Tag Archives: science fiction

IF Returns! (July 1959 IF; 7-07-1959)

There is a certain perverse joy to statistics.  Think of the folks who spend hours every week compiling baseball scores, hit averages, etc.  It’s a way to find a pattern to the universe, I suppose. 

To date, I’ve sort of off-handedly rated issues on a 1 to 5 star scale.  Last weekend, I went through my issues and compiled real statistics.  Here’s my methodology:
Each story/article gets rated 1 to 5 with these meanings.

5: Phenomenal; I would read again.
4: Good; I would recommend it to others.
3: Fair; I was entertained from beginning to end, but I would not read again or recommend.
2: Poor; I wasted my time but was not actively offended.
1: Abysmal; I want my money back!

I generally skip editorials and book reviews (in the ratings; I do read them… except for Campbell's editorials).

I then average all the stories in the book.  I do another, weighted, average where I factor in the length of a story (i.e. if the long stories are great and the short ones are terrible, the latter do not bring down the score as much).  Generally, the two scores are close.

My preliminary analysis has confirmed what I’d already felt in my gut–Fantasy and Science Fiction is a consistently better magazine than Astounding.  F&SF runs a consistent 3 or 3.5 average.  That may not sound like a lot, but any score over 3 means there must be at least one good story inside.  I haven’t reviewed a magazine that scored a 4 yet.
Astounding, on the other hand, runs in the 2.5 to 3 range.  This is why I find the magazine a chore.

I haven’t don’t Galaxy yet, but I suspect it will fall in between the two above magazines.

Using my brand new rating system, let’s talk about the new IF Science Fiction.  I’m afraid it’s not quite up to Galaxy’s standards, nor even those set by Damon Knight’s outing as editor, but it’s not horrible, either.

The issue starts strongly enough with F. L. Wallace’s Growing Season, about a starship hydroponics engineer with a contract out on his life.  It’s a very plausible and advanced story whose only flaw is that it ends too quickly and in a pat manner.   4 stars.

The Ogre, on the other hand, is a disappointing turn-out from normally reliable Avram Davidson.  As one reader observed, it falls between two stools, being neither chilling nor funny.  It’s another story where an anthropologist would rather kill than revise a pet theory, in this case, the date of Neanderthal extinction.  2 stars.

Wynne Whiteford, of whom I had not heard before, though I understand he’s been around for a while, writes a rather hackneyed tale of immortality and body-snatching called Never in a Thousand Years.  If you don’t see the end coming from the beginning, you’re not looking very hard.  2 stars.

Sitting Duck, by Daniel Galouye, is one of those stories with a uncannily relevant but unnecessary parallel subplot.  In this case, aliens are hunting humans from artificial “blinds” in the shapes of homes, malls, and movie theater… just like the protagonist when he hunts ducks from blinds.  It really doesn’t work as a story, but it’s not execrable.  Just primitive.  2 stars.

I rather enjoyed Mutineer by Robert Shea, in which cities have reverted to city states (albeit high-technology ones), professions are regimented, and soldiers are both fearsome and feared.  There are interesting parallels to be drawn to Classical Greece, perhaps.  3 stars.

Paul Flehr’s A Life and a Half is inconsequential, a bitter reminiscence by an old-timer about a century from now, noting how much better things were “back then.”  It has a rather strong Yiddish tone throughout, however, so it’s not all bad.  2 stars.

Rosel George Brown continues to show potential that is never quite realized.  In Car Pool, a young mother struggles with mixing alien and human children in a pre-school setting; at the same time, she wrestles with her plainness and puritanical virtuosity.  I liked it, but it is not quite great.  3 stars.

Baker’s Dozens is about a series of duplicate persons who encounter life and death in a number of interesting ways in their interstellar journeys.  The story is mainly a vehicle for author, Jim Harmon’s, groan-worthy puns.  3 stars.

IF ends as it began, with a quite good story by Phillip K. Dick called Recall Mechanism.  It combines a post-apocalyptic world with investigations into psychiatry and precognition.  I’m torn between assigning it a 4 or a 5.  If only there were an integer between the two!

Averaged out, this issue clocks in at 3 stars.  You could definitely do worse, and the first and last stories are worth reading.

See you in two days, and thanks for reading!



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Cats, IF, and Yankee Doodle (7-04-1959)

If you have a cat, you know what impediments to constructive activity they can be.  Perhaps you're purposefully striding to your next chore; the cat will rub up against you or flop on the floor in a coy manner, and you will have no choice but to stop and give it a good petting.  Maybe you're trying to read or, say, type up an article related to science fiction; said cat will purr alluringly, magically appearing under your hands, rendering keys or pages quite inaccessible.

There are worse fates, I suppose.

Luckily, I had the force of will to extricate myself from feline obstruction.  It only took about 45 minutes!  And now, without further delay, I can tell you all about the revived IF Science Fiction magazine.

Six months ago, I lamented that no sooner had I rediscovered IF, daringly helmed by Damon Knight, than the magazine folded.  Imagine my pleasure upon learning that IF had not been discontinued but merely sold.  In fact, looking at the masthead, I found that the new editor is H.L.Gold!  It looks as if IF is going to be Galaxy's sister publication appearing in alternate months.  This effectively makes Galaxy a monthly again.  IF is only 130 pages long, while Galaxy is 196.  This puts the average number of pages at 163, which is a good length for a monthly digest.  Hurrah!

But the real question is whether or not the quality of Galaxy #2 is up to the standards of the original.  After all, there is no Willy Ley article to look forward to.  On the other hand, it looks like Fred Pohl will be a regular feature submitter, and a quick glance at the names of writers appearing inside (Rosel George Brown!) is encouraging.

So stay tuned.  I'm afraid festivities in celebration of our nation's 183rd birthday preclude me from telling you about the July 1959 IF just yet.  But I'll be back in three days with a full report.  In the mean time, why don't you pick up a copy, and we can explore this new magazine together.

If you are from the United States of America, Happy Independence Day!  If you're from the United Kingdom, no hard feelings.  And if you're from anywhere else, Happy July 4th (or July 5th) of No Particular Consequence!



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The Bomb, the Clock, and the Devil (August 1959 Fantasy and Science Fiction; 7-02-1959)

In this month’s F&SF editorial, editor Doug Mills reports that he’s gotten a number of complaints regarding the oversaturation of stories in the post-apocalyptic, time travel, and deal-with-the-Devil genre.  Mr. Mills’ response was that any genre can be oversaturated, but quality will always be quality, and F&SF will publish quality stories in whatever genre it pleases.  In fact, there are stories dealing with all three of the "oversaturated" genres in this issue.

What do you think?  I have to agree with Mr. Mills.  Personally, I can never get enough of After the Bomb stories, time travel is often a hoot, and the Devil features in relatively few tales these days, in my experience.   But I’d like your opinion on the matter.
I had not realized that Poul Anderson’s Time Patrol story had taken up so much of the current issue; there isn’t much left to review.  There is some goodness, however:

Rosebud, by Ray Russell, is teleological nonsense in a single-pager.  Damon Knight’s book review column deals with horror, and is interesting, as usual.  I wish he were still helming IF (come to think of it, I just received this month’s copy… I wonder who’s in charge.)

Kit Reed’s Empty Nest is well nigh unreadable, but I think it’s a horror about being eaten by anthropoid birds.

Obituary, by Isaac Asimov, is actually quite good, and one of his few stories from the viewpoint of a woman.  It involves domestic abuse, a truly evil (yet in a plausible and everyday sort of way) villain, and a satisfactory, grisly come-uppance.  I hope the good doctor is not writing from experience in this one…

Finally, we’ve got Pact, by Poul Anderson (under his pseudonym, Winston P. Sanders).  This is the aforementioned Devilish Deal story, and it is my favorite story of the issue.  I hear you gasp–an Anderson story is my favorite?  Yes!  It's clever all the way through, this story of a demon summoning a human in the hopes of consumating a contract.  Fine stuff.

My apologies for the shortness of this installment.  I'll make it up next time.  Perhaps.

P.S. One of the reasons I enjoy science fiction so much is the clever gadgets.  In Asimov's story, the villain uses a "desktop computer" with some sort of typewriter keys attached.  Boy, would that be a fine tool to have, and I've never seen the like in a story before.  Something to look forward to in a decade or two?



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I am Cyrus, King of the World (August 1959 Fantasy and Science Fiction, 1st half; 6-30-1959)

For most people, the beginning of the month coincides with the 1st (or, as my late father might say, the “oneth”—i.e., May the “oneth” followed by May the “tooth”).  For me, and doubtless for most of my science fiction loving sistren and brethren, the month starts around the 26th, which is when the science fiction magazines hit the newsstands.

Of course, those who get their issues via mail-order get them at varying times, but in general, the last week of the month preceding the month preceding the cover date  (I did not stutter; the duplication is intentional) is when the goodies arrive.  For me, that’s The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (generally good), Astounding Science Fiction (often bad, but sometimes good), and on a bi-monthly and alternating basis, Galaxy (generally decent), and IF (quality as yet undetermined).  When these run out, I pray for interesting space news and/or interesting new novels.  Exhausting these, I turn to my collection of older books, preferably ones I have been given the right to distribute freely.

I am currently at the giddy start of a new month, and I’ve decided to eat my dessert first, tearing through the August 1959 F&SF.  Take my hand, and away we go!

Jay Williams generally sticks to juveniles, co-writing the Danny Dunn series, which are pretty fun if you’re the right age to enjoy them (pre-teen).  His Operation LadyBird opens up this month’s issue, and it’s a lighthearted romp on a Venus that a United Nations force has recently cleaned of a loathsome alien menace.  Turns out that we were actually called in (unwittingly) by Venusians (who look just like Hopi Indians) to act as exterminators.  I liked the story better when it was called Cat and Mouse, but the story is not without its charms, and it does feature a strong female character, a resourceful Soviet major.

Asimov’s column is good this month.  The Ultimate Split of the Second begins as a primer on measuring really big and small things.  The Doctor recommends using the time it takes light to travel certain small distances as really small units of time (i.e. a light meter, a light kilometer, etc.).  This the flip side to using light years, minutes, hours, for distance measuring.

Then he gives us a survey of the latest discoveries of subatomic particles, exciting new things that are the very bleeding edge of modern physics.  Their halflives are exceedingly small, so the nomenclature described above comes in handy to describe them. 

The prolific Carol Emshwiller (whose husband’s art graces the pages of many digests under the byline “EMSH”) has an interesting post-apocalyptic mood piece called Day at the Beach.  There’s not much to it; it is largely the depiction of a family in a ruined, but not extinguished, United States.  Gasoline is exorbitantly expensive, most citizens have lost all of their hair, mutations are legion, and there is not much law and order.  Diverting, forgettable.

Fantasist Marcel Aymé’s The Walker-Through-Walls is cute, though it is a reprint from 1943.  Our straight-laced protagonist discovers that, in mid-life, he has the ability to traverse walls as if they did not exist.  He resists exploiting this power, but little by little, he succumbs to temptation.  First, he terrifies his tyrannical boss, then he becomes a dashing, popular thief.  Ultimately, he becomes involved in a torrid affair that proves to be his undoing.  Well-written, somewhat fluffy.

Finally, for today, we have Poul Anderson’s latest Time Patrol story.  As you know, I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with the good Swede, but this one is pretty good.  For those who don’t know, the Time Patrol is an organization based in the far future that recruits constables from across time to police for alterations in the timeline.  It’s a tough task, but it is made easier by the laws of the universe which have the time stream move along in a way not unlike a river—it takes a lot to get a substantial altering of course.
 Patrolman Manse Everard, nominally stationed in the late ‘50s, is approached by Cynthia, wife of his best friend, and object of Manse’s unrequited affections, to find her husband, who has disappeared without a trace some 2500 years in the past.  Unable to say no, Manse takes an unauthorized trip to the Persian Empire of Cyrus the Great to find his friend, who turns out to be none other than the King of Kings himself!  It’s an exciting but somewhat ironic and bittersweet story, and it gets extra stars for being about a rather unsung but personal favorite era of mine.

All told, the first half (and a little extra) of this issue has had no clunkers, but also no home runs, to mix my metaphors.  Call it 3.5?
See you in two days!



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The World, The Flesh and the Devil (6-16-1959)

I wasn't sure what to expect going in to see The World, The Flesh and the Devil.  All I knew was that it was a doomsday flick, and that it starred the incomparable Calypso crooner, Harry Belafonte.  Let me tell you, it is one excellent movie.

It's really a three-act piece.  In Act 1, Ralph Burton (Harry Belafonte), an engineer and all-around great guy, gets caught in a coal mine cave-in while inspecting its telephone connections.  After rescue attempts peter out, Ralph excavates himself to safety only to find every person in the world gone.  He drives to New York, its streets eerily empty, and there he discovers the truth–some nation had released clouds of radiation with a half life of five days.  Virtually everyone and everything was killed; but the world Ralph emerged into is once again inhabitable.

Ralph quickly becomes the King of New York, restoring power to a city block, cavorting with and singing to mannequins, saving works of art and literature.  Act 2 quickly follows, with the lovely and spunky Sarah Crandall (Inger Stevens) finally introducing herself to Ralph after several days (weeks?) of silent stalking.  There is immediate romantic chemistry, culminating in a scene wherein Ralph clumsily tries to cut Sarah's hair.  It's clear that Sarah has fallen for Ralph, and Ralph does not deny that he feels the same.  But, then Ralph says, "If you're squeamish about facts, I'm colored.  And if you face facts I'm a Negro.  And if you're a polite Southerner, I'm a 'negrah,' and I'm a 'nigger' if you're not." 

Thus, the impasse.  Sarah couldn't care less about Ralph's color and says so, but Ralph, conditioned by decades of societal pressure, can't see it working.  Oh, over time, Ralph might have overcome his issues in this rebuilt world in which all the old rules had been wiped away, but then…

Act 3–Benson Thacker (Mel Ferrer) arrives in a boat, apparently having steamed all the way from South America.  Ralph saves his life, but the appearance of even a single white man seems to restore the old order, at least in Ralph's mind.  He practically throws Sarah at Benson, all the while being rather passive-aggressive about it.  The problem is that Benson, while a likeable fellow, isn't who Sarah loves.  Moreover, Sarah is peeved that the last two men on Earth are playing tug-of-war with her and not asking her opinion on the matter.

"I'm sick of you both," she explains to Benson.  "He doesn't know what he wants, and you don't think of anything else but what you want."

(At this point, my daughter leaned over to me and told me she didn't like the "triangle" part of the movie as much as the first two acts.  I had to agree, but wait.  There's a surprise.)

Enraged with the situation, Benson grabs a rifle and begins shooting at Ralph, who arms himself in defense.  So begins a quick cat and mouse through the streets.  Ralph ends up in front of the United Nations building in front of the quote about beating swords into plowshares.  Horrified with himself, Ralph tosses away the gun and confronts Benson, who is also unable to shoot.

Sarah arrives, quite happy to see Ralph alive, and she takes his hand, her expression adoring.  Cue the credits?  No!  She calls Benson over, too, and she takes his hand as well.  And they all walk down the street as the final card reads, "The Beginning."

Let me tell you what is so great about this movie.  Firstly, it is quite well made, easily the highest in production quality amongst the films I have yet reviewed in this column (though not in color, like The Blob).  The bleak cinematography, the sweeping score, the fine acting, the poignant script, these are all points to recommend it.

But it's the sheer progressiveness of the messages in this movie that really impresses me (and perhaps I should not be surprised that my daughter and I were the only attendees of that showing, and the film is on its way to being a financial bust).  This is 1959.  Jim Crow still rules the roost in much of the country.  The Montgomery Bus Boycott is just three years old.  A Black leading man, much less a romantic interest for a White woman?  Inconceivable!  Yet Ralph and Sarah are a couple in everything but name, and by the end, while there's no kissing (give it a few years), their bond is cemented.

The brilliant thing about the movie is that there are no (pardon the phrase) black or white characters.  Benton could easily have been played evil.  He even starts the movie with a moustache to twirl (along with a beard).  Yet Benton is smart and sensitive.  At no time does he force himself upon Sarah.  In fact, in an amazing scene, he even notes that it would be easy for him to do so, "all the boyscouts having left town," and then he asks if that's what she wants.  She makes it clear that it's not, and he backs off.  Benton doesn't hurt Ralph, even recognizes him as the better man.

Which is what makes the ending so standout: Sarah loves Ralph and vice versa.  The two are an item, that's clear.  Yet they make room for Benton, too, because when there are only three people left in the world, you don't shun one of them just because, before the disaster, he'd be the odd man out.  Not only are the rules that kept Black and White apart as dead as the old world, but so are the rules that say a relationship involves just one man and one woman.  Benton is a good guy.  He deserves to be happy, just like Sarah and Ralph.

What I find so incredible is that all of the people I've talked who've seen this film (about four or five, to be fair), no one drew the same conclusion from the last scene.  They thought it a cop-out that Ralph didn't get the girl.  My friends are progressive, but not quite progressive enough, I suppose.

So watch it while it's still in the cinema, because it won't be there for long.  I'd really like to know what you think.

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Starting strong (July 1959 Fantasy and Science Fiction;6-13-1959)

It's those haunting, evocatively written F&SF stories that keep me a regular subscriber.  July's issue opens with Robert F. Young's To Fell a Tree, about the murder (mercy killing?) of the tallest tree imaginable, and the dryad that lived within.  It'll stay with you long after you turn the last page, this sad, but not entirely desolate, tale.  So far, it's the best I've seen by Young.

Asimov's column, this month, is a screed against the snobbery of the champions of liberal arts and humanities to the practitioners of science.  I'm told that the rivalry is largely good-natured, but Dr. Asimov seems to have been personally slighted, and his article is full of invective. 

Avram Davidson's Author, Author is next: venerable British mystery writer is ensnared by the very butlers and baronets who were the subjects of his novels.  I found most interesting the interchange between the author and his publisher, in which the latter fairly disowns the former for sticking to a stodgy old format, the country-house murder, rather than filling pages with sex and scandal.  I found this particularly ironic as my wife is a mysteries fan who appreciates whodunnits of an older vintage, from Conan Doyle to Sayers.  She has, of late, become disenchanted with the latest, more cynical crop of mysteries.  I suspect she would have words for the publisher in Davidson's story.

For Sale, Reasonable is a short space-filler by Elizabeth Mann Borgese about a fellow soliciting work in a world where automation has made human labor obsolete.  Damon Knight's following book review column is devoted to The Science Fiction Novel, Imagination and Social Criticism, a book of essays written by some of the field's foremost authors.  It sounds like a worthy read.

Jane Roberts' Impasse hits close to home–a young lady loses her last living relative, her grandfather.  So great is her grief that, by an act of will, she returns him to life, though the old man is not too happy about it.  The story struck a chord with me as I lost my family when I was quite young, and I can certainly identify with the poor girl's plight.

The Harley Helix is another fill-in-the-space short short by Lou Tabakow, the moral of which is There Ain't No Such Thing as a Free Lunch (i.e. the First Law of Thermodynamics).  Success Story, which I reviewed last time, is next.

Raymond E. Banks has the penultimate tale, with Rabbits to the Moon, a thoroughly nonsensical tale about the teleportation of creatures (including humans). Its only flaw, that the transported arrive without a skeleton, is made into a selling point.

Last up is The Cold, Cold Box by Howard Fast.  The richest man in the world becomes afflicted with terminal cancer and has himself frozen in 1959 so that the future can cure him.  But the members of his company's board of directors have a different agenda, particularly after they become the world's de facto controlling oligarchy. 

It's good reading all the way through, but it's the lead novella that really sells it.  3.5 stars, I'd say.

I'm off to the movies tonight, so expect a film review soon!

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Big Man ($100 contest; 5-11-1959)

Want to make a quick $100? 

Fantasy & Science Fiction is running a contest this month (July 1959) related to one of the stories in the latest issue.  Of course, I immediately turned to page 87 to read the story. 

Success Story is the tale in question, and it's by a fellow whose work I'd never read before, a Ms. or Mr. H.M. Sycamore.  I'll tell you the whole plot since I don't have permission to reprint, and I suspect you'll all want a chance to get in on this contest before it's too late.

Stan Budzik has invented a time machine, or at least figured how to make one.  But he needs financial backing to get it off the ground to the tune of a whopping $7,000.  Enter Harry Bottomley, a diminutive young man with one suit and just over $7,000, the proceeds of a recent inheritance.

Through a series of mishaps, Mr. Bottomley ends up as the world's first time traveller, albeit unwillingly.  Unfortunately the guy, who already has a complex about his height, not only ends up one day in the future, he also finds himself just two-and-a-half feet tall!

It turns out that the expansion of the universe affects everything universally, including its denizens.  Harry, having missed out on a day of expansion, is half his former size in relation to everything else.  Naturally, this causes a near meltdown for Harry.  But what goes forward can also go backward.  Harry makes a return trip from the future to regain his original size, but this time, he travels back a little more than a day, and ends up a strapping 6 foot 4 inch hunk of a man.

Stan and his team realize they've hit upon something and sell "height therapy" to folks with Short Man's Syndrome.  The one complication, mentioned off-handedly in the story's conclusion, is that while volume changes, mass does not.  A 120-pound bantam Harry became a 120-pound hulk.  I imagine Mr. Bottomley became a "floater" if he was previously a "sinker."

Now for the contest: Stan figured out a profitable use for this time machine.  Can you?  Remember the parameters:

Anything can be sent through time, but it will shrink in size by a factor of two for each day it transits; conversely, it will double in size for each day it travels backward.  This makes it impractical for explorative time travel, I would think.  Mass stays constant.

Here's my idea:

Since mass stays the same, regardless of size, the device is not particularly useful for miniaturization.  On the other hand, one could make some awfully light dirigibles using canisters of gas sent back in time.  With the cost of helium not inconsiderable, I could see some definite use of this application.

For your chance at a crisp C-note, send your ideas to:

Success Editor
Fantasy and Science Fiction
527 Madison Ave.
New York 22, New York

If you'll send me a copy, I'll print it in this column so all can bask in your cleverness.

Next time, I'll review the rest of the magazine.  In the meantime, let's see your ideas!

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The pen is mighty painful (August 1959 Galaxy, Part 1; 6-02-1959

Just what is this world coming to?

Reading this month's edition of Galaxy, it was hammered home just how far our linguistic standards have fallen.  Have you ever read a letter from the last century?  Even the prose from the most humble of fellows is lyric and articulate.  And while the published fiction might sometimes be a bit purple, there's no denying the facility the authors had with our language.

And now?  I'm only half-way through the August 1959 Galaxy, and I've spotted "there" for "their" as well as "effect" for "affect."  I thought this magazine was supposed to be edited.

I'm overreacting, you say.  I know what the writer meant–what's the big deal?  Here's my deal: we pay a contractor to build a house properly, we pay a doctor to do an operation correctly, and we pay a wordsmith to write competently.  If our literary experts can't be bothered to communicate clearly, that will inevitably lead to a trickle-down of linguistic sloppiness.  Half a century from now, who knows how far standards will decline?

That's about my gripe quota for the month.  I'm happy to say that the actual content of the magazine is pretty good, malaprops aside.  I assume you've all picked up an issue so we can compare notes.

Cliff Simak hasn't written anything I've loved since Junkyard, but his latest, No Life of Their Own is pretty solid.  Four kids, at least two of them quite alien, share a rural summer together several centuries in the future.  Their pastimes are pretty timeless, though with some notable exceptions, largely derived from the alien nature of the children and their families.  It's not an entirely idyllic setting–all of the farmers in the area are suffering from a run of unmitigated bad luck, whereas the meanest cuss of them all seems to be blessed.  There's a reason, and the kids find it out. 

Warning: There is a little bit of cruelty to a cat.  Rest assured, however, that the cat is not unduly damaged, and the malefactor gets a comeuppance.

Newcomer Michael Shaara contributes Citizen Jell.  If you were a fugitive with the ability to do tremendous good, but only at the cost of your freedom, what would be your tipping point?  That's the subject of Shaara's ultimately heartwarming story.

Willy Ley has another excellent article, this time on the solar orbit of Mechta, the Soviet lunar probe.  I must say, I have to admire a fellow who can remain the first item on my monthly science fiction read list for a decade.

Finally (for today), there is The Spicy Sound of Success, by the prolific Jim Harmon.  For some reason, interstellar explorers become afflicted with transphasia (the swapping of sensory inputs–taste for sound, etc.) when scouting a new world.  This story involves a daring rescue and an interesting first contact. 

Join me next time for a round-up of this double-sized, bi-monthly edition… unless the Air Force's impending space shot stops the presses!

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Something new (June 1959 Astounding; 5-28-1959)

One of the main reasons I read science fiction is to see something truly new.  I don't just want to see a view of the future–I want to see a brand new culture, or a completely alien creature, or an innovative take on psionics.  Only science fiction (and fantasy) really can do this, and even then, writers are often locked into clichés informed by the current world they live in.

The June 1959 issue of Astounding is pretty good.  More significantly, it has got a lot of neat ideas that I had not seen before.  Let's take a look, shall we?


by Van Dongen

The opening story is Cat and Mouse, by Ralph Williams.  Williams has been writing since the late 30s, and his craft is finely honed with this excellent tale of an grizzled Alaskan outdoorsman, his cat, and the alien pest he is (unwittingly) recruited to eradicate.

Many factors make this story so good: Ed Brown, aged 60, is well developed.  Williams captures the stiffened limbs but heightened wisdom of an older protagonist.  The portrayal of both the Alaskan and off-planet wildernesses is vivid, as one might expect, Williams being a resident of Homer, Alaska.  But it's the alien race, the Harn, that is the stand-out element.  The not-quite-sentient creature is actually a symbiotic tribe of species, or perhaps the same species with differing pre-natal modifications to produce a variety of offspring classes: to wit, there is a central, immobile "brain," stinging units designed to bring down prey, carrier units that are mostly leg and sack designed to bring food to the brain mass, and fighting units whose role is to defeat larger adversaries.

Brown is just barely up to the task of vanquishing the alien menace, and it is a nail-biting battle of cunning to the end.  Sadly, this story may turn out to be Williams' swan song.  It is my understanding that the fellow passed away very recently on a fishing trip in the 49th state.  I will have to seek out more offspring of his pen; if they are all of this quality, the world has lost a treasure.


by Van Dongen

I enjoyed All Day September by Roger Kuykendall.  It's an almost slice-of-life (and I love slice-of-life) account of several weeks on the Moon after a meteor shower savages a moon base and leaves a prospector stranded out in the airless lunar desert.  The prospector's salvation, and indeed that of the lunar population as a whole, is his discovery of frozen water in caves hidden from the sun.  This is an exciting concept that I've never seen in science fiction or science.  The general assumption is that the moon is bone-dry, but it is certainly plausible that there could be stores of water, either primordial or from ice comet impact.  The only strain to my credulity came when it was learned that the prospector carried no radio because local transmitters had too short a range (acceptable–there is no ionosphere on the moon to bounce AM waves), but transmitters that used Earth relays were too bulky.  It would seem to me that, if we establish a population on the moon, we'd precede it with satellites in orbit that could be used for communication.

Transfusion, by Chad Oliver, is a strange story.  The premise is that a galaxy-spanning race of humans found itself bested by a savage, implacable foe, and its only hope was to seed a small colony of brain-wiped people on an out-of-the-way planet (Earth) and hope that this new society might come up with a completely innovative way to fight humanity's enemy.  As a test, the starfaring humans salt the planet with fossils of Homo Sapiens, Neanderthals, Australopithecines, etc.–basically every member of our evolutionary tree, along with colonies of great apes.  The idea is that once we discover that we've been hoaxed, we are ready to do battle with the aliens.

It's a silly idea, but reasonably well executed.  Humanity invents time travel in the early 1980s, goes back in time to do some physical anthropology, and catches the starfaring aliens in the act.  Traveling back to the present, the story's protagonist determines that his old anthropology professor is, in fact, an emissary of the old humans (the last).  The professor tells his student the whole story and gives him the keys to his spaceship with its advanced technology.  I would guess that between the ability to time travel and fly faster than light, humans will be well-nigh unstoppable. 

Perhaps we'll become the implacable scourge.


by Freas

Finally, we have the silly Unborn Tomorrow, by Mack Reynolds.  A private eye is sent to Oktoberfest to find time traveling tourists.  Not only does he find them, but they keep slipping the detective mickeys and sending him back in a time loop to ensure that their cover is never blown.  All the dick has to show for his efforts is a massive hangover and memories of three trips to Bavaria.  He wisely refuses a fourth time around.  The slightest of the bunch, but still decent.

Of course, there are virtually no female characters to be seen.  On the other hand, as I've said before, if you can't do it right, it's best not to try.  Despite the absence of the half of the human race from this issue, it's still a good book–let's call it 3.5 stars.

My bi-monthly Galaxy came in.  Expect that to be the topic day-after-tomorrow.  Thanks for reading!

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Let's do the numbers (June 1959 Astounding; 5-23-1959)

I'm about half-done with this month's Astounding, but since that half largely comprises the second third of Dorsai!, and because I don't want to give anything away before it's complete, there's not much fiction on which to report today.

But that doesn't mean I'm out of material… 

Four months ago, I wrote about Astoundings unique habit of publishing the results of reader surveys of fiction appearing in the magazine.  I then compared what the readers thought of the November and December issues of Astounding and what I thought.

The numbers are out again, this time for the January and February issues, and the results are similar.  Let's take a look, shall we?

When I reviewed the January issue, I noted that, with the exception of To Run the Rim, and Seedling, the magazine had been awfully unimpressive.  The problem with Editor Campbell's scoring system is that it only compares the stories to each other rather than on an absolute scale.  That said, on my card, I put Rim first and Seedling second. 

Well, the rest of the readers agreed that Seedling was #2, but they put the tedious Study in Still Life on top.  I just can't wait for Campbell to put more turgid "funny" tales in his mag.  To Run the Rim finished fourth, behind the fatuous Deadlock; Robin Hood's Barn and By New Hearth Fires came in a distant fifth and sixth.  The fact that the highest scoring story only got a 2.84 suggests that, as with the December issue, readers were unimpressed with the crop and were voting ranking based on the story they liked least (rather than which one they liked most).

The February issue was a better one, and the readers' opinions were more in line with my own.  Murray Leinster's Pirates of Ersatz (Part 1) was the favorite at 2.03 followed closely by Silverberg's Hi Diddle Diddle!.  As you'll recall from my review, I actually liked that story quite a bit despite it being Silverberg, and despite it being one of the "funny" stories.  Within two paragraphs, I am found out as a hypocrite.  Ah the shame.

The jingoistic but good Stoker and the Stars came in a solid #3, while the medicore Missing Link and Accidental Death round out the list at a distant 4th and 5th.  Sadly, Leonard Lockhard's satirical look at patent law, The Professional Touch, did not even make the list.

I'll be very interested to see the numbers for the April issue, which demonstrated a marked increase in quality.  Then we'll really see how the ratings compare.

In the meantime, I'll have more on this month's Astounding in a few days, and by then, all of July's issues should have arrived in my mailbox.  Here's hoping I'll have more space shots to discuss, too.

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