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[March 3, 1964] Out and about (March 1964 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Braving My Shadow

Every year on February 2, a groundhog named Punxatawney Phil decides if it's worth vacating his winter hiding place before spring. 

For Galactic Gideon, on the other hand, the end of winter always happens in February.  The annual convention season wraps up around Thanksgiving with the little gathering of Los Angeles Science Fiction Fans called "Loscon."  There is a lull of events in December and January, but well before the vernal equinox, the Journey's dance card is full.  In fact, I've already been to two events in as many weeks, and I've got another one planned next weekend! 

My birthday weekend was spent at a small Los Angeles conclave called Escapade, where we discussed Johnson's tax cut, The Outer Limits vs. The Twilight Zone, and the more peculiar elements of the TV show, Burke's Law.  Unusually for sf-related gatherings, most of the attendees were women.

Last night, I presented at a local pub on the woman pioneers of space, the scientists, engineers, and computers I first wrote about a couple of years ago.  It was a tremendous event, and I am grateful to the folks who crowded the venue to bursting.

The Issue at Hand

In contrast to these past two events, the last magazine of the month is mostly stag.  Nevertheless, the March 1964 Analog is still a pretty good, if not outstanding, read:


Cover by Schoenherr, illustrating Spaceman

Clouds, Bubbles and Sparks, by Edward C. Walterscheid

There are three qualities by which I rate science fact articles: Are they fun to read, do I learn something, and are there bits where I feel compelled to joggle the elbow of the person next to me (usually my wife) and relate to them a neat bit of scientific trivia.

This latest piece, on the detection of subatomic particles, excels in all three.  If you ever wanted to know how a geiger counter works, or what a cloud chamber is for, or what those tubes in our scientific spacecraft do, this is the article for you. 

Five stars.

Spaceman (Part 1 of 2), by Murray Leinster

The dean of Golden Age science fiction returns with yet another entry in his well-developed galactic setting.  In the Leinster-verse, perhaps best represented in his Med Series stories, interstellar travel is a bit like ocean travel in the 19th Century — reliable but not instant.  Colonies are days or weeks apart, and what separates a thriving hub from a backwater is the existence of a magnetic landing grid on which cargo ships can land and trade.

Spaceman is the story of Braden, a ship's mate who seeks passage aboard the Rim Star.  This giant vessel is an experiment — it carries an entire, unassembled landing grid in its hold, and it also possesses the rockets to make a landing on a world without a grid.  Having one ship bring an entire landing grid for installation has never been tried before, but no one is certain that the ship can fulfill this purpose.  Moreover, there are all sorts of bad omens for Braden: he is waylaid by the ship's crew while on his way to his interview; the captain seems negligent to a criminal degree, and the obsequiousness of the ship's steward rings false.  In spite of these alarms, Braden takes the job anyway, feeling it his duty to see the ship through its special mission, and also to protect the six passengers the Rim Star has aboard.

The other shoe drops near the end of this first part of what's promised to be a two-part serial.  The crew is, in fact, up to no good, and the entire ship is imperiled.  Stay tuned.

It's not a bad yarn.  The plot is interesting and the characters reasonably developed.  Where it creaks is the writing.  Leinster has developed an odd sort of plodding and padded style of late, with endless sequences of short sentences and whole paragraphs that repeat information we already know.  Used sparingly, I suppose it's a style that could be effective.  Used excessively, it slows things down.

And then, there's this gem of a line (an internal musing of Braden's) on page 36:

When a man admits that a woman is a better man than he is, he may be honest, but he should be ashamed.

Three stars, barely.  We'll see what happens next month.

The Pie-Duddle Puddle, by Walt and Leigh Richmond

Recently, in Papa needs shorts, the Richmonds showed us how a four-year old child can save the day even with an imperfect understanding of the situation.  The husband-and-wife writing team try it again, this time from an even more exotic viewpoint (which you'll guess pretty quickly).  It's not nearly as effective or plausible a piece.  Two stars.

Outward Bound, by Norman Spinrad

I'm getting a little worried about new author, Norman Spinrad.  He hit it out of the park with his first story, and scored a double with his second.  The latest, about a decades-long relativistic chase across the galaxy in pursuit of the man who has the secret to superluminous travel, is barely a walk to first base.  It's not bad; there's just no mystery to the thing.  Three stars.

Third Alternative, by Robin Wilson

On the other hand, this first story by new author Robin Wilson is rather charming.  It's a time travel piece featuring a fellow who goes back from 2012 to 1904 with naught but what he can cram into his bodily orifices (inorganic matter doesn't transport).  You don't find out his purpose until the end, and it's an engaging, effective piece.  Another three-star story, but at the high end of the range.

Summing up

Reviewing the numbers, it seems like leaving the burrow was worth it.  Least mag of the bunch was Amazing at 2.3 stars and with no four star tales.  Next was IF at 2.4 stars, again with no exceptional pieces.  Fantastic clocked in at 2.7, but it had the excellent The Graveyard Heart by Zelazny; New Worlds, three stars, had Ballard's The Terminal Breach.  At the positive end of the scale were F&SF and Analog at 3.3 stars — their non-fiction articles were the real stand-outs.  Finally, Worlds of Tomorrow was mostly superior, definitely worth the 50 cent cover price.

Women had a banner month, producing 5.5 out of 39 new pieces (14.1%). 

Looks like we'll have a warm spring!

[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…]




[January 2, 1964] All's well that ends well (January 1964 Analog science fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Auld Lang Syne

Greetings from 1964!  Given the challenges we faced in the latter part of last year, it was proper and cathartic to wrap up 1963 with a bang.  Here are some snapshots from our gala (and weren't we lucky to find a film developer willing to work on New Year's Day?)

Speaking of wrapping up, the last magazine of the old year, though dated January 1964, was the January 1964 Analog.  This is usually among the lesser science fiction magazines I read, but this time around, I was pleasantly surprised.  Come take a look!

Ending Well

Secondary Meteorites (Part 1 of 2), by Ralph A. Hall, M.D.

Could that black chunk of meteorite actually be from Mars?  There is an increasing body of evidence that the meteorites that hit the Earth were, themselves, bits of other planets blasted away by their own meteor strikes.  The subject matter is fascinating, but Dr. Hall manages to make it nigh incomprehensible.  It's too technical and presented all out of order (even Dr. Asimov learned early in his career that you have to define your terms first).  And this is only PART ONE!

Two stars.

The Eyes Have It, by Randall Garrett

My disdain for Mr. Garrett has been a constant of the Journey, ever since the offensive and just plain bad Queen Bee.  Over time, he has occasionally written decent stuff, and when he teams up with others, his rough edges get smoothed a bit.  Still, his name in the Table of Contents has always made me less eager to read a magazine.

Well, never let it be said that I can't keep an open mind.  Garrett's latest work is a tour de force.  If Asimov perfected the science fiction mystery with The Caves of Steel, Garrett has created the genre of magical mystery with The Eyes Have It.

The year is 1963, the place, France.  But this is no France we know.  Instead, it appears to be in a timeline that diverged nine centuries prior, one in which the Angevin Empire remained ascendant…and in which the use of magic developed. 

Lord D'Arcy is Chief Criminal Investigator for the Duke of Normandy, summoned to investigate the murder of the fantastically lecherous Count D'Evraux.  With the aid of his assistants, Sorcerer Sean O Lachlainn and chirurgeon Dr. Pately, he must find out how and at whose hand the Count met his untimely demise, and he has just twenty four hours to do it.

The attention to detail, the world-building, the characterization, the writing — all are top notch.  This is the sort of work I'd expect from Poul Anderson (and only when at the top of his game).  For Garrett to pull this off is nothing short of miraculous.

Dammit, Randy.  It's going to be hard to keep hating you.

Five stars.

Poppa Needs Shorts, by Leigh Richmond and Walt Richmond

The last piece by the Richmonds was an utterly unreadable book-length serial.  This one, on the other hand, is a cute vignette convincingly told from the view of a 4-year old child who just wants to know about "shorts."  Leigh and Walt have a pretty good idea how kids learn, I think.

Three stars.

Subjectivity, by Norman Spinrad

The pages of our scientific journals offer a wealth of ideas that can be turned into SF stories.  New author Norman Spinrad seizes on Dr. Timothy Leary's paean to LSD in technical clothing, Psychedelic Review as inspiration for his second story:

Though humanity has invented an engine that will propel spaceships at half the speed of light, the heavens remain out of reach.  It's not the endurance of the ships that's the problem — it is that of the crew.  No matter how well-adjusted they are, all of them go crazy in less than half the time it takes to get to Alpha Centauri.  After twelve failed attempts, the powers that be assemble a crew of misfits with a twenty-year supply of hallucinogenics to keep them sane (if potted) and open up the stars.

Mission #13 succeeds…but not in a way anyone could have predicted.  A fun, slightly acid (no pun intended) little piece.  Four stars.

See What I Mean!, by John Brunner

In this disappointing outing from Brunner, a deadlock in negotiations between East and West is resolved when the four foreign ministers involved are psychoanalyzed, and it turns out the British and Russian officials have more in common with each other than with their ideological partners (from the U.S. and China, respectively).

Not much here.  Two stars.

Dune World (Part 2 of 3), by Frank Herbert

Frank Herbert's epic in the desert, a kind of Lawrence of Arabia in space, continues.  After the assassination attempt on his son, and with warnings that he has a traitor in his midst, Duke Leto of the House of Atreides attempts to shore up his position on Arrakis, sole source of life-extending "spice".  The planetology and culture bits are pretty interesting, particularly the depiction of the forbidding dune world of Arrakis and the spice-mining operations thereon.  I continue to get the impression, though, that Herbert is still too raw for this project.  The viewpoint jumps from line to line, much is conveyed through exposition, and the incessant use of italics is really trying to read.

Three stars again.

Crunching the numbers

So how did the first batch of magazines dated with the new year fare?  There are definitely some surprises.

  • Analog, came in first with a respectable 3.4 star rating.  Moreover, Randall Garrett of all people had the best story.  These must be the end times.
  • Fantastic came in a close second at 3.3.  New World tread water at 3.  IF got 2.8.  F&SF scored a disappointing 2.5.  Amazing dragged through the muck at a miserable 1.9.
  • All in all, there were nearly 200 pages of good-to-excellent stories.  Not a bad haul.
  • Women only wrote one and a half of the 31 fiction pieces this month, and theirs were short ones.  No surprises there.

Next up: the first book of the new year!




[November 1, 1963] Bitter taste (November 1963 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

I have a friend, a gentle and curious soul, whose hobby is to procure aged military rations and try them out.  Though they are often long past their expiration date, nevertheless, Steve tucks into this hoary stuff like it's haute cuisine.  C-Rats from the last war, rations from the Great War — why, I once even saw him sample Bully Beef from the Boer War.  He's essentially indulging in culinary Russian Roulette.  Like, crazy right?

This month, I was Steve, and the November 1963 Analog was the bullet in the revolver.

Seagoing "Space" Ships, by Charles Layng

The non-fiction piece this month is about the pair of blue-ocean tracking ships that were custom built for the Air Force.  I'd read about them in Aviation Weekly so I was keen to learn more.  Sadly, Mr. Layng takes a potentially fascinating topic and buries it under dull technical minutiae.  It's not enough that an article tell you how something works; it must tell you why it's important.  Two stars.

Take the Reason Prisoner, by John J. McGuire

Prisons in the future are run by the military, and convicts have short sentences.  Rather than while away their lives for nickels and dimes at Joliet, instead they are hypno-conditioned with drugs and psychotherapy such that they can be released quickly.

At least, I think that's the premise.  The story features one General Bennington on the day of his appointment to warden at Duncannon Processing Prison, where he is eager to address the recidivism rate.  His efforts are immediately stymied when a fresh batch of 35 convicts riots and seizes control of the facility, their conditioning subverted by a guard on the take.  One prisoner, a psychopathic serial killer with a taste for flashy murder, wends a bloody course through Harrisburg, Pennsylvania before being caught.

What's never addressed is why the conditioning is not effective treatment when the process is administered properly, nor even how the whole setup came to be or is supposed to work.  Moreover, there is a glib tone of authoritarianism throughout the piece, with the end degenerating into a paean for the death penalty.  It's a difficult read, to boot, sketchy and confusing.  I think the author was trying for "experimental."

In fact, John J. McGuire is a marginal writer, having published little, and less on his own (most was in collaboration with H. Beam Piper).  This is a common theme with the authors running through this issue, as you'll see. 

One star.

Pleasant Journey, by Richard F. Thieme

What if a simple chair-and-helmet contraption could send you into a private nirvana, a perfectly real simulacrum of a personal paradise?  Imagine the potential for addiction, the detrimental effect on society. 

Thieme, a brand new author, affords us a vivid glimpse at the experience of using a such a machine, though in just two bedsheet pages, he can't expand much upon the consequences.  Three stars.

Interview, by Frank A. Javor

Javor's fourth story, Interview is another vignette, an "if this goes on" piece extrapolating current trends in news reporting in which the crisis is often exaggerated (if not outright manufactured) for dramatic value.  Three stars.

Where I Wasn't Going (Part 2 of 2), by Walt Richmond and Leigh Richmond

I decided to give this serial a second chance.  After all — maybe it just had a rough start.  I nearly fell asleep just during the summary, a technical snooze-fest.  The story, itself, is about the romp that ensues after a couple of space-station based scientists develop a reactionless drive, the test of which accidentally destroys Thule Air Force Base in Greenland. 

Sound like a comedy?  It's not supposed to be.  Unless you find bad dialogue, bigoted caricature characters, and sheer dullness funny.  And yes, this is the first published creation of the Richmonds.  One star.

Problem of Command, by Christopher Anvil

Last up is a piece written to order for Editor Campbell in which an ambitious colonel throws away his chance at Brigadier's star when he argues against a plan, advanced by his boss, to destroy the Soviet Union with a wonder weapon.  Turns out, of course, that his boss and his boss' boss were in collusion to find an officer with the gumption to stand up to their superior.  And for bonus, it appears the brave-hearted General-to-be will win his boss' boss' daughter in the bargain for his daring.

Two stars.  Even if the plot is laughable, the story is written in English.  Anvil, by the way, is the only experienced author in the issue.

That squishy sound you hear is my collecting brain tissue back into my skull.  At 1.8 stars, the November 1963 issue of Analog is the worst issue of the magazine since it changed its name from Astounding.  Worse yet, this has been a lousy month for magazines in general.  Fantastic rated a dismal 2.2 while IF got just 2.3 stars.  Amazing's and World of Tomorrow's 2.8s are no great shakes, and frankly, I'd rate Amazing's "good" stories lower than John Boston did.  As for WoT, the best part of that mag is Dick's All we Marsmen, and that may not appeal to all of you.

Only New Worlds (3.2) and F&SF (3.6) broke the 3-star barrier, the latter also containing my favorite story of the month: Eight O'Clock in the Morning (Fred Saberhagen's Goodlife in WoT was a close second.) Woman authors composed just two out of thirty nine pieces.

So why do I keep doing this?  Why do I tempt fate every month?  I'm starting to wonder that, myself.  Hopefully, it's for your amusement and edification (I suffer so you don't have to).  And there is always the junkie's hope that I'll find a really good fix that lasts.

Here's hoping…




[October 2, 1963] Worse than it looks (October 1963 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

[We've just updated KGJ for the Fall.  Check out our line-up of new hits!]

Life is a series of cycles: The seasons change; people are born, have children, die, and their children do the same; the government takes its pound of flesh every April.  And every month, I slog through an increasingly tall pile of science fiction books.  Like the Hydra of Greek legend, any conquest I make is fleeting, for there is always a new set to review.

Of course, my labor is not generally an unpleasant one.  When I get my hands on an exciting new book or a magazine dense with worthy selections, life is grand.  On the other hand, when the reading gets difficult, that's its own kind of hell, particularly when the reading involves magazines.  I can drop an unpromising book without much twinging of conscience, but I am committed to reviewing every issue of every American SFF magazine.  That can be rough.

To wit, the October 1963 Analog is a tedious slog.  While I give many of the individual pieces passable "3-star" ratings, most barely cross that threshold of acceptability, and taken together, they make a kind of mind-numbing sludge.  Aren't you glad I read this issue for you?

The Geodetic Satellite, by Marvin C. Whiting

The first entry in the magazine is the non-fiction article, and it (thankfully) doesn't involve psi or perpetual motion.

Whiting presents a the history of and need for geodesy.  It turns out that geodesy, the science of measuring Earth's exact shape, is essential for navigation — whether nautical, aerial, or ballistic.  Satellites allow measurements of incredibly high accuracy, well beyond any military requirement, which means they're almost good enough for scientists.  A competent, if not scintillating account.  Three stars.

Where I Wasn't Going (Part 1 of 2), by Walt Richmond and Leigh Richmond

A full half of the issue is taken up with the first half of a two-month serial, and thus the trouble starts.  The Richmonds were apparently never taught the old maxim: "Show, don't tell."  Either that, or the message got garbled in transmission.  In any event, while Going is ostensibly about the goings-on in a space station several decades from now, it's really a series of expositional pages that don't even have the virtue of being entertaining. 

I gave up about a quarter of the way in.  It's a pity given the beautiful illustrations Schoenherr produced for the story.  One star.

War Games, by Chris Anvil

About a century ago, the Prussian army invented the wargame, a simulation of battle that afforded a modicum of training for officers without any of that messy fighting business.  In 1954, Charles Roberts invented the board wargame — a commercial product that does much the same thing, though more cheaply and simplistically.

Anvil posits that we will soon have computerized wargames of incredible detail and flexibility.  So good will be these new games that they will replace war as a method of resolving conflicts.

The timing for this piece could not have been better given that I just completed a game of the wargame, Stalingrad.  One has to wonder if Anvil is a fellow counter-pusher.  In any event, while the plot is nothing special, the depiction of the wargame is marvelous, and I find I must give Wargames a four-star rating.  Call it bias.

The Three-Cornered Wheel, by Poul Anderson

Poul Anderson is capable of the most sublime novels as well as the most offensive dreck.  Wheel falls somewhere in-between, a little toward the lower end of his range.  It's a puzzle piece: how can a shipwrecked vessel transport a spare engine across a thousand miles of rough terrain when the planet's inhabitants find the wheel to be taboo? 

Unfortunately, the answer is given away right in the title.  The story is uninspired, for the most part, but there are some nifty bits like when young cadet, David Falkayn, hits upon the solution to his problem while being attacked by natives — a nice juxtaposition of action and cogitating.  I'll charitably give the yarn three stars though, in truth, it's right on the border of two.

A World by the Tale by Seaton McKettrig

Last up, we meet Earth's first interstellar traveler, a fellow who is given the opportunity to spend a year in Galactic society as a zookeeper for exported terran beasties.  His book about his exploits becomes a bestseller throughout the Milky Way, thus providing Earth's first real trade good.

McKettrig (really Randall Garrett in disguise) offers up a reasonably entertaining story, but it's a bit too glib, and the part where the author fails to understand that even a quarter of a percent commission on his book sales will make him a wealthy person indeed, given the size of his market, is implausible.  Three stars.

Running these numbers through my personal IBM computer, I come up with a 2.7 star rating, which feels too high.  It reminds me of the joke about how to compute "wind chill" — if you feel colder than what you're thermometer reports, fudge the chill factor until it looks right.  Anyway, 2.7 is the worst score of the month, being shared by Amazing (interestingly, fellow Traveler John Boston seemed to like his magazine more than the score would seem to warrant).  The normally remarkable Fantastic only garnered 2.9 stars.  Galaxy got 3.1, F&SF earned 3.3, and British mag New Worlds led the pack with an unusually high score of 3.4.

Women wrote 2.5 of the 29 fiction pieces, a slightly worse average than normal.  There was also a paucity of stand-out stories, though Victoria Silverwolf's glowing recommendation of Ballard's The Screen Game warrants attention.

And now it's October, and I have to do this all over again!  Wish me luck…