Strange Highways: Reading Science Fantasy, 1950-1967. Damien Broderick

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Strange Highways: Reading Science Fantasy, 1950-1967 - Damien  Broderick

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      That issue 3 cover, though, has nothing to do with any of the fiction contents, from which skynapped voluptuous women are conspicuously absent. All the stories are short items, with none flagged as a lead story except by their order on the contents page.

      In John Wyndham’s “Pawley’s Peepholes,” gaggles of futuristic tourists suddenly start intangibly but visibly appearing in a small town. Solution: turn the town into a tourist attraction for people who want to gawk at the time travelers. It’s an American town, probably reflecting an earlier sale in the U.S. (a different version of the story appeared in Suspense, Summer 1951). Later the story was Anglicized (or re-Anglicized) for reprinting in the UK Argosy, as “A New Kind of Pink Elephant,” and retained the English setting in yet another revision in Wyndham’s collection The Seeds of Time. This plot is essentially the same as in Bob Tucker’s “The Tourist Trade,” though the stories were published close enough together (Worlds Beyond, January 1951, for the Tucker) that given the publication delays involved, it’s unlikely that one influenced the other.

      F. G. Rayer’s “The Undying Enemy” is old-fashioned but not too bad if one makes the necessary allowances: the protagonist grows up underground under the tutelage of an old man. He has custody of the remnants of humanity who are in suspended animation, figures out how to disable the war machines that make the surface uninhabitable, and wakes everybody up to start the new world.

      William F. Temple’s “Double Trouble” is a ponderous stab at whimsical fantasy about a man vexed by an entity whose job it is to give him bad luck, and his efforts to change his fortunes.

      E. R. James’ “The Moving Hills” combines a comic device (a man’s buddy is always talking him into things and getting him into trouble) with a complicated space exploration/alien contact plot, to completely self-defeating effect (but Colin and Brocky will be back, never fear). It collapses of its own uninteresting weight.

      Characteristically slickly done, E. C. Tubb’s “Grounded” displays a man who wants to go to the Moon, but is always thwarted. It is revealed that the government can’t let anybody have the military advantages of getting there. Australian N. (for Norma) K. Hemmings’ “Loser Take All” features those staples of an earlier SF day, a Professor with no discernible academic responsibilities and his beautiful daughter, whom the protagonist would like to get next to, in a style that obviates the need for parody: “From the centre globe, the pilot’s compartment, a girl emerged, and his eyes strayed from Liza’s metal curves in favour of softer ones. [Liza is the spaceship.] Jane Lawrence was a brilliant mathematician and research chemist and, with a name and profession like that should have been a very studious and unattractive girl blinking owlishly through horn-rimmed glasses. However, she was not, and her construction and general lines left nothing to be desired.” The plot is an alien invasion, the denouement is we lose in the short run, but the aliens didn’t bring their women so they will have to intermarry with us, promising—wait for it—“the new Earth.”

      None of these stories is particularly memorable by contemporary standards, though the best of them, Wyndham’s, is a characteristically well turned trifle. But there is nothing so archaic as in the first two issues. Even the Hemmings story is redeemed by its unconventional conclusion.

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      There is a new and better lot of interior illustrators (Quinn, Clothier, and Hunter), though how much of the improvement is in quality and how much in presentation, I’m not sure (the illustrations are given more space on the page and the pages are larger, and the reproduction seems clearer). In any case, they are at best competent.

      2: SCIENCE FANTASY, VOLUME 2 (ISSUES 4-6)

      In issue 4 (Spring 1952), the inside front cover is occupied by another small-worldy artifact. The headline is “At the Pub of the Universe,” and it’s an ad for the White Horse Tavern, complete with photo captioned “Resident Manager Lew Mordecai in a familiar pose”—drawing a cold one, or I guess in

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