When you talk about destruction, don't you know that you can count me out
250,000 miles from Earth, the astronauts of Apollo 12 are circling the Moon, photographing Earth's neighbor for future landing sites before coming home. And in the nation's capital, the city is still reeling from the footsteps of 250,000 protesters who marched on Washington in the largest anti-war event in American history.
This second "Vietnam Moratorium Day" followed on the heels of last month's nationwide protests, to which President Nixon responded with apathy and his November 4th speech, in which he touted his secret timetable for "Vietnamesation"—the turning over of defense of South Vietnam to President Thieu's government, and also played up his support from "The Silent Majority" of Americans.
The protest movements have still fallen short of the planned nationwide strike, and this latest one has been eclipsed by the Moon landings. Nevertheless, they are making waves. In addition to the quarter million in Washington D.C., 100,000 marched in San Francisco in the West Coast's largest peace demonstration in history.
That demonstration was, in fact, peaceful. Not so the march on Washington, where extremists, protesting the trial of Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, and six "Yippies" for allegedly inspiring the Chicago Democratic Convention riots last year, clashed with police and were driven back by tear gas.
There is no word, as yet, if there will be a third Moratorium march in time for the Holidays, but one can probably expect more such outbursts from the Unsilent Minority so long as there is no end in sight to the Vietnam War, which has claimed the lives of more than 40,000 Americans so far.
The say that it's the institution
Last year, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fictionwon the Hugo for Best Science Fiction Magazine. It was a bit of a surprise since 1968 was hardly one of the magazine's best years—but then, 1968 wasn't a consistently great year for any magazine. However, if one were to judge F&SF's 1969 output solely on the basis of this month's issue, one's estimation of the magazine would, indeed, be justifiably high! Read on with pleasure:
by Ed Emshwiller
Bye, Bye, Banana Bird, by Sonya Dorman
In the not too far future, the Earth is under a world government, humanity has a few extraterrestrial colonies, and the Planetary Patrol, thoroughly integrated by race and sex, keeps the peace both at home and among the stars.
This is the tale of Roxy Rimidon, a young "Pippa" recruit who goes through a rigorous Basic Training before receiving her first assignment: to the Dominion of Cuba to investigate the sabotage of banana shipments to the agricultural colony of Vogl.
It's light, interesting, suspenseful, and (refreshingly) from the female perspective—sort of Heinlein's Starship Troopers meets Pauline Ashwell's Lysistrata Lee stories. What's not to like?
The only thing dragging this tale down is its lack of balance. Half the story is boot camp, and the other half is the assignment. On the other hand, if this novelette is merely setup for a clutch of Rimidon stories, then all is forgiven.
Four stars.
Hunting, by Robin Carson
Norman Hart is a deer hunter who, despite years of trying, has yet to bag a single buck. This time, with the help of a grizzled huntsman, and a little magic, he just might get what he's after.
Even if it's not what he intended…
There are a lot of Twilight Zone-y ways this amiable piece could have ended, and I had to ruminate for a while to decide if I liked the one Carson chose. Ultimately, I did.
What if Arthur Conan Doyle's twin titans, Sherlock Holmes and Professor Challenger, worked together? And what if the case they were on took place during the Martian conquest as depicted by H. G. Wells?
The result might be something like this, the first collaboration between SF veteran Manly Wade Wellman and his son. The tone is right; the ending is a touch anti-climactic.
Three stars.
The Falcon and the Falconeer, by Barry N. Malzberg
A Christmas story: a bunch of naval personnel on the backwater Rigel XIV decide to hold a nativity pageant among the natives. It was a natural fit, what with the indigenes all looking like, and having much the mental attitude, of terrestrial donkeys. But between the aliens' telepathic abilities and the religious inclinations of the crewman chosen to play the Infant, an unintended miracle occurs.
'Tis the season, indeed! A fun, nicely laid out piece, with properly rising tension and multiple viewpoints…but ultimately trivial and forgettable.
Three stars.
Lord of Sensation, by Leonard Tushnet
"Joe Roland was a modest man. He disclaimed any great genius as the cause of his phenomenal success…but a genius he nevertheless was, if a genius is one who builds the germ of an idea into an overwhelming craze."
The secret to M.I.T. graduate Roland's success? Capitalizing on the augmentation of the senses. First, he electronically enhances the sound of The Murderers, a second-rate rock band, to leave club-goers in ecstacy. But the extra vibrations cause long-term hearing and psychological damage, so Roland turns, one by one, to the other four senses, with both increasing victories and correspondingly deeper consequences.
A fun cautionary tale on the importance of doing research before experimenting directly on humans.
Three stars.
The Luxon Wall, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor offers up a fascinating discussion on tachyons, those hypothetical particles that only travel faster than light, and what that hyperluminal universe they inhabit might be like.
Dig it. Four stars.
Formula for a Special Baby, by Julian F. Grow
Dr. Hiram Pertwee, late of Vermont, now somewhere out West, has yet another run-in with an extraterrestrial. This one arrives on a flying teacup speaking German, dressed in lederhosen, and accompanied by a voluptuous cat-woman. His mission is to go to Bavaria and whisper a strange incantation to a baby there. Pertwee is shanghaied to be his guide.
Aside from being the first in the now four-part series of stories to reveal the exact year in which they occur (1879), the most that can be said for "Baby" is that it is another Pertwee tale.
Which isn't bad. They're fun, if not literature for the ages. Three stars.
We are doing what we can
What a pleasant issue that was! Not a clunker in the bunch, and some fine reading besides. Keep it up, Fermans père et fils, and you might just take another golden rocketship home again next Worldcon!
Being something of a geography buff, one of my favorite games is to go to a thrift shop and inspect their globe collection. I can generally tell what year a globe was manufactured from the configuration of countries. And while we haven't had anything like the banner year of 1960, when more than a dozen African states sprang into existence, nevertheless, there are still enough changes every year to keep the game going.
For instance, this month, the Kingdom of Swaziland with its 400,000 denizens, achieved independence from the United Kingdom. The second-smallest African country, is not entirely free, of couse. It is completely surrounded by South Africa, with all transportation lines running through Pretoria. The money is South African. All telegraph lines go through South Africa. As for their economy, it's mostly propped up by British hand-outs.
But they do have sovereignty, something South Africa tried to snatch from them time and again, but which was thwarted by the British. Plus, the new country has vast mineral reserves of asbestos and iron, plus forests and fertile soil. So King Sobhuza I just might make a go of things.
Going the other way, the people of West Irian (formerly Netherlands New Guinea) have has been annexed as Indonesia's 26th province. Six years ago, the United Nations stepped in to stop a budding conflict between the Dutch and the Indonesians, who both laid claim to the region. Now the 800,000 poverty-stricken inhabitants are officially under the auspices of General Suharto. Sometime soon, they will be given the choice between independence and a union with their neighboring would-be superpower. It is anyone's guess how free and honest the local elections can be under the Suharto dictatorship (i.e. don't expect a free West Papua any time soon…)
The Morning Star Flag—which you won't see flown until and unless the Irians get independence…
Bruce Cheeseborough, Jr. is a private dick operating some time in the near future. While in the course of waging a one man crusade against the new crime boss, Lester Dunhaven Sinclair, a certain meddler crosses his path. Said meddler first appears as a nebbishy, softish man, but he quickly betrays himself as a protean blob, possessed of all manner of wondrous powers. The "Martian" offers to help the detective, granting him invulnerability, the gift of flight, time dilation…but Cheeseborough finds the tilting of the scales unsporting.
Still, when the detective makes his final assault on Chez Sinc, it's going to take every resource he has, from human wit to alien marvel, to come out the other end alive…
The Meddler is a brilliant piece of genre hybridization, combining hard-boiled noir with cunning science fiction. Every piece of the story's myriad puzzles is meticulously laid out, so that an astute reader can figure out the revelations just before they materialized. Beyond that, the piece is funny as well as perfectly paced.
Five stars, and a nice broadening of the author's talents.
Time Was, by Phyllis Murphy
Picture a man so obsessed with saving time, that he applies the art of speed reading to life. You know: skipping over most of it, trying to absorb only the salient points. Except, how do you know which bits are the important ones? And what if you lose the ability to focus on any given thing in the pursuit of apprehending everything?
This story reminded me of a friend who insisted a person must do several things at once to be truly efficient. If she read the paper, she listened to the radio. When we watched television together, she'd inevitably crochet. Remarkably efficient…except half the time, she lost track of the show's plot and had to ask us what was going on.
Three stars.
The Wide World of Sports , by Harvey Jacobs
They say that football is a bloody sport, but it's nowhere near as bloody as whatever Jacobs is describing in this story, featuring machine guns, the slaughter of all audience members of a certain name, and general mayhem.
This story would be more effective if it made a lick of sense and/or had a plot. Two stars.
by Gahan Wilson
Coffee Break, by D. F. Jones
There's a Laugh-In bit where the projected news break underneath the action runs, "The United Nations today voted unanimously on everything; UN police are still looking for who put grass in the vents."
This story covers the exact same ground, but it takes much longer to do it, and not in nearly as funny a manner.
Two stars.
Dance Music for a Gone Planet, by Sonya Dorman
Fiddling after Rome is burnt? A tinge of hope for a post-apocalyptic ode?
I'm not sure—I found this one a bit too obtuse to understand. Maybe I'm the obtuse one.
Two stars.
Possible, That's All!, by Arthur C. Clarke
The Other Good Doctor takes umbrage at Asimov's assertion that nothing can go faster than light. He offers up some counterexamples, but they're honestly rather feeble, and the article is not particularly coherent.
Eddie Burma is an empath, life of the party, and he has so much to give. Folks are drawn to his magnetic personality like moths to flame, but, unknowingly, each takes a little bit from Burma in each encounter. This is the price of popularity: eventually, there can be nothing left of you, the you behind the glamor and charm, because no one wants you. They just want what rubs off.
If you've heard this refrain before, it's because Ellison delivered a soliloquy on the subject in his last collection, From the Land of Fear. Harlan is afeared that no one really loves him; they just love The Talent that resides within his physical husk. Readers of that collection also have encountered Knife in its embryonic form, a snippet of it among the story fragments at the beginning of the book.
Anyway, I've said it before and I'll say it again: if your soul overlaps with Harlan's, then his writing resonates with you as The Truth. If you are much unlike the man (as, for instance, I am), then you can admire the way he strings words together, but they don't move much.
Organ transplants are the topic du jour in both science and science fiction. I find it particularly interesting that much is made of the muddled identity of a person when they incorporate the parts of other humans (viz. Van Scyoc's A Trip to Cleveland General in this month's Galaxy). This time around, Asimov takes things a step further: are humans less human if they have metal hearts? And are robots more human if they incorporate biological components?
I liked this story, one of the better pieces Dr. A has done since largely going on fiction hiatus after the launch of Sputnik.
Four stars.
The Ghost Patrol, by Ron Goulart
Speaking of crossed genres, Ghost Patrol is the latest in the Max Kearny series about an art director who solves occult crimes in his spare time. These yarns range from hilariously clever to limp.
This one, about a free doctor beset both by celebrity ghosts and Bircher anti-freeloaders, belongs, sadly, in the latter category.
Two stars.
Little Found Satellite, by Isaac Asimov
This month's piece is worth it for the funny anecdote that forms its preface. The rest is a pleasant, if not particularly deep, history of Saturn's telescopic observation. The piece culminates in the discovery of Saturn's tenth moon, Janus, just outside the ring system.
At a recent convention, my daughter led a panel entitled "Plants vs. People", in which the panelists and audience discussed green menaces of various kinds. Triffids, killer ragweed, stuff like that. I wish I'd had Fangs as an example, as it's a good one.
Zen Holbrook is runs a plantation on a world countless light years from Earth. His trees produce a valuable, hallucinogenic-juiced fruit. They're also quasi-sentient, something like ultra-advanced Venus Fly Traps. Though he tries to keep his relationship with his trees strictly business, he can't help ascribing them personalities, giving them names, and treating them like pampered pets.
Which makes it all the more difficult when he gets news that all of the trees in Sector C have been afflicted with "rust", a disease that not only spells their impending death, but has the risk of spreading throughout the whole planet. Holbrook must kill his friends lest an entire world's economy die. Further complicating the matter is his 15-year old niece, Naomi, who would rather die than see the grove decimated.
It is implied, though never specifically stated, that there is no less destructive way to solve the problem: not only must the trees die, but so must an entire species of benign hopper-bear—a link in the infection cycle. Lord knows what that will do the local ecosystem, but "the needs of the many…"
It's an interesting, thought-provoking piece, composed with Silverberg's usual excellence, though I'm not quite sure which side we're supposed to take, if any. Like, do we all need to grow up and realize that ecological destruction is a valid and important necessity? Or is Zen actually the villain? I could have done without so much of the Uncle's attraction for his niece, too, even if it was supposed to say…something…about Zen's character. I know that the word for people who ascribe the emotions of an author's creation to the author himself is "moron" (at least, per Larry Niven), but Silverbob sure includes a lot of just-pubescent minors in his stories…
Four stars.
Whaddaya make of that?
If you read judiciously, this month's mag is terrific, kind of like how, if you parse the news in just the right way, it's all positive developments. Look deeper, and the seams show. Still, whether the news or the magazine are half full or empty all depends on your temperament, I suppose.
I guess I'll leave with the wishy washy conclusion that's always true: things could be worse!
Welcome to the last of our three discussions about an anthology of original fantasy and science fiction that's drawing a lot of attention. Love it or hate it, or maybe a little of both, it's impossible to ignore. I showed you the full wraparound cover the the first time, and offered a closer look at the front the second time, so here's the back cover. It gives you a convenient list of the authors.
As before, I'll give each story the usual star rating as well as using the colors of a traffic light to indicate how dangerous it might be.
A woman desperately tries to escape her pursuers. Flashbacks tell us more about this dystopian world.
Saying anything more would lessen the impact of this intense little story. Ellison's introduction compares it to the work of Shirley Jackson, and that's a fair analogy. It's deceptively quiet and matter-of-fact at times, but full of icy horror at its heart.
Four stars. YELLOW for unrelieved grimness.
The Happy Breed, by John T. Sladek
In the near future, machines take care of all our problems, leaving us to enjoy a life of leisure. Of course, what the machines think is best for us may not agree with our own ideas.
This dark satire on automation isn't exactly subtle. It makes its point clearly enough, and follows it to its logical conclusion. The details of the characters' degeneration make it worth reading.
Three stars. YELLOW for cynicism.
Encounter with a Hick, by Jonathan Brand
Our smart aleck narrator tells us how he met a fellow from a less sophisticated background and what happened when he told the man something about the origin of his planet.
You'll probably figure out the punchline of this extended joke. Despite its predictability, I enjoyed the story's wise guy style. Others may find the narrator annoyingly smug.
Three stars. YELLOW for a wry look at deeply held beliefs.
From the Government Printing Office, by Kris Neville
Set at a near future time when childrearing has changed in an eye-opening way, this yarn is told through the eyes of a kid who is only three and one-half years old. Adults are bewildering creatures indeed!
The quirky choice of viewpoint, with its combination of precocity and naiveté, is what makes this story worth a look. I'm not quite sure what the author is saying about parents and children, but it's provocative.
Three stars. YELLOW for an unflattering portrait of Mom and Dad.
All over the world, people with Romany ancestors feel compelled to return to a place that vanished long ago. But what will disappear next?
This synopsis fails to capture the author's eccentric style and unusual combination of whimsy and oddball speculation. If you like Lafferty, you'll enjoy it. If not, you won't. Like many of his works, it's something of a tall tale and a shaggy dog story. I dug it.
The narrator witnesses a woman and a dwarf set up a strange menagerie at night, not far from where a carnival is in progress. The mystery of the cages deepens as visitors show up.
I find this story difficult to describe. It's quite a bit different from the author's jagged, chopped up pieces for New Worlds, and from his decadent tales of Vermillion Sands. It's very subtle, and there seems to be more than meets the eye. The premise evokes thoughts of Ray Bradbury, but only in an extremely subdued way. Maybe haunting is the word I'm looking for.
Four stars. GREEN for intriguing writing.
Judas, by John Brunner
A robot sets itself up as God. One of the people who created it sets out to destroy the false deity.
The plot is simple enough, and the analogy between the worship of the robot and Christianity is made crystal clear. You may predict the twist ending, given the story's title.
Three stars. YELLOW for religious themes.
Test to Destruction, by Keith Laumer
The leader of a group of rebels is captured by the forces of a dictator. They use a gizmo to retrieve information from his brain. Meanwhile, in what has to be the wildest coincidence of all time, aliens approaching Earth also probe his brain, in order to learn how to conquer humanity. The combination is explosive.
Looking at my synopsis, I get the feeling that this isn't the most plausible story in the world. Since it's by Laumer, you know it's a fast-moving adventure yarn. As a matter of fact, it's so lightning-paced that it makes his other stories look slow. The reader is left breathless. There's a serious point made at the end, but mostly it's just a thrill ride.
The delightfully named Harrison Wintergreen is a guy who has always gotten what he wanted out of life. As a kid, baseball cards. As a young man, women. As an adult, tons of money. Now he's got terminal cancer. Can he triumph over the ultimate challenge?
As Ellison says in his introduction, this is a funny story about cancer. Sick humor, to be sure. Bad taste? Well, maybe, but I think you'll get a kick out of it.
Replace a bullfight with a battle between man and car, and you've got this tongue-in-cheek tale. All the details of a traditional corrida del toros are here, transformed to fit the automotive theme.
Space explorers are raised from childhood to be absolutely free of sexual characteristics. It's impossible to tell if they started off as female or male; they are completely neuter in every way. People known as frelks are attracted to them.
Amazingly, this is the first short story Delany ever sold, although others have already appeared in magazines. It's superbly written, as you'd expect, and explores sex and gender in completely new, profound ways.
Five stars. RED for unimagined forms of human sexuality.
20 20 Hindsight
Looking back at the book as a whole, it's clear that the level of stories is generally high, with a few clunkers. Not all the stories are dangerous, and they could have been published elsewhere. A few are truly groundbreaking. The Silverberg, Leiber, and Delany are the best. The Sturgeon is the biggest disappointment. The Farmer is going to start the most arguments. Put on your reading glasses, fasten your seat belt, and give it a try.
Ever since Harlan Ellison started flapping his gums about how dangerous his new anthology Dangerous Visions is, it seems a seal has been broken.
First, Michael Moorcock started putting nudes on the covers of his newly taken-over New Worlds. The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction started using the word "shit" liberally. And this month, every other story features sex in varying degrees of luridity.
I'm not complaining, mind you. These things have existed in books and in avante-garde publications like Playboy for years. But it's always a bit startling to find the words you hear commonly on the street suddenly appearing in previously staid venues. Sort of like how Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf shocked everyone. As fellow traveller John Boston noted, with books and girlie mags, one knows what one is getting into. But with media that enjoys wider distribution, which could be viewed or read by the the little old lady from Peoria as much as the hippie in San Francisco, editorial tends toward the conservative.
Does an influx of liberality mean the content is improved? Let's read the latest issue of F&SF and find out!
The issue at hand
by Ed Emshwiller
They Are Not Robbed, by Richard McKenna
Richard McKenna died three years ago, but his rate of publication has, if anything, increased. His latest story maintains the quality of work that made his loss so much mourned.
The setup: about 15 years from now, aliens arrive and solve our energy crisis. They also set up cultural exchanges, but the the transactions have a seemingly sinister component. Folks with a certain prerequisite are able to go inside, disappearing for a while before returning with a large check in hand. Aldous Huxley is one of the more famous transactees, but their numbers grow and grow.
Over time, it is determined that each of the selected humans has a certain "tau factor" that has an unknown effect on their behavior and powers. It is only known that the tau factor is measurable…and that it is gone once the humans come back.
Normal humans (those without the tau factor) become jealous, enforcing increasingly rigid restrictions on the tau-enabled humans, with ghettos a foreseeable future. Meanwhile, exchange after exchange begins to disappear.
Amidst this backdrop, we are introduced to our hero, Christopher Lane. Already half dropped out from society, he learns that he is blessed with the tau factor, and upon entering an exchange, learns that it enables him to step out of phase with time. This gives him access to a fairyland world divided into little islands of time. There he meets his true love and hatches a plan to sever his ties with the old Earth before the last exchange closes forever.
As for the sex content, much is made of pulchritude of Christopher's vapid and Earthbound girlfriend (we even learn the color of her pubic hair: black). In this case, the focus on mechanical, unsatisfactory love-making is contrasted with the more elevated relations Chris enjoys out of time.
Only barely science fiction, it is nevertheless a good read. Four stars.
The Turned-off Heads, by Fritz Leiber
The issue takes a bit of a tumble with the next short-short. This exploration of pop culture and the evolving relation of mankind to machinekind is affectedly outré and rather pointless. At least it's short, and I suppose Leiber gets points for forecasting fashion.
Two stars.
by Ed Emshwiller
I See a Man Sitting on a Chair, and the Chair Is Biting His Leg, by Harlan Ellison and Robert Sheckley
Here's a piece that reads like it could have been in Dangerous Visions. I'm not sure how much was written by Ellison and how much by Sheckley, but it definitely reads like a fusion of their styles.
Our "star" is Joe Pareti, a man whose prime distinction from the rest of the Earth's teeming, over-educated billions is his ability to harvest "goo." This gray, mucousy sludge has choked the planet's oceans and now provides humanity's main source of food. It also has an alarming tendency to writhe, occasionally forming itself into grotesque parodies of animal life.
The goo also, on rare occasion, infects its harvesters. In an act of carelessness, Pareti succumbs, losing all of his hair overnight. His doctor warns that greater changes may be in store, but given that only six cases preceded Joe's, all of them wildly different in their courses, nothing more can be determined.
It doesn't take long for Joe to find out. In short order, every woman finds him irresistible. A life of increasingly exotic sexual escapades is frustrated when inanimate objects also start to make advances on the former goo farmer. Will he succumb to their inorganic advances? What happens if he says no?
This is a weird piece. But, like most things by Ellison and Sheckley, it's a good piece. Four stars.
Light On Cader, by Josephine Saxton
A young undertaker, bade by his mother's dying wish, climbs Cader Idris in Wales on a raw, misty morning. At the summit, he encounters his life's desire…or maybe an unearthly trap.
That's it. There's really not much to this story–except flavor and texture, which is competently done.
Three star.
Crack in the Shield, by Arthur Sellings
This UK author offers up a glimpse of life in the 22nd Century. The development of the personal shield, and (for the less wealthy) shields for structures, causes society to fracture into a myriad of animal-totemed clans. Each has laid claim to a province of the economy: Bees make food, Peacocks are in advertising, etc. Assured immortality by falling in line within this strict societal structure, imagination largely disappears.
The only hope for the race lies with those who voluntarily give up their shields. Crack is the story of Philip Tawn, Peacock, who is driven to do just that.
I found this an implausibly optimistic piece, but Sellings writes it well enough. It's also a bit more fuddy-duddy than the rest of the mag, but I suppose balance has its place.
Three stars.
The Seventh Metal, by Isaac Asimov
Last issue, I praised Doc A.'s article on the ancient discovery and use of the first seven metals (what a kitschy store in Borrego Springs, where I spent the weekend, described as "the seven mystic metals"). Left undiscussed in that piece was mercury, remarkable among the first seven for being the only one that is a liquid at usual temperatures.
Asimov does a fine job talking about element Hg (and why it has that abbreviation). Four stars.
Lunatic Assignment, by Sonya Dorman
Sonya Dorman's tale is of "Four men, dressed in limp white shirts and slacks," each with his own madness. Keepsy, a pervert who sleeps with his hand on his crotch, has a maelstrom of a mind, betrayed all the more by his frustrated desire to project normalcy. Arrigott, having no sense of ego, has trouble with the word "I". Fomer is a schizoid, an empty vessel. And Braun, their leader, has barely suppressed desires to rape and ravage.
But the world is an asylum, and someone has to run it.
I can't say I quite understood this piece, but it is memorable. Three stars.
In His Own Image, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.
by Ed Emshwiller
Lastly, we have the tale of Gordon Effro, a spacewrecked sinner who ends up at a lifeboat station at the edge of space. He washes up at a station inhabited by a mad proselytizer with a coterie of robotic disciples. All Effro wants to do is drink himself blind until the rescue ship arrives, but the wild-eyed Christian has other plans.
I liked this story quite a lot up to its conclusion. There are a number of ways this story could have ended. Biggle chose perhaps the least satisfying, the most conventional.
Thus, three stars.
Can I open my eyes?
As it turns out, the stories with smut were my favorites. However, I don't think their salacious content was what sold me; rather, they were just the most interesting of the pieces. On the other hand, perhaps McKenna and Ellison/Sheckley were able to write so effectively because they felt less fettered when they produced these pieces.
I guess only time will tell if 1967 marked an experimental flirtation with sex in science fiction…or if it presaged an SFnal revolution!
All of West Germany is currently kept on tenterhooks by Moby Dick. No, I'm not talking about the classic novel by Herman Melville, but about our very own re-enactment thereof on the river Rhine.
On May 18, the skipper of a Rhine barge reported having seen "a white monster" in the polluted waters of the Rhine near Duisburg. The river police initially assumed that the man was drunk, but other sightings were reported as well. The unfortunately named Dr. Wolfgang Gewalt (his surname literally means "violence"), director of the Duisburg Zoo, identified the creature as a beluga whale, which had somehow managed to swim 450 kilometres upstream.
Dr. Gewalt and his crew hunt Moby Dick with stun guns and bow and arrow.
Discovering his inner Captain Ahab, Dr. Gewalt decided to capture the white whale and have it transported to his brand-new dolphinarium. However, he was about as successful as his literary counterpart and so Moby Dick, as the whale was nicknamed by the locals, repeatedly eluded the traps laid for him, with the aid of some people who believe that the whale should be free back to swim the ocean and not imprisoned in a too small basin.
The specialist diving bell vessel "Carl Straat" with a tugboat on the Rhine. The "Carl Straat" was built in 1963. My Dad designed the handling gear for the diving bell.
Eluding his would-be captors, Moby Dick even swam as far upstream as the West German capital of Bonn, where he interrupted a parliamentary press conference, most likely to protest the treatment he had suffered at the hands of the West German police as well as the heavy pollution of the Rhine, which turned the pristine white skin of a whale a splotchy grey. However, there is a happy ending, because Moby turned around and made it back to the North Sea unharmed.
A cartoonist's impression of Moby Dick interrupting the parliamentary press conference, much to the chagrin of Chancellor Ludwig Ehrhard.
All-new Anthology, All-new Stories:
Moby's adventures are enough to keep the entire country at the edge of their seats. But nonetheless, I still found the time to read the new science fiction anthology Orbit 1, edited by Damon Knight, which I picked up from the trusty spinner rack at my local import bookstore. The blurb on the backcover promised nine brand-new stories by the best science fiction authors working today, so how could I resist?
"Staras Flonderans" by Kate Wilhelm
Kate Wilhelm is not only one of the best up and coming science fiction authors, she also happens to be married to Orbit editor Damon Knight. That said, Knight wasn't playing favourites here, because Kate Wilhelm's contribution to the anthology is a genuinely good story.
A scout craft with a three person crew, two humans and the alien Staeen, approaches a derelict starship. The lifeboats are gone and the ship was abandoned by her crew in a hurry. However, our three brave explorers have no idea why, since the ship was in perfect working order. Nor is this the first time something like this has happened; other ships have been found abandoned as well.
Kate Wilhelm explores the mystery of the abandoned starship not through the eyes of the two human crewmen, but of the alien Staeen, who is described as looking like an inverted tulip at one point. Staeen is a truly alien creature, who can survive on land, underwater, in deep space and in high radiation environments. He is an empath, several millennia old and humans are ridiculously short-lived to him. In fact, Staeen's people, the Chlaesan, refer to humans as "Flonderans", which means "children" in their language. Staeen's human crewmates, two big, burly spaceman that would be at home in any issue of Analog, clearly have no idea how their comrade views them.
Staeen uses his empathic abilities and realises that the crew abandoned the ship in a fit of irrational panic. But whatever caused that blind panic is still out there, as our three brave explorers are about to find out…
At its heart, this story is a neat mystery in space that would have been at home in Planet Stories or Thrilling Wonder Stories twenty years ago. What sets it apart is Staeen's uniquely alien view of the world as well as Kate Wilhelm's writing skills.
Four stars.
"The Secret Place" by Richard McKenna
I wasn't familiar with the work of Richard McKenna, who passed away two years ago at the way too early age of fifty-one. So "The Secret Place", which was found among his papers after his death, is my first exposure to his work.
First-person narrator Duard Campbell recounts his strange wartime adventures. As a young geology student, Campbell was part of a team that was supposed to track down a uranium mine in the Oregon desert. For in 1931, a boy named Owen Price was found dead with claw marks on his back as well as some gold ore and a piece of uranium oxide in his pocket. When uranium suddenly becomes vitally important with the onset of WWII, the US Army sends a team to locate the source of the uranium oxide. The chief geologist Dr. Lewis believes that this venture is futile, because the area in question is a volcanic high plateau, where uranium does not naturally occur.
When the team departs, only Campbell is left behind. He wants to prove Dr. Lewis wrong and find the uranium vein. So he hires Owen's sister Helen, who can see things no one else can see, as his secretary to pry the secret of the uranium mine out of her. But the game Campbell plays with Helen quickly becomes dangerous for them both.
I enjoyed the vivid descriptions of the Oregon countryside, though I have no idea how accurate they are. The ending is a bit abrupt, though, and the central mystery is not really resolved, probably because McKenna died before he could finish the story.
Three stars.
"How Beautiful With Banners" by James Blish
James Blish needs no introduction to the readers of the Journey.
Dr. Ulla Hillstrøm is a scientist who runs into problems when her living spacesuit merges with a native creature, described as a floating cloak, during a research mission of the Saturn moon of Titan.
Dr. Hillstrøm realises that the cloak is trying to mate with her spacesuit. She notes a second cloak creature and deduces that it might be jealous, so she tries to use the second creature to separate the cloak creature from her spacesuit. However, she is only partly successful, because the separation destroys the spacesuit. The last thing Dr. Ulla Hillstrøm sees before she freezes to death is the mating dance of the cloak creatures.
Beautifully written, but inconsequential. The stereotype of the icy female scientist who never knew love and companionship is overused. Science fiction writers, please go and meet some actual women scientists.
Two stars
"The Disinherited" by Poul Anderson
Poul Anderson is another author who needs no introduction.
The government of an overpopulated future Earth ends the galactic exploration program and recalls scientific personnel and spaceship crews. Understandably, no one is very happy about this.
"The Disinherited" follows two characters. Jacob Kahn is a starship captain and has been for a very long time due to the time dilation effect of travelling at lightspeed. Kahn is also an Israeli Jew, something which should not be unusual, considering how many science fiction writers are Jewish, but which sadly still is. Kahn's first mate is Native American, his chief engineer is from India, the assistant chief engineer from Africa. Anderson presents us a still all too rare future populated by people other than white Anglo-Saxon Protestants, though most of them are still male.
David Thraikill is a scientist whose family has been living on the planet Mithras for three generations now and who has never been to Earth. As a result, Thraikill and the rest of the scientists do not want to leave Mithras, because this is their home now. Kahn tries to persuade them to leave by explaining that the human inhabitants of Mithras cannot maintain a high level of technology in the long run and that there will also be conflicts with the native population of Mithras, a race of peaceful kangaroo-like beings. Because as history shows, this is what always happens when one group of humans comes in contact with another group and colonises their homeland…
Considering how prolific Poul Anderson, it's no surprise that his works can be hit and miss. "The Disinherited" definitely falls on the "hit" side and offers a look at the dark side of colonialism, something our genre rarely explores.
Five stars
"The Loolies Are Here" by Allison Rice
Allison Rice is the only unfamiliar name in Orbit 1. However, the biographic note explains that Allison Rice is a joint penname used by Jane Rice, whose stories have been brightening up the pages of Unknown, Astounding and F&SF for more than twenty years now, and Ruth Allison, a mother of five and new writer.
The first person narrator – we later learn that she shares the name the authors have chosen to publish this story under – is a harried housewife and mother of four, who is dealing with a torrent of bad luck, appliances breaking down, children and pets misbehaving, etc… One day, she finds tiny footprints on the floor and wonders whether the loolies – mischievous goblins whom her sons blame for their own misbehaviour – are not real after all. Eventually, the narrator sees a bonafide loolie in the bathroom during a massive storm. But even though the loolie causes chaos, he does help the narrator get even with her useless husband.
"The Loolies Are Here" is very much a humour piece and the voice of the harried housewife and mother certainly rings true. In many ways, this story reminded me of Shirley Jackson's collection of semi-autobiographical short stories Life Among the Savages. It's a good story, but as a humorous domestic fantasy story, it doesn't really fit into what is otherwise a science fiction collection.
Four stars
"Kangaroo Court" by Virginia Kidd
Virginia Kidd is a well known name in genre circles as a member of the Futurians, poet, magazine publisher, literary agent, former roommate of Judith Merril and former wife of James Blish. Now she can also add short fiction writer to her resume.
A future Earth, where war is a thing of the past and space travel has been outlawed, receives strange messages from outer space, followed by the landing of a spaceship. A military officer named Tulliver Harms puts himself in charge of dealing with the alien Leloc, whom he is convinced must be dangerous – after all, they're aliens. Harms plans to annihilate the Leloc.
The only potential obstacle to this plan is the newly appointed liaison officer Wystan Godwin, who had no idea what is going on due to having spent the past few months on a retreat in monastery in Tibet. Harms does his best to keep Godwin busy and in the dark, but eventually Wystan gets to parley with the kangaroo-like Leloc, who are not just very alien, but who also believe that Earth is their long lost colony. Wystan has to muster all his diplomatic skills to avoid genocide or all-out war.
"Kangaroo Court" is an amusing story about how diplomacy rather than violence wins the day, featuring some truly alien aliens. However, it also goes on far too long and particularly the expositional sections in the middle about kangaroos, marsupials and the impossible nature of the Leloc spacedrive made my eyes glaze over like the gizmospeak in a bad Analog story.
Three stars
"Splice of Life" by Sonya Dorman
Sonya Dorman burst onto the scene a few years ago and has since established herself as one of our most exciting new writers.
"Splice of Life" opens with a young woman – she's only ever addressed as Miss D. – coming to after a car accident, just in time for a doctor to stick a hypodermic into her eyeball. The eye was injured in the accident and Miss D. worries that she may lose it. The doctors and nurses reassure her, but both Miss D. and the reader realise that something is not quite right in this hospital.
A neat tale of medical horror with a ending that packs a punch.
Four stars
"5 Eggs" by Thomas M. Disch
Thomas M. Disch is another newish author, who was one of Cele Goldsmith-Lalli's discoveries back when she was editing Fantastic and Amazing.
The unnamed writer protagonist of "5 Eggs" has been left by his lover Nyctimene on the eve of their engagement party. Gradually, we learn that Nyctimene was not quite human, but some kind of bird alien, as the reference to the figure from Greek mythology suggests. However, Nyctimene has left something behind: a basket of eggs. But leaving eggs lying around the house can be quite dangerous.
This story is well written, but there isn't much of a plot and the final twist is not as shocking as Disch probably thinks it is. The recipe for Caesar salad sounds good, though.
Two stars
If you're planning on making Thomas M. Disch's recipe for Caesar salad, mind the eggs.
"The Deeps" by Keith Roberts
British writer and artist Keith Roberts has been gracing the covers and pages of Science Fantasy and New Writings in SF for several years now, though this is his first US publication, as far as I know.
"The Deeps" starts with the by now familiar dystopian vision of an overpopulated Earth (for another recent take on this theme see Make Room, Make Room! by Harry Harrison, reviewed here by our own Jason Sacks). This time around, the ingenious solution to the overpopulation problem is cities on the ocean floor.
Mary Franklin is a suburban housewife living in one of those undersea cities. One day, her teenaged daughter Jen goes off to a dance and doesn't come home. Mary goes searching for her, wondering whether the children who grow up under the sea are not becoming steadily more fishlike.
"The Deeps" is well written. Roberts captures both Mary's frustration with her husband and her fear for Jen, though I wonder whether a frantic mother searching for her missing child would really spend two pages describing the infrastructure of undersea living. Atmospheric, but not a whole lot of plot and marred by long stretches of exposition.
Three stars
Summary Judgment
The Orbit anthology series is certainly off to a good start. The quality of the stories varies, but they do offer a good overview of the range of science fiction writing today.
Of the nine stories in this anthology, four are written by women. If we count Jane Rice and her collaborator Ruth Allison separately, we have five male and five female authors. Of course, women make up fifty-one percent of the Earth's population, so an anthology with fifty percent male and fifty percent female contributors shouldn't be anything unusual. However, in practice there are still way too many magazine issues and anthologies that don't have a single female contributor, so an anthology where half the authors are women is truly remarkable.
Three and a half stars all in all
Enjoying the summer sun with a cup of coffee, a slice of snow mousse cake and a good book on Bremen's market square.
Out in the southeast corner of California is a hidden treasure, a beautiful national park known as Joshua Tree, named for the surreal plants that characterize the region. And in the heart of a tiny, unincorporated community there, resides the place called Space Cowboy Books.
Jean-Paul Garnier, the Space Cowboy, invited us out to see the spring bloom in the wilderness. We were able to take him up on his offer too late to see the flowers, but we did see some amazing petroglyphs and water/wind eroded facades. Even better was the absolute quiet of the place, the aural equivalent of a dark sky (which they also have there).
Of course, it was a several hour trip up Highway 395, over Highway 60 to Interstate 10, and then up Highway 62, which terminates at Joshua Tree.
But we had beautiful scenery, each other for conversation, and a brand new 8-track player in the car for music.
I also had the newest issue of Galaxy, which I was able to read while the Young Traveler drove. Ah, the luxury of having children!
And so, a tour of the trips I went on while on a trip:
Actually, the setup's not too bad: It's the far future, and humanity has complete control of its genetic destiny. Society is divided between the dronish "Sterries" (sterile humans), the occasional persons who can have potentially viable offspring, and the immortal (but also sterile) Optimen, who run everything, a triumverate's administration lasting a century.
Children cannot be borne the natural way; for an embryo to make it to maturity, a doctor's intervention is required. So begins Eyes, on the eve of a "cutting" that will turn the artificially united progeny of a Mr. and Mrs. Durant into a human being — perhaps even an Optiman.
But before the horrified gaze of the assigned surgeon, some external force modifies the fertilized ovum, making the modification to immortal perfection impossible. An expert is called in, who salvages the embryo, but in the process causes it to become that rarest of beasts: a nascent human that can reproduce on its own. Such a thing is strictly forbidden, yet the expert and his accomplice nurse take pains to ensure that the contraband embryo's nature is hidden from the world. Or so they think.
This takes up about half of this installment, and so a quarter of the book. I have to give credit to Herbert's ability to spew a half dozen pages of medical jargon and keep it interesting.
Things slow down in the second half, when we meet the ruling trio and discover that the plot has wheels within wheels. It also involves an underground race of Cyborgs, who have been biding their time for tens of thousands of years to regain ascendancy over the planet, though they are as clueless about how the modification of the Durant's child occurred as everyone else. Part 1 ends with the first shots being fired in a renewed war between the Optimen culture and the Cyborgs.
A couple of issues: Eyes is written in typical Herbertian style, which is to say in this weird third person omniscient viewpoint that switches characters every sentence and overuses italicized depiction of internal monologues. Perhaps, as one of the oligarchs states in Eyes, "Efficiency is the opposite of Craftsmanship," but I still think the story could have been a lot better at half the length in the hands of someone else. Like Dune. Also, no society remains static for tens of thousands of years — not Egypt and not the weird world of Eyes. And then, of course, there's the pseudo-telepathy the Durants enjoy that involves a code of finger presses. It reminds me of shows where a paragraph of Morse code can be deduced from four dots and a dash.
Anyway, three stars for now. Herbert's done worse, and I've yet to see him do much better.
Priceless Possession, by Arthur Porges
In the depths of space, the 23rd Century equivalent of the ambergris-bearing whale is the anenome-like "Star Sailor" or "S-2." Its micron thin sail, produced over thousands of years, is the most valuable commodity in the universe. On board a particular merchant ship, an Ensign and a Lieutenant find their cupiditous designs hindered by a captain who believes he is in telepathic communication with the current prey.
It's not a happy story, but it's pretty good. Three stars.
For Your Information: Brownian Motion, Loschmidt's Number and the Laws of Utter Chaos, by Willy Ley
Beginning with an explanation of the word 'gas' (which is as deliberately coined as 'radar' or 'Kleenex'), Ley goes on a whirlwind trip through the history of fluid dynamics. It's one of Ley's better pieces, though a little rushed and occasionally following the pattern of the Brownian Motion he ultimately explains.
But then, that's history for you. Four stars.
The Eskimo Invasion, by Hayden Howard
by Jack Gaughan
Out in the wilds of Canada, an anthropologist has made a terrible discovery: a tribe of "Eskimos" are really something else, the female of their species infinitely appealing…and able to have children every month. And they worship the Great Bear, a Cthulhu-esque entity that will devour/conquer/lead the world. Can Dr. West make it back in civilization to warn humanity?
This is a well-written tale, but the premise is so dumb that I found myself irritated with it after a night's contemplation. Two stars.
Galactic Consumer Report No. 2: Automatic Twin-Tube Wishing Machines, by John Brunner
The second in Brunner's Consumer Report series (the last dealing with budget time machines), this piece offers recommendations for and cautions against various models of "Wishing Machines," which are supposed to be able manufacture anything. Not as amusing as the last one, but diverting enough.
Three stars.
This piece is followed by Algis Budrys' books column, which I am increasingly enjoying. I read this latest one, describing Sheckley's Tenth Victim, Wilhelm and Thomas' The Clone, and Brunner's The Squares of the City for its humorous commentary and the illustration of the signs of good and bad editing and publishing.
On a planet of amorphous proteans, a young, sexless being destined to become Warden of its people, takes on a human female form in order to more easily interact with the Terran mission to the planet. As Miss Martha Dow, said creature falls fake head over custom-built heels with an elderly biologist — and ultimately, the feelings are reciprocated.
I found myself really enjoying this unrestrainedly emotional piece, intertwining human and alien feelings in a vivid manner. This is the first published piece by Dorman using her full first name (previously, she had simply been "S"), and I'm delighted that she finally feels comfortable enough to use it. I know I always look forward to her byline!
At long last, we come to (what I believe to be) the conclusion of Silverberg's Blue Fire series. It's been a long trip, with five entries spanning more than a half-century of history. We've seen the Vorster religion arise, a spiritualist cult of the atom worshiping the blue flame of a cobalt reactor. We've watched as the cult schismed and the green-robed Harmonists made their sect more overtly religious and converted the colonists of toxic Venus. Last installment, the Harmonist martyr, Lazarus, was ressurected by Vorst for purposes unknown.
Now we know why: on Venus, the genetically modified human espers have developed faster than light teleportation. Vorst wants to use them to power the first interstellar starship. To do this, he needs to reunite the religions — and Lazarus owes him a favor. Luckily, Vorster knows this will all work out: he is a precog, after all…
The writing of this final installment is as good as ever, and it's nice to see all of the pieces fall into place. However, the story as a whole suffers from the common failing of all stories involving precognition. When you know how a story will, nay, must end, the tension is gone. All that's left is the exposition.
By itself, Open the Sky will be confusing and unengaging to the new reader. As the capstone to an epic, it serves its purpose adequately but not stunningly. Thus, I award three stars for the section, and four stars for the work as a whole, treating it as the serialization of a novel whose publication is as inevitable as Vorster's trip to the stars.
Journeys' End
All in all, it's been a good weekend, both in the real world and within the world of fiction. While Pohl's magazine could not quite consistently offer the spectacle that Jean-Paul of Joshua Tree treated us to, nevertheless, it did end up on the positive end of the ledger.
In any event, two trips for the price of one is a good deal! Why don't you take the June Galaxy along with you on your next jaunt and enjoy the same experience?
And while you're on your journey, tune in to KGJ, our radio station! Nothing but the newest hits!
The United States is the richest country in the world. By any reckoning, we measure in superlatives: biggest economy, strongest military, most movies, coolest cars. But there is one outsized statistic we shouldn't bury in gloss — 19% of Americans live in poverty.
Several months back, newly installed President Johnson took an unscheduled trip through Appalachia, the poorest part of our country. This region, between the Eastern seaboard and the Plains states, north of the agrarian South and the Industrial North, has traditionally been an economic backwater. Shocked by what he found, LBJ promptly declared a War on Poverty, seeking to continue the efforts of President Roosevelt to bring up the nation and, in particular, Appalachia.
Yesterday saw a great step forward taken in that direction. President Johnson signed into law the Economic Opportunity Act, designed to help the poorest families find their way out of their economic quagmire. This will be achieved a number of ways, largely through the creation of new task forces and funding of groups whose goal is poverty relief.
For instance, the newly created Job Corps and Neighborhood Youth Corps will provide work and training for the underskilled and underemployed. Work Study college grants and Adult Basic Education will ensure that the poor are not barred from employment by illiteracy or lack of education. There are also loan and grant programs for individuals and agencies.
It's a smart system, not a simple redistribution of wealth but an investment in the next generation of Americans. I have a lot of confidence that it will be successful — provided, of course, that the money gets put to good use. Time will tell.
Big and small scale
Just as the White House has endeavored to improve the lot of Americans, so has Fantasy and Science Fiction's editor worked to address a disturbing trend. In fact, this month's issue is easily the best one of the magazine that I've read in a while, and it's not even an "All-Star Issue". It's just good.
So for those of you who came to hear me flog F&SF, you're going to be disappointed…
Mel Hunter's cover shows a post-Mariner 2Venus, a cloudy inferno. It's a beautiful piece, though it pertains to no story in this issue and is, perhaps, a better fit for Analog.
The stories, on the other hand, are pure F&SF:
Chameleon, by Ron Goulart
Ron Goulart writes these flip, droll little pieces, with deft skill (if not great consequence). This particular one stars Ben Jolson, member of a corps of secret agents whose special talent is shapeshifting. People, animals, furniture, these superspies transform instantly and apparently without regard for mass considerations. Jolson is a particularly adept, if eccentric, agent, grudgingly tasked with getting the prime minister of Barafunda to make a proclamation against the practice of using soulless, mass-produced people as slave labor. By any means necessary: becoming a trusted adviser, inciting violence, even becoming the PM herself.
Goulart keeps things real enough to avoid farce, light enough to avoid melodrama. If you like Laumer's Retief or Harrison's Stainless Steel Rat stories, this will be right up your alley.
Four stars.
A Miracle Too Many, by Alan E. Nourse and Philip H. Smith
Dr. Stephen Olie discovers that being able to miraculously cure with a touch is a curse as well as a blessing. Both Nourse and Smith are physicians, so it's no surprise that this piece involves the medical profession. I liked everything but the ending, which felt a bit lazy.
Three stars.
Slips Take Over, by Miriam Allen deFord
Ms. deFord, who is 76 today (Many Happy Returns!) offers up a tale of a man who slips between parallel timelines as easily and inadvertently as we might get lost on the streets of an unfamiliar city. It's a neat idea, with the kind of great creepy atmosphere deFord is good at, but she doesn't do much with the story. Plus, there are inconsistencies regarding what items do and do not travel with the hapless universe-crosser.
Three stars.
Olsen and the Gull, by Eric St. Clair
Eric, the husband of famed author Margaret St. Clair, is an author in his own right. This is his first story not to be written for children and involving SFF elements. In this case, it's a shipwrecked lout of a sailor whose only entertainment is to crush the eggs of the multitudinous seagulls while chanting "tromp tromp tromp." One enterprising bird undertakes to distract Olsen the sailor by teaching him the art of summoning… with amusing and unfortunate results.
Four stars.
Carbonaceous Chondrites, by Theodore L. Thomas
Even Thomas' little column, usually sophomoric in the extreme, isn't bad this month. He posits that the carbon compounds being found in certain meteorites are evidence of extraterrestrial life — but not the way you think!
Three stars.
Four Brands of Impossible, by Norman Kagan
The longest piece of the issue is by a new writer, a student at New York City College. As befits a novice, the story, about a mathematician tapped to develop an illogical logic, is somewhat unfocused. Moreover, when it's all done, I'm not exactly sure that anything of importance has happened.
On the other hand, there are bits in the story that are quite compelling, about space research, the value of an automated presidency, the folly of racism, etc., and I will remember the novelette for these if nothing else.
Thus, three stars.
The New Encyclopaedist-II, by Stephen Becker
A mock encyclopaedia article, about Jacob Porphyry, who reversed the trend toward malaprop and literary inanity by making his books hard to read.
On the other hand, the second poem, a limerick, is barely worth a pained smirk.
Still, that's the appropriate reaction to a well-delivered pun. Three stars.
Elementary, by Laurence M. Janifer and Michael Kurland
Raise your hand if you want to murder your agent. Goodness, there are a lot of you! I shouldn't be surprised…I'm not even convinced that they're a necessary evil these days. Anyway, this story is about a pair of authors who decide to put paid to their 10% bloodsucker only to find their efforts repeatedly thwarted.
This is another piece with a great beginning and middle, but the ending didn't quite work for me. Perhaps you'll feel differently.
Three stars.
The Haste-Makers, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor's non-fiction article is on catalysts this time around. I learned a great deal, but then chemistry has never been my bag. The big revelation I got out of the piece was that catalysts aren't magic but merely a side effect of our living in an oxygen-filled environment (just like airplanes no longer boggle the brain when you realize that they don't fly on nothing — air just happens to be invisible).
Four stars.
The Deepest Blue in the World, by S. Dorman
When the stars become a battlefield, the men will go off to fight and die, and women will be brought to the Wedding Bench to conceive and rear the next batch of soldiers. If they resist their breeding lot in life, it's prison and the mines for them.
A chilling story by an author with an uncanny vision of female subjugation. A strong four stars.
Inconceivably Yours, by Willard Marsh
A bachelor worries that the failure of a contraceptive will end his bachelor days, but one God's curse is another man's blessing. A fair story with a delicious title.
Three stars.
The Star Party, by Robert Lory
The astrologers presume to know a lot about people. Unfortunately, master star-teller Isvara picked the wrong two Madison Avenue party attenders to cast readings on. It's a nice little tale, though the astronomical inaccuracy at the end was unfortunate.
Three stars.
A Crown of Rank Fumiter, by Vance Aandahl
Last up, we have young Vance Aandahl, who started out strong and has been delivering weak tea indeed for several years. This piece, about a recluse who, in the midst of death finds his humanity, is a refreshing change of direction — and thus a perfect capper for a surprisingly strong issue.
Four stars.
Summing up
I don't know that any of these stories hit it out of the park for me, but there were plenty of good pieces and no clunkers in the lot. Even Davidson's introductions were entertaining. This issue will certainly be a contender for best magazine this month.
More good news: F&SF has several foreign editions. They've just started a Spanish edition, Minotauro, the first issue of which arrived by mail the other day. My daughter, who is learning the language in high school, is currently working her way through Damon Knight's What Rough Beast and enjoying it, even translated. So, if you speak Spanish, and you want a "best-of" issue of the magazine, you could do worse than to pick up a copy!
[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]
A friend of mine inquired about an obscure science fiction story the other day. She expressed surprise that I had, in fact, read it, and wondered what my criteria were for choosing my reading material. I had to explain that I didn't have any: I read everything published as science fiction and/or fantasy.
My friend found this refrain from judgment admirable. I think it's just a form of insanity, particularly as it subjects me to frequent painful slogs. For instance, this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction continues the magazine's (occasionally abated) slide into the kaka. With the exception of a couple of pieces, it's bad. Beyond bad — dull.
The Issue at Hand
Cover by Jack Gaughan illustrating Into the Shop
Fred One, by James Ransom
We start off on reasonably sound footing, with a pair of preternaturally intelligent laboratory rats named Freds One and Two. One is a genius, the brains of the operation. The other, though possessed of a high order of intelligence for his kind, is clearly a sidekick. It is not made clear whether the rats gained their smarts as a result of human intervention, or if they've always been bright and endure testing for their own reasons.
Not much happens, really. The author relies on the humor of the conceit, writing with deadly earnestness from the brain rat's point of view. The result is a fun but somewhat inconsequential story. It might make a good cartoon someday.
Here's a one-page vignette that's far better than the monthly Feghoots (which have recently stopped being produced). I found it funny enough to read to my daughter.
Four stars.
Sun Creation, by B. Traven
Author Traven is some kind of ethnologist, a German who transplanted himself to Mexico and now translates native creation myths. Sun Creation is about a brave warrior who makes a new sun after the old one is devoured by evil spirits; it's as good (if not better) than any of the Greek myths I grew up with. I don't know if it belongs in this magazine, but it was my favorite piece of the issue.
Four stars.
A Piece of the Action, by Isaac Asimov
And now begins our downward slide. The Good Doctor, brilliant as he may be in chemistry, has oft confessed to having a blind spot when it comes to math. This is especially unfortunate as regards to this month's article, in which he tries to explain quantum mechanics and the discovery of Planck's constant.
The problem is, there are just some things you can't explain without math. I remember being bored and frustrated with high school physics; it wasn't until college, when they taught us the calculus-based stuff that things really clicked. I went on to take quantum mechanics my junior year in college (as part of an astrophysics curriculum). Let me tell you, it is a subject that is absolutely beautiful with the proper mathematical underpinning…and utterly meaningless without it.
Asimov's explanation of the subject, bereft of any math, doesn't work. I was barely able to follow along thanks to my prior education. I can't imagine any of his readers will be able to make much of it.
My first two-star score for Dr. A.
Welcome, Comrade, by Simon Bagley
Ugh continues. Here's a piece about a top secret project to orbit a brainwashing satellite. The goal is to instill every human on Earth with a love for and inability to sway from American values. You know: capitalism, democracy, and dispute resolution by fisticuffs. The title gives away the ending, which you'd have seen miles away anyhow.
Decent beginning, Analog-esque middle (especially if Bagley'd played it straight rather than satire), numbskull predictable ending.
Two stars.
Urgent Message for Mr. Prosser, by J. P. Sellers
Night watchman, so British that the rendition seems farcical, receives breathless calls at 1 AM. The caller urgently desires to warn Mr. Prosser, the watchman's boss, that he is in danger of being poisoned by his wife. Our protagonist meets with the caller one night and finds that he is, in fact, a dead ringer for Mr. Prosser.
The odd situation is never explained, though my guess is the caller is some sort of phantom made real out of the real Prosser's paranoid fears. In any event, this is another facile story that doesn't do much but mildly entertain and take up pages. Three stars, I suppose.
Van Allen Belts, by Theodore L. Thomas
I'm not sure why Thomas has this column; it's never worth reading. This one, like all his others, starts like a non-fiction article and ends with a science fictional tail-sting. Thomas recommends that the electrical current created by the charged particles circling the Earth could power satellites. This is nonsense — the sun's photons provide far more energy than the weak fields in orbit could ever provide.
One star and stop wasting my time.
The Old Man Lay Down, by Sonya Dorman
A poem by an author I generally look forward to. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Explain it to me? Two stars.
The Crazy Mathematician, by R. Underwood
Mad scientist finds a way to travel the universes by way of a shrinking machine. He takes a handsome journalist along on his journeys, who spends the trip romancing the various versions of femininity he finds at the various stops.
Complete fantasy and not worth your energy. Two stars.
Fanzine Fanfaronade, by Terry Carr
The third in F&SF's series on fandom, it is neither as good as last month's (on conventions), nor as mediocre as the one from the month before (on fandom in general).
Three stars.
The Compleat Consumators, by Alan E. Nourse
The premise to this piece is that two lovers, ideally matched, will not just become one metaphorically, but will fuse into a single physical identity. It's a lovely idea, but here it's played for horror, and abandoned right when it could have become interesting.
Two stars.
Into the Shop, by Ron Goulart
Intelligent cop car mistakes everyone for a suspect, including its human partner, with fatal results. Sub-par stuff, and doubly disappointing given Goulart's fine reputation.
Two stars.
Oreste, by Henry Shultz
And here we hit the bottom with a reprint from 1952(!) about an eight year old child and the odd uncle with whom he has a telepathic connection. It seems young Titus is stealing the thoughts of Uncle Oreste, writing books and composing music on borrowed talent.
Or something. There's a twist ending, but after 20+ pages of a story that could easily have fit into five, I was too bored to care.
One star.
Summing Up
Oh dear. Didn't I pledge just last month to be a lot nicer in my reviews? I guess there's something about reading eighty pages of muck that puts me in a bad mood. Like Uncle Oreste, someone has stolen my beautiful F&SF (my favorite magazine until Editor Davidson showed up in '62), and replaced it with nonsense.
I do bring one piece of good news, though. I've got prints of my performance at San Diego Comic Fest. If you've got a sound-capable 8mm, let me know, and I'll Parcel Post it to you:
[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]
Good morning, everyone, and welcome to a special, extra-large Fifth Anniversary edition of the Galactic Journey.
Five years ago tomorrow, I created the Journey to detail the day-by-day adventures of a science fiction magazine fan who just happened to also be a space journalist. In the passage of five circuits around the sun, the scope of this project has expanded tremendously to cover books, movies, tv shows, comics, politics, music, fashion, and more. The Journey has grown from a solo project to a staff of twenty spanning the globe. Two years ago, we won the Rod Serling Award, and this year, we were nominated for the Hugo.
Imagine where we'll be in another half-decade!
Nevertheless, as we look back to our humble beginnings, it is appropriate that the topics I have slated for discussion today are ones we have covered sine 1958, namely the space race and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.
Ticking back from Midnight
Earlier this month, President Kennedy signed the Senate-ratified Partial Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, outlawing American and Soviet above-ground nuclear tests. No longer shall we detonate atomic blasts in the sky just to see the pretty glow and tinge our TANG with strontium-90.
It's an exciting first step toward controlling the nuclear genie, but the question now becomes, 'How do we enforce the ban?' A way had to be developed to tell if the other side had tested a bomb without telling us.
Enter the two 'Vela-Hotel' satellites. Launched on October 18, 1963, they have detectors sensitive enough to pick up the flash of radiation associated with a nuclear blast. Moreover, these probes will do scientific duty while they enforce the peace, studying X-rays, gamma-rays, neutrons, and charged particles as they pass through interplanetary space, measuring the bow shock, the sheath, and the tail of Earth's magnetic field. A series of six launches is planned.
Mapping the Magnetosphere
Though the energetic electrons and protons that swirl around the Earth barely weigh 150 pounds total, they carry the tremendous electric and magnetic charges that encircle our globe, protecting us from the endless solar wind of radiation. One of the great scientific uses of satellites is the mapping of these magnetic fields to better understand the mechanism of their creation and their interaction with the sun's own fields.
Along with the two Vela-Hotels, a five-pound hitchhiker was launched specifically to measure the intensity of charged particles in the magnetosphere using an omni-directional radiation detector.
This new probe in some ways continues the mission of Explorer 14, which began to die in August of this year. It's still running, but it has lost the ability to modulate its transmissions, rendering scientific data as an incomprehensible babble. Nevertheless, the doughty satellite collected 6500 hours of data and mapped enough of Earth's magnetosphere to give it a definitive shape. We now know that, in addition to the compressed bow shock where our planet's field meets that of the sun, there is a long tail in Earth's shadow in the shape of a pointed arch. Explorer 14 also determined that Earth's field gradually shifts from the traditional north pole/south pole dumbell shape to a simple radial (round, equally distributed) field with distance from the planet. Finally, Explorer 14 confirmed the tentative discovery reported by Explorer 6 that the charged particles trapped in Earth's magnetic field make a current of electricity ringing the Earth clockwise around its equator.
Pretty neat stuff!
Experiments in Literary SF
On the ground, the stable of authors in Editor Avram Davidson's pay has embarked on their own series of experiments in the form of the November 1963 F&SF. Some were more successful than others, but none were failures (inasmuch as any experiment can be a failure…):
The once-proud civilization of Mars is a desiccated shell, a treasure trove of dusty tomes and ancient rites amidst tended by the last vestiges of the race. What hidden wisdom lies behind the sacred temple walls of the Red Planet? Polyglot and somewhat precious Mr. Gallinger is dispatched from Earth to find out. Along the way, he learns the secret the Martian people have been carefully guarding, at profound cost to his soul.
This is a hard piece to judge. On the one hand, it's very clearly an experiment at literary sf, the kind that Sturgeon and Dick have produced to tremendous effect many times in their careers. I greatly admire people who can write the stuff — I'm currently knee deep in my first attempt, so I understand the difficulty involved. Zelazny almost pulls it off, but he's just not yet seasoned enough an author for the feat. The story comes off as too affected to be entirely effective.
Moreover, there really is no excuse these days for Mars to be depicted as Earthlike nor its inhabitants entirely human. That's not science fiction. It's laziness.
Three stars.
Mama, by Philip Winsor
Did you ever read the story where it turns out babies retain the memories of their past life for a while after reincarnation? Apparently, Winsor has too, or Mama is a stunning case of convergent evolution. Maybe I'm just remembering this tale from a past life. Three stars.
Welcome Stranger, by Isaac Asimov
I just nonfiction articles on two axes: 1) How entertaining is it to read, and 2) Did I learn anything? This particular piece is on Xenon, in particular; noble gasses, more broadly; and molecular bonds, in general. My ignorance of chemistry is profound, so the fact that Dr. A was able to teach me about all of these topics and leave me with a desire to learn more is remarkable. Four stars.
When the last musical instrument has been lost, and even the wood to repair it is a forgotten memory, will song die as well? This moving piece by sf-writer/musicologist Biggle is hardly plausible, but as a cautionary tale, it's thoroughly haunting. Four stars.
Winged Victory, by S. Dorman
The sole woman-penned piece in the book (the "S." stands for "Sonya"), Victory involves a confirmed bachelor and the lady who hen-pecks him into submission. It's a weird tale whose message is literally that the dating game is for the birds. Just long enough to make its point; three stars.
[So impressed was I by this tale that I read it aloud to my family one night. The Young Traveler insisted on writing her own review — who am I to argue?]
by Lorelei Marcus
A man named Nada awakes to find the world's been overtaken by aliens that control every aspect of human life. These "Fascinators" lead us, own us, are among us, and so Nada finds it his duty to try and save us. A thrilling story to read, it has you on the edge of your seat questioning his every move. Is this really the savior of humanity, or some crazed serial killer? The story is woven with expert writing that gives the main character a lack of doubt (only we have doubts), and a quick pace. A thoroughly enjoyable and insightful short story, it won't take more than ten minutes of your time to read, and the ending might surprise you. Five stars.
The Eyes of Phorkos, by L. E. Jones
by Gideon Marcus
Lastly, we have the tragic story of James Carew, an English dilettante who plunges into archaeology to compensate for the unhappiness stemming from his fantastically ugliness. On a small island in the Aegean, he discovers that at least one of the legends of Perseus was based wholly in fact. This find makes Carew heir to the powers of one of Greek Mythology's most terrifying monsters, and we all know the effect of power (particularly the absolute kind) on a character.
Written in a quaint style, it begins better than it ends, but it's never unrewarding reading. Three stars.
As you can see, not only was the content of this issue experimental in nature, but so was the format. Where F&SF normally has the most stories per issue of the SF digests, tending toward vignettes over longer pieces, the November issue had two full novellas and a handful of shorter stories. This makeup is closer to that of, say, Analog.
The cover is also something of a departure, marking pulp era illustrator Hannes Bok's return to SF after a long hiatus.
All in all, I'd judge this issue a successful effort, certainly more challenging and rewarding than much of the stuff that comes out these days. On the other hand, there's virtually no science in these pages, which is somewhat worrisome for a magazine whose title would suggest otherwise.
I didn't start Galactic Journey with the intention of it being a champion for progressive change. It just sort of happened. Our joining what's now being called the Second Wave of Feminism, and our frequent spotlight of woman and minority writers and characters, happened by degrees. I like a broad range of ideas and viewpoints, and it often takes an outsider to write works outside the mainstream. This is a big reason why we started covering British science fiction, and I'm glad we did. They are just entering what some have called a "New Wave," featuring some far out concepts and a more literary style.
Another reason for Galactic Journey's evolving focus is the make-up of our staff. Most of the team are women (about half of the articles are written by women), and we come from a diverse set of backgrounds and cultures. That makes us pretty unusual for even this modern year of 1963, and it follows that our tastes would be eclectic.
Of course, finding unusual authors can still be challenge — particularly these days. It is a rare month that the number of magazines featuring woman authors requires two fingers to count, and even though Cele Goldsmith has made a name for herself editing Amazing and Fantastic, her magazines don't often contain woman-penned pieces.
Nevertheless, women still make up a vital population within our genre, both professionally and as fans. In fact, several new female authors have come on the scene since the last edition of The Second Sex in SFF, many of whom have made a big splash, and who may well herald the beginning of a new upswing. Let's meet the new group:
L'Engle, who had only published one SF story back in '56, had determined to give up writing as a lost cause. After all, rejections are demoralizing (I grok!) and the income she was making just wasn't worth the time spent. But then the idea for A Wrinkle in Time came to her in '59, and she persevered through more than 30 rejections to publish what was one of the most spectacular sff books of 1962. I understand it's on the short list for the Newberry this year, and it certainly earned last year's Galactic Star for best novel.
So three cheers for L'Engle, who shows that the key to success is perseverance.
This newly minted author currently has two stories under her belt, both of them published in Fantastic. Her first, April in Paris so impressed us that we awarded her the Galactic Star. While Le Guin has not yet received any official accolades for her work, we suspect it's only a matter of time.
Anderson began her professional sf career writing with her husband, the rather famous Poul, in 1958. However, her fanac days started long before then, and her costumage at Worldcon is legendary. Since last year, she has burst out as an author and poet in her own right, mostly composing works with mythological themes. A talent on the edge of greatness, Karen has just begun to write.
Some authors are renowned in other fields, only occasionally dabbling in our genre. One such writer is Gertrude Frieberg (formerly Tonkonogy), who is much better known for her plays, Three Cornered Moon and Town House and the collection Short Story 2 (which features several of her works) than her single SF piece, The Short and Happy Death of George Frumkin . Still, we're happy she took the detour and hope she comes back some day!
I know very little about Sonya Dorman other than she hails from Connecticut, is fond of dogs, and is just beginning her sf writing career. Her first, The Putnam Tradition showed great promise. I hope we see more from her soon.
Let's wrap up with a star who is neither newcomer nor author, and yet, whose impact on the genre has been profound.
Goldsmith's career is a fascinating one. She started out in '55, at age 22, as a secretary for Howard Browne, who was editor of Amazing and Fantastic. Browne abandoned ship for a Hollywood career that year, and Paul Fairman took over, retaining Goldsmith. When he left for other pastures in 1958, Goldsmith ascended to the editorship of two magazines with proud but tarnished reputations.
In the last five years (coincidentally, the same span of time that the Journey has existed), she has turned both magazines around. In particular, I like the work that comes out in Fantastic, but Amazing often has worthy stuff, too. For this outstanding work, her magazines have perennially been nominated for the Hugo, and she, herself, won a Special Committee Award at the last Worldcon. She is truly an inspiration, proof that neither age nor origin are insurmountable barriers to success.
![[November 20, 1969] You say you want a revolution… (December 1969 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/691120fsfcover-408x372.jpg)
![[September 20, 1968] It comes and goes (October 1968 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/680920cover-651x372.jpg)
![[January 10, 1968] Saving the Best For Last (<i>Dangerous Visions</i>, Part Three)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/1967_Dangerous-Visions-hc-672x372.jpg)
![[December 20, 1967] Smut! (January 1968 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/671220cover-672x372.jpg)
![[June 14, 1966] Aliens, Housewives and Overpopulation: <i>Orbit 1</i>, edited by Damon Knight](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/ORBIT11966-270x372.jpg)
![[May 10, 1966] Rocky Jaunts (June 1966 <i>Galaxy</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/660510cover-672x372.jpg)
![[August 21, 1964] The Good News (September 1964 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/640821cover-672x372.jpg)
![[March 17, 1964] It's all Downhill(April 1964 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/640317cover-667x372.jpg)
![[October 20, 1963] Science Experiments (November 1963 <i>F&SF</i> and a space update)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/631020cover-672x372.jpg)
