Magazine Review: Science Fiction Stories January 1960

Magazine Review: Science Fiction Stories January 1960 edited by Robert A.W. Lowndes

Science Fiction Stories was a minor SF magazine published as Science Fiction starting in 1940, then under a couple of different titles until 1943 when it and its stablemate Future Fiction were cancelled due to paper costs.  It was revived in 1950 and ran until early 1960, when the distributor abruptly chose not to carry any magazines by publisher Louis Silberkeit.  (Some of the remaining material was published by his next venture, Belmont Books.)  “The Original” on the cover was not part of the magazine’s name, but meant to tie back the 1950s edition to the 1940s version.

Science Fiction Stories January 1960

“The Coffin Ship” by Bill Wesley leads off the issue with a passenger in suspended animation aboard a spaceship waking up alone.  Cy Munson is in way over his head; he knows nothing about science or the ship’s technology, having barely squeaked through college on a football scholarship.  But he was picked for his newspaper’s representative from the circulation department because he was the only person available who could pass the rigorous physical requirements to go on the expedition to Capella.  It’s unclear how far in the future this is supposed to be; the newspaper publisher claims “no one’s done any actual reporting in fifty years” but he’s clearly supposed to be an excitable Perry White type so may be exaggerating.

Cy is unable to figure out the ship’s controls, location or how to awaken any of the crew; he finally decides suicide is better than staying alive alone for an indefinite period.  Happily, his suicide method proves to be the smartest thing he could have done.  He may not be book-smart but Cy has some common sense.

The illustration by Emsh makes it appear that the passengers were frozen topless, and we are only spared female nipples by light streaks on the glass.  This is not mentioned at all in the story.  (Cy is completely able to avoid the ickier impulses recently seen in the movie Passengers.)

“The Plot, The Plot!” is an editorial by Mr. Lowndes, in which he discusses the idea that science fiction won’t be recognized as real literature until it unshackles itself from stories that are entirely driven by plot, as opposed to character exploration and development.

“Day of the Glacier” by R.A. Lafferty is that author’s first published science fiction story.  The newest Ice Age begins on April 1, 1962, and the majority of Earth’s population is caught by surprise as the planet freezes over.  Climatologist Dr. Erdogic Eimer and three planeloads of his colleagues and families aren’t quite as surprised, as they knew this was about to happen, and made arrangements to get to a particular valley that will remain survivable for the duration.

But their calculations were a day off, and they’re also surprised to discover that someone got to the valley before them.  It turns out that the Communists decided to take advantage of April Fool’s to launch their takeover of North America.  They nuked the ICBM launching sides and simultaneously murdered the most anti-Communist Congresspeople so their “Peace Party” puppets can seize control of the Federal government.  But those nuclear explosions caused just enough atmospheric disturbance to start the Ice Age a day early.

Only Soviet climatologist Commander Andreyev had also worked out what was about to happen, and had just enough pull to get a military expedition sent with him to the valley a few days before the disaster he predicted but was not taken seriously about.  Will the future civilization be Red?

The story’s not all that good, but I can see Mr. Lafferty’s trademark humor and tall tale tendencies in it.  There’s a touch of casual sexism, of the “women are not as smart as men but are much more practical” variety.

“Puritan Planet” by Carol Emshwiller concerns a man named Morgan and his cat, whose spaceship has crashlanded on a planet named Brotherhood.  Unfortunately, the one access hatch is now buried in the ground, and Morgan will not be able to get out without outside help.  Worse, the planet was colonized by religious fanatics, who are forbidden to directly kill infidels but need not rescue them either…and they’ve already heard him swear.  Morgan has an ace up his sleeve, if only he can figure it out.

Carol Emshwiller happened to be married to Ed Emshwiller, the artist known as Emsh, and is a noted SF writer in her own right.  That said, this is a slight story and nowhere near her best.

“Once In a Blue Moon” by Norman L. Knight is a reprint from 1942.  This novella is set in the far future, during the second expansion of humanity among the stars.  The first expansion was a rush job, and new diseases and invasive species ran rampant.  The new expansion is much more cautious, and a special expedition has been sent to the planet soon to be known as Kenia to determine if it’s safe to allow colonists to come there.

One of the expedition members is Ilrai, a Martian novelist seeking material for his next book.  He is distrusted by expedition leader Counselor Sarrasen, as Martians are naturally telepathic to a high degree, while Sarrasen is a telepathic null, unable to send or receive.  The friction between them is an important subplot.

The expedition members are startled to discover that they are not the first human to reach the new planet.  They’re especially freaked that linguist and railroad hobbyist Mattawomba is a black man.  Evidently the first expansion had segregated spaceships, and their end of the galaxy was settled exclusively by white folks.  Only the long-lived Ilrai, who’s been to Earth, has seen black people before.  (After a couple of pages, Mattawomba’s skin color ceases to be an issue.)

Turns out that Mattawomba is the sole survivor of a colony ship that was headed elsewhere when plague broke out.  His lifeboat landed on the nearest habitable planet, and Mattawomba was able to ingratiate himself to the natives with his knowledge of steam engines.  This raises new problems.  First, the expedition is now quarantined on Kenia until it can be proved Mattawomba isn’t contagious, and second, he’s violated regulations regarding giving advanced technologies to aliens.

The story reaches its main climax when a hunting trip goes horribly wrong, and Commander Sarrasen gets lost in the Kenian wilderness.  He has to rely on crewmates that he has underestimated or actively hated to save him.

This tale being from 1942 explains a lot, and it is quite good for when it was written.   It’s exciting once the main action gets started, has some nice imagery, and has a neat bit at the end where there isn’t a title drop.  Y’see, while there is a blue moon in the story, the title phrase is no longer in the farflung humans’ vocabulary.  So one of them fumbles when that wording would be appropriate.

On the other hand, there’s one of those shoehorned romance subplots that are the bane of pulp adventure stories.

The issue finishes with the letters column.  (Mr. Lowndes was known for being enthusiastic about engaging with readers.)  Several of the letters reference a previous editorial about the declining number of fan letters in recent years.  They suggest that the elimination of fan club spotlight areas was part of that.  Another letter mentioned having sent in a subscription check.  Alas, the writer would only get two more issues.

A minor issue, of most interest to the Lafferty collector.

 

Magazine Review: The American Scholar Spring 1977

Magazine Review: The American Scholar Spring 1977 Edited by Joseph Epstein

The American Scholar is a quarterly production of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, published since 1932.  Its primary focus is non-fiction essays, but it also features poetry, book reviews and since 2006 fiction.  I happened across an old issue, was intrigued by one of the essay titles, and decided to review it.  At the time it was published, I was in my sophomore year of high school, Jimmy Carter was president of the United States and James Dobson founded Focus on the Family.

The American Scholar Spring 1977

Leading off the issue is “The Despairing Optimist” by René Dubos.  It discusses the various international conferences held during the 1970s.  The essay describes their well-meant aims and somewhat less than impressive results.  Professor Dubos reckons that the best approach is to set world-wide goals but work out individual approaches to getting things done as different areas of the world need specific tactics to deal with their specific problems.  “Think globally, act locally.” (Professor Dubos is said to be one of the possible originators of the motto when he was advising the Stockholm United Nations Conference on the Human Environment in 1972.)

“Observing the Sabbath” by Aristides (probably a pen name) is about the custom of Sunday as a day of rest, and how that was changing in the modern age.  Less a span of enforced inactivity, and more a time of enjoying oneself as religion became less of a factor and just having some time off work became more of one.

“Freedom of Expression: Too Much of a Good Thing?” by John Sparrow talks about whether there should be laws against obscenity and pornography.  He discusses various objections to these laws, and attempts to address them.  On balance, Mr. Sparrow is in favor of having at least some laws on the subject, even if it’s difficult to precisely define obscenity without actually being subjected to it.  Generally, he seems to favor “community standards” laws.

“The Limits of Ethnicity” by Howard F. Stein and Robert F. Hill addresses the then recent upswing in “ethnic pride” groups in the United States, and they note that at least part of the impetus appears to have come from the civil rights advances of African-American people.  “Racism is a WASP problem, we Croatian-Americans or Italian-Americans have no culpability here–besides, we’re oppressed groups too.”  The authors feared attempts to re-segregate neighborhoods by moving all the people from one ethnic heritage together, making those of other heritages uncomfortable.

One of the weaker essays is “The Tyranny of Harmony” by John P. Sisk.  It starts out talking about the music of the spheres, which supposedly had perfect harmony, and eventually gets around to suggesting that an excessive love of harmony resulted in Nazi Germany.  The logic is forced.

“Rest in Prose: The Art of the Obituary” is by William Haley, who was editor of the London Times for many years.  He speaks of the obituary as a literary form, as history, and as an editorial comment on the worth of a person.  He’s especially enamored of the obituaries published by the Times.  Mr. Haley is a good writer and I enjoyed this essay.

“A Literature Against the Future” by James Stupple is the essay I bought the magazine for.  He notes that in the 1970s science fiction had become the subject of serious university study.  (Though he’s quick to point out that the colleges offering these courses tended to be second-rank.)  His main premise is that SF isn’t really serious, important literature.  Like many critics in the 1970s, he thought that real science showing that Mars is lifeless would kill the field, leaving only science fantasy.  Indeed, he suggests that science fiction would quickly become no more relevant than Kabuki or country western.  (Well, okay, maybe country western.)  From our perspective in the future, it’s easy to see where Mr. Stupple went wrong.  (The only other thing I could find by him in a Google search was half an essay on Ray Bradbury; he liked Bradbury’s stuff as fantasy.)

The final essay is “The Provincial Towns” by Barnett Singer, who wrote about his experiences the previous year touring the less-populated areas of France.  He chronicles the dying of an old way of life, but then old ways of life are always dying.  It’s rather sentimental, but he also notes that the young people seem okay with the changes.

The poetry is all that modern stuff I don’t care much for.  The best of the lot is “On the Language Which Writes the Lecturer” by Jeanne Murray Walker.  “English merely comments on the structure of another language concerning which nothing can be said.”

There are several book reviews, all of books I have never heard of.  The most positive review is of The Autumn of the Patriarch by Gabriel Garcia Márquez.  Sadly, despite the enthusiasm of the reviewer, it sounds dreadful.  There are also a lot of book ads.  Most of these are the barest snippets that seem to have been written by someone who doesn’t know anything about selling books.

The other kind of advertisement is for colleges–apparently the main audience was expected to be bright high school students looking for a place to get further education.  Saint Olaf!

Last is Letters to the Editor, very erudite people criticizing essays and reviews (in one case, a book reviewer is allowed to respond.)

It’s an interesting assortment of subjects, most of which don’t feel dated.  If you happen to spot a copy of this magazine at a garage sale, it’s worth a look.  The American Scholar is still published, and you can read more recent essays at their website here: https://theamericanscholar.org/about-us/

 

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