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Fiction: Non-fiction: This month\u2019s fiction starts with Kris Neville\u2019s rather rambling novelette, Take Two Quiggies<\/em><\/strong>. This story tells of an alien race that has a restricted trade arrangement with humanity due to an undescribed incident. One of the items the aliens are allowed to trade is an animal called a quiggi (or kwiggi) which\u00a0is short, green, bipedal and attractively clumsy. They also (spoiler) have an eight day gestation period. After they have been sold to a number of people the inevitable happens: a proto The Trouble With Tribbles<\/em> I guess. I like a dirty slum; not because I am naturally unclean, but because I generally find a certain sediment of philosophy precipitated in its gutters. A clean street is terribly prosaic. There is no food for thought in carefully swept pavements, barren kennels, and vulgarly spotless houses. But when I go down a street which has been left so long to itself that it has acquired a distinct outward character, I find plenty to think about. The scraps of sodden letters lying in the ash-barrel have their meaning: desperate appeals, perhaps, from Tom, the baker\u2019s assistant, to Amelia, the daughter of the dry-goods retailer, who is always selling at a sacrifice in consequence of the late fire. That may be Tom himself who is now passing me in a white apron, and I look up at the windows of the house (which does not, however, give any signs of a recent conflagration) and almost hope to see Amelia wave a white pocket-handkerchief. The bit of orange-peel lying on the sidewalk inspires thought. Who will fall over it? who but the industrious mother of six children, the youngest of which is only nine months old, all of whom are dependent on her exertions for support? I see her slip and tumble. I see the pale face convulsed with agony, and the vain struggle to get up; the pitying crowd closing her off from all air; the anxious young doctor who happened to be passing by; the manipulation of the broken limb, the shake of the head, the moan of the victim, the litter borne on men\u2019s shoulders, the gates of the New York Hospital unclosing, the subscription taken up on the spot. There is some food for speculation in that three-year-old, tattered child, masked with dirt, who is throwing a brick at another three-year-old, tattered child, masked with dirt. It is not difficult to perceive that he is destined to lurk, as it were, through life. His bad, flat face\u2014or, at least, what can be seen of it\u2014does not look as if it were made for the light of day. The mire in which he wallows now is but a type of the moral mire in which he will wallow hereafter. The feeble little hand lifted at this instant to smite his companion, half in earnest, half in jest, will be raised against his fellow-beings forevermore.<\/em> p.53<\/p>\n After describing a few of the shopkeepers and vendors on the street the story\u00a0focuses on Herr Hippe, who has opened a shop as a \u2018Wondersmith\u2019. No-one knows what it is he sells, and the shop turns out to be a front. He is planning, along with three other gypsies, a massacre of Christian children at Xmas by distributing lethal gifts. Herr Hippe has created vicious little wooden manikins, and Madame Filomel, the fortune teller, provides the souls to animate them. The foursome decides to test the tiny manikins\u2019 lethal skills in a nearby bird shop during the night:<\/p>\n The gypsies stood in the centre of the shop, watching the proceedings eagerly, while the Liliputians made in a body towards the wall and commenced climbing from cage to cage. Then was heard a tremendous fluttering of wings, and faint, despairing \u201cquirks\u201d echoed on all sides. In almost every cage there was a fierce manikin thrusting his sword or dagger vigorously into the body of some unhappy bird. It recalled the antique legend of the battles of the Pygmies and the Cranes. The poor lovebirds lay with their emerald feathers dabbled in their heart\u2019s blood, shoulder to shoulder in death as in life. Canaries gasped at the bottom of their cages, while the water in their little glass fountains ran red. The bullfinches wore an unnatural crimson on their breasts. The mocking-bird lay on his back, kicking spasmodically, in the last agonies, with a tiny sword-thrust cleaving his melodious throat in twain, so that from the instrument which used to gush with wondrous music only scarlet drops of blood now trickled.<\/em> p.71\/72<\/p>\n The sub-plot has a hunchbacked bookseller who is in love with Herr Hippe\u2019s daughter. Hippe discovers them together and imprisons the hunchback. The ultimate scene is even more Grand Guignol-ish than the bird shop one.<\/p>\n The Better Mousetrap<\/em><\/strong> by L. Sprague de Camp and Fletcher Pratt is the third of the \u2018Gavagan\u2019s Bar\u2019 stories. This one relates the story of a man whose apartment is plagued by mice borrowing a small dragon from a magician. It is too straightforward and just stops at the end. When I first started reading F&SF<\/em> during the seventies L. Sprague de Camp\u2019s \u2018W. Wilson Newbury\u2019 stories1<\/sup>\u00a0were similar: an under-developed fantasy theme dropped into a story using familiar characters or locations.<\/p>\n I haven\u2019t checked back but I get the impression that the story introductions are becoming more considered. This is the introduction to The Listening Child<\/em><\/strong> by Margaret St. Clair:<\/p>\n We\u2019ve mentioned before, but we cannot stress too often, the growing importance of women as writers both of science fiction and of pure fantasy; the best of them, from such old hands as Moore to such recent discoveries as Merril and Curtis, bring to the field a welcome warmth and sensitivity, a striking immediacy of impact, a realization that every type of fiction must essentially deal with people . . . in short, with <\/em>you. We\u2019re happy, therefore, to bring you the first of a group of distinguished stories by a new name in the profession: a delicate story of mood and emotion that will stay in your mind (and heart) long after you have forgotten the most sensational transgalactic epics.<\/em> p.37<\/p>\n Now the\u00a0\u2018new name in the profession\u2019\u00a0part is a bit naughty as \u2018Idris Seabright\u2019 had previously published over two dozen stories in the SF pulps under her own name Margaret St Clair. However, the Idris Seabright pseudonym would subsequently become better known than her own name for a time.2<\/sup> It was not until after his first bad heart attack that Edwin Hoppler really noticed the child. He had long ago decided on the basis of his contacts with his married sister\u2019s strident brood that he didn\u2019t like children. But the doctor, after telling him roundly that he was lucky to be alive, had ordered at least a month\u2019s rest in bed. Somebody had to bring the trays up from the boarding house dining room. Timmy was usually the one.<\/em> p.37<\/p>\n Over time he develops a liking for the child, who is profoundly deaf and as a result cannot speak. Nonetheless, Hoppler starts to notice that Timmy occasionally tilts his head to one side as if he is listening intently to something. He subsequently realises that the boy\u00a0does this in advance of death or near-death occurrences, e.g. a dog being run over in the street, Hoppler experiencing an angina attack, etc. After a particularly serious attack that almost kills him, Hoppler encourages Timmy to spend more time with him. The A. E. van Vogt story Process<\/em><\/strong> also has an extended introduction:<\/p>\n Alfred E. van Vogt has become one of the acknowledged masters, first of the pulps and later of hard-cover science fiction, largely because of the sheer overwhelming vastness of his concepts, which casually embrace more universes than you can name planets. But a few heretics like us think that his strongest work has been his least all-embracing, that his astute mind has best displayed itself in the detailed convincing study of a limited situation, as in the classic early sections of <\/em>Slan (which is what converted one of us to science fiction!)<\/em> p.46<\/p>\n The story is about a sentient forest and a spaceship that lands in the middle of it. After a battle between the two that the forest loses, it supplies uranium dust to the ship which subsequently departs. Following an atomic explosion (presumably from the excess dust) it then uses the secret of this new technology to attack another forest…. Sinner was a secretarial robot, designed with four arms to facilitate simultaneous handling, correcting, and copying of manuscripts. Two of his hands had twenty-four fingers each, for typing. He was mounted on three small wheels, and gave Ed a chill on mornings after.<\/em> p.105<\/p>\n There is also Arty is the art robot, etc. The story ploddingly introduces all the robots and their quirks before mixing in the trouble the editor is having with his wife. I did not find this as \u2018hilarious\u2019 as\u00a0the editors did. The cover on this issue4<\/sup> is the first the magazine has used that makes it look like a SF magazine, and starts a long tradition of astronomical paintings for the magazine by Chesley Bonestell. I think this view of Saturn would have been improved if the dated fifties spaceship had been removed.5<\/sup> We are happy to announce that, beginning with this issue, THE MAGAZINE OF FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION steps up from a quarterly to a bimonthly status. The circulation volume that has made this possible is due solely to the support given our venture by you, our readers, and we want each one of you to take this note as an expression of thanks. Rest assured that we will continue our attempts to give you\u2014every other month, now\u2014the best stories by the best authors on that wonderful subject, the-impossible-made-convincing.<\/em> p.3<\/p>\n In lieu of part of this month\u2019s Recommended Reading<\/em><\/strong> column\u00a0(although there is still a short one\u00a0covering Judith Meril\u2019s Shadow on the Hearth<\/em> amongst others) there is Review: Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health by L. Ron Hubbard<\/em><\/strong> by C. Daly King, Ph.D. This member of the American Psychological Association does not pull his punches. His article starts with this:<\/p>\n This volume is full of assertions and claims, and frequent reference is made in it to \u201cscientific evidence,\u201d but your reviewer could find no item of such evidence in its 400-odd pages. Unsupported assertions are not evidence and, since the author presents every appearance of sincerity, one can conclude only that he is unfamiliar with the nature of scientific evidence. Diligent search has turned up the information that he is a Hollywood studio and radio writer, that he has contributed to 90 magazines, that he holds an undergraduate degree in Civil Engineering and that he is an experienced explorer. No one would deny that all of these are legitimate activities but they are not the usual qualifications of an expert in psychology.<\/em> p.99<\/p>\n The rest of the review continues in a similar vein to the extent that the editors add a postscript to the review:<\/p>\n Mr. King was, of course, given a free hand with his review; and the opinions expressed are his and not necessarily ours. Since his review has proved to be such a slashing attack on what one of his letters called \u201ca sort of technocratic burlesque of psychiatry,\u201d we feel it only just to say that our pages are open to any equally cogent and reasoned rebuttal from any equally competent and responsible authority. Last but not least is the start of another long running F&SF tradition: Index to Volume One, Fall 1949\u2013December 1950<\/em><\/strong>.3<\/sup> These indexes were very useful in the days before ISFDB and the internet.<\/p>\n A mixed issue but one with a number of items of note.<\/p>\n Fiction: Take Two Quiggies \u2022 novelette by Kris Neville \u2665 The Better Mousetrap \u2022 short story by L. Sprague de Camp &\u00a0Fletcher Pratt \u2665 The Listening Child \u2022 short story by Margaret St. Clair [as by Idris Seabright] \u2665\u2665\u2665+ Process \u2022 short story by A. E. van Vogt \u2665\u2665 The Wondersmith \u2022 reprint novelette by […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1622","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fantasy-and-science-fiction"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Pcj7-qa","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1622","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1622"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1622\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1686,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1622\/revisions\/1686"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1622"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1622"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfmagazines.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1622"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nTake Two Quiggies<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 novelette by Kris Neville \u2665
\nThe Better Mousetrap<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by L. Sprague de Camp &\u00a0Fletcher Pratt \u2665
\nThe Listening Child<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Margaret St. Clair [as by Idris Seabright] \u2665\u2665\u2665+
\nProcess<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by A. E. van Vogt \u2665\u2665
\nThe Wondersmith<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 reprint novelette by Fitz-James O\u2019Brien \u2665\u2665\u2665+
\nThe Angel With Purple Hair<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by Herb Paul \u2665\u2665
\nThe Well-Oiled Machine<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 short story by H. B. Fyfe \u2665
\nAnother Chance for Casey<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 reprint short story by Larry Siegel \u2665\u2665\u2665<\/p>\n
\nCover<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by Chesley Bonestell
\nReview: Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health by L. Ron Hubbard<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 review by C. Daly King, Ph.D.
\nRecommended Reading<\/em><\/strong> \u2022 by The Editors
\nIndex to Volume One, Fall 1949\u2013December 1950 <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n
\nThis overlong tale is told from a number of viewpoints: diplomats, businessmen, reporters, military men, etc., but this does not disguise its essential slightness.
\nThe other novelette in this issue is a reprint. The Wondersmith<\/em><\/strong> by Fitz-James O\u2019Brien (Atlantic Monthly<\/em>, October 1859) was also reprinted in Weird Tales<\/em> (July 1935), but this worthwhile and interesting piece fits in fine right here, especially as it involves\u00a0the\u00a0giving of\u00a0Christmas presents to children. That said, the plot involves gypsies using those presents to murder them, so perhaps not so festive.
\nIt gets off to a leisurely start, and has passages of discursive description about\u00a0the story\u2019s location in a more disreputable part of town:<\/p>\n
\nThe story\u00a0starts with this:<\/p>\n
\nThis is a superior story, and is certainly at some remove from normal genre work of this period in terms of characterisation, writing and general texture.<\/p>\n
\nI wasn\u2019t aware that van Vogt had ever contributed to F&SF<\/em>, and they only just managed to get a story from him. This was one of the last half dozen he wrote before he fell silent in the early fifties.
\nThe Angel With Purple Hair<\/em><\/strong> by Herb Paul is an odd story about an angel turning up at a club where she is later joined by a test pilot. They exit the club to some commotion and set off to get her a room at\u00a0a hotel. The test pilot subsequently goes out to the hangar and is inspecting his test\u00a0aircraft when she joins him again. They discuss the problems he has been having with a new airplane and she suggests a solution. They also talk about their impossible love for each other. The next day the engineers have made the suggested changes to the aircraft and he takes it up\u00a0for a test flight.
\nI\u2019m not sure this story really works to be honest: although I found it interesting due to my aviation background I\u2019m not sure others will feel the same way. The poignant last scene helps.
\nThe Well-Oiled Machine<\/em><\/strong> by H. B. Fyfe is about the editor of Stupendous Stories<\/em> and an\u00a0office full of editorial robots:<\/p>\n
\nAnother Chance for Casey<\/em><\/strong> by Larry Siegel (American Legion Magazine<\/em>, 1950) is a baseball story about a player, Casey, briefly returning from heaven to Earth in an attempt to salvage his reputation. I\u2019m not a fan of fantasy sports stories but this one is atmospherically done even if you don\u2019t understand all the terminology.<\/p>\n
\nAlthough there have been no editorials in the magazine, just before the introduction to the first story, there is a short note which reads, in part:<\/p>\n
\nIncidentally, some readers have expressed surprise at the reference in our last issue to \u201cdianoetics.\u201d That happened simply because our proofreader, who had never heard of the Hubbard book, checked the word in the dictionary and found the long-established, etymologically correct form. The one stand on the subject that we do feel ourselves competent to take is that Mr. Hubbard\u2019s notions of spelling and etymology (and by no means in this word alone) are, to be polite, idiosyncratic.<\/em> p.103<\/p>\n\n
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