(Don Sibley’s cover for the November 1950 issue of Galaxy)

When we conjure the image of a 40s/50s science fiction pulp heroine we often imagine a character who has to be rescued by men from aliens, shrieks and clings to any man nearby, and is always in a state of undress.  I’ve included one cover, for the sake of comparison, that I find to be an exemplar of this type of sexist (and racist) depiction below (Alex Schomburg’s cover for the January 1954 issue of Future Science Fiction): white woman wrapped in only a towel stalked by an evil alien obviously painted with African-American facial characteristics (heavy on the sexual predation vibe) — the reader is supposed to buy into the racial stereotypes and thus be titillated by the fear she must feel.

I’ve selected a wide range of mostly pulp magazine covers depicting spacewomen of the future (I’ve loosely decided that this means women in space, in spacesuits) that tend to buck the trend (obviously, the artist’s depiction might differ from the author’s characterization).  I’ve refrained from calling them female astronauts because in the stories they might be women forced to put on space gear and trek across barren landscapes.  For example, Don Sibley’s cover for the November 1950 issue of Galaxy illustrates Frederic Brown’s story ‘Honeymoon in Hell’ where a newly wed couple is stranded on the moon.  The illustration is simply amazing!  The women repairs the spaceship while the husband brings extra oxygen.

These illustrious women lead the charge across barren landscapes (Laurence Steven’s delightful cover for the April 1951 issue of Super Science Stories), defend their spaceships from pink aliens (Earle K. Bergey’s cover for the December 1952 issue of Space Stories), compute the courses for spaceships (Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the November 1953 issue of Galaxy), drive lunar skimmers while men toss grenades (Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1958 edition of Brigands of the Moon (1930), Ray Cummings), and even shoot aliens while skiing! (Earle K. Bergey’s cover for the December 1946 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories).

Many of the pulp-era spaceswomen I’ve found are still sexualized for the sake of titillating the fourteen year old demographic.  The number one way to achieve this was to invent revealing spacesuits.  Some are quite hilarious: a bikini spacesuit wouldn’t be terribly useful in the void of space nor would trekking across rocky planets in a miniskirt be comfortable.  Artists often go to great length to still show skin despite wearing more “realistic” full body spacesuits — two of the covers below depict women draped in transparent plastic (it must be futuristic incredibly thin puncture proof plastic!)…

*note: sometimes the spacewoman is far in the background and hard to see.  A few of the covers might not fit the theme perfectly, alas…

I have multiple more images lined up for a Part II.  As aways, if you know of any I’ve missed let me know.

What are your favorites?

Enjoy!

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the January 1954 issue of Future Science Fiction)

(Laurence Steven’s cover for the April 1951 issue of Super Science Stories)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the March 1953 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories (UK edition)

(Earle K. Bergey’s cover for the December 1952 issue of Space Stories)

(Earle K Bergey’s cover for the Summer 1951 issue of Fantastic Story Magazine)

(Karel Thole’s cover for the 1970 edition of Farewell, Earth’s Bliss (1966), D. G. Compton)

(Kelly Freas’ cover for the April 1956 issue of Fantastic Universe Science Fiction)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the June 1958 issue of Infinity Science Fiction)

(Earle K. Bergey’s cover for the December 1941 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories)

(Earle K. Bergey’s cover for the August 1951 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories)

(Earle K. Bergey’s cover for the December 1946 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories)

(Earle K. Bergey’s cover for the Winter 1946 issue of Startling Stories)

(Uncredited cover for The Year’s Best Science Fiction Novels (1952), ed. Everett F. Bleiber and T. E. Dikty)

(Milton Luros’ cover for the August 1952 issue of Science Fiction Quarterly)

(Milton Luros’ cover for the November 1952 issue of Science Fiction Quarterly)

(Milton Luros’ cover for the Febuary 1952 issue of Science Fiction Quarterly)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the April 1960 issue of Galaxy)

(Walter Popp’s cover for the Spring 1954 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the November 1953 issue of Galaxy)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1958 edition of Brigands of the Moon (1930), Ray Cummings)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1962 edition of Secret Agent of Terra (1962), John Brunner)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1958 issue of Science Fiction Adventures)

(Norman Saunders’ cover for the February 1951 issue of Marvel Science Stories)

(Malcolm Smith’s cover for the 1951 edition of Space on My Hands (1951), Frederic Brown)

(Claude Newkirk’s cover for the November-December issue of Galaxy Magazine)

(Jack Gaughan’s cover for the September-October issue of Galaxy Magazine)

(A. Leslie Ross’ cover for the December 1952 issue of Dynamic Science Fiction)

(Hubert Rogers’ cover for the July 1940 issue of Astounding Science Fiction)

 (Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1964 issue of I Want the Stars (1964), Tom Purdom)

(Ed Valigursky’s cover for the June 1958 issue of Amazing Science Fiction Stories)

(Ron Turner and Reginald Heade’s cover for the 1956 edition of One Against Tomorrow (1956), Hank Janson)

(Malcolm Smith’s cover for the 1950 edition of Worlds Within (1950), Rog Phillips)

For similar posts consult the INDEX

My Austin, TX haul….

Two classics I’ve yet to read: Budrys’ Who? (1958) and Poul Anderson’s Tau Zero (1970)…  The second in a trilogy by John Brunner, The Avengers of Carrig (1969) — the first, Polymath (first published in 1963 but expanded in 1974) was a readable Brunner pulp.

I’ve never enjoyed Bova’s novels, but I impulsively picked up As on a Darkling Plain (1972), perhaps influenced by the Ellis’ cover.

1. Who?, Algis Budrys (1958)

(Robert V. Engel’s cover for the 1958 edition)

From the back cover of a later edition: “Who was he?… this man with a metal head and servo-mechanisms for jaws, eyes, ears…?  A Soviet plant?  Martino — all that was left of him — brainwashed?  Or simply Lucas Martino himself, the top of allied scientists, reconstructed by Russian doctors from the unrecognizable dying fragments that had fallen into their hands when K-Eighty-eight went through the roof?  Had they got the secret of K-Eighty-eight, so oddly sited right on the Soviet bordeR?  Who was fooling whom?  From the frantic efforts of Shawn Rogers, allied security chief, to prise the truth — the true truth — from a man in an iron mask [...]“

2. Tau Zero, Poul Anderson (1970)

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1976 edition)

From the inside flap: “Tau Zero: Humanity was mastered the technology for an interstellar colonizing flight!  The starship Leonora Christine is the ultimate expression of man’s quest for immortality.  The crew and passengers in this great endeavor, each with his own specialized knowledge vital to the mission, represent the human race’s outward urge.  Disaster strikes, the ship is nearly destroyed, and Captain Telander and his voyagers are locked in an incredibly struggle for survival at a speed near that of light, spiraling into the galaxy.”

3. As on a Darkling Plain, Ben Bova (Magazine 1969, book publication 1972)

(Dean Ellis’ cover for the 1974 edition)

From the back cover: “The Maddening Machines.  The alien machines stood on Titan, Saturn’s largest moon.  Housed in huge buildings that made the space explorers from earth look like insects, the machines continued to function as they had since beyond recorded time.  Yet what their purpose was, and who built them, was a maddening, terrifying mystery.  Dr. Sydney Lee was convinced that these machines had been designed to destroy man, and unless the power that drove them and the beings who controlled them were discovered, they would succeed.  But there was just one way to prove his theory.  Dr. Lee and his chosen crew were frozen, and placed in a spaceship to a distant star.  When they returned to life, fifty years had passed.  They were no older, but the time they had to find and destroy their enemy was perilously short…”

4. The Avengers of Carrig (expanded version and variant title of The Secret Agent of Terra, 1962), John Brunner (1969)

(Jack Gaughan’s cover for the 1969 edition)

Back cover from a later edition: “Once the city of Carrig stood supreme on this planet that had been settled by space refugees in the distant, forgotten past.  From every corner of this primitive lost world canvas came to trade — and to view the great King-Hunt, the gruesome by which the people of Carrig chose their rulers.  Then the space came new arrivals.  And with them came their invincible death guns and their ruthless, all-powerful tyranny.  Now there would be no King-Hunt in Carrig, or hope for the planet — unless a fool-hardy high-born named Saikmar, and a beautiful Earthling space-spy named Maddalena, could do the impossible…”

(Ray Kalfus’ cover for the May 1963 issue of Amazing Stories)

The Easter Island heads have long been explained away by conspiracy theorists as the work of aliens!  Apparently there are a few short stories and novels that derive not only their cover art but entire stories from such hilariously awful material…. Regardless, the covers are giggle inducing, and in the case of the uncredited cover for William Tenn’s Of All Possible Worlds (1955) rather striking.  I’ve included one cover from the 40s, an Arkham house novel that might be more “horror” than “sci-fi.”  Regardless, the idea that the Easter Island heads evoke dread, is well, laughable.

If you know of any others please let me know — I could only round up these five covers….

Enjoy! + laugh a bit….

And perhaps listen to the capella band Throat Culture‘s ‘Easter Island Head‘ in “honor” of such art.

(Uncredited cover for the 1963 edition of Of All Possible Worlds (1955), William Tenn)

(Rick Sternbach’s cover for the 1986 edition of Shuttle Down (magazine 1980), Lee Correy)

(same cover appears on the Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact December 1980 issue)

(Bill Schmidt’s cover for the 1981 edition of Shuttle Down (1980), Lee Correy)

(Audrey Johnson’s cover for the 1948 edition of The Web of Easter Island (1948), Donald Wandrei)

For similar posts consult the INDEX

Finally getting near the end of the pile of science fiction novels procured during my latest journey to Texas (a few were in clearance dollar bins) + gifts from 2theD.  I know very little about any of the authors (any info would be read with relish) — and I even bought a book from the early 1980s!  I know, shocker, but it has to do with drowned cities…. one of my favorite themes…. although it’ll never equal the uterine joys of Ballard’s magisterial The Drowned World (1962).

1. Under the City of Angels, Jerry Earl Brown (1981)

(Lou Feck’s cover for the 1981 edition)

From the back cover: “Love in the Ruins.  Jack Kelso is a scavenger, a half-crazed loner, a burnt-out case always one jump ahead of the government, eking out an uneasy living in the sunken ruins of L.A.  Then he meets Judith — mysterious, beautiful, driven — who offers him an assignment only “Mad Jack: Kelso would be crazy enough to take on.  He takes the job, gets love in the bargain.  Suddenly, their newfound happiness, and perhaps the fate of the entire planet, is threaten by a deadly power struggle on an alien world light centuries away….”

2. Mista Da V. and Other Stories, Kit Reed (1967)

(Vincent di Fate’s cover for the 1973 edition)

From the back cover: “Mister Da V.  begins: “It wasn’t until Daddy started talking to Mom at supper that night that any of us realized what he was going to do, or that he had been planning it for fifteen years.  I don’t know that it would have come out any better if we had known… ‘Imagine, Lillian — Leonardo da Vinci here to share the heights of the Renaissance.  And I’ll show him the wonders of today.”  Mister Da V.  ends: “I still have the pencil portrait, and sometimes I think I’d like to show it to my art teacher at night school, but something might happen to it if I took it out of my special hiding place, and besides, I know nobody would believe me.”

3. The Undying Fire, Fletcher Pratt (1953)

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1953 edition — the back cover is even more spectacular but can’t find an image)

From the back cover: “Space-pilot Paulsson was in trouble.  He had been accused of dereliction of duty.  He knew it wasn’t true but he also knew there was no point in fighting back directly.  The only way to re-instate himself was to make a successful expedition to the young planet Danaan.  And whether he could do that no one knew.  Least of all Paulsson.’

4. Universe 6, edited by Terry Carr (1976)

(Carlos Ochagavia’s cover for the 1977 edition)

From the inside flap of the first edition: “This new volume in the acclaimed Universe series of original science fiction stories presents a panorama of the finest in imaginative writing — from dream-vistas of Earth’s Jurassic Era to a gathering of all races of the universe at the end of time.”

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1954 edition of Murder in Space (1944), David V. Reed)

Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1954 edition of Murder in Space (1944) perfectly embodies the composite cover comprised of sequences from the narrative.  Our hero (or villain) plots the murder in the foreground (guns, books, furrowed brow), commits the murder in the background, his love interest looks over his left shoulder (she’s constantly on his mind), and some random astroids/planets (let’s call them space rocks), a spaceship, and a strange piece of technology alert us to the science fiction aspect of the narrative…  The uncredited cover for the 1955 edition of The Altered Ego (1954) is another wonderful example of this — although, slightly more difficult to decode without reading the work.

Bill Hughes’ cover for the 1969 edition of the short story collection Two Dozen Dragon Eggs (1969) is a different sort of composite cover — the large egg is broken down into twelve parts.  Weither or not any of the stories link up with the pictures in any meaningful way is another story.   Likewise, the composite nature of the always brilliant Richard Powers’ cover for 1966 edition of Ballard’s collection The Impossible Man (1966) may or may not relate to the contents but do indicate an impression of parts due to the variety of stories within.  Regardless, the composite nature of the collection is transmitted to the cover – Tito Salomoni’s cover for the the 1986 edition of Artificial Things (1986) and David Meltzer’s cover for the 1971 edition of The Inner Lanscape (1969) are similar.

The type of third composite cover are more thematic or surrealist in nature.  For example, Alex Schomburg’s cover for the September 1954 of Fantastic Universe — illustrating Lester del Rey’s Life Watch (1954) — includes the necessary rocket ships and planets to indicate the future setting, an atom to indicate science, and a heart, indicating, quite obviously  LIFE!  Others are more surreal — the fantastic, and unfortunately uncredited, cover for the 1968 edition of A. E. Van Vogt’s Slan (1946) is a sequence of photos that may or may not relate in anyway to the narrative.

What are your favorites?

Enjoy!

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the September 1954 issue of Fantastic Universe)

(Uncredited cover for the 1968 edition of Slan (1946), A. E. Van Vogt)

(Jim Steranko’s cover for the 1970 edition of Infinity One (1970), ed. Robert Hoskins)

(Tito Salomoni’s cover for the the 1986 edition of Artificial Things (1986), Karen Joy Fowler)

(Uncredited cover for the 1966 edition of B. E. A. S. T. (1966), Charles Eric Maine)

(Michael Gilbert’s cover for the 1973 edition of Breaking Point (1972), James Gunn)

(Gray Morrow’s cover for the October 1969 issue of Galaxy)

(David Meltzer’s cover for the 1971 edition of The Inner Lanscape (1969), ed. Michael Moorcock)

(Uncredited cover for the 1955 edition of The Altered Ego (1954), Jerry Sohl)

(Bill Hughes’ cover for the 1969 edition of Two Dozen Dragon Eggs (1969), Donald A. Wollheim)

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1966 edition of The Impossible Man (1966), J. G. Ballard)

(Brian Lewis’ cover for the October 1958 issue of New Worlds Science Fiction)

(Uncredited cover for the 1970 edition of Naked to the Stars (1961), Gordon R. Dickson)

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1955 edition of Another Kind (1955), Chad Oliver)

(Uncredited cover for the 1971 edition of New Writings in SF-18 (1971), ed. John Carnell)

(Gray Morrow’s cover for the 1967 edition of The Key To Irunium (1967), Kenneth Bulmner)

(Uncredited cover for the 1981 edition of Last View Of Eden (1981?), Ralph Hayes)

(Bob Maguire’s cover for the 1963 edition of The Hamelin Plague (1963), A. Bertram Chandler)

For similar art posts consult the INDEX

(Robert E. Schulz’s cover for the 1966 edition)

3/5 (collated rating: Average)

After reading Joanna Russ’ nihilistic downer (but brilliant nevertheless) We Who Are About To… (1976) I needed to decompress with some 30s pulp.  I’m generally not a fan of pulp unless it attempts to integrate social science fiction elements or creates a vibrant/otherworldly sense of wonder.  Thankfully, this collection of Stanley G. Wienbaum’s stories contains one of the most influential pulp science fiction shorts due to its descriptions of aliens — ‘A Martian Odyssey’ (1934).

For anyone interested in the history of the genre and 30s pulp, Weinbaum’s work is a must read…

Plot Summary/Analysis

‘A Martian Odyssey’ (1934) (31 pages) 4.75/5 (Very Good):  First appeared in the July 1934 issue of Wonder Stories.  A science fiction classic!  ’A Martian Odyssey’ was a profoundly influential story notable for its touching alien human friendship and fascinating descriptions of unusual aliens.  In the 21st century mankind has landed on Mars via atomic powered spaceships.  Jarvis sets out across the Martian landscape in a rocket to take photographs of the famed canals.  Unfortunately, his rocket crashes and he is forced to set out on foot back to Ares’s landing area where the rest of the multi-national crew (French, German, etc) is waiting.  He makes friends with an alien named Tweel whom he rescues from a disturbing creature that lures its prey by taking on the appearance of loved ones.  Despite the fact that Tweel can jump hundreds of feet at a time and is only able to communicate with Jarvis beyond simplistic phrases, he stays by his side braving the unusual wilderness together.  They encounter headless telepathic aliens and strange silicon creatures that create pyramids with their waste.  Highly recommended.

‘The Adaptive Ultimate’ (1935)  (28 pages) 2/5 (Bad):  First appeared in the November 1935 issue of Astounding Stories. A silly tale about a mysterious healing serum derived from pulverized fruit flies.  It causes the body to quickly adapt against diseases, and, the uncanny ability to get out of difficult situations.  However, it causes the patient to care only for itself.  A scientist injects a tuberculosis ridden woman with the serum.  She heals quickly but soon wants to become the ruler of the world!  Unfortunately, he’s fallen in love with her…

‘The Lotus Eaters’ (1935) (34 pages) 3.5/5 (Good):  First appeared in the April 1935 issue of Astounding Stories.  The second best in the collection…  On Venus, a husband and wife team of explorers explore the dark side of the planet.  They encounter a series of strange beings — including a vegetable intelligence.  As with ‘A Martian Odyssey’ the creature is highly original for the 30s.  Although highly sentient, it thinks in a distinctly different way than humans.  Perhaps the most appealing aspect of the story is Patricia, the female character — she is as courageous as Hammond, her husband (although she does say she’s scared multiple times) and possesses all the scientific knowledge.

‘Proteus Island’ (1936) (41 pages) 2.5/5 (Bad): First appeared in the August 1936 issue of Astounding Stories.  Our intrepid biologist hero arrives at a mysterious — taboo according to the natives — island in Polynesia.  His native guides desert him on the island and he’s forced to confront its mysteries himself.  First, all the animals on the island seem to be different/unusual.  Also, he encounters a white girl, who seems remarkably feline.  Although the mystery is quite interesting, Weinbaum fails to conjure the wonder present in ‘The Lotus Eaters’ and ‘A Martian Odyssey.’

‘The Brink of Infinity’ (1936) (14 pages) 2/5 (Bad):  First appeared in the December 1936 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories.  An unremarkable story of a mathematician who is captured by a cripple who wants revenge.  The cripple conjures a mathematical riddle and places the mathematician in a cell — he has to answer the riddle by asking of a limited number of questions or else he dies.  I have the feeling that a mathematician would have guessed the answer much more quickly — and, Weinbaum fills up pages with lectures on basic mathematical concepts, concepts as simple as breathing for a mathematician….

(Frank R. Paul’s cover for the July 1934 issue of Wonder Stories)

(Howard V. Brown’s cover for the November 1935 issue of Astounding Stories)

(Howard V. Brown’s cover for the April 1935 issue of Astounding Stories)

(Howard V. Brown’s cover for the August 1936 issue of Astounding Stories)

(Howard V. Brown’s cover for the December 1936 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1963 edition)

3/5 (collated rating: Average)

Kate Wilhelm, famous for her Hugo-winning masterwork Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang (1976), started her writing career with more modest works.  The Mile-Long Spaceship (1963) collects some of her earliest short stories from the late 50s and a few written for the collection in the early 60s — Clone, her first novel, co-written with Theodore L. Thomas would come out in 1965.  However, her best sci-fi was published in the late 60s to the mid-70s.  Before then her work tended to be straight-forward with an occasional interesting idea or poignant scene but generally unremarkable….

Three stories are worth reading in this collection: an early work of feminist science fiction  – ’No Light in the Window’ (1963), a moody rumination on the claustrophobia of space travel – ’The Man Without a Planet’ (1962), and an intriguing but underwhelming first contact story – ’The Mile-Long Spaceship’  (1957).

Recommended for fans of Wilhelm who are curious about her earliest forays into the genre or those (like myself) who are obsessed with 50s + 60s sci-fi.

Less fanatical sci-fi fans will be disappointed.

Not one of my favorite Richard Powers covers — I initially thought that the spots near the top were mold…  Almost left a bad review for the book seller until I realized they were part of the canvas — oops.

Brief Plot Summaries/Analysis

‘The Mile-Long Spaceship’  (1957) (9 pages) 3.25/5 (Average): Telepathic alien explorers make mental contact (of the non-verbal kind) with an Earthman.  Unfortunately, contact causes him to crash his car and end up in a hospital.  In their moments of contact the telepaths “transport” him to a conjured mile-long spaceship. The aliens attempt to find out how to visit Earth by suggesting he watch various “films” on the “spaceship” inorder for him to identify stars which might suggest Earth’s location.  But the Earthman doesn’t have much interest in astronomy, and assumes his delusions are a result of his crash…. A slightly atmospheric tale — but lacking wonder.

‘Fear is a Cold Black’ (1963) (25 pages) 3/5 (Average): Wilhelm’s take on sci-fi horror is a slightly claustrophobic tale but plods over old ground.  An interstellar space cruiser is stricken with a mysterious illness after investigating an abandoned spaceship wreck.  The passengers are transformed by their fear: “Giroden making plans for his funereal pyre, Perez creating an enemy to be destroyed, even poor Custens, the least imaginative man on the ship, theorizing that the thing traveled with the food, depriving himself of the sustenance hoping to forestall further spread” (21).  Soon, the true nature of the disease is discovered and the captain has to make a controversial decision to save the crew.

‘Jenny with Wings’ (1963) (13 pages) 2/5 (Bad):  A downright silly fantasy installment better suited for the Romance sci-fi subgenre — a girl born with wings is raised by her grandfather and scares off all the boys who fall for her when she reveals her wings.  They either think she’s an angel and start praying or want to sell her to the circus for some quick cash.  She gets word of a nice doctor who cares for others with strange abnormalities (for example, people who sleep underwater).  Her doctor’s office visit is filled with sexual tension as the doctor inquires about her life and examines her.  She admits she is not well versed in the ways of sex — the doctors reveals (well, in an early 60s manner) that there are other positions.  When she flies off to meet her “love” she discovers his true intentions….  Thankfully, there’s someone who really understands her.  And they fly off together.  A single word comes to mind, “lame.”

‘A is for Automation’ (1959) (17 pages) 3/5 (Average): A sinister tale that ultimately fails to deliver.  An automated factory — whose brain center is named Sarah — creates robotic toys.  A government inspection arrives to see whether the facility is safe, if it is there’s the possibility of a lucrative Defense Department contract.  Old Man Mike, kept on the payroll for goodwill purposes alone due to the automated nature of the factory, detects some strange occurrences but no one believes him — one better not “teach” Sarah too much or “she” might try to reproduce…

‘Gift from the Stars’ (1958) (17 pages) 2/5 (Bad): An unscrupulous urban developed wants to get his grubby hands on an entire city block…  Unfortunately for him an electronics store with ridiculously low prices is the only business that won’t leave.  Mr. Talbot is convinced the store is a front for a racket of some sort — he breaks his watch on purpose inorder to get the opportunity to scout out the place — he discovers, a (wait for it), “gift from the stars.”  A simple, predictable, alien presence on Earth type short story with similar theme to ’The Mile-Long Spaceship’ — mankind is too stupid, self-centered, and ignorant for first contact.

‘No Light in the Window’ (1963) (11 pages) 4/5 (Good): Easily the best story in the collection….  A thought-provoking work of early feminist social science fiction dealing with relevant themes — in this case, the ramifications of careers on marriage.  Connie, a biochemist, and Hank, an astrophysicist are recently married.  However, looming over their shoulder is the possibility that both of them will not be selected for one of the few positions on a colonizing spaceship.  Hank is calm and convinced that he’ll be going along with his wife.  However, Connie is convinced that she will not be going and struggles to digest the potential ramifications for her marriage.  Surprisingly, she is selected for the mission and Hank is not….

‘One for the Road’ (1959) (16 pages) 3/5 (Average): A commentary on cold war paranoia, which strangely retains the “scientists are idealists that wouldn’t dream of hurting others” narrative instead of complicating said narrative.  The scientist remains guiltless while the public is simply a paranoid mob needing guidance.  Massive riots spread across the world due to a badly edited radio broadcast that claimed that the radioactivity due to atomic testing overseen by scientists would cause most people to die from cancer (the proper context removed entirely from the broadcast).  Of course, science comes to the rescue before the rioting gets out of hand.  A story weakened by its naive message…  Of course, when the true ramifications of nuclear testing became known to the American public such stories would be strangely out of place…

‘Andover and the Android’ (1963) (13 pages):  3/5 (Average): Roger thinks women are “simpering females” and would never dream of getting married.  However, if he doesn’t get married he won’t get promoted to the vice-presidency of a company.  So, he marries a robot.  And falls in love with her….  A satirical take on 50s/60s views of women — humorous but far too slapstick for my taste.

‘The Man Without a Planet’ (1962) (7 pages) 3.75/5 (Good):  The second best story in the collection — a moody, psychologically taught story about the strains of a lengthy space voyage to colonize Mars.  And, as the crew feels the effects of close quarters, seat thirteen with its strange occupant casts an aura of unease.  This dark and contained rumination hints at the heights reached by Wilhelm’s later masterpieces.

‘The Apostolic Travelers’ (1963) (10 pages) 3/5 (Average): A satirical tale about immortality…  The Longevity Board on Earth randomly grants a few individuals every year immortality — all the others on Earth can live a prescribed 250 years.  Two Brothers (of the monkish variety) of rather dubious standing are selected to appear before the Board in order to become immortal.  The true downside of immortality is revealed but the monks agree anyway so that they can convert others for the faith…  So they’re supplied with a FTL spaceship in order to prevent the overpopulation of worlds (if everyone could be immortal…).

‘The Last Days of the Captain’ (1962) (16 pages) 3.25/5 (Average): The idea behind ‘The Last Days of the Captain’ is far superior than the forced/unexciting/dry delivery — Captain Winters is attempting to move all the colonist on a planet to the evacuation extraction point due to a suspected alien invasion.  He holds the planet-bound colonists in low esteem — as do all spacers.  However, he becomes personably responsible for moving to the extraction point a colonist named Marilyn, who is unsure whether her son and husband will get to the extraction point in time.  Eventually, he overcomes some of his prejudice against the simple folk of the farms.

(Richard Weaver’s cover for the 1966 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Arthur Hawkins’ cover for the 1959 edition of Skyport (1959), Curt Siodmak)

Part II of my series on cover art depicting space stations (Part I).  Here are vast assortment of primarily Alex Schomburg and Vincent Di Fate’s artwork — they did love their space stations.  But, I think my favorite is by far Arthur Hawkins’ cover for the 1959 edition of Curt Siodmak’s Skyport (1959) — the author is of course famous for the novel Donovan’s Brain (1942).  The delightful color scheme, the 50s aesthetic, the vague indication of continents below, the cluster of stars…. Wonderful!

I’ve decided to include a few German and Italian editions of Arthur C. Clarke and Lan Wright…  Karel Thole, a Dutch illustrator, has long been my favorite of the foreign science fiction artists.  I might do a post on his English edition covers (mostly in the 70s) — there are a handful and some are quite stunning.

As for the books (and magazine volumes) below, I’ve read Clarke’s Islands in the Sky (1952) and Space Cadet (1948) — both were fun juveniles — but that’s about it…  Are their any gems?

Enjoy!

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the November 1961 issue of Amazing Stories)

(Vincent Di Fate’s cover for the 1981 edition of Islands in the Sky (1952), Arthur C. Clarke)

(Uncredited cover for the 1977 edition of This is the Way the World Begins (variant title: Ruler of the World) (1976), J. T. McIntosh)

(Uncredited cover for the 1955 edition of Adventures on Other Planets (1955), ed. Donald A. Wollheim)

(Vincent Di Fate’s cover for the 2005 edition of Space Cadet (1948), Robert A. Heinlein)

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the April 1980 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction)

(Uncredited cover for the 1958 issue of Space Station 42 and Other Stories)

(Davis Meltzer’s cover for the 1980 edition of Unisave (1980), Axel Madsen)

(George Schelling’s cover for the May 1962 issue of Amazing Stories)

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the January 1978 issue of Analog Science Fiction Science Fact)

(Uncredited cover for the 1963 edition of Islands in the Sky (1952), Arthur C. Clarke)

(Vincent Di Fate’s cover for the 1974 edition of Continuum 3 (1974), ed. Roger Elwood)

(Uncredited cover for the 1975 edition of City in the Sky (1974), Curt Siodmak)

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the January 1953 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction)

(Darrel K. Sweet’s cover for the 1979 edition of The Two Faces of Tomorrow (1979), James P. Hogan)

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the Winter 1955 issue of Fantastic Story Magazine)

(Jack Coggins’ cover for the November 1952 issue of Galaxy Science Fiction)

(James Stark’s cover for the Number 17 (1956) issue of Nebula Science Fiction)

(Jack Faragasso’s cover for the 1970 edition of Shoot at the Moon (1966), William F. Temple)

(Alan Gutierrez’s cover for the 1983 edition of The Lagrangists (1983), Mack Reynolds)

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1958 edition of The 27th Day (1956), John Mantley)

(Karel Thole’s cover for the 1979 edition of City in the Sky (1974), Curt Siodmak)

(Karel Thole’s cover for the 1966 edition of The Last Hope of Earth (1965), Lan Wright)

(Non-fiction but fun — Bernhard Borchert’s cover for the 1955 edition of Young Traveler in Space (1954), Arthur C. Clarke)

 For similar posts consult the INDEX

(Paul Lehr’s cover for the 1968 edition)

2.75/5 (Vaguely Average)

Recently I procured a handful of Daniel F. Galouye’s novels (here) for a few dollars on ebay because I enjoyed his first novel Dark Universe (1961), which is an underread/underrated classic of the early 60s.  In an effort to rekindle public interest in Galouye’s small ouvre (he died at 54 due to war injuries and was unable to write much in the last ten years of his life), he received the Cordwainer Smith Rediscovery Award in 2007.  Unfortunately, Galouye’s fast-paced sci-fi thriller A Scourge of Screamers (variant title: The Lost Perception) does not measure up to the claustrophobic and well-plotted social rumination (with a good dose of action) that is The Dark Universe.

The most redeeming feature is Paul Lehr’s harrowing depiction of mental anguish on the cover of the 1968 Bantam edition…

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis (some spoilers)

In a post-apocalyptic world partially wrecked by nuclear weapons the population is subjected to further horrors — namely, the Screamie Epidemic in which overwhelming waves of brain-searing pain sends the individual into convulsions.  Everyone is required to wear a hypodermic needle kit to immediately inject one’s afflicted body with a powerful painkiller.  Using the needle also triggers a siren that summons a squad that sends you off to a ward.  Of course, a city filled with the constant siren wails does little for moral.  The disease appears to strike randomly and people rarely survive more than three or four attacks.  99% of the afflicted die.  Figuring out the true nature of the “disease” is the main plot strand of the first half of the novel.

In this nightmarish world the Security Bureau (formally the United Nations Security Council) has gained substantial power — they promise to return the power to local governments when the threat of the Screamie epidemic has been eliminated.

Arthur Gregson, an engineer who works for the SecBu, is attacked while flying a plane with his friend to Rome.  On the flight he has a Screamie attack.  When they arrive in Rome, Weldon Radcliff — the head of SecBu — briefs them on the discovery of the body of an alien (a Valorian).  This proves even more startling to Gregson due to the fact that his twin brother was lost on a space mission – perhaps the ship was attacked by the same aliens.  Gregson has a hokey mental link with his twin: “it was not the first time Arthur Gregson had experienced an ephemeral flash of empathy with his twin.  There had been the Nina’s trial run to Pluto before her cosmic transmitter was installed.  The ionic accelerators had slipped out of phase.  In that moment of impending disaster, he had somehow known of Manuel’s peril” (25).

The Valorians are perceived as a threat due to their attacks on SecBu officials.  Eventually Gregson finds out that his fiance, Helen, is a member of a cell assisting the Valorians.  It is at this point that Gregson has a massive Screamie attack characterized by hallucinations and only brief moments of rest between bouts of pain.  However, Gregson is one of the few that survives.

After he is released from the ward he discovers that most of the powerful members of the SecBu are survivors of the epidemic.  Also, in the time in which he was incapacitated, the true nature (which Gregson suspected all along) is discovered — the Screamies are simply the side-effects of an ultra-powerful new form of perception, called zylphing.  Zylphing is possible due to the Earth’s movement into a rault field — i.e. fancy radiation emerging from Chandeen, a “sun” at the galactic core.  Previously the planet had been blocked from the rault radiation by a dense Stygum Field.  The Valorians had been sent to assist humankind acclimate to this new way of perception.  But there’s a plot afoot!

Final Thoughts

Vaguely recommended for fans of 60s sci-fi thrillers.  However, A Scourge of Screamers is unsatisfying read that pulls very few surprising or affective (and thus, effective) punches.  The inclusion of an unseen (and utterly predictable) force that wants to take over the world, crazy palmreaders, and Moonraker-esque space arrays produces a silly/ramshackle/cliché ridden novel despite an intriguing post-apocalyptical setting and transcendental and mystical themes.  Hopefully Simulacron-3 (1964) and Lords of the Pyschon (1963) are superior.  I do want to find his two short story collection — but because they were only published in the UK are rather expensive.

A Scourge of Screamers is best returned to the black depths of your local Stygum Field (i.e. the closet or the dusty shelves of the local used book store) — it doesn’t take any transcendental zylphing to ascertain its “merit.”  My doodlebugging rod easily divined that…. …and that there’s a secret well under my desk.

(Uncredited cover for the 1968 edition)

(Tim Newling’s childlike scrawl of a cover for the 1966 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Photo Media’s cover for the 1968 edition)

4/5 (collated rating: Good)

Although Robert Sheckley’s collection The People Trap (1968) does not approach the heights of Store of Infinity (1960), there are plenty of gems and the overall quality should compel any fan of satirical 50s/60s science fiction to find a copy.   Sheckley’s stories are characterized by delightful wit (despite serious themes such as the effects of colonization, technology, and nuclear disaster), surprising twist-endings, a penchant for intellectual mind-games (especially his 60s stories), and often hilariously hapless characters.

It is worth noting that three of the short stories — ‘The Necessary Thing’ (1955), ‘The Laxian Key’ (1954), and ‘Ghost V’ (1954) — are in a loosely connected sequence, about two rather unintelligent planet decontaminators, which reminded me of Stanislaw Lem’s Tales of Pirx the Pilot (1968) stories.  The first two concern a piece of technology the decontaminators don’t fully understand — with fantastic consequences.

By far the best short story in the collection is the linguistically themed Nebula Award Nominated ‘Shall We Have a Little Talk?’ (1965).  It encapsulates what Sheckley does best —  he explores a serious (and complicated) theme (colonialism) via a hilarious situation, in this case the inability to understand a constantly modulating language.

Sheckley’s two very Borgesian 60s short stories – ’Redfern’s Labyrinth’ (1968) and ‘Dreamworld’ (1968) — will not appeal to all readers due to their nihilism + metafictional elements.  I found them to be deceivingly complex — despite their length — ruminations on labyrinths and the nature of reality.

Along with Store of Infinity, The People Trap is highly recommended.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis

‘The People Trap’ (1968) (20 pages) 4/5 (Good): Sheckley’s take on future overpopulation.  Participating in the Land Race Day was a national pastime and the reward, a plot of land in the barren west, is the ultimate goal.  All you have to do is win a race against thousands of others from a raised dais in Jersey City’s Glebe Park to the Land Office in Times Square.  Unfortunately the decrepit city of New York is filled with pitfalls.  The nature of the journey itself purposefully harkens back to the journey out west.  Sheckley ruefully interjects at the end: “It was as happy an ending as could be found in the latter half of the twenty-first century” (26).

‘The Victim from Space’ (1957) (18 pages) 4.5/5 (Good):  One of the many stories on the theme of first contact.  First contact commonly serves as a commentary on Europeans coming into contact with other regions of the globe.  An explorer named Hadwell, a writer of travel narratives of how romantic he wished his own voyages would be, comes across a society whose ultimate goal is to die via a spectacular and painful death.  Of course, he’s oblivious to the societal norms — for once it seems that his idealized romantic vision is coming true.

‘Shall We Have a Little Talk?’ (1965) (24 pages) 5/5 (Very Good): Rightfully nominated for the 1966 Nebula Award….  The best story in the collection — despite the thematic similarity to The Victim from Space it is easily the better story.  Jackson, who is paid large sums of money to voyage from planet to planet talking to aliens in order to eventually steal their land, arrives at a deceptively primitive planet.  Despite his sophisticated linguistic abilities, Jackson is never able to fully understand the the alien language.  He realizes that his presence has changed the very nature of the alien language — at a rate faster than he can keep up.

‘Restricted Area’ (1953) (17 pages) 3.25/5 (Average):  One of the weaker installments…  Scientists encounter an unusual planet with a large metal pillar, a complete lack of bacteria, and odd — and rather comical — animal lifeforms that lack any internal organs.  When the world’s light goes dim in the middle of the day and the animals stop their cavorting the planet’s artifice is revealed.

‘The Odor of Thought’ (1953) (12 pages) 3.25/5 (Average): An intriguing take on telepathy…  An interplanetary mail carrier crashes on a planet with eyeless and earless predatory animals. The mailman soon discovers that the animals are attracted or repulsed by his thoughts.  He must survive the vultures and panthers by creating alternating mental images until rescues arrives…

‘The Necessary Thing’ (1955) (12 pages) 4/5 (Good):  Two hapless planet decontaminators take on board a dubious device called a Configurator.  The Configurator configures whatever you ask it to.  Its incredible utility — and the limited space on the spaceship — means that other survival items will have to be left behind.  Unfortunately, the Configurator has rather human foibles and will only create one object from each category of objects (decided by itself).  But one metal plate to repair the spaceship’s hull will not be sufficient.  Nor will one fowl supply enough food….

‘Redfern’s Labyrinth’ (1968) (6 pages) 4.75/5 (Very Good):  Charles Angiers Redfern, who appears to be the author of a work entitled Labyrinth, receives two letters in the mail.  The first decries the very boredom inducing labyrinthine nature of Labyrinth.  The letter itself creates the same effect on Redfern as his own work had on the reader.  The second letter is the invitation to a real labyrinth.  Despite the letter’s apparent simplicity it too has its labyrinthine characteristics….  And clearly this labyrinth doesn’t actually exist.

‘Proof of the Pudding’ (1952) (8 pages) 3.25/5 (Average):  One man survives after a nuclear war.  He was the commander of the Western Hemisphere Defense who secreted himself aboard a fully-stocked spaceship and hid on the other side of the moon before the button was pushed.  When he returns to Earth he discovers that he gained almost godly powers — but, altogether less potent.  And then a woman walks out of his spaceship…  Is she a creation of his intellect?  But then again, when he tried to create a woman he could only summon a poor simulacra.

‘The Laxian Key’ (1954) (11 pages) 4/5 (Good):  Two planet decontaminators discover another piece of technology, a Megden Free Producer.  This device pulls energy from whatever source is nearby producing a dust-like food product consumed only by Megdens.  Unfortunately, only a few Megdens exist outside of their home planet.  And no one seems to have the necessary key to turn the machine off…

‘The Last Weapon’ (1953) (9 pages) 3/5 (Average): An unremarkable tale of three men in search of the hidden weapon stash of a long extinct Martian civilization.  Each want the greatest profits possible and conspire against each other.  And even when they’ve discovered piles and piles of sophisticated weaponry they can’t resist investigating The Last Weapon.

‘Fishing Season’ (1953) (14 pages) 4/5 (Good):  A surreal — and creepy — story about the mysterious disappearances.  Despite the police cordoning off the neighborhood, people still disappear from their houses.  And then there’s an old grandfather who can’t stop talking about fishing, and making fishing flies….

‘Dreamworld’ (1968) (10 pages) 4.5/5 (Good): A thought-experiment, like ’Redfern’s Labyrinth,’ build around the premise “Infinite worlds exist in the infinite in every cycle” (158).  Lanigan has the same dream every night — he dreams that “somehow the world of [his] dream is becoming the real world” (163).

‘Diplomatic Immunity’ (1953) (20 pages) 4/5 (Good):  An alien ambassador arrives on Earth promising that his philosophy will convince all of mankind to join the galactic community — although they have little choice in the matter.  Unfortunately, the humans don’t want to read his philosophical tract and rather try to kill him in anyway possible.  But, the ambassador has a very helpful form of diplomatic immunity.  But mankind is resourceful in coming up with new ways of killing.

‘Ghost V’ (1954) (16 pages) 3/5 (Average):  An average story of a planet where mental phantasms — in this case the imaginary monsters of one’s youth — become manifest and terrifying.  A rather uninspired effort by Sheckley…

(Chris Foss’ cover for the 1977 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(William Timmins’ cover for the January 1947 issue of Astounding Science Fiction)

A hand from a body off canvas enters the fray….  An alien’s hands wrap around the Earth, amused or disturbed by its creations?  A hand rises from a variety of desolate landscapes…  Is it the remnant of a robotic construct or a relics from some age old creator?

This particular theme — a powerful force depicted via an often disembodied hand — has yielded some fantastic covers.  Brian Lewis’ cover for the 1958 issue of Science Fantasy is one of my favorites.  I find the scene — a group of people discovering a robotic hand reaching from the fields — incredibly evocative.  As always the covers of Karel Thole, the well-known Dutch artist who did the majority of the covers for the major Italian sci-fi publishers, are wonderful.

And the early Powers cover….

What are your favorites?

Enjoy!

(Joseph W. Tillotson’s cover for the July 1951 issue of Amazing Stories)

(Karel Thole’s cover for the 1979 edition of Urania #815)

(Jack Gaughan’s cover for the 1965 edition of Paingod and Other Delusion (1965), Harlan Ellison)

(Richard Powers’ cover for the July 1953 issue of Beyond Fantasy Fiction)

(Brian Lewis’ cover for the 1958 issue of Science Fantasy)

(Ron Turner’s cover for the 1953 edition of The Hell Fruit (1953), John Russell Fearn)

(Alex Ebel’s cover for the 1976 edition of Uncertainty (variant title: The Ultimate Weapon) (1936), John W. Campbell)

(Karel Thole’s cover for the 1962 edition of Urania #285 (Untouched by Human Hands) (1954), Robert Sheckley)

(Karel Thole’s cover for the 1964 edition of Urania #327 (Lords of the Psychon) (1963), Daniel F. Galouye)

(Uncredited hideous cover for the 1976 edition of New Dimensions: Science Fiction Number 5 (1976), ed. Robert Silverberg)

For similar posts consult the INDEX

(Paul Lehr’s cover for the 1968 edition)

2.5/5 (Bad)

The esteemed science fiction critic John Clute claimed quite adamantly that Ian Wallace’s Croyd (1967) and its sequel Dr. Orpheus (1968) “are among the most exhilarating space-opera exercises of the post-World War Two genre” (SF Encyclopedia entry for Ian Wallace).  With this endorsement in mind I picked up a copy with high expectations.  But Clute’s assessment leaves me utterly flummoxed.

Wallace attempts to channel A. E. Van Vogt’s 1940s at a time (the 60s) when a large percentage of the writers were eschewing this form for social science fiction and the literary aspirations of the New Wave.  Van Vogt’s novels were fumbling baroque exercises where heroes with superpowers flail around in an arbitrary world developed with few, if any, guiding principles yet eventually (through no apparent logic) come out on top. As a result an overwhelming cloud of arbitrariness pervades their pages.  The godly heroes can do whatever they wish with whatever incredible powers they have at their disposal.

As with Van Vogt, Wallace revels in arbitrary excess — Croyd (a science-fictional James Bond descended from the Egyptian god Thoth) and the evil alien Lurla (a run-of-the-mill I want to conquer your galaxy because you are all puny/stupid humans) transfer their minds to other bodies at will.   Some bodies they leave in their wake contain nascent minds that attack their intruders, other minds are suppressed and dominated, others develop complicated relationships with their hosts — all these permutations interact with each other, betray each other, and attempt to kill each other at will.  At the most inopportune times Wallace has to interject and remind us what’s at stake because the erratic logic of the plot (and world) emotionally and mentally detaches the reader: “[Croyd] chilled as he remembered Tannen’s intimations of a plot to implode the galaxy” (98).

Fans of “mind-bending” [rending?] 60s space opera concocted by putting A. E. van Vogt and Ian Fleming’s novels together in a food processor, uber manly men downing their alcohol before mind battling evil mind-switching aliens, and time-travel [of course!] might enjoy Croyd and its numerous sequels.

Aside from joy generated from ogling the gorgeous Paul Lehr cover, I found the experience rather akin to what I imagine would be horrors of synchronized swimming in a pool of mollasses.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis

Croyd operates in a far future world where the 20th century’s inventions and philosophical positions are considered quaint and plain wrong: “Hence, in Croyd’s era, it was the names of twentieth-century intellectuals that you dropped, if only to refute them” (184).  Using this as an operating principle, Wallace gives himself a carte blanche to develop the most outrageous, to use his words, “science-fantasy” possible.

Croyd, the main character, is cut from the mold of James Bond.  He’s a tool of the central government and his philosophy is never elaborated on.  However, he, unlike most humanoids in this far future, has developed the ability to travel short distances forward and backward in time.  Whether or not this is due to his claimed descent from Thoth, the Egyptian god of time, is not explained.  Croyd operates in a dreamlike world filled with threats — for example, disgruntled students (and the like) who attempt to crash an asteroid into one of the inhabited moons of Neptune.

But the biggest threat are the evil gnurls from the Greater Magellanic cloud — I won’t give away their appearance because Wallace seems to think it is a “surprise.”  These gnurls have a rigid class society based on intelligence and practice from a young age transferring their mind into other bodies.  The most intriguing idea of the novel are the social ramifications of such a practice.  For example, the gnurls transfer minds only with other gnurls of the same gender.

Lurla, a particularly pernicious gnurl princess, is set to Earth’s solar system to enact an evil plot because Earth is perceived as a threat and a potential breeding ground.  The plot involves seducing Croyd via hypnosis and transferring her mind (which has been hanging out in the body of Greta, an Earth woman, whom she had transfer to earlier) to his manly man body.  This transfer is successful and soon Croyd wakes up in the body of Greta.  Greta and him decide to go after Lurla and save the world…

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Joe Mugnaini’s cover for the 1954 edition)

3.5/5 (Good)

Hal Clement’s Mission of Gravity (1953) is generally considered one of the early classic (and most influential) novels of the hard science fiction subgenre.  The care in which Clement lavishes on the fascinating world of Mesklin is manifest on virtually every page.  The inherent logic of the unusual scientific properties of the planet Mesklin provides the superstructure for Clement’s development of the intelligent species that inhabits it and generates the majority of the plot.  Clement, a Harvard educated astronomer, applies the (remorseless) logic of the world to almost every situation and every paragraph creating a convincing, if rather laborious and dry, reading experience.  As a reader (albeit I am one who did not become devoted to science fiction through any interest in science), this technique can be incredibly taxing but Clement does intrude on his scientific extrapolations with a few fascinating societal observations.

A more frustrating theme becomes quickly apparent: Clement believes that all aspects of how a society functions and views itself are the result of purely scientific phenomenon. I have rarely read a work where nomological determinism was so rigorously applied (take this as you will)!   Thus, all development paths of Mesklinite society are solely rooted in and guided by scientific causes.

Or, one might argue that Clement’s descriptions of his alien culture and society never move beyond simple discussions of how the scientific properties of Mesklin have shaped them.  Religion and other influential cultural constructions are absent.  The Mesklinite culture does change but only due to the fact that the humans have educated them about the scientific properties of their own world.

The ramifications of the “act” of first contact, the unequal intellectual relationship that is established, and the clearly superior knowledge of the humans appear as mere afterthoughts in Clement’s narrative.  Our Mesklenite hero does demand a more equal relationship but he is clearly the eager student asking his professor to actually tell him how the atom actually works.  Once again, the worldview of the Mesklinites change but Clement chalks it up solely to the increased scientific knowledge they acquire about their world.

Regardless of the very 1950s ideology driving the work, Mission of Gravity remains one of the best hard science fiction works of the 50s and deserves to be read by all fans of the subgenre.  Or those (like myself) who normally stay away from hard science fiction but are intrigued by the early history of the genre and 50s science fiction in general…

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis

Mesklin is a spheroid shaped planet with incredibly fast days (around eighty Mesklin days in twenty four Earth hours).  At the poles the gravity is an incredibly 700g — at the equator a mere 3g.  Extreme conditions — liquid methane, frozen ammonia — create difficult surface environments for non-natives.  Human explorers, who have established a research base on an orbiting moon, are only able to land one astronaut (by the name of Lackland) at the equator with special equipment to survive in the gravity.

By chance Lackland encounters a member of the Mesklinite race named Barlennan.  Barlennan is a fifteen-inch long caterpillar-like creature (who weighs hundreds of pounds) who travels across the surface of Mesklin in a special sailboat looking for rare materials.  His race normally lives closer to the poles.  Due to the fact that they are from the areas with incredible gravity (700gs) they do not have a concept of flying, throwing, etc.  All things that are virtually impossible and could easily result in their deaths (falling a mere inches would kill them).

Barlennan and Lackland become friends and soon the Mesklinite learns English.  I found aliens as friends/partners a very appealing and refreshing position to take.  Too often aliens are the evil that must be destroyed — especially in science fiction from this era (and earlier).  Barlennan spends a great deal of his time on a ramp looking into Lackland’s habitation watching educational videos and engaging in conversation.  Lackland spends most of his time floating in a special pool of water to combat the stresses of the gravity.

Soon the real reason that the humans have landed on the planet are revealed — an important scientific probe has landed in near the pole and the humans need assistance to recover the information it contains.

(Wallace A. Wood’s cover for the 1958 edition)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1962 edition)

(Yves Tanguy’s cover for the 1963 edition)

(John Schoenherr’s cover for the 1969 edition)

(Paul Lehr’s cover for the 1974 edition)

(Eddie Jones’ cover for the 1976 edition)

(H. R. Van Dongen’s cover for the 1978 edition)

(Tony Gleeson’s cover for the 1980 edition)

(H. R. Van Dongen’s hideous cover for the 1995 edition)

(John Picacio’s cover for the 2005 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1965 edition)

3.25/5 (collated rating: Average)

Lester del Rey’s collection Mortals and Monsters (1965) — first editions are adorned with a gorgeous collage by the superb Richard Powers — is comprised of eight short stories from the 50s and four from the early 60s.  The collection, as with all but the best collections, is a mixed bag.  ’The Years Draw Nigh’ (1951) is almost a masterpiece while ’Recessional’ (1965) is an upsetting exercise in 60s sexism despite the fascinating premise.

I found that a few of the del Rey’s shorts are some of the more blatantly sexist 50s worksI’ve read.   But these are paired with others — for example, ‘Lady of Space’ (1958) — that tentatively (in a 1950s manner) advocate female astronauts….

Somewhat worthwhile for fans of 50s science fiction.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis (*some spoilers*)

‘And the Truth…’ (1956) (12 pages) 2.75/5 (Bad):  A bland and forgettable start to the collection… Dane Phillips used to work for the newspapers until he pushed a little to hard to get a particular story in print.  What are the contents of his article (i.e. the “truth” of the title)?  One of his army friends named Corporal Harding — who never seemed to die despite egregious injuries — doesn’t appear to be human!  And,  Harding is trying his hardest to keep the world from knowing and Dane wants to uncover his true nature.  There’s a standard twist ending that comes off without a hitch.

Del Rey tries to inject some psychological tension but fails to invoke any real dread.  The only positive is the vagueness of the emotions it evokes.  Is the alien presence really a bad thing?  Is there actually a threat?

‘The Years Draw Nigh’ (1951) (15 pages) 4.75/5 (Very Good): “Even the wind was tired, and its thin wailing was a monotonous mutter of memories from its eroded past” (19).  A fantastic moody rumination on man’s failed mission into space.  The story reads very much against the grain of most 50s science fiction — for example, the endlessly optimistic “science will conquer all” ideology of Clement’s Mission of Gravity (1953).  Mars is covered with the ruins of a lost civilization — and mankind’s scars of habitation are fading into the red dust as well.  The Red Planet was settled by humanity for one reason alone, to construct spaceships to journey out into space in search of planets for colonies and perhaps a trace of the civilization that previously settled Mars.  And all but one of the vessels have returned empty handed…  Zeke Lerner heads to Mars for a last time to meet the crew of the very last one.

There are some wonderful touches throughout.  For example, mankind has become so pessimistic about the future after the  failure of the earlier missions that many have stopped their rejuvenation treatments.  Reminds me of Ballard’s 60s novels — highly recommended.

‘And It Comes Out Here’ (1951) (14 pages) 3/5 (Average): A time travel story that takes place in the middle of a time loop of sorts — as in the story takes the form of dialogue between the person from the past and the person from the future.

The contents of the story are not as interesting as the crisp structure of the dialogue that conveys quite adeptly the cyclical nature of time travel.  One has the uncanny feeling that the same events we are reading have occurred repeatedly.

‘The Seat of Judgment’ (1957) (25 pages) 3.25/5 (Average):  Although generally considered one of del Rey’s better short novelettes, I found ‘The Seat of Judgment’ contains a kernel of fascinating ideas but bereft of any real rumination on them.  Earth in the future holds sway over many alien worlds.  They maintain power by supporting corrupt religions that heavily tax the poor.  Clearly del Rey is trying to cast this Earth Empire as a Roman Empire with alien “paganism” as an instrument of corruption and suppression.  The aliens in question are the Sayonese — marsupials who are ruled by incarnations of the supreme Mother God.  Our hero, Eli Judson, is an instrument of the Earth empire and participates in the suppression of the Sayonese people via the temples.  In the past he had an affair with a Sayonese women who was destined to become one of the incarnate priestesses.  But a new force of change springs up on Sayon — an individual who promotes both a Mother and Father God-being and a Jesus-like re-distribution of wealth to everyone.  And this new force threatens to overthrow the Earth Empire.

‘The Dwindling Years’ (1956) (17 pages) 4/5 (Good):  A restrained meditation on the effects of an Earth whose inhabitants live extraordinarily long lives — del Rey suggests that the traditional family structure will break down, mankind will sink into deep routines, etc.  Mankind has also colonized distant planets and Earth’s primary concern is to send bright minds out into space.  But, due to time dilation, communication with the colonized worlds is incredibly slow.  After decades and decades, Giles watches new technology on these worlds spring up and Earth sink deeper and deeper into technological stagnation.  He also laments the decay of his family ties and the inability to talk in real-time to his son.

More is implied than said….  One of the better works of the collection.

‘No Place Like Home’ (1952) (10 pages) 3/5 (Average):  Sid Mallon and Doug Swanson successfully — through private venture — put man in space.  However, Doug was an intensely secretive man who spouted technological genius which enabled such a voyage to be successful.  But the project doesn’t end there, Sid and Doug want to put a rocket on Mars.  But there has to be something fishy behind the success of such a grassroots movement.

There’s a twist ending but the story is on the whole unremarkable.

‘Lady of Space’ (1958) (16 pages) 4/5 (Good):  In del Rey’s future general consensus holds that “a woman in space was unthinkable” (100) — this is the story of how one who dreamed of and was groomed for space and finally made it possible.  How is this accomplished? The narrator initially believes that she’s a prostitute (!) who serves everyone coffee.  Eventually it’s revealed that she’s a computer programmer.  I’m not sure what I think about del Rey deploying this type of subterfuge.

Del Rey tentatively advocates women in the space program but seems to prefer that they are subservient to the male astronauts.  Or, perhaps he believes that female astronauts, as long as they are in relationships with male astronauts, should be deployed on long term missions to keep the men sane.  Regardless, an ambiguous message but considering how many authors did not believe that women should go into space (NASA included), a slightly progressive one…

‘Instinct’ (1952) (16 pages) 3.5/5 (Good):  In the far future humanity is extinct — wars, natural disasters, etc.  In the resulting wasteland humanity’s creations — robots — have developed their own society and self-replicated.  However, they have always held their almost mythical maker in high regard and have not changed their original robotic forms  in reverence for their past.  The narrative follows a robot who wishes to rebuild original man.  However, his fellow robots are not thrilled with the plan.

The story is a vehicle for discussion on the nature of instinct.  Do robots have instinct?  Did humans program instinct into their matrices?  Unfortunately, del Rey’s descriptions of humanity’s “instinct” (as in supposedly innate gender dynamics) are 50s cultural constructions rather than biological realities.

‘Return Engagement’ (1961) (16 pages) 2/5 (Bad):  The worst of the collection….  Daniel Shawn, sometime in the future, quits the academy and seeks out the rural countryside in a desperate attempt to recreate some of the nostalgic wonder he had in the past.  This future, according to Shawn, despite becoming “more civilized” is become morally bankrupt.  How exactly this is the case is not altogether clear.  Shawn’s views remain rather unsubstantiated: “Something had gone out of men.  In its place was only the body of man’s work — the machines, the dark forces that drove him on to bombs and destiny, the rockets that could life him toward outer space but hide the dancing of the stars” (137).  Clearly, man has lost its wonder of the natural world and the purer joys (whatever those might be).  This nostalgic daydream is interrupted when del Rey dredges up some hokey “more enlightened than man” alien species from the annals of the 30s pulp to be the saviors of man.

Avoid.

‘The Course of Logic’ (1963) (14 pages) 3.5/5 (Good):  Two massive male and female silth come across human explorers who have landed on their planet.  In order to reproduce the silths slowly integrate their nerve net into their victim’s brains.  These aliens apply their logic of the biological understanding to their human victims that results in substantial confusion.  The story is told from their perspective and is convincingly conveyed.

However, del Rey cannot refrain from ridiculing his more assertive female characters — in this case the female silth who dominates her weak and less intelligent (well, according to her) male companion.  I had the feeling that he is not trying to be satirical — especially given the treatment of women in ‘Recessional’ (1961) reviewed below.

‘Spawning Ground’ (1961) (11 pages) 3.5/5 (Good): After the dire prediction of the explosion of Earth’s sun, mankind poured its resources into exploring face — desperate for colony planets.  However, as with ‘The Years Draw Nigh’, they such planets are rare.  Captain Gwayne is sent off in search of a lost colony ship.  He discovers it buried underground on an alien planet filled with unusual blob-like lifeforms.  There are also vaguely human-like (with additional limbs) savages that appear to be threatening….  As Earth’s existence nears the end humankind’s future might take on a drastically different form.

An intriguing story that is told in an all too hasty manner.  Regardless, unnerving undercurrents of desperation abound.

‘Recessional’ (1965) (16 pages) 2.75/5 (Average):  A female captain, generation ships, desperate searches for planets to settle….  All ingredients for a good story but some frustrating social commentary on the differences between the genders weakens the effort.  In the far future a group of spaceships comes across a habitable world.  In the past they have come across barren planets where they harvest minerals and produce new ships for the excess populations before heading off again.  However, this time they come across a world filled with human savages.  And soon they discover that it is Earth…

Most of the story is a monotonous laser space battle filled with sexist comments about women who want to become space captains — apparently del Rey believes that only men are allowed to have such ambitions and the women who do are inherently violent, don’t want to get married, and should be sent to the “psycho ward.”

(Uncredited cover for the 1967 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1954 edition)

3.25/5 (Vaguely Good)

I have long been a fan of Poul Anderson’s functionalist yet engaging SF adventures.  He is one of the masters at integrating social commentary (often on the impact of future technology) into the framework of the early Cold War influenced SF story without unduly weighing it down.  Brain Wave (1954) is  a good example of both his virtues and faults.

Brain Wave in a nutshell: a fascinating premise,  a somewhat frustrating ending, dubious social commentary, while the incredibly brief length (even for the 50s)  and uneven pacing suggest heavy cuts by editor…  That said, I suspect other famous works — such as the Daniel Keyes’ Flowers of Algernon (novelette: 1959, novel: 1966) and perhaps even David Brin’s Uplift Trilogy (1980-1987) – were influenced by the core thematic question of Anderson’s work: What would happen if the IQ of both humans and animals rapidly increased?

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis (*some spoilers*)

Sometime in the future Earth moves out of a vast field “of partly eloctro-magnetic character, generated by gyomagnetic action within atomic nuclei near the center of the galaxy” (50).  While immersed in this cone-like field, the IQ levels of Earth’s inhabitants remains relatively low — i.e. at what one would consider “normal” levels.  However, as Earth moves from the field the average IQ of both humans and animals increases dramatically with a vast variety of results.  Anderson speculates that the institutions and social structures of society will collapse as new cults, homegrown pseudo-Communists, and the newly intelligent who seek a way out of their drab existence begin to assert themselves.

However, increased intelligence does not mean that humanity will drastically change: “The wild-eyed dreamer simply built higher castles in the clouds; the hard-boiled racketeer had no vocabulary of ideas or concepts to rise above his own language of greed” (75).

Brain Wave follows two main narrative threads with interspersed vignettes that illustrate this evolution of society.  Often the vignettes are incredibly abrupt despite their intriguing subject matter — for example, tribesmen in Africa who, with their increased intelligence, are finally able to effectively escape from their colonial oppressors with the assistance of newly sentient chimpanzees and apes (queue dubious 50s views on race) .  I can imagine that an editor would find portions of them easy to cut out of the published version.

The first narrative thread follows Peter Corinth, a brilliant physicist, and Sheila, his wife who is “nothing of an intellectual” (5).  Corinth, with his increased intelligence, seeks to understand the field and prevent the collapse of society.  Sheila, on the other hand, hates what increased intelligence offers and desires above all else to return to her previous state of being (tending children, cooking, waiting for her husband to get home, etc).

One could argue that Anderson is perpetrating 50s views of the housewife who does not participate in anyway with the intellectual life of the husband.  He does temper this stance by introducing Corinth’s brilliant colleague, Helga, who applies her increased intelligence, in the same manner as Corinth does and as any scientist would, to her fervent drive to learn more about the world.

The second narrative thread follows Archie Brock who most likely has a substantial learning disability — his character might be the inspiration for Charlie in Daniel Keyes’ Flowers for Algernon.  Brock works for Mr. Roseman on his farms tending animals, chopping wood, etc.  While everyone around him leaves the rural landscape in search of ways to apply their new knowledge, Archie — with his increased intelligence — is content to remain on the farm tending the animals.

The animals too become more intelligent.  Pigs become violent while an elephant, chimpanzee, and dog soon join up with Archie and become his friends (despite their limited ability to vocalize or understand humans).  One of the most emotionally devastating moments of the entire novel occurs when Archie is forced to kill one of the more intelligent sheep (whom he has named and can identify based on their character) in order to feed his friends during the winter…

Final Thoughts

There are multiple issues with the novel.  First, as mentioned above, vexing gender dynamics and racial dynamics (a product of the 50s) exist throughout…  For example, Anderson’s assertion that the tribesmen in Africa can only rise against their oppressors after their intelligence increases smacks of racism rather than an understanding of the vicious ways that Europeans maintained their control (53-55).  Also, Sheila’s characterization, especially her desperation to return to her blissful existence with limited intelligence, could be interpreted as sexist — there are no male characters who want their intelligence removed.

Also, the first half of the work operates on a somewhat fallacious premise — that the majority of humankind will leave their jobs if they were slightly more intelligent.  The idea that intelligence always indicates the type of job ones hold is simply not the case.  Many highly intelligent people — due to extenuating circumstances, the need to support families, or a genuine love of what they do — hold jobs that might not test them intellectually.  Anderson seems to forget that his “average man” examples would have families to support….

Also be aware, a very 50s terminology of mental disability that will be shocking for some modern readers (for example, terms such as “moron”, “imbecile”, “half-wit” etc) pervades the book…   However, his treatment of Archie’s character is delicately and lovingly done.

Despite the flaws, Brain Wave is recommended for fans of Poul Anderson and 50s science fiction.

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1966 edition)

(Fred Troller’s silly cover for the 1969 edition)

(Paul Lehr’s cover for the 1970 edition)

(Phil Kirkland’s cover for the 1974 edition)

(Tim White’s cover for the 1977 edition)

(Michael Herring’s cover for the 1978 edition)

For more reviews consult the INDEX

(Hannes Bok’s cover for the  Space Science Fiction [UK], Volume 1 No. 4 (1953), ed. unlisted)

A spaceship arrives on Mars…  After a cursory initial exploration, the human astronauts conclude that the planet has always been barren and uninhabited.  But in some chasm or scattered in desolate plain, a column is found, and rows of mysterious buildings, and a pulsating crystal…  An abandoned outpost of an alien society?  Or, Earth’s mysterious forebearers…  Summaries such as this one proliferate the dusty SF paperbacks on back shelves of used book stores and the closets of SF fans — the variations are countless.

Queue my cover art theme: The future discovery of mysterious ruins/artifacts of a lost society.  Some are wonder inducing:   Hannes Bok’s cover for the  Space Science Fiction [UK], Volume 1 No. 4 (1953) is perhaps my single favorite.  I’m generally not a fan of his work so this one is a pleasant surprise….  The Space Science Fiction series would make fantastic posters.   Ken Fagg’s cover for the March 1954 issue of If and Douglass Chaffee’s cover for the October 1958 issue of If convey in an evocative manner the sense of discovery…

And if Virgil Finlay’s cover for the October 1963 issue of Worlds of Tomorrow certainly justifies Barry N. Malzberg’s tirades on the priapic nature of the space industry and pulp SF…

What are your favorites?  Because this is such a common theme I’d love to know of more examples that I could put in a Part II.

Enjoy!

(Ken Fagg’s cover for the March 1954 issue of If, ed. James L. Quinn)

(Douglass Chaffee’s cover for the October 1958 issue of If, ed. Frederik Pohl)

(Virgil Finlay’s cover for the October 1963 issue of Worlds of Tomorrow)

(Colin Hay’s cover for the 1973 edition of Starburst (1958), Alfred Bester)

(David A. Hardy’s cover for the 1974 edition of A Sense of Wonder (1967), ed. Sam Moskowitz)

(Larry Kresek’s cover for the 1978 edition of As On a Darkling Plain (fix-up novel 1972), Ben Bova)

(Ron Turner’s cover for the 1954 edition of Slave Traders of the Sky (1954), Steve Future)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the June 1952 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction)

(Jack Gaughan’s cover for the 1978 edition of Yurth Burden (1978), Andre Norton)

(Hans Ulrich Osterwalder and Ute Osterwalder’s cover for the 1974 edition of As The Curtain Falls (1974), Robert Chilson)

(Brian Lewis’ cover for the January 1959 issue of New Worlds Science Fiction)

(Neutzell’s (?) cover for the 1957 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction)

(Ed Valigursky’s cover for the 1964 edition of The Arsenal of Miracles (1964), Garner F. Fox)

For similar posts consult the INDEX

Unlike other acquisition posts where I post the most palatable finds from the shelves of a local used book store, this one contains books that I have wanted to own for a long time and finally gave in and bought online — more Kit Reed (after her wonderful collection 1967 Mister Da V. which I recently reviewed), a novel by one of the great (and underread and probably underrated) SF satirists — John T. Sladek — of the 60s/70s, Piers Anthony’s early New Wave experimental work, and Vondra N. McIntrye’s first novel.

A quick non-scientific poll of my fellow reviewers on twitter (if you are so inclined, follow me!) showed that few had read Sladek’s work recently…  Is it time for a mini-Renaissance of his works?

Some fun covers, great authors — these will be read soon….  Unlike the other 300+ works in my too read pile.

1. The Reproductive System (variant title: Mechasm), John T. Sladek (1968)

(Leo and Diane Dillon’s cover for the 1969 edition)

From the inside flap: “This inventive and delightful science fiction adventure is the story of the Reproductive System, a new kind a machine that can feed on any metal and drink at power outlets in order to grow and reproduce itself.  But the System quickly gets out of control, and almost before its creators realize what’s happening the gray boxlike machines are well on their way to conquering and absorbing the entire state of Utah, then the United States, and… tomorrow the world?  Filled with memorable comic characters and featuring a plot that barrels along with the speed of a Marx Brothers movie, Mechasm is both nightmarish and riotously funny.  Either way, it’s a book to remember.”

2. Armed Camps, Kit Reed (1969) (MY REVIEW)

(Richard Powers’ cover for the 1971 edition)

From the back cover: “A nightmare glimpse of the future — as seen trough the eyes of two people reacting in wildly opposite ways to the violence in and around them.  Anne retreats in an agony of fear to an experimental pacifist commune, Cambria.  Danny is a military specialist in flame-throwers who resolves his crisis of conscience in an orgy of destruction — and, as an example, is perpetually chained on display in a military stockade.”

3. Chthon, Piers Anthony (1967)

(Uncredited cover for the 1972 edition)

From the back cover: “The Lowers Depths.  Aton’s crime was a dreadful one.  He had loved a Minionette.  All the worlds of mankind despised and feared this almost mythical siren.  But no creature anywhere could tell ton why.  In the brutally hot garnet mines of Chthon to which he had been condemned, Aton sought an answer.  And when he could not find it he determined to seek it elsewhere.  He had to escape.  And no man had ever escaped Chthon and lived.  But the mystery of the Minionette had to be solved.  Aton had to have his answer…

Complex, mysterious, mixing startling imager with brutal realism, CTHON is a devastatingly original and brilliant science fiction novel of the new generation of SF authors.”

4. The Exile Waiting, Vondra N. McIntyre (1975)

(Larry Kresek’s cover for the 1976 edition)

From the inside flap of the first edition: “Centuries had passed since the Final War devastated Earth and turned its surface into an intolerable radioactive desert.  To survive at all, the only place to live was Center — a huge city built of rock and steel in a vast underground cavern.  One of Center’s most rebellious inhabitants was the mutant inhabitants was the mutant girl Mischa, who had chose a life of crime in order to survive.  She spent her days foraging in the city’s forgotten areas, watching the ships that came from the stars.  Mischa’s one desire was that someday she’d be able to journey outward on one of those beautiful silver vessels and leave her living hell behind.  But for now she must keep her forbidden secret from the world.  If the city’s rulers ever discovered she was different, she’d be banished at once.  Mischa recalled with horror what had happened to the others — those whose physical deformities had become too obvious.  They had been beaten and riven from Center into deep underground tunnels, dark regions both feared and avoided by the city people.  Luckily for Mischa her mutation was not visible — she possessed a rare form of telepathy that enabled her to sense the feelings and emotions of the individuals around her.  Unexpectedly, her talent was put to use with the arrival of a starship captained by a pair of pseudosibs… two laboratory-created twins scientifically linked together by corresponding brain waves.  But their psychic connection as fading rapidly, and Mischa realized she might convince one to help her escape.  But which twin?  A wrong move now could leave her wide open for capture, punishment, even banishment [....]” (I have no clue why the hardback first editions include the entire plot….  I’ll stop here).

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the February 1953 issue of Space Stories, ed. Samuel Mines)

Part II of my Spacewomen of the Future series – Part I.

In my first installment I discussed the stereotype of the 40s/50s SF pulp heroine — for example, she shrieks at the evil alien while the man has to rescue her or despite her education, she spends her time serving the men coffee on the spaceship (there’s a cringeworthy scene along these lines in It! The Terror From Beyond Space (1958), dir. Edward L. Cahn).  Hopefully these cover art depictions will complicate the stereotype.  Of course, I have not read all the contents of magazines/novels bellow so I can not speak for the portrayals within the texts.  In the stories they could potentially be astronauts in the service, scientists, civilian love interests, colonists, partners of the male astronauts, etc…

I have somewhat arbitrarily decided for thematic reasons that “Spacewomen”  is a woman in a space uniform of the future or space suit.  Considering how much SF from the era I’ve read where there are explicitly NO women in the service, Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the June 1954 issue of Future Science Fiction and the February 1953 issue of Space Stories where the women are clearly in the same uniforms as the men in control rooms/exploring planets is refreshing.

Likewise, in Robert Gibson Jones’ cover for the August 1951 issue of Amazing Stories and Rudolph Belarski’s cover for the January 1942 issue of Starling Stories women are actively participating in defeating enemies by flying the spacecraft — i.e. not shrieking etc….  I have many more examples along these lines in Part I.

What are your favorites?

Enjoy!

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the June 1956 issue of Fantastic Universe, ed. Leo Margulies)

(Robert Gibson Jones’ cover for the August 1951 issue of Amazing Stories, ed. Howard Browne)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the June 1954 issue of Future Science Fiction, ed. Robert A. W. Lowndes)

(Brian Lewis’ cover for the April 1958 issue of New Worlds Science Fiction, ed. John Carnell)

(Ed Emswhiller’s cover for the March 1957 issue of Science Fiction Stories, ed. Robert A. W. Lowndes)

(Leo Morey’s cover for the January 1941 issue of Super Science Stories, ed. Frederik Pohl)

(Leo Morey’s cover for the May 1941 issue of Super Science Stories, ed. Frederik Pohl)

(Earle Bergley’s cover for the August 1948 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories, ed. Sam Merwin, Jr.)

(Walter Hortens’ cover for the February 1965 issue of Analog Science Fiction Science Fact, ed. John W. Campbell Jr.)

(H. W. Perl’s amateur cover for the No. 1 1946 issue of Futuristic Stories, ed. Dennis H. Pratt)

(Alvaro’s cover for the 1962 edition of The Voice From Baru (1962), Tom Wade)

(Nicholas Solovioff’s cover for the March 1955 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, ed. Anthony Boucher)

(Uncredited cover for the 1977 edition of The Men in the Jungle (1967), Norman Spinrad)

(Rudolph Belarski’s cover for the January 1942 issue of Starling Stories, ed. Oscar J. Friend)

(Milton Luros’ cover for the November 1950 issue of Future Combined with Science Fiction Stories, ed. Robert A. W. Lowndes)

(Ed Valigursky’s cover for the 1960 edition of The Secret Martians (1960), Jack Sharkey)

(H. R. Van Dongen’s cover for the Vol. 2 No. 1 1953 issue of Space Science Fiction, ed. Lester DEl Rey)

(Ed Emswhiller’s cover for the August 1959 issue of Super-Science Fiction, ed. W. W. Scott)

(Uncredited cover for the 1953 edition of Venusian Adventure (1953), E. C. Tubb)

(Hannes Bok’s cover for the August 1951 issue of Marvel Science Fiction, Robert O. Erisman)

(Uncredited cover for the 1982 edition of The Divine Invasion (1981), Philip K. Dick)

For similar posts consult the INDEX

(Jack Gaughan’s cover for the 1972 edition)

3/5 (Average)

Marion Zimmer Bradley (1930-1999), most famous for her Arthurian fantasy novel Mists of Avalon (1983) from late in her career, published countless SF works starting in the late 1940s.  Her first novel The Planet Savers (1958) introduced readers to the massive and complex Darkover sequence of works — by far her most famous and iconic contribution to SF.

Darkover Landfall (1972) is a somewhat routine adventure (with a good dose of social commentary) which, according to internal chronology, is the beginning of the vast Darkover series.  Although I cannot speak for the rest of the sequence as this is the first of Bradley’s novels I’ve read, I found Darkover Landfall a problematic and inarticulate novel despite the always seductive colonizing an alien world premise.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis

Sometime near the end of the 21st century a colony ship is thrown off course due to a gravitational storm and crashes on an unknown planet.  The original destination was an already established colony.  However, the new planet they find themselves stranded on, Cottman IV, has yet to be even surveyed and contains inhospitable mountains, mysterious natives, frequent forest fires, strange clouds of mind-altering pollens, and few useful or easily accessible metals. Over the course of the novel, both the crew and the colonists are forced to reconcile themselves to a difficult new life where rescue is virtually impossible.  However, this new life will be a much more primitive one due to the lack of natural resources.

Imbued into the standard colonizing a new world plot are often successful attempts at social commentary (at least in the first half of the novel): for example, themes related to the “Terran Bill of Rights” that governs society on Earth: “No law shall be made or formulated abridging the rights of any human being to equal work regardless of racial origin, religion or sex” (17).  Rafael MacAran, one of the main characters, is forced to abandon his traditionalist/sexist views of women after he is ordered to take along female scientists on his survey trips despite his hollow protestations: “I asked for men on this trip.  It’s some mighty rough ground” (17).  He of course tells himself that “he is no male chauvinist” (15) but takes along men who are physically unable to make the difficult journeys across the mountain ranges.

There is also a running commentary on the effects of overpopulation on Earth and how the social positions that were created by it have to be abandoned in the new colony (for my extensive list of overpopulation themed SF — here).  Bradley postulates that in an overpopulated future where birth control is easy to access and universally accepted, “a wave of feeling had made abortion completely unthinkable.  Unwanted children were simply never conceived” (60) (her discussion does not include rape).  Women have children only when they want to.  However, on alien planets, according to Bradley’s biological extrapolations, the fertility of women is lower and this choice has to be addressed.

This biological principle the novel adheres to, i.e. fertility is lower for women on alien worlds due to mysterious planetary effects, segues into a very troubling theme: does the individual woman or her male dominated community control her uterus.  Bradley’s answer is straightforward — the community. Considering how most of the novel is concerned with pointing out the hypocrisy of sexist men, such a stance strikes me as bizarre.  Camilla, the second in command of the colony ship, is forced to acquiesce to societal demands that she deliver her child — remember, there’s no birth control…

This is further compounded by a periodic flare-up of a mind-altering pollen cloud that causes everyone to have massive orgies.  In short, pregnancy results whether a woman wants to get pregnant or not — not only does she have to keep the child, she has to refrain from any physical labor while she is pregnant!  For example, “Colony women have to be pampered” (100) due to the potential infertility, stretches of low fertility, and the potential health defects of the fetus (caused by working?). In short, the egalitarian Terran Bill of Rights referenced above has to be abandoned.  In Earth societies where a lack of medical advances (in the current day and the past) made pregnancy extremely dangerous to the mother and child, the mother is still forced to work in order to provide for her family.  This would definitely be the case on a resource poor planet!  Not only is Bradley’s extrapolation of the role of women in a low-technology colonial society poorly researched,  but is also socially regressive.

Final Thoughts

As Bradley’s fellow SF novelists Vonda McIntrye and Joanna Russ pointed out in articles on the novel,  her discussion of the role of the female colonists — who are mysteriously the only gender whose fertility is decreased by the alien environment — is often frustrating.  Russ’ early complaints even categorized it as antifeminist…  I have not found any indication that there was a satirical intention on Bradley’s part.

Also, the fantasy-imbued world — for example, fairy-like aliens who live in the woods and strange telepathy enhancing crystals — will not appeal to everyone.

Vaguely recommended for fans of straightforward pulp SF adventures imbued with a good dose of social commentary.  Although neither the plot nor the commentary is altogether successful.

(George Barr’s cover for the 1976 edition)

(Melvyn Grant’s cover for the 1978 edition)

(Ron Walotsky’s cover for the 1984 edition)

(Romas Kukalis’ cover for the 2004 edition)

For more reviews consult the INDEX

(Earle Bergey’s cover for the February 1953 issue of Science Fiction Adventures, ed. Philip St. John — i.e. Lester del Rey)

Make sure to take a peek at Part I if you haven’t already.

Crashed spaceships!  Our heroes forced to trek across desolate landscapes, fight giant robots, and evil aliens….  Or, aliens stumble from the wreckage of their flying saucers — unusual green matter emanates while the flames reach ever upward.  I suspect that if I were a kid in the era of pulp SF magazines I would have snatched everyone with a crashed spaceship regardless of the often dubious contents.

I am generally no fan of Kelly Freas but his cover for the July 1957 issue of Science Fiction Stories, is one of my favorite action/adventure type SF covers.  Unusual aliens on the back of a massive turtle alien swimming through lava towards the stricken form of a human who has just escaped from his sinking spaceship.  Sheer wonder inducing…

Paul Lehr’s cover for the cover for the 1970 edition of The Stars My Destination (variant title: Tiger! Tiger!) (1956), Alfred Bester is easily one of his best.  And Earle Bergey pulls out all the traditional pulp SF tropes for his delightful cover for the February 1953 issue of Science Fiction Adventures.

As always, what are your favorites?

Enjoy!

(Virgil Finlay’s cover for the June 1957 issue of Fantastic Universe Science Fiction, ed. Hans Stefan Santesson)

(Alex Schomburg’s cover for the July 1953 issue of Science Fiction Adventures, ed. Philip St. John — i.e. Lester del Rey)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the January 1955 issue of Science Fiction Stories, ed. Robert A. W. Lowndes)

(Terry Maloney’s cover for the January 1957 issue of New Worlds Science Fiction, ed. John Carnell)

(Kelly Freas’ cover for the July 1957 issue of Science Fiction Stories, ed. Robert A. W. Lowndes)

(Kelly Freas’ cover for the 1967 edition of World Without Stars (magazine publication 1966), Poul Anderson)

(Paul Lehr’s cover for the 1970 edition of The Stars My Destination (variant title: Tiger! Tiger!) (1956), Alfred Bester)

(Hubert Rogers’ cover for the August 1942 issue of Super Science Stories, ed. Alden H. Norton)

(Ed Valigursy’s cover for the 1957 edition of Three To Conquer (magazine publication 1955), Erik Frank Russell)

(Uncredited cover for the 1967 edition of Marooned on Mars (1952), Lester del Rey)

(Mel Hunter’s cover for the July 1954 issue of Galaxy Science Fiction, ed. H. L. Gold)

(Milton Luros’ cover for the January 1952 issue of Future Science Fiction, ed. Robert W. Lowndes)

(E. L. Blandford’s cover for the June 1956 issue of Authentic Science Fiction, ed. E. C. Tubb)

(Edward Valigursky’s cover for the May 1956 issue of Amazing Stories, ed. Howard Browne)

(Van Dongen’s cover for the May 1953 issue of Science Fiction Adventures ed. Philip St. Joh — i.e. Lester del Rey)

For more cover art posts consult the INDEX