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Magazine

[June 28, 1963] Here Comes Summer… (New Worlds, July 1963)

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by Mark Yon


British heartthrob, Cliff Richards, sings "Here Comes Summer"

The coldness of the now classified as ‘record-breaking Winter’ (record-breaking for all the wrong reasons!) has given way to lighter and warmer things weather-wise here, which is good, bearing in mind what seems to be happening in British SF circles this month. Let's dive right in to the July 1963 New Worlds, shall we?

And we’re back to the no-picture, dayglo colours of earlier New Worlds covers.  The bilious green is certainly…eye-catching. 

Let’s Build A Bridge, by Mr. E.C. Tubb

Following the completion of his serial in June, this month Mr. E.C. Tubb points out that most s-f alienates itself from readers by the language it uses. In an attempt to bridge the gulf between “the outsider and the addict,” he suggests that, if s-f is to survive, it must entertain, communicate, educate and (most essentially for s-f) enchant.  Nothing wrong with this point of view, in my opinion. After some of the aggressive views exhibited of late, it’s nice to read a conciliatory piece, but I do feel that this need to make the genre accessible to ‘outsiders’ may be out of date. My impression is that most s-f readers like their use of special genre terminology, psi-beams and all, which makes them part of a select group who ‘get it.’

Refuge, by Mr. Joseph Green

As heralded last month, we begin with what is being touted as the last story in Mr. Green’s ‘Loafers’ series. Refuge is a so-so story of how humans and the Loafers continue to get along for planetary unity and mutual benefit. Here we see the consequences of this interaction, as one of the young Loafers decides to go ‘walkabout’ to determine the effects of such mutual co-habitation. Whilst many authors would try to use this to tell a story of communal compromise and future progress through social integration, here the ending is, instead, a rather typically British dystopian view. I’m sure that someone could make a connection between this and the current Race Riots going on in the USA, or Native American/American relations or even Australian/Aborigine relationships but, really, that would be pushing a simile too far. Nevertheless, it’s one of the better efforts in the series, if rather bleak, but nothing particularly ground-breaking.  3 out of 5.

The Last Salamander, by Mr. John Rackham

The return of another series, Mr. Rackham’s tale is another of his ‘X-men’ stories, those people with special powers last seen in Confession in New Worlds in May 1963. Surprisingly, for superhero stories, they’ve all been pretty mundane up to now, but The Last Salamander is a more interesting, if unoriginal, prospect. It’s basically an alien monster story where the creature is inconveniently found feeding off the energy generated in a power station. It all seems rather Twilight Zone-esque to me, but made depressing by the point that the automatic reaction of the humans is to decide how to kill it. 3 out of 5.

The Nothing, by Mr. Bill Spencer

Mr. Spencer last appeared in May 1962, although I remember nothing of the story myself. Ironically, The Nothing is another story of interstellar instantaneous travel (see also Mr. David Rome’s story, Moonbeam, back in the September 1962 issue) and the intrepid guinea-pigs who risk travelling into the unknown in doing so. Dare I say it, for a story about facing the unknown it’s nothing special – nothing of importance!  2 out of 5.

Pattern of Risk, by Mr. R.W. Mackelworth

You may have noticed that I’ve liked a lot of this recent author’s work in New Worlds, so I had high hopes of this story. Pattern of Risk is a story of what happens when the insurance risk of spaceships can be accurately predicted. Like Mr. Asimov’s psychohistory it’s a bit dodgy in its logic, and in the end, ironically, it lacks risk!  2 out of 5.

Point of No Return, by Mr. Philip E. High

Mr. High’s work has varied enormously of late, but this is a better one. It’s an unsurprising story of what happens when a new bioweapon is created on a planet to deal with insurgents. There’s a nice take on how machines and humans could one day be symbiotically combined in warfare – I’m sure it could happen one day – and it does raise ethical questions about such actions. Machines may one day take over the world! Not a new idea (Ms. Anne McCaffrey did something similar in a story a couple of years ago, for example) but done well. 3 out of 5.

Flux, by Mr. Michael Moorcock

And that leads me to the story that indicates the return of Mr. Michael Moorcock. Last time Mr. Moorcock appeared in New Worlds I was pleasantly surprised, and this time Flux also entertains. It is a time-travel story, but written with enough style and panache to make the tired old cliché seem new – the sort of entertainment which Mr. E. C. Tubb was suggesting s-f should be aiming for in his Editorial, I think. At times, the language is a little over-worked in purple prose – “What did it mean, he wondered, this Gargantua which sat perpetually bellowing athwart the whole content?” for example – but I liked the story’s energy and its take on travelling the timelines, even if it is rather similar to Mr. Spencer’s story in the same issue! Whilst it is not Mr Moorcock’s best – he may be best suited to continuing writing Fantasy rather than s-f – it is an intriguing advance on the linear nature of Mr. H.G. Wells’ time travels.  3 out of 5.

Book ~Reviews, by Mr. Leslie Flood

In this month’s selection, Mr. Robert Sheckley’s Immortality Inc. is ‘slickly written’, we see the reprint of Mr. Robert Heinlein’s Red Planet, another in the current trend of ‘catastrophe novels’, this time Mr. Robert Bateman’s When The Whites Went and Mr. Clifford Simak’s ‘also-ran’ They Walked Like Men. Readers of Galactic Journey will probably recognise most of the stories in a ‘superb assortment’ from The Best from Fantasy & SF – 10th Series. There’s a brief review of a controversial book, The Dawn of Magic.which gets a brief mention, that its study of scientific unorthodoxy should generate discussion, but seems to be here more because its authors are at the film festival mentioned next.

ARTICLE: The First International S-F Film Festival, by Mr. John Carnell.

After the film review last month (The Day of the Triffids is being shown here, coincidentally) we now have an advance notice of this cross-genre event in Trieste, even though it is actually over by the time we’re reading this.

There’s nothing much to get excited about here, although the event itself looks like fun, and I am pleased that the event celebrates the international nature of s-f. It is so easy to become parochial in such matters, if you are not careful. There will be a report next month, evidently.

In summary, the July issue of New Worlds is odd, frankly. There’s a combination of old and new, but overall it’s a bit of a mess. Strangely, the stories I hoped would like have underwhelmed, whilst some of the more mundane offerings have been better than I was expecting. It really does seem to reflect that transition of the genre, from the old to the new, but I’m not sure that it’s entirely successful.

Until next month..




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Science / Space Race

[June 24, 1963] First Ladies (July 1963 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The most inspiring news this month, at least for anyone interested in humanity's first tiny steps away from our home planet, was the fact that Soviet cosmonaut Valentina Vladimirovna Tereshkova became the first woman in space.  She orbited the Earth forty-eight times aboard Vostok 6, landing safely after nearly three days inside the tiny spacecraft.

This was certainly a welcome distraction from the continuing battle in the United States over civil rights.  On June 11, Governor George Wallace stood in the doorway of Foster Auditorium at the University of Alabama in an attempt to block desegregation of the school.  Only after the National Guard arrived to remove Wallace did he step aside.

The next day, in Jackson, Mississippi, NAACP activist Medgar Evers was murdered, shot to death in his driveway.

The same day, President Kennedy addressed the nation on the subject of civil rights.

It ought to be possible for American consumers of any color to receive equal service in places of public accommodation, such as hotels and restaurants and theaters and retail stores, without being forced to resort to demonstrations in the street, and it ought to be possible for American citizens of any color to register and to vote in a free election without interference or fear of reprisal.

Let us hope that all Americans take these words to heart.

Those of us wishing to escape from this distressing conflict can go out to a movie theater and spend four hours watching Cleopatra, said to be the most expensive film ever made.

We can also enjoy the novelty of listening to Japanese crooner Kyu Sakamoto singing Ue o Muite Arukou (I look up as I walk).  Despite having been given the inappropriate English title Sukiyaki, this lovely, gently melancholy tune has reached number one on the US music charts.

And in the vein of literary distractions, one can do worse than a science fiction magazine.  Given Tereshkova's recent achievement, it's appropriate that the latest issue of Fantastic features a pair of firsts from women.

Artist Jacquelyn Blair, who has previously done interior illustrations for editor Cele Goldsmith's magazines, provides the cover art.  Not only is this the first time she has moved from the inside.  This is also the first time she has received credit under her full name.  Earlier issues simply listed her as Blair.  This seems to be standard practice for interior artists, so I don't think it was an attempt to hide her sex. 

Blair is not the first woman in her field.  Perhaps the most famous female illustrator of fantastic fiction is Margaret Brundage, who provided many covers for Weird Tales.  In any case, Blair's cartoonish cover properly matches the mood of the magazine's lead story…

The Trouble with Tweenity, by Jack Sharkey

A scientist discovers that an infinite number of worlds exist between normal matter and antimatter.  To solve the near future's extreme traffic congestion, the President of the United States uses devices that allow people to travel to these worlds.  All sorts of problems result.  Attempts to solve these dilemmas lead to further complications.

Typical for the author, this is a silly farce.  The science is complete nonsense, even for a comedy.  Much of the story is pure exposition.  One or two jokes provide mild amusement.  Two stars.

He That Hath Wings, by Edmond Hamilton

This month's reprint comes from the July 1938 issue of Weird Tales.  A baby is born to a woman who dies in childbirth.  She and the infant's father, already dead, were exposed to radiation in an electrical explosion.  The child has hollow bones and special muscles to control the wings he develops.  He grows into a man who can fly.  He falls in love with a woman who returns his affection, but cannot allow herself to marry someone the world thinks of as a freak.  The man must choose between flight and romance.  Sacrifice and tragedy follow.

Although this story begins in the old-fashioned style of pulp fiction, it soon becomes poetic.  The author's descriptions of the joy of flying are particularly effective.  A minor quibble is that the scientific explanation for the man's mutation is not convincing.  This emotionally powerful tale would have been even better as pure fantasy.  Four stars.

A Hoax in Time (Part 2 of 3), by Keith Laumer

In the first part of this serial, our three protagonists – a wealthy idler, a carnival performer, and a robot in the form of a beautiful young woman, created by a super-computer – wound up in the remote past.  The idler and the robot escaped.  In this installment, they return to rescue the performer, only to find that thirty years have gone by.  While waiting for the others, he helped the savage people of the past progress into healthy, self-reliant individuals.  When the three go back to their own time, they find that his efforts have changed the present.  In particular, the super-computer no longer exists, leaving them unable to journey through time again and put things back the way they were.

This part of the novel is less comic than the first.  It also has less action and more talk.  The author creates an interesting alternate version of reality.  Although the world he depicts has its flaws, it seems intended as a functioning libertarian society.  The author's philosophy also comes through in the final section of this installment, when the idler goes through an intense training program of self-discipline in order to become a valuable member of his new home.  The story is never boring, even when it becomes nothing more than a discussion of ideas.  The performer's ability to bring technology to the prehistoric people, in the manner of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, strains credibility.  Three stars.

The Recurrent Suitor, by Ron Goulart

This is a sequel to last month's story Plumrose.  The narrator, a man of 1961, is still stuck in 1897.  The occult detective Plumrose brought him there with a time ray.  He serves as the detective's reluctant assistant until Plumrose can repair the time ray.  In this story, the mismatched pair help a young man rescue his fiancée from a family curse.  As with the previous story, this is a light comedy, poking fun at old-fashioned Gothic fiction.  Three stars.

A Contract in Karasthan, by Phyllis MacLennan

This is the first published story by the author, and one hopes that it will not be the last.  A man journeys around the world in search of the magical place for which he yearns.  When he finds it, he must decide whether to remain or return to mundane reality.  This is a delicate, moody, dream-like fantasy.  It has the flavor of a myth.  The author's elegant style casts a spell over the reader.  Five stars.

Final Audit, by Thomas M. Disch

In the Nineteenth Century, a clerk has a peculiar form of precognition.  Although he fills out a book of postal expenses one month after the actual transactions, he can see one month ahead.  In other words, he knows what he is going to write in the book one month in the future, dealing with the expenses made on the day he sees them.  This strange ability seems useless, since it deals with such trivial matters.  Over many years, the clerk tries various ways to turn this to his advantage, without luck.

This is an unusual story, written in a deliberately old-fashioned style.  Although it is not a comedy, one can't help feeling that the author has his tongue firmly in his cheek.  Although the ending is predictable, the portrait of a life wasted in pursuit of an impossible goal is effective.  Three stars.

All in all, it has been a banner month for women in science and science fiction.  Let's hope that Tereshkova, Goldsmith, Blair, and MacLennan continue to serve as role models for other pioneering women, in the far reaches of outer space or deep within the human imagination.

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Movies

[June 22, 1963] Damned if they do (the movie, The Damned)

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By Ashley R. Pollard

The Cold War is never far from our thoughts, but in the darkness there is light.  The light that is the Russian space programme, leading the way with the first woman in space.

On June the fourteenth Valentina Tereshkova was launched aboard Vostok Six.  She ascended on a pillar of flame to join fellow cosmonaut Valery Bykovsky in orbit.

Together they mark the first time two spaceships have been in orbit at the same time, and of course the first time a woman has been sent into space.

If only all the Cold War news was as exciting and optimistic as this.

By contrast our entertainment industry seeks to promote fear.  And what generates the most fear in these days of the Cold War is atomic radiation.  It is the snake oil of plot devices that can be used to justify any idea.

When in doubt, radiation can be relied upon to supply the right McGuffin, be it to make things large or small, to drive the story.  For example, the enormous monster in The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, the giant ants in Them, or Godzilla, to the other extreme shown in The Incredible Shrinking Man.

Radiation also figures in The Damned aka these are The Damned, this new movie, made by Hammer Film Productions. It was shot in Britain last year, but has only now been released.

Before I go further, The Damned should not be mistaken as a sequel to the 1960 movie, Village of the Damned, based on the novel The Midwich Cuckoos by John Wyndham.  Despite the similarity of the titles they're two entirely different stories.

The Damned is an adaptation of H. L. Lawrence's story The Children of Light.  This novel came out in 1960 and it passed me by without impinging on my consciousness.

Having hunted down a friend who has read the book, I can say The Children of Light is about as far from a Wyndham cozy catastrophe as one can get.  It's quite grim.

The novel tells the story of Simon who has murdered his wife after he discovered she was having an affair with another man.  He's on the run when he encounters a vicious gang, whose leader has a half-sister, who falls for Simon.  She helps him escape the gang, and they hide in a farmhouse, still on the run from the law.

Up to here the story is quite mundane.  There's no real hint that it's set in the future, as the setting feels very contemporary.

Then the secret is revealed.

Radiation from atomic fallout has lowered the birthrate over the last couple of generations.  Ultimately, everyone will become sterile, which is being hidden from the people by the government.

From here we get to meeting the children at a secret school, one of whom is named, George Orwell.  They're described as having platinum hair that sparkles.  Shades of Wyndham here though.

The plot then evolves by introducing a reporter who is searching for Simon because he believes the government reporting his death, while trying to escape in a mine accident, is a cover-up.

It is.  It's to cover-up the truth about the existence of children who are all radioactive.  The government has a plan.  The children are being groomed to become the next generation after the human race dies out.

And the government will go to any length to protect the plan, and the ending of the book is deeply dark, cynical, and paints a black picture of the establishment who will commit any crime to further their agenda.

It's a pretty bleak book.

The film is in many ways better than the book.  As in it's bleak, but entertainingly so because of the actors performances.

The Damned starts on an upbeat note, with Simon enjoying a boating holiday off the south coast of Britain, played by American actor Macdonald Carey.  Whom I'm told is known as "The King of the Bs."

Simon is recently divorced, and he meets a young woman called Joan while walking around Weymouth.  She's played by Shirley Anne Field, who has been associated with John F. Kennedy, and starred in various comedies, including Man in the Moon.

Then the story takes a left turn into darkness.

Her brother, called King, is played by Oliver Reed who has starred in another Hammer film, Curse of the Werewolf.  He's known as a bit of a bad boy, which means his portrayal projects a convincing amount of menace.  He also steals every scene he's in with a totally magnetic performance.

King is the leader of a Teddy Boy gang who mug Simon for his wallet.  After being mugged, Simon goes back to his boat.

The next day Joan appears and explains to him that her brother is insanely jealous of her being with other men.  I understand that the implication of "incest" was one of the reasons for the film's release being delayed.  The other being the portrayal of gang culture.

Simon and Joan start a relationship, but their movements are being monitored by the gang.  So when they visit a house owned by Freya, a women who Simon previously met in a cafe while exploring the delights of sunny Weymouth, they're horrified to discover that the gang has come and surrounded the place.

But they manage to escape and end up in a nearby military base run by a sinister scientist called Bernard.  After being questioned as to what brought them to the base they're allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, King doesn't give up that easily.  He's lain in wait.

When Simon and Joan leave, King pursues them.  During the chase they descend a cliff where they stumble upon a cave.  There they find nine children all aged eleven.  Named I noticed after the Kings and Queens of Britain.  King has followed them and the story unfolds.

The caves are part of a network that leads back to the military base.  The children use the cave because they think it's unknown to the military.  It's not, and things deteriorate when men turn up in radiation suits to remove Simon, Joan, and King.

The reveal is that all the children are radioactive, and the three of them have been exposed to a lethal dose of radiation.  Though they escape, it doesn't end well.

With the closing of the film, we learn that the children were all born radioactive after a nuclear accident.  The government is holding them because they're immune to nuclear fallout, and they'll be able to survive when the inevitable nuclear war comes.

All a bit horrifying.

And, just to rub it in that Bernard is "evil," we have a scene where he kills Freya after she discovers his plan for the children.

This is what I would call a watch once movie.  It rattles along, and the performances by the cast are good.  Especially Oliver Reed's, who is able to project a real sense of menace.  But, it's not what you would call a hopeful story, and might not be to everyone's taste.

Far better to look to the stars, and live in hope of a brighter, better future than one where the Earth has been destroyed by a nuclear war.  So, to end on a positive note, congratulations to both Valentina Tereshkova and Valery Bykovsky for setting a new double space record.

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Magazine

[June 18, 1963] Eastbound for Adventure! (July 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Galactic Journey approaches the completion of its fifth year in publication, and we delight in the increasing variety of travels we've been able to share with you.  We started with science fiction digests and real-life space shots, expanded our coverage to movies and television, and then dove whole-hog into all aspects of culture, including music, politics, and fashion.  We even broadened our geographic scope, with British correspondents Ashley Pollard and Mark Yon, and our newest teammember, Cora Buhlert from West Germany.

One constant throughout, dating back to our third article, is the coverage of physical journeys of the Traveler family.  And so we tread familiar ground in two respects as the Journey reports for its fourth time from the near-mythical land of Wa, the country of Japan.

We touched down the afternoon of June 10 after a long but thoroughly pleasant trip across the Pacific in first class.  Leigh Brackett was my traveling companion, though the conversation was strictly one-way.

The next day, we took a quick flight from Tokyo to the industrial city of Nagoya, third biggest in the nation.  Renowned for its drab ugliness, nevertheless we like it, not for the least reason the presence of three good friends — one native and two transplants. 

After a delicious lunch, we all gathered in the hotel room and performed music together (Nanami and the Young Traveler are both accomplished ukelele-players). 

We had just one full day after that in Nagoya, and we used the time to good advantage, exploring the many shopping and dining options.  Despite June being monsoon month in Japan, rain was sparse and the temperature reasonable (though the humidity rivaled that of pre-Mariner Venus…)

For the last five days, we have been back in the nation's capital.  Tokyo is a city in transition, busily preparing for the Olympics next year.  In addition to the remodeling of the Shibuya district, work is being completed on the new bullet train that will reduce the trip from Osaka to Tokyo (about the same distance as Los Angeles to San Francisco) to just three hours.  Would have been nice on our trip this time around…

My primary destination this time around was Jimbouchou — Bookseller's Row — where dozens of bookstores crowd a cluster of avenues.  I've never seen so many volumes crowded together in one place!  However, the subject matter tended to be rather dry and abstruse at most of the places, and I made most of my scavenging finds at the second-hand shops around the various universities. 

As for the rest of the time, we shopped, we dined, and we walked…endlessly.  More than five miles every day. 

One "highlight" of the trip was the chance to watch King Kong vs. Godzilla in the cinema.  There will be a report.

I also found time to enjoy to enjoy the July 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction, the fourth issue of this venerable magazine I've read in Japan.  How did this set of excursions compare to the real-life adventure I am currently enjoying?  Read on and find out!

Glory Road (Part 1 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

Most of the issue is taken up by the first half of Heinlein's latest novel.  Evelyn Cyril "Oscar" Gordon is a remarkable young man plagued by hard luck: a skilled athlete saddled with a losing team; an abortive engineering student sent to fight (and grievously wounded) in Vietnam; a winner of the Irish Derby sweepstakes whose ticket turns out to be counterfeit.  Things look up when he answers this classified ad, tailor-made for him:

"ARE YOU A COWARD? This is not for you. We badly need a brave man. He must be 23 to 25 years old, in perfect health, at least six feet tall, weigh about 190 pounds, fluent English, with some French, proficient in all weapons, some knowledge of engineering and mathematics essential, willing to travel, no family or emotional ties, indomitably courageous and handsome of face and figure. Permanent employment, very high pay, glorious adventure, great danger. You must apply in person, rue Dante, Nice, 2me étage, apt. D."

Gordon's employer is the unearthily beautiful "Star," part Amazon, part Fae.  Along with her aged but capable assistant, Rufo, the trio head off into a fantastic dimension on an errand whose purpose is known only to the mysterious magical lady.  There, they run into golems, explosive swamps, easily offended hosts, and many other dangers.

Glory Road is Heinlein's answer to Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions, and the closesness with which it hews to the predecessor only highlights its inferiority.  Anderson's tale was fun and subtle, his characters well-realized.  Heinlein, as we saw in his last book, Podkayne of Mars, can't seem to portray anyone but Heinlein these days.  When Oscar and Star start mooning at each other, it's like watching old Bob seduce himself. 

I did enjoy the first 30 pages or so, detailing Gordon's pre-adventure life, however, and there are moments of interest along the way.  But if you're looking for the next Starship Troopers or The Menace from Earth, this likely won't be it.  Three stars.

Success, by Fritz Leiber

The creator of Fahfrd and the Grey Mouser offers up this fantasy vignette, a distillation of the genre in four pages.  Is it satire?  Parody?  Or the only fantastic story you'll ever need to read?  Vividly written but inconsequential.  Three stars.

The Respondents, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Pretty words from one of F&SF's resident poets.  Three stars.

With These Hands, by Kenneth Smith

The first SF publication by this college freshman, this is a tale of an artless alien (both descriptors used literally) unable to contribute to Earth's cultural beauty despite his desperate admiration.  It starts off strong, but the ending is a bit talkie and mawkish.  Nevertheless, three stars, and let's see some more!

The Isaac Winners, by Isaac Asimov

A rather lackluster piece this month, just a list of the top 72 scientists in human history.  The best part of the article is Asimov's justification for the trophy's name (after Newton, of course!) Three stars.

As Long as You're Here, by Will Stanton

F&SF perennial, Stanton, gives us a both charming and chilling tale about a couple that digs a deep shelter to avoid the hell of nuclear annihilation only to find Old Nick digging upwards to expand his domain in similar anticipation.  It stayed with me.  Four stars.

McNamara's Fish, by Ron Goulart

Max Kearny, spiritual private eye, is consulted individually by both members of a married couple, who both fear the other partner is being unfaithful.  Is something fishy going on?  Yes!  Indeed, in this case, the troubles stem from the meddling of a venal water elemental.  Goulart's Kearny tales are always glib and enjoyable, though this one is less substantial than most.  Three stars.

Thus ends a pleasant but not superlative issue of F&SF, an issue more notable for the environs in which it was read (on a rock under a waterfall near a shrine; in the lounge of a fancy Nagoya hotel; on a train traveling in the shadow of Mt. Fuji) than its contents. 

See you in two days when I discuss the most amazing events happening just a few hundred miles over our heads as we speak…

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Magazine

[June 16, 1963] Blues for a Red Planet (August 1963 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The planet Mars and its inhabitants have long been favorite themes for science fiction writers, from The War of the Worlds to The Martian Chronicles.  Will the age of space travel put an end to our wildest fancies about that alluring world?

The Soviet spacecraft intended to study Mars have all failed.  NASA's Mariner program, so successful in studying Venus, is not scheduled to turn its attention to Mars until next year.  Because the red planet is still something of a mystery, authors are free to use their imagination for a while yet. They may create a world where humans can live, or depict Martian canals and the civilization that created them.

The third issue of Worlds of Tomorrow upholds this tradition, with the first section of a major new novel set on Mars.

All We Marsmen (Part 1 of 3), by Philip K. Dick

The latest work from the author of last year's critically acclaimed alternate history novel The Man in the High Castle (which got only a mixed review from our esteemed host) is set on a traditional version of Mars.  There are humanoid Martians (called Bleekmen), although they are a dying people.  There are canals, although they are in a poor state of repair.  Humans can survive on the planet, but only under harsh conditions.

By the end of this century, human colonies exist on Mars.  Founded by Earth countries, businesses, or labor unions, they are under the control of the United Nations.  Against this background, the reader is introduced to several characters.

Silvia Bohlen is a housewife and mother.  She takes barbiturates to sleep and amphetamines to wake up.  Her husband Jack is a repairman.  While flying out on an assignment to fix a refrigeration unit, he gets a call from the UN to aid a group of Bleekmen dying of thirst.  During this errand of mercy he meets Arnie Kott, head of an important union, whose own helicopter flight has been interrupted by the emergency.  Kott despises the Bleekmen, and argues with Jack about the need to help them.  Despite this disagreement, he comes to respect Jack's skill, and hires him for an important repair.  In a flashback sequence, we learn that Jack came to Mars after an episode of schizophrenia.

Norbert Steiner and his family live next to the Bohlens.  He works as a health food manufacturer, and secretly imports forbidden luxury foods from Earth.  His son Manfred is severely autistic, and lives at a special facility for children with mental or physical disabilities.  A shocking event involving Steiner leads to a crisis for his family and his neighbors.

There are many other characters I haven't mentioned and multiple subplots.  It's not yet clear what direction this novel is going.  There are hints that schizophrenics and autistics have precognitive abilities, and I believe this will be a major theme.

Some readers may be dismayed by the lack of a simple, linear plot.  Others will find the novel depressing, as so many of its characters are unhappy with their lives.  The picture it paints of a Mars inhabited by a large number of humans by the 1990's is likely to seem unrealistic.  However, the author appears to have created a complex, serious work of literature, worthy of careful reading.  Four stars.

A Hitch in Space, by Fritz Leiber

In a distant solar system, two men are aboard a spaceship on a routine mission.  One of the men develops a bizarre psychosis.  He imagines that his partner, the narrator, is really two people.  When he's around, he calls him Joe, and thinks of him as a hero.  When he's gone, he speaks to the imaginary Joseph, and insults him.  The narrator puts up with this weird delusion, but when he goes outside the ship, the situation becomes dangerous.

This story combines psychological drama with a technological puzzle that could have appeared in the pages of Analog.  As you'd expect from this author, it's very well written.  The situation is interesting, if somewhat artificial.  Three stars.

To the Stars, by J. T. McIntosh

A manufacturer of starships is blackmailed, on the basis that his ships are more dangerous than others.  He disposes of this threat easily enough, with evidence that they cause no more deaths than any other ships.  What is kept secret, however, is the fact that his ships are vulnerable at a particular moment during their time of use.  When his daughter leaves on her honeymoon aboard one of his ships during this hazardous time, he takes measures to prevent a possible disaster.

I found the plot of this story contrived and inconsistent.  The female characters are more fully realized than usual for this author.  Unfortunately, the effect is ruined by an irrelevant paragraph explaining that women will never be equal to men in the business world, even two centuries from now.  The reasons given are "women never trusted women" and "women didn't really want equality."  Two stars.

The New Science of Space Speech, by Vincent H. Gaddis

This article discusses research into ways to communicate with extraterrestrials.  It covers a lot of ground, from radio telescopes to dolphins, and from artificial languages based on mathematics to unexplained radio echoes.  Some of this material is interesting, but the author covers too many subjects in a short space to do more than offer a taste of them.  Two stars.

A Jury of Its Peers, by Daniel Keyes

A professor of physics invents a small computer that has consciousness.  During a lecture he tells the students that the computer can think, forgetting that the state has passed a law against making such a claim in the classroom.  A trial follows, with the computer itself called as a witness.

This scenario is clearly based on the famous Scopes Trial of 1925, which tested the law against teaching human evolution in Tennessee schools.  Ironically, the law against teaching machine intelligence is in New Jersey, and the lawyer defending the professor is from Tennessee.

If this were merely an allegory for academic freedom, the story would be only moderately effective.  However, the author has more in mind.  The professor must face his own limitations, as well as those of the computer, when it gives its testimony.  Although not the masterpiece one might expect from the creator of Flowers for Algernon [If he had a nickel for every time a reviewer said this…(Ed.)], this is a fine story with depth of characterization.  Four stars.

The Impossible Star, by Brian W. Aldiss

Four astronauts explore the region of space beyond the Crab Nebula.  A problem with their spaceship strands them on a small, rocky planetoid near a star of such immense mass that not even light can escape from it.  (This may seem fantastic, but in recent years physicists have speculated that an object of sufficient size could produce a gravitation pull so strong that this could happen.) The men struggle with the bizarre effects of the black star.  The stress of their situation soon has them at each other's throats.  The concept is an interesting one.  Even in an issue full of downbeat stories, this is a particularly bleak tale.  Three stars.

Until the Mariner project takes away our dreams of glittering Martian cities, rising from ruby sands along emerald canals, let's keep reading about that fascinating world in the pages of our Earthling magazines.

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Magazine

[June 13, 1963] THUD (the July 1963 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Jack Sharkey’s serialized novella The Programmed People, which concludes in this July 1963 Amazing, describes a tight arc from mediocre to appalling and lands with a thud.  It opens with our hero Lloyd queuing up with everybody else in the Hive in front of the Proposition Screens in order to Vote before the Count.  Yes, it’s another stilted dystopia (a small isolated world run by a big computer, the Brain) in which all the horrors get capital letters.  Also, Voting is mandatory, and there isn’t enough time for everyone to Vote, and Lloyd can’t afford to miss the cut-off because he’s already missed two Votes this quarter out of an allowable Three, excuse me, three.  On the next page, Sharkey has apparently lost count; now he says Lloyd will have to be hospitalized for Readjustment if he misses this Vote.  Lloyd gets the young woman in front of him to let him jump the line, only to discover that she is the pariah they’ve been warned against who has refused to submit to Hospitalization.  He pities her and lends her his girlfriend’s Voteplate (don’t ask) so she can get out of the Temple unrecognized, and then hides her in his room.  She tells him that Hospitalization is a ruse for disposal of anyone who is sick or injured, in order to keep the population steady. 

There are a lot more busy plot mechanics not worth recounting; it’s reminiscent of a TV sitcom, and the characters act and talk like sitcom characters too.  Sharkey has clearly not thought through just what it would be like to live in a state of constant surveillance, fear, and enforced ignorance.  At the end of Part I Lloyd has gone to the Brain that controls everything and asked it “Why is the Hive?” Part II has the answer, in a flashback that starts with the 1972 presidential election and goes on for 19 pages, covering more than 50 years of political history, becoming more absurd as it goes on.  Then there’s another 15 pages of silly melodrama and thankfully we’re done.  One star is too much.

Onward, with trepidation, to the rest of the issue.  The cover story is Robert F. Young’s long novelet Redemption, in which space freighter pilot Drake, en route to Mars, is alone on his ship when there’s a knock on the door.  It’s a girl!  She’s wearing the uniform of the Army of the Church of the Emancipation, but even so, she is, as the author puts it, stacked.  Also, she’s named Annabelle Leigh, an allusion the author does nothing with.  She has stowed away and wants him to drop her off at the planet Iago Iago in time for the expected resurrection of a saint.  He declines and locks her in a storeroom, then his ship runs into a Lambda-Xi field (say what?), which destroys the part of the ship with her in it, and renders the rest of it, and him and his cargo, translucent.  When he gets to Mars, he makes inquiries and learns that Annabelle was a saint. 

He then sets off on a quest both to sell his damaged cargo and to trace her history, hoping to find evidence that she wasn’t so saintly all the time and thereby make himself feel less guilty about accidentally killing her.  He does, sort of, and also learns that this Lambda-Xi field was even more puissant than he realized, capable of generating any contrivance the author needs, including time travel, two varieties of it, the sum of which, overlaid with Young’s characteristic sentimentality, ends up like something A.E. van Vogt might have written for a Hallmark Cards promotion (or maybe vice versa).  There are also further strong hints that Young has a few screws loose on the subjects of women and sex—not surprisingly in light of such previous efforts as Santa Clause and Storm over Sodom in F&SF.  Maybe somebody else can find something to appreciate here, but it leaves me cold, and annoyed as usual with this all too prolific author.  The cover blurb says “A Story You Will Never Forget!” I hope it’s wrong.  One star.

After such Redemption, what redemption?  Some, at least.  Neal Barrett, Jr.’s shorter novelet The Game—his fifth appearance in the SF magazines—is a somewhat crude but grimly effective horror story of Earth colonists who encounter an incomprehensible alien entity that just wants to play a game, with devastating consequences for the humans.  It’s refreshingly straightforward after the metaphysically baroque Young story.  Four stars.

Now, the crumbs at the bottom of the box.  Ron Goulart’s The Yes Men of Venus is a parody of a certain famous pulpster, heavily disguised here as Arthur Wright Beemis, which seems both pitch-perfect and, therefore, almost superfluous.  But it’s short enough to be amusing.  Three stars for trivia well executed.

Arthur Porges’s The Formula is another contrived and arid gimmick story, involving a highly artificial psi experiment undertaken on a bet.  The story turns on appreciating some specialized information that is disclosed in passing about the surroundings.  It’s like a grossly expanded version of a filler item in a science magazine.  Two stars, generously.

Well, that was depressing.  The Barrett story is the sole bright spot in this mostly abysmal issue—and not bright enough by half to redeem (excuse the expression) the disaster of the two lead stories.

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[June 10, 1963] Foma: Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics (Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.'s Cat's Cradle)

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by Victoria Lucas

When a friend lent Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s newest novel, Cat's Cradle to me, I thought, “Oh, I know this book!" because I saw, as I flipped through it, the "ice-nine" and "Bokonon" I'd heard people buzzing so much about.  So I was glad to read it and understand the phenomenon.

But that's where my joy ended.  Vonnegut is a fine writer.  His style is idiosyncratic, askew; this is a novel novel.  But no one would accuse him of being optimistic or hopeful about the human future.  No Pollyanna he.

So in this account of the immediate future of our species, not only is there "The Bomb" to worry about, but there is a complex web of events that involves a new Doomsday Machine (ice-nine) and a new prophet (Bokonon), as if we didn't have enough of both of those.

The narrator, John, was recently divorced by his second wife because, as an optimist, she found it impossible to live with him, an ostensible pessimist.  He has writer's block ("loafing") on a book about the day the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima (title: The Day the World Ended), and slowly he is drawn into the events of the story by actions he has taken to get to know members of the Hoenikker family, children of the "father" of the bomb.

It is hard to say what Vonnegut means by pessimism, because nearly every time something happens in the book, good or bad John seems surprised.  I thought pessimism meant expecting the worst in all situations.  On the other hand, he is surprised when one of the few good things in the book happens: the music Hoenikker's daughter plays is not just good but exquisite.  Just when he thinks he has the world figured out as a terrible place, there it is–beauty!  "I shrieked at Julian Castle, who was transfixed, too, 'My God–life!  Who can understand even one little minute of it?'" Obviously not John. 

And this turns out to be part of his religion, the belief system written by a black man named Boyd Johnson but called Bokonon in the dialect (of what language?) used on an island called San Lorenzo — an island on which events will shortly cause the whole world to end.  The author quotes The Fourteenth Book of Bokonon, with the title "What Can a Thoughtful Man Hope for Mankind on Earth, Given the Experience of the Past Million Years?"  The Fourteenth Book answers in one word: "Nothing."

In case I haven't already made it clear, this is a work of apocalyptic fiction.  In explaining how the doomsday tangle of vectors one might call a "cat's cradle" occurred and how attempts to untangle it failed, John uses a new vocabulary invented by Bokonon that has a certain ring to it.

For instance, Boku-maru is an act of intimacy and worship performed by two people placing the soles of their feet together.  The members of John's (or any) group who are fated to act together in something important are a "karass."  I particularly like "granfalloon," the word for an imaginary connection that (unlike the linkage of a karass) has no real significance (alumni of a school, for instance, or people from a particular state). 

"Foma" are "harmless untruths" to be distinguished from the "damned lies" of politicians and corporations which Mark Twain (or Benjamin Disraeli) placed in his famous phrase in my title.  As for the statistics, John mentions his two wives, 250,000 cigarettes, and 3,000 "quarts of booze" preceding the events of the book. 

About "foma," Vonnegut's epigraph reads, "Nothing in this book is true.  'Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.'  The Books of Bokonon.  I: 5" Of course the existence of the "Books of Bokonon" is also fictional, but several of the quotations from it, when not black humor or bordering on it, seem almost optimistic.  This one, for instance, asserts that a person can believe in lies that make one happy.

This book of foma didn't make me particularly happy, but, dripping with irony, it was entertaining, and it has probably stirred up the college students all over the US as it has on my campus, so I'll give it a 4 out of 5.  I recommend it to anyone with a sense of humor who doesn't mind feeling slightly depressed about prospects for human peace and a long and healthy human future.

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[June 8, 1963] The Future in a Divided Land (An Overview of Science Fiction in East and West Germany) Part 1

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[The Journey is joined today by talented author and fan, Cora Buhlert, who expands our coverage of the world significantly…]


by Cora Buhlert

Living in Germany, you cannot help but feel cut off from the wider world of science fiction. Therefore, I always look forward to receiving the latest issue of Galactic Journey in my mailbox, because it allows me to keep up with the latest developments in the genre in the US, the UK and elsewhere.

As a big fan of the Journey, I was thrilled to be asked to give you an overview of the current state of science fiction in Germany. Everybody who regularly follows the news will of course know that since 1949, there are not one but two Germanys: the Federal Republic of Germany, commonly referred to as West Germany, and the so-called German Democratic Republic, better known as East Germany. In the past fourteen years, the border between the two Germanys has become increasingly insurmountable, culminating in the construction of the Berlin Wall two years ago.

I am fortunate enough to live in West Germany and therefore the main focus of this article will be on West German science fiction. However, I will also take a look at what is going on in East Germany.

In the US and UK, science fiction is very much a magazine genre, even if paperback novels are playing an increasingly bigger role. In West Germany, there are a couple of science fiction publishers, such as the Balowa and Pfriem, which specialise in hardcovers aimed at the library market, as well as the paperback science fiction lines of Heyne, Fischer and Goldmann. The three paperback publishers focus mainly on translations, whereas the library publishers offer a mix of translations and works by German authors. Though Goldmann has recently started publishing some German language authors such as the promising new Austrian voice Herbert W. Franke in its science fiction paperback line.

However, the main medium for science fiction and indeed any kind of genre fiction in West Germany is still the so-called "Heftroman:" digest-sized 64-page fiction magazines that are sold at newsstands, gas stations, grocery stories and wherever magazines are sold. Whereas American and British science fiction magazines usually include several stories as well as articles, letter pages, etc…, a "Heftroman" contains only a single novel, technically a novella. "Heftromane" are the direct descendants of the American dime novel and the British penny dreadful – indeed, they are also referred to as "Groschenroman", which is a literal translation of "dime novel".

There is a huge range of "Heftromane," covering various genres. The most popular are probably the western and romance, with subgenres such as aristocratic romance, alpine romance or doctor and nurse romance. Crime and mystery series are also popular, as are adventure and war stories. By comparison to these flames, science fiction is still a small but growing flicker.

There were shortlived German language science fiction "Heftromane" published in the late 1940s in Germany, Austria and in Switzerland. However, the postwar era of (West) German "Heftroman" science fiction began exactly ten years ago in 1953, when Pabel, one of several publishers of "Heftromane", introduced its latest series Utopia – Jim Parkers Abenteuer im Weltraum. Though the first issue was anything but utopian, considering that it was set in a penal colony on the moon, where convicts are forced to shovel nuclear waste. The protagonist is Jim Parker, an American space ship commander in the employ of the Atomic Territorium. Together with his German pal Fritz Wernicke, Parker spends the next 43 issues bouncing around the solar system, while tangling with the villainous "Yellow Union". The Jim Parker stories were written by one Alf Tjörnsen whose identity remained mysterious for many years. Though Tjörnsen has recently been revealed as a pen name for author Richard Johannes Rudat.

Compared to American science fiction, the Jim Parker stories felt old-fashioned, a throwback to the 1920s and 1930s. The science was often laughably bad as well. And so, after 43 biweekly issues of Jim Parker's adventures in space, Utopia changed its name to Utopia Zukunftsroman and began alternating standalone novellas with the Jim Parker stories. Initially, those standalone stories were written by German authors, usually operating under house names, but from 1955 on, Utopia also published translations of American science fiction by authors such as John W. Campbell, Leigh Brackett and Murray Leinster, as well as Britishers like Eric Frank Russell. Due to the constraints of the "Heftroman" format with its 64 page limit, these translated works were heavily abridged. Nonetheless, to many German fans they served as the first introduction to the wider world of American science fiction.

The success of Utopia Zukunftsroman spawned several spin-offs. The first of these was Utopia Großband, a thicker 94-page "Heftroman" which debuted in 1954 and allowed for publishing translations of American science fiction novels, though once again many novels were mercilessly cut to fit the format. Utopia Sonderband, later Utopia Magazin, an anthology magazine in the style of the American science fiction magazines, followed in 1955. The final spin-off of the Utopia family was Utopia Kriminal, which debuted in 1956 and billed itself as a series focussed on futuristic crime novels, inspired by the success of the Edgar Wallace thrillers with their mixture of suspense, science fiction elements and outright horror. Utopia Kriminal published a lot of translated weird fiction by writers such as Frenchman Jean David and Americans Norvell W. Page and A. Merritt.

However, after its initial success Pabel's Utopia franchise has fallen on hard times of late. Utopia Kriminal and Utopia Magazin were cancelled in 1958 and 1959 respectively and Utopia Großband followed this year. Utopia Zukunftsroman is still hanging on for now, though the quality of the authors and stories translated has declined notably in recent years.

The reason for this is increased competition in the German science fiction market. Inspired by the success of Utopia, the "Heftroman" publisher Moewig launched its own science fiction series Terra Utopische Romane in 1957. The format was similar to Utopia Zukunftsroman, a mix of standalone science fiction novels by German authors and translations of American science fiction. However, the imitator quickly eclipsed the original, for Terra offered higher quality translations and quickly snapped up the A-list of American science fiction authors, leaving only second and third rate works for its competitor Utopia. Indeed, in some cases one novel in a series would be published under the Utopia banner, while the sequel appeared in Terra, to the frustrations of many readers. Like Utopia, Terra also spawned two spin-offs. Terra Sonderband, a thicker 96-page 'Heftroman" similar to Utopia Großband, premiered in 1958. And only last year, the reprint series Terra Extra debuted.

West German genre readers in general and science fiction readers in particular tend to be very americanophile. And so "Heftroman" publishers quickly noticed that translations of American science fiction tended to sell better than works by German authors. The fact that homegrown science fiction wasn't always up to the snuff, especially when compared to the best of American science fiction, did not help either. So magazines eventually stopped publishing original science fiction by German authors and focussed solely on translations. As a result, it became very difficult for budding German science fiction writers to persuade a publisher to take a chance on their work.

One of those budding German science fiction writers was Walter Ernsting, who first encountered science fiction while working as a translator for the allied forces after World War II and quickly fell in love with the genre. In 1955, Ernsting cofounded the Science Fiction Club Deutschland, Germany's biggest fan club. By the mid 1950s, Walter Ernsting was working as an editor and translator for the Utopia line, but was unable to get his own novels published. So the enterprising Ernsting passed off his own writing as the work of a fictional British author named Clark Dalton and promptly had it accepted. Clark Dalton's stories were well received by the readers of the various Utopia titles and so Ernsting kept on writing and publishing as Clark Dalton, even after the secret of his identity was revealed. Nor was Walter Ernsting the only German writer who circumvented publisher prejudice by writing under a British or American sounding pen name. Instead, westerns, science fiction and crime 'Heftromane" are full of German writers pretending to be Americans with varying success. 

In 1958, Ernsting left Pabel for competitor Moewig to work on the Terra line of 'Heftromane". Terra was more open to publishing German authors than Utopia and one of their stars was K.H. Scheer, a prolific young author who had gotten his start writing for the library hardcover lines of Balowa and Pfriem.

Together, Ernsting and Scheer came up with the idea to create an ongoing science fiction series focussed on the adventures of a central character. Now "Heftroman" series following the exploits of a single character are popular in the crime genre – the best know example is probably G-Man Jerry Cotton, which chronicles the adventures of a fictional FBI agent in New York City – but were largely unknown in science fiction following the demise of the rather bland Jim Parker. Nonetheless, Ernsting and Scheer persuaded Moewig to take a chance on their idea and retreated to Ernsting's home in the idyllic Bavarian village of Irschenberg to hammer out the details and come up with a rough plot outline for the first ten issues.

The result, entitled Perry Rhodan – der Erbe des Universums (Perry Rhodan – Heir to the Universe), debuted on September 8, 1961 and has quickly become a sensation in the twenty months since, turning into West Germany's most successful "Heftroman" series with a monthly print run of approximately one million. Unlike the old-fashioned and rather dull Jim Parker stories, Perry Rhodan literally starts with a bang and only keeps getting better. Initially planned to last between thirty and fifty issues, Perry Rhodan is now closing in on issue 100. If the authors manage to keep up the quality, I can see this series lasting a very long time indeed.

And that's it for today. Next time, I'll give you an overview of the Perry Rhodan series and the competitors spawned by its enormous success. I hope you have enjoyed!

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Magazine

[June 4, 1963] Booked passage (July 1963 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

How quickly the futuristic becomes commonplace.  Just two years ago, I marveled about how fast one can cross the oceans by jet.  Now, on the eve of another trip to Japan (we really have joined the Jet Set, haven't we?) I look at the flight itinerary and grumble.  Why must we stop in Hawaii?  That adds several hours to the trip — it'll take more than half a day to get from LAX to Haneda.

Spoiled rotten, I tell you.

Speaking of travel stories, a fresh crop of science fiction digests has hit my mailbox.  Many of them will be joining me on my trip to the Orient, but I finished one of them, the July 1963 IF, pre-flight.  All of them feature some element of star-hopping, and so this issue sets a fine mood as we embark on our latest journey:

That Notebook Again, by Theodore Sturgeon

I find it interesting that editor Fred Pohl has gotten Ted Sturgeon to write his editorials for him.  I'm not complaining — it's always nice to see Sturgeon in print in any capacity.  This time around, he treats us to a number of technological proposals, a wishlist of inventions that should be right around the corner, given a little interest and effort.  I found his idea for a home TV-tape camera and player particularly titilating (and not farfetched — my nephew already audio-tapes television shows onto reel-to-reel).

The Reefs of Space (Part 1 of 3), by Jack Williamson and Frederik Pohl

A good third of the issue is given to a new serial (illustrated on the cover — EMSH is big in this issue, though I also like the work of Nodel, who is new to me).  Hundreds of years from now, Earth's population is highly regimented, its economy utterly socialized, under the authority of The Machine and its master Plan.  Dissent is punished by incarceration and the forced wearing of an explosive ring around one's neck.  Further disobedience results in one's "salvage" (dissasembly into component body parts for the use of others). 

Steve Ryeland is an experimental physicist, a touchy job to have when scientific advancement poses both boon and risk for the Plan.  At Reef's beginning, he has been a prisoner for three years, unaware of his crime, but consistently questioned about "spacelings," "fusorians," "reefs of space," and "jetless drive" — terms about which he knows nothing.  Adding to his confusion is a three-day gap in his memory.

And then comes the urgent summons — the Machine will have Ryeland discover the secret of the reactionless drive, and soon, or be sent to the Body Banks.  For at the edge of the solar system lies a biological construct, the tremendous analog of a coral reef created by organisms that live on interstellar hydrogen.  Not only does this alien structure pose a hypothetical threat to the Plan, but it affords sanctuary to a more existential opponent — the revolutionary-in-exile, Donderevo.  Can Ryeland accomplish his mission in time to save his hide and human society?  Is such a goal even worth fighting for?

It's an interesting concept for a novel, but the execution leaves a bit to be desired.  It suffers from the same plodding repetitiveness as Simak's concurrent serial in Galaxy, but betrays none of Simak's literary expertise.  The writing is simple, uninspired, and the scientific concepts (including Hoyle's steady-state theory, which I find uncompelling) feel dated.  Two stars, but with cautious hopes for the next installment.

The Faces Outside, by Bruce McAllister

Here is a short tale of a married couple, the last of humanity, mutated to live in a large alien aquarium with a host of other terrestrial life forms.  The Terrans have the last laugh when the male of the pair develops psychic powers and compels the aliens to commit mass suicide.

McAllister is the first and weaker of the two new authors featured in this issue.  His writing shows potential, though.  Two stars, trying hard for three.

Mightiest Qorn, by Keith Laumer

Another IF, another Retief story.  This time, the omnipotent but much-suffering Terran agent is tapped to investigate the sudden reappearance of the fearsome Qorn, a race of dreadnought-wielding, glory-seeking warriors who appear to have the power of teleportation.

Unfortunately, the Retief shtick is starting to wear thin (arguably, it raveled a while ago), and it's really time Laumer focused his attention to the more worthy efforts we know he's capable of.  The bright spot is that Retief's nominal boss, Magnan, is now pretty game to do whatever his "underling" says.  Some might call that progress.  Two stars.

In the Arena, by Brian W. Aldiss

Given up?  Take heart — it's all better from here.  Prominent British writer, Aldiss, gives us another man-and-woman pair in the thrall of aliens.  In this case, it is two gladiators performing for a race of insectoids who have conquered the Earth (but not all of humanity).  Call it Spartacus for the 30th Century.  It's a nicely written trifle.  Three stars.

Down to the Worlds of Men, by Alexei Panshin

14-year old Mia Havero is part of a society of human space-dwellers, resident of one of the eight galaxy-trotting Ships that represent the remains of Earth's high technology.  She and 29 other young teens are dropped on a primitive colony as part of a rite of passage.  There is always an element of danger to this month-long ordeal, but this episode has a new wrinkle: the planet's people are fully aware (and resentful) of the Ships, and they plan to fight back.  Can Mia survive her coming of age and stop an insurrection?

Panshin hits it right out of the park with his first story, capturing the voice of a young almost-woman and laying out a rich world and an exciting adventure.  Finally, I've got something I can recommend to the Young Traveler.  Four stars, verging on five.

The Shadow of Wings, by Robert Silverberg

The last story introduces Caldwell, an expert in the dead language of Kethlani.  He is called back from a family vacation when a real live Kethlan shows up, bearing the banner of peace.  Can the linguist overcome his revulsion of the alien's form and forge a partnership between the two species?

This piece could have been a throwaway save for Silvergerg's careful drawing of the Caldwell's personality.  I found myself wishing the story had been longer — certainly, it could have taken some of the pages away from the stale stories of the first half.  Four stars.

Like my impending vacation, this month's issue starts with a hard slog but ends with great reward.  I'd say that's the right order of things.  See you in Tokyo!

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Movies

[June 2, 1963] Too close to home (The movie, The Mind Benders)

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by Gideon Marcus

[Today's article is a true treat — a full three Journeyers caught the latest science fiction flick, an import from Britain.  We hope you enjoy this, our first review en trio…]

Think "science fiction" movie, and you might conjure up a rubber-suited monster or a giant insect or perhaps a firework-spouting bullet of a spaceship.  Once in a great while, we get a Forbidden Planet or The Time Machine — high quality films but no less fantastic in subject matter. 

Now picture a "horror" film.  Perhaps it involves the supernatural or monstrous terror.  Maybe it's one of Hitchcock's genre-creating numbers like Psycho or The Birds.  Often, the lines between SF and horror are quite blurry as in films like Wasp Woman and The Day Mars Invaded Earth.  After all, the unknown can be quite terrifying, and what is SF but an exploration of the unknown?

The Mind Benders is a new British film that straddles the line between science fiction and horror and yet bears no resemblance to any of the examples described above.  It is, in fact, a movie set in the now and portraying modern (if cutting edge) science.  And the horror depicted is all the more jarring for its common nature. 

Two nascent sciences are the basis for this movie.  One is that of brainwashing, the technique of forcibly altering someone's beliefs, generally through some kind of torture, privation, or other constant pressure.  This is the sort of thing covert agencies are good at, but you can also see it on a national level, through effective use of propaganda and fear.  The other science is sensory deprivation.  Several experiments have been done into the effects of having all of one's senses dulled.  A subject is suspended in warm water, in the dark, unable to smell, taste, or hear anything.  The results include disorientation, agitation, and hallucination. 

The film starts with aged sensory deprivation scientist Sharpey, paranoid and in a daze, taking his own life by throwing himself off a moving train.  In his satchel are thousands in pound notes.  Army Intelligence Major Hall is called in to investigate, and he quickly determines that Sharpey had recently sold secrets to the Communists.  Ready to brand the scientist a traitor and close the case, he is persuaded by Sharpey's colleague, Longman, that Sharpey was a patriot, and that any lapse in loyalty must have been a result of a recent sensory deprivation experience. 

Longman is introduced as a loving husband and a doting father, humorous and cynical, and possessed of a tremendous fear of sensory deprivation after several terrifying experiments.  Nevertheless, he offers himself up for a final test, a full eight hours in the deprivation tank, to show that it does something to a person.  Having shown that, Longman can prove that Sharpey was not responsible for his treasonous activities. 

Hall agrees, and with the assistance of a third colleague, Tate, who has not been a subject, conducts the experiment on Longman.  Floating alone and in the dark, the scientist suffers countless subjective hours of anguish (though only a third of a day passes outside), and at its end, he is reduced to a blank, malleable state.  Hall recognizes this condition — a broken man in this state is easily brainwashed.  But this is not enough.  They must compel Longman to engage in activity completely counter to his nature, to shake him of his strongest-held belief.  So, they pull Longman from the tank, dazed and vulnerable.

And with a just a few choice words, they cause him to hate his wife, Oonagh. 

Yet, due to the circumstances under which they effect their plot, it is unclear that they have succeeded.  Longman is released, the experiment seemingly a failure.  So ensues six months with Oonagh, increasingly pregnant, incessantly nagged and belittled until she is a shell of herself.  Longman is also a changed man, bitter and resentful, completely unaware of what has been done to him.  That Oonagh endures for so long is British "stiff-upper-lipism" carried to its absurd limits.  That this state of affairs goes unnoticed for half a year is because Tate, himself in love with Oonagh, cannot bring himself to check up on the ruined couple.

Blessedly, once Hall does find out, he is (with no little difficulty) able to reverse the process.  The marriage is repaired and Sharpey's name is cleared.  But, by God, at what price?

As a movie, Benders is a success, cinematographically compelling and with superb acting.  What makes this horror so effective is its utter plausibility, and as a family man, myself, the situation struck me at my core and left me shaken. 

It's not a perfect film.  I imagine 15 minutes could have been cut with no great loss.  And the overlong period of estrangement runs a bit beyond the lengths of credulity, and yet… is it not all too common for women to suffer indefinitely with men they once loved in the hopes that things might, one day, return to how they were?

I couldn't watch The Mind Benders again, and I can't recommend it to those who will find the subject matter unbearable, but I must recognize the skill with which the movie was crafted.  Four stars.


by Lorelei Marcus

I didn't have very high hopes going into The Mind Benders, thinking it was going to be another campy science fiction movie using a shaky camera for special effects. Instead, I got a rather dark film about the capacity of the human mind and its reaction to prolonged isolation. The concept was very fascinating, and the story even more haunting from being based on real experiments. The acting was excellent, even too real at times.

However, it was not all good. The movie was much too long, and I believe it could benefit a lot from having a few of the “man bicycles around the city” scenes taken out. Even with the interesting premise, it also lulled at times, and I found myself wondering when the movie was going to end. Even so, I would give this movie three stars out of five. It wasn't anything super special, but it wasn't bad either.

This is the Young Traveler signing off.


by Natalie Devitt

The tagline for The Mind Benders described the film as being “perverted… soulless! The most dangerous and different motion picture ever brought to the screen!” So, naturally that piqued my curiosity. What I ended up with was a pretty ambitious story about brainwashing.

Luckily, I’m a sucker for a story about brainwashing.

Overall, the film was well-shot with believable acting. The movie did run out of steam a little towards the end, and I’m not totally sure that I bought the ending, but it was an otherwise effective sci-fi/thriller. The film’s somewhat disturbing plot and dream-like qualities kept it on my mind long after it ended. Three and a half stars.

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