Our mutual friend and editor, Peter Hamilton, in his letter giving me the deadline for this "review" instructs me to cover "the British 'between-board' items during the month or so prior to this date . . . "

 

Difficult. Normally, I'd be faced with the problem of which to omit so that I'd not run over the space devoted to this column. But despite my remark about "a lot more to come" in the last issue, most of those I had in mind are still coming! So I'm faced with the problem of stretching what I've got to fill the space… for right now there are only three hard-covers on my shelf.  

 

The first is W. Grey Walter's first novel, FURTHER OUTLOOK, from Duckworth at 12/6. Mr. Walter, in his book on EGG research titled THE LIVING BRAIN, demonstrated that he was an accomplished writer, able to put "dry" material in enter­taining form, and pass on instruction which could be understood by any reasonably intelligent layman. Unfortunately, whilst his ability to write well and entertainingly is still evident in this work of fiction, the story itself--what little "story" there is—I found almost boring. It is loaded with ideas; overloaded in fact (I recommend the book to any s-f author who is a bit short of ideas), but none of these has been developed. Most of them are set out in a long narrative report occupying seventy of the 224 pages of the book. The ideas range from the economic and sociological results of nuclear power; of mutation arising from the increased radiation level of the earth's surface, atmosphere, etc.; space stations, exploration of Mars, Lunar colonies, an efficient contraceptive developed as a result of the mutations; the de-frosting of the Antarctic by fission/ fusion bombs and the consequent geological upheaval (any s-f fan could have warned Mr. Walter's characters of these consequences, I'm rather surprised they overlooked them!); the introduction of new forms of government to meet these conditions...

 

The list is not quite endless, but appears so. Material here for a great number of novels which I am certain Mr. Walter could produce in delightful fashion.

 

Surrounding this short history of a possible future is the "plot", based on the motivations of two men and a woman; all three over-endowed with creative spirit, the two men in love with the woman (as also is the narrator of this part of the book), all three somewhat self-sacrificing, all three driving me to tears and hoping for some action. That is what the book lacks, I fear.

 

Probably some literary critic will hail this book as a top-line s-f work. I make no pretensions, I am no critic. My judgement is based on the entertainment value of a work of fiction, and although I find some parts of this entertaining, the whole leaves me cold. The wrapper blurb says "The Snowflake is perhaps the most ingenious, convincing and magical vehicle yet dreamt of for space-time travel"...  as for me, the Snowflake (a time machine) is a very weakly developed, poorly described, bit of gadgetry enabling Mr. Walter to insert those afore-mentioned seventy pages into the right (presumably) place in the book. Otherwise it serves no useful function, which—along with the lack of use Mr. Walter has made of all his other ideas—is a great pity.

 

The other novel I have is BEYOND MARS, by John Stafford Gowland (Gryphon Books, 9/6, 191 pp) and opens out where Wing Commander Philip Keverne, D.S.O., D.F.C., is considering whether to accept a permanent commission in the RAF or get a flying job commercially. A letter from his rich and secretive uncle, Sir Michael Keverne, results in a possible third choice. Uncle, a visit reveals, has discovered an element which, when separated from the rock in which it is found, floats up to the ceiling. It is also as hard as any known substance. It is also pliable, and can withstand the most extreme temperatures. "Nor does it conduct impulses. Even X-rays could not penetrate more than a thin film of it". 

 

Philip comments: "Why, its possibilities almost take my breath away". Me, too, likewise... 

 

So much for the pseudo science standard of the book ... although I cannot resist quoting one phrase from a description of the ship: "it seems that either the weight gets out or gravity gets in..."

 

The rather hackneyed opening to the book, one which has been used in something over half the adventure stories ever written, and the rest of the plot follows on. A trip to the moon, where our brave explorers encounter other beings, who prove to be from Zork (or Mars) and who have learned something of mankind from the BBC, and by visiting Earth in flying saucers. The Zorks are at war with Zertok, and anyone who cares to read the book can establish which planet Zertok may be for himself. Despite the quite fluent writing of Mr. Gowland, I'm afraid his idea of science-fiction and the one I hold are too far apart to allow me to waste further time on this. If you are short a present for your young brother it might be worth while; otherwise, it is no interest to the real s-f reader.

 

The third and last title is BEST SF TWO, edited by Edmund Crispin, from Faber & Faber 15/-, 296 pages with fourteen stories. The best term for the book is "representative", although "good collection" would also serve. We have Fredric Brown's PLACET IS A FUNNY PLACE, a rather whacky story about planet where anything can happen, and most things do—like birds which fly through the foundations of buildings! At the other end of the scale we have items, such as that delightful story by Edgar Pangborn, ANGEL'S EGG,  and the rather too oft reprinted Arthur C. Clarke "semi-horror" THE NINE BILLION NAMES OF GOD—you remember the last line? "Overhead, without a fuss, the stars were going out."  Kornbluth, Bester, Brian Aldiss, Gerald Kersh, Theodore Sturgeon, Isaac Asimov, Wyndham, Heinlein . . . yes, indeed, "representative" . . . and of the better s-f at that.

 

 

Just a quick note—if you not read EARTH ABIDES, George R. Stewart, it is now in a Corgi Giant at 3/6.

 

Next time, I hope to be able pass on information about some more promising books than first two mentioned here. There are some—there must be! I can't be wrong all the time!

 

from Nebula No.19. December 1956