines of life before the war, while their kids run around unsupervised on the dust- and rock-covered surface chasing down mutant animals with knives.

Obviously the author has had an encounter with a Barbie doll complete with accessories, and didn’t much care for it.  This is as grotesque a black comedy as you’ll find, with plot developments reminiscent of Robert Sheckley, but not at all played for yocks.  Some years ago Anthony Boucher reviewed one of Dick’s books and used the phrase “the chilling symbolism of absolute nightmare.” Here it’s mixed with over-the-top satire and is still pretty chilling.  Four stars.

F.A. Javor’s Killjoy is a rather short story on another familiar theme: Earthfolk starfaring to find exotic alien fauna and hunt and kill it, with a twist that will probably be morally satisfying to many.  But the whole thing is hyper-contrived.  Two stars.

The oddest item in the issue is The God on the 36th Floor by Herbert D. Kastle, who has had a scattered handful of stories in the SF magazines (many more in other genres), but also edited the last two issues of Startling Stories, for what that may be worth.  His main credentials, though, are contemporary novels, mostly original paperbacks, with titles like One Thing On My Mind and Bachelor Summer.  So it’s not surprising that this story doesn’t read much like what you’d find in an SF magazine; it’s more like something adapted from a script for The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits. 

Protagonist Der (a nickname) works in Public Relations in a big company, but he’s had some sort of breakdown and can’t actually function any more.  Through happenstance he’s managed to stay on, collecting his salary and pretending to do a nonexistent job.  But a new man, Tzadi, shows up and seems to know a lot about him, and everybody else too.

Further interaction with the mysterious Tzadi suggests that Der is at even more risk than he feared; and things keep moving until we are in the territory of such paranoia epics as Heinlein’s They and Dick’s Time Out of Joint.  So it’s another familiar idea, but nicely developed through dialogue and visualization, not to mention unobtrusively slick writing.  Three stars, again near the top of the range. 

The issue’s biggest surprise is H.B. Fyfe’s The Klygha, which features more spacefaring Earth explorers (I refuse to say Terrans like the author; nobody but SF writers will ever use that word), lobster-like inhabitants of the planet they are exploring, another spacefaring explorer from somewhere else entirely (the Klygha), a cat, lots of telepathy, and some hidden motives. 

I am not saying more because the author has juggled these absolutely stock elements from the back pages of the last decade’s SF magazines into an extremely clever construction, and much of the pleasure of it initially is just figuring out what’s going on, in a way a little reminiscent of Bester’s Fondly Fahrenheit. It’s not quite on that level, but it’s certainly a little tour de force, much better than the other Fyfe stories I’ve read, mostly in Astounding and Analog, which are clever enough but entirely too gimmicky and superficial.  Four stars.

Sam Moskowitz is back with another “SF Profile,” Fritz Leiber: Destiny x 3, one of his better efforts: he doesn’t say anything overtly wrong or ridiculous, there are no gross offenses against the English language that cannot be attributed to Amazing’s proofreading, and (unlike his usual practice) he gives as much attention to Leiber’s recent work as to that of the ‘30s and ‘40s.  Indeed he goes so far as to describe Leiber’s latest novel, called The Wanderer, which has not even been published yet.  The title refers to the fact that Leiber has had two significant hiatuses in SF writing and thus has started his career three times, and also to an early novella titled Destiny Times Three, which deserves neither its present obscurity nor Moskowitz’s over-praise.  While Moskowitz skips over some of Leiber’s more significant work, that probably has as much to do with space limitations as his preference.  Three stars.

And just to put a cap on it, I read The Spectroscope, the book review column by S.E. Cotts, who generally gets little respect . . . and it’s not bad!  These are fairly perceptive reviews despite Cotts’ slightly stuffy manner.  No stars, since we don’t ordinarily comment on these things at all, but another pleasant surprise.

So: this is certainly the best issue of Amazing this year; in fact, you have to go back to March and April 1962 to find anything comparable.  But the bad cop, as always, lurks outside the interrogation room, slapping his blackjack into his palm.  Next month, we are promised more Edgar Rice Burroughs.

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