'Killraven' in Amazing Adventures No. 23: 'The Legend Assassins'

I remember seeing ‘Amazing Adventures’ No. 18, featuring Killraven and the War of the Worlds, on the shelf with the other comics at the 7-11 store in Elmira Heights, New York, in 1973.

After looking through it I thought it was an interesting comic, set in a near-future Earth devastated by a successful second invasion of the Martians from the H. G. Wells novel. The opening issue featured the ruins of New York City, mutants, monsters, high-tech weaponry, and an offbeat hero in Killraven. But I didn’t have enough extra cash to purchase it (even though 20 cents seems like a paltry sum nowadays, back then it was a lot of money in terms of allowance; this was when a Fudgesicle cost only 5 cents, and a gallon of gas less than 50 cents). So I wound up buying a copy of Jack Kirby’s ‘The Demon’, and a copy of ‘Conan’.

Fortunately Marvel has released all the first generation Killraven stories in one of its omnibus b & w ‘Essentials’ formats. At more than 800 pages in length, ‘Killraven Vol. 1’ gives you the Amazing Adventures’ run of ‘War of the Worlds’ from issues 18 to 39. There’s also issue #45 of ‘Marvel Team Up’ featuring Killraven and Spider Man (?!) and two one-shot Killraven issues from the 80s.

The Killraven stories are derived from many pop-culture idioms of the early 70s, with perhaps ‘Beneath the Planet of the Apes’ serving as one of the more central idioms. Each issue has the sort of frantic, if unsophisticated, energy that defined superhero comics in the early to mid 70s.

Amazing Adventures No. 23 is a gem in this regard. The story features a mutated, former Secret Service agent (!) named ‘Rattack (!) who lives in the tunnels beneath the ruins of the White House. Borrowing heavily from the film ‘Willard’, already a sci-fi landmark in the early 70s, the plot sees the bucktoothed Rattack and his furry rodent friends commissioned to eliminate Killraven in gruesome fashion (particularly for a Code-approved comic !). I’ve tried to scan a couple of the more gripping pages without breaking open the spine of my yellowing copy of the book (my Canon 4400F scanner lacks a beveled edge best used for scanning bound books).

I won’t spoil the story by posting the finale of the story, but these pages make for great art by Herb Trimpe, arguably the best of the Jack Kirby-inspired artists on Marvel’s staff at the time.

Book Review: Hestia

Book Review: 'Hestia' by C. J. Cherryh
3/5 Stars

'Hestia' (1979; DAW book No. 354) features a cover painting by Don Maitz of an alluring cat-girl in a leather bikini standing knee-deep in a stream. An exemplary PorPor book cover…..!

Sam Merritt is a young and ambitious Federation engineer who decides to participate in a project on the Earth-like planet Hestia. Unfortunately, when Sam arrives he discovers that the dwindling human colony on the planet possesses only a late 19-century level of technology, and what outposts still survive are rustic at best.

Needless to say anti-gravity lifters, nanobots, and laser drills are not available, much less mechanized bulldozers, pile drivers, and front-end loaders. Sam tries to skip out on his contract, but finds himself shanghaied into service by the desperate Hestians: with most of population crammed into a river valley subjected to periodic floods, a dam must be constructed upstream to save the human civilization. Indeed, if the dam is not built within the span of a year, it's possible a flood could convert most of the planet's agricultural landscape into a swamp.

Sam travels upstream to the dam site and gradually discovers something the colonists are reluctant to talk about: there are aboriginal Hestians, referred to as ‘The People’, living in proximity to the site, and they don’t like the idea of constructing a dam on their territory.

As the struggle to build the dam proceeds, Sam befriends one of the natives, Sazhje, the cat-girl from the cover. This does not endear him to the human colonists. Soon the violence between aborigine and colonist escalates, and Sam finds himself distrusted by both sides. Can he prevail with construction of the dam, or will the enmity between the races lead to its destruction and ethnic warfare ?

At 160 pp. 'Hestia' is a quick and (mostly) engaging read. Sam is a likeable (if too altruistic) protagonist. The human colonists come off as thick-headed, stubborn, and not too bright. With the exception of Sazhje the cat-girl, the aboriginal People are little more than primitives obsessed with internecine warfare, sort of like Amerindians of the pre-European contact era.

As is often the case with her novels Cherryh tends to overplay the various psychodramas between the main human characters, and this slows the narrative too often for my taste. And the book’s ending seems a bit too contrived; lots of things are tied up within the span of a few pages and some overnight conversions seem too pat.

‘Hestia’ is something of an offbeat SF novel, in that the SF elements are muted. Indeed, the interactions between Sam and the colonists with the aborigines is modeled on the conventions of the settlers and Indians conflicts of the Western genre. This makes the book worth checking out for SF fans.

'Heavy Metal' magazine June 1979

The June 1979 issue of ‘Heavy metal’ featured a cover painting by Angus McKie titled ‘The Performer’, and a back cover painting titled ‘What Happened to Betty (Page)’ by Marcus Boas.

This was a rather unimpressive issue of the magazine. Yet another installment of Corben’s seemingly never-ending ‘The New Tales of the Arabian Nights, Sinbad in the Land of the Jinn’, as well as another installation of McKie’s ‘So Beautiful and So Dangerous’. In a rarity for Heavy Metal, Serge Clerc’s ‘Captain Future’ b & w comic appears in its entirety, although scattered in chunks throughout the magazine in an effort to force the reader to view intervening material. By this time I was beginning to tire of reading stories in drips and driblets, and I had begun to give serious thought to discontinuing purchasing the magazine.

The June issue featured another ‘Pyloon’ tale by Rae Rue and LeoGiraux, and I’ve posted it here. Like the other Pyloon stories appearing in Heavy Metal, it features drawings cribbed from the pop culture archives, in a deliberately cheesy sort of tribute to the originals.

Book Review: From the 'S' File

Book Review: 'From the 'S' File', by the editors of 'Playboy' magazine
2 / 5 Stars

Playboy regularly published a lot of SF stories, many by well-known authors in the genre. As one of the so-called ‘slick’ magazines, it paid high rates and represented a coveted outlet for short fiction throughout the 50s, 60s, 70s, and even the early 80s, after which the advent of video porn, and later, DVD and internet porn, severely curtailed its circulation.

There were some drawbacks to being published in Playboy; there were of course restrictions on story length – after all, no one really bought the magazine for the ‘articles’ – and the SF content had to be dialed down in order to appeal to the magazine’s hedonistic-oriented readership. Both of these drawbacks probably influenced the tenor of the stories appearing in this anthology.

‘From the “S” File’ (1971) contains stories published from 1956 to 1970; as the book’s title indicates, all the authors have surnames beginning with the letter ‘S’.

The editor(s) in charge of purchasing SF tales seem to have liked Robert Sheckley a great deal, since 5 of the 16 the entries in this anthology originate from that author. I myself have never been all that enchanted by Sheckley’s writings, which tend to focus on satire, with the SF themes merely serving as a sort of painted backdrop for the author’s efforts at critiquing social mores. Of his stories presented here, only ‘The World of Heart’s Desire’, about a man seeking an extended bout of escapism, is really all that impressive. The other Sheckley tales: ‘Can You Feel Anything When I Do This’, ‘Triplication’, ‘The Same to You Doubled’, and ‘Cordle to Onion to Carrot’ all come across as underwhelming efforts to meld SF tropes with a Cheever-esque styling.

Theodore Sturgeon contributes ‘The Nail and the Oracle’; like Sheckley’s work, it’s a lackluster effort at social and political satire.

‘Control Somnambule’, by William Sambrot, deals with an Apollo astronaut and a mysterious lapse in his recollection of the period his spaceship spent traveling on dark side of the Moon. Well-written and effective despite an understated style, it’s one of the better tales in the anthology.

‘The Man From Not-Yet’, by John Sladek, deals with an encounter between the famous 18th century English philosopher Samuel Johnson, and a time-traveler from the future.

Henry Slesar is represented by ‘Melodramine’, in which a near-future narcotic gives hallucinations of a too-pleasurable kind. ‘Victory Parade’, is a short, mordant tale of the celebration of a war..... in which everyone loses. ‘Examination Day’ is a somewhat clichéd account of a very important test administered by an authoritarian regime, while ‘The Jam’ is a brief but quietly effective story, and will undoubtedly make for uneasy thoughts when one is next in a traffic jam on a hot summer's day. ‘After’ is a collection of vignettes, set in a nuclear war’s aftermath, infused with a dark sense of humor.

Jack Sharkey contributes ‘The Pool’, a moral fable about conquistadors and the fabled fountain of youth; and ‘Conversation with a Bug’, a comic tale about over-reaching one’s grasp.

The final entry is Norman Spinrad’s ‘Deathwatch’, a succinct tale that relies on a shock ending. It’s one of his more effective stories.

The verdict on ‘From the ‘S’ File’ ? To some extent the stories suffer from having to be coherent to Playboy’s audience, as opposed to targeting, say, contemporary SF magazines like Analog or If. But the inclusion of too many tales in which the SF content is subordinate to social satire makes it hard to recommend this volume to fans.

Slow Death comix Number 9

'Slow Death' Comix No. 9 (1978)

‘Slow Death Funnies’ was the first title produced by Last Gasp, a small press outfit started by Ron Turner in Berkeley, California. ‘Slow Death’ was a b & w eco-conscious comic book produced to coincide with the first Earth Day celebration in April, 1970. Throughout the 70s a total of 10 issues were produced; in 1992, an 11^th issue appeared, which is still available from the contemporary Last Gasp catalogue.

‘Slow Death’ was part and parcel of the eco-catastrophe consciousness that was in fullest flower in the late 60s and early 70s. Many of the better-known underground comix artists had stories in the book, including Jack Jackson (‘Jaxon’), Richard Corben, Charles Dallas, Fred Schrier, Dave Sheriden, and Rand Holmes. Some issues of the comic have explicit content and bear an ‘Adults Only’ notification on the cover.

‘Slow Death’ No. 9 (August 1978) was devoted to exposing the dark side of nuclear power. The cover illustration is by Greg Irons, who also did the first story in the book, ‘Our Friend the Atom’. The other content is ‘Faustus II’ is by Michael Becker, ‘Beyond the Wall’ (posted here) by Dennis Ellefson, ‘Lights Out’ by Errol McCarthy, and ‘Close Encounters with a Blurred Mind’ by Tim Boxell.

I can’t say that No. 9 was one of the better issues. The stories are rather pedestrian, and lack the overtly horror-oriented content of the entries in other issues. But this was considered edgy stuff back in the days before non- Comics Code books were a staple of the store shelves.

Book Review: Gate of Ivrel

Book Review: 'Gate of Ivrel' by C. J. Cherryh 4/5 Stars

‘Gate of Ivrel’ was published in 1976 as DAW book No. 188. The cover art for this printing is by Michael Whelan. 

This was author Carolyn Janice Cherryh's first published novel. Succeeding volumes in this ‘Morgaine Trilogy’ include ‘Well of Shiuan’ (1978) and ‘Fires of Azeroth’ (1979). Cherryh produced a fourth book in 1988, ‘Exile’s Gate’. The first three volumes are available in the DAW omnibus ‘The Morgaine Saga’ (2001).

The Gates are portals to wormholes capable of mediating instantaneous travel not only from one locale to another, but, via use of the ‘major’ or ‘universal’ Gate, to other planets. Built long ago by a humanoid race called the qhal, the Gates also permit travel back in time; this is fraught with danger, as a careless journey can lead to interference with causality and the triggering of a ‘time-quake’. 

One or more of such time-quakes have led to the destruction of qhal civilization. The humans who have descended from the qhal Empire have decided that the remaining Gates must be destroyed to prevent further catastrophes.

On a nameless planet with a medieval level of technology, Venye, an outcast tribesman, finds himself forced into the service of a mysterious woman named Morgaine, who vanished a century ago after an effort to destroy the Gate of Ivrel, the universal gate on this world, failed. Awakened from suspended animation by Venye, Morgaine renews the quest to destroy the Gate of Ivrel.

The novel is one long chase sequence as the hapless Venye accompanies Morgaine on her travels to the northern reaches, the Gate, and the kingdom of Hjemur, where rules one Thiye, a human who has acquired enough knowledge of the Gate’s power to be a dangerous adversary.

En route there are various violent encounters with clans of superstitious, but cunning, characters, and much of the book’s adventures revolve around the efforts of Venye and Morgaine to overcome one batch of pursuers after another. And while the book slows mid-way to belabor a psychodrama involving Venye and some of his estranged relatives, overall, the narrative maintains its rapid pacing.

Morgaine is plainly modeled on Michael Moorcock’s ‘Elric’ character, what with her bouts of guilt-stricken angst, ‘doomed’ sword ‘Changeling’, pale complexion, and white mane of hair. But she is less powerful than Elric, and not every encounter necessarily leads to barbarians falling by the hundred. Venye is not so much a heroic figure, as a sort of dogged, dim-witted ally who manages to survive by his wits and some luck.

‘Gate’ suffers from some stilted writing: tree branches ‘writhe’ against the night sky, the clopping of horses’ hooves sounds ‘lonely’, and no one ever employs contractions in their dialogue, making many conversations wordy and rather pretentious. 

However the novel features some entertaining characters, a well-realized world, an interesting quest, and, unlike many contemporary fantasy novels, its short length (191 pp.) means it can be read in a few day’s time. And if you like it, three more installments await.

The Pudsuit: Quintessential 70s wardrobe

The 'Pudsuit' : A quintessential 70s sci-fi wardrobe item











Left to right: ‘Killraven’ from Marvel comics, 1973; 'Vampirella', from Warren Comics, late 60s; and bottom, a hapless Sean Connery in a still from the movie Zardoz, 1974.

My brothers and I referred to them as ‘pudsuits’, since they left uncovered most of the body save for one’s privates. They seem to have been an exclusively 70s phenomenon, since I haven’t observed many dedicated sci-fi characters in the popular culture sporting similar outfits over the past 20 – 25 years.

'Alien: The Illustrated Story' by Archie Goodwin and Walter Simonson

‘Heavy Metal’ magazine scored a genuine coup by winning the licensing rights to 20^th Century Fox’s science fiction thriller ‘Alien’. The magazine made the most of this bounty by arranging to publish a number of books dealing with the film, including ‘The Book of Alien’, a behind-the-scenes look at the film’s production; and ‘Alien: The Illustrated Story’. With art by Walter Simonson and story by Archie Goodwin, Alien: The Illustrated Story was a larger size ‘graphic novel’, released in the Spring of 1979, prior to the film’s debut on May 25. As such, it contained spoilers, so that before I saw the film I knew what was going to happen….

Sections of ‘Alien’ were serialized in the May and June issues of Heavy Metal, and I’ve scanned some of those excerpts for presentation here. I don’t want to spoil the rest of the book’s contents by presenting the ‘Alien-specific pages’. I will say that the book stays true to the film’s script, while at the same time successfully presenting the material in a memorable and distinctive way. Unfortunately, comic adaptations of subsequent Alien films (I’m thinking of Dark Horse’s Alien³ effort in particular) have strayed from this attitude, and have tended to come across as sub-par efforts to cash in on the licensing rights.

Suffice it to say that the ‘Alien’ graphic novel does a great job of communicating the film’s creepy, and sometimes gory, nature. Simonson is adept at presenting H. R. Giger’s unique style of ‘bio-mechanoid’ artwork throughout the book, starting with the careful illustration of the ‘Alien’ title. The one area where the comic falls a bit short, is in mimicking the very dark and drizzly look of the film’s spaceship interiors; but this was in the days before computer graphics programs were available for creating the more complex color and texture schemes such fidelity would have required.

The ‘Alien’ creature is so much a part of pop culture mythology nowadays that it is perceived in a kind of amiable light (as it sometimes appears in the Brewster Rockit: Space Guy’ comic strip), but back in 1979 the creature was a genuinely scary thing. In fact, when Kenner released the first ‘Alien’ toy in ‘79, kids were so frightened by it that some stores actually removed it from their shelves, forcing would-be buyers to ask the store managers for the toy to be brought up from the stock room - !

Fans of the film and comic art in general may find it worthwhile to add ‘Alien: The Illustrated Story’ to their collection. It’s an interesting and worthwhile effort at the sort of synergistic marketing that’s commonplace nowadays for every and all Summer Blockbusters, but back in ’79, it was a bit novel and innovative. 20^th Century Fox had undoubtedly learned of the immense power of cross-marketing after the tumult two years earlier of ‘Star Wars’, and was aware that the fans of that film would be lining up for ‘Alien’, as well as happily handing over cash for associated memorabilia.

Book Review: 'Life With Lancelot', by John T. Phillifent

2/5 Stars

John T. Phillifent (1916 – 1973) was a British author who published a number of SF novels and short stories in the 1970s, some under the pen name of John Rackham. ‘Life With Lancelot’ (1973) is part of Ace Double No. 48245, with ‘Hunting on Kunderer’ by William Barton, serving as the other portion of the book. At 132 pp in length ‘Lancelot’ consists of three stories: ‘Stainless Knight’, ‘Logical Knight’, and ‘Arabian Knight’.

Lancelot Lake is a janitor on a space station in the Galactic Federation; Lake is prone to spending most of his waking hours engaged in Walter Mitty-style ruminations. His life gets a major turnaround when he foolishly commandeers control of a damaged spaceship, and fails to prevent it from crashing on the surface of the planet of the Shogleet, technologically advanced creatures who are able to shape-shift, and become invisible, among other useful traits. The Shogleet revive the dying Lancelot, and using his brain’s imagery as a guide, re-create him as the physical embodiment of the Lancelot of mythology: not too bright, but strong and handsome.

Lancelot returns to the Federation and enrolls as a trouble-shooter for worlds where the cultures are lodged in a feudal or medieval state. A ‘Prime Directive’ prohibits the overt intervention of the Federation, except as a covert operation cloaked in the guise of the existing technology.

Each of the three stories sees Lancelot dispatched to a different planet, where he must intervene to prevent rouge Federation agents, or their loosed technology, from disrupting the normal order of the host society. The main focus of ‘Lancelot’ is humor, as our witless hero blunders about the landscape, getting into various combats with medieval knights or dissolute Arabian caliphs. Phillifent tends to center each tale on sophomoric humor derived from encounters between Lancelot and a series of lubricious females. Overall, the book reads as a gently sarcastic take on SF and fantasy clichés, and owes more than a bit to Harry Harrison and his writings.

‘Life with Lancelot’ is mildly entertaining, but that’s about it. If readers stumble upon it, that’s fine, but I don’t believe it’s worth a deliberate search in the used bookstore catalogues.

Book Review: 'World's Best Science Fiction 1970' by Donald A. Wolheim and Terry Carr


2 / 5 Stars

‘The World’s Best Science Fiction 1970’ (Ace Books, 1970, 349 pp) is edited by Donald Wollheim and Terry Carr, and features a cover with an abstract design by John Schoenherr superimposed on a rather garish, but attention-getting, pink color scheme. There are interior line drawings by Jack Gaughan. 

All of the stories in this chunky (349 pp., 9 pt type) anthology were published in 1969, many in magazines such as ‘Analog’, ‘Galaxy’, and ‘Fantasy and Science Fiction’.

As one might expect for stories seeing print in the late 60s, the influence of the New Wave movement is strong. The majority of the stories eschew ‘traditional’ SF topics, and instead focus on issues of psychology, anthropology, and sociology, with attendant focus on characterization and mood, rather than descriptive passages centered on technology or hard science. Most of the authors display a conscious effort to adopt a New Wave diction, using figurative, often obtuse, prose styles. Sometimes, this works, but more often, it doesn’t.

My capsule reviews of the contents:

Richard Wilson’s ‘A Man Spekith’: the Last Man on Earth is a hippy DJ aboard a space station. A boring tale that hasn’t aged well.

‘After the Myths Went Home’ by Robert Silverberg: less SF than mythic-inspired ‘speculative fiction’, but the ending gives the story enough of a jolt to be rewarding.

‘Death by Ecstasy’, by Larry Niven: a ponderous effort to meld a police procedural with SF elements. Too long and too dull.

Alexei Panshin’s ‘One Sunday in Neptune’: disaffected spacemen decide to explore Neptune. Tries to say something Profound about the Human Condition, but ends up being Boring.

‘For the Sake of Grace’, by Suzette Haden Elgin: one of the better stories in the anthology; on a planet where women are subjected to appalling social customs, a befuddled patriarch confronts a rebellious daughter. The references to Islam are unsubtle and effective.

James Tiptree, Jr, ‘Your Haploid Heart’: some knowledge of High School genetics required; but in essence a competent adventure story dealing with alien societies, strange approaches to reproduction, and racial conflict.

‘Therapy 2000’ by Keith Roberts: in a near-future, overcrowded society, a man is slowly going insane due to the constant bombardment of noise. The prose is too dense, and the story too slow-moving, to be very memorable.

‘Sixth Sense’ by Michael Coney: in a near-future world in which everyone is telepathic, a bed and breakfast owner on the English coast hosts bickering couples. Well written, although the SF content is light.

Harlan Ellison’s ‘A Boy and His Dog’: still politically incorrect, still mordantly amusing, 40 years after first seeing print.

‘And So Say All of Us’, by Bruce McAllister: A schizophrenic displays esp powers that catch the interest of the Defense Department. A pedestrian story.

‘Shadow Ship’ by Fritz Lieber: an amnesiac, elderly bartender prone to hallucinations encounters intrigue aboard a decrepit spaceship peopled by drug addicts. Lieber’s earnest effort to write prose that’s very arty, and very ‘New Wave’, is in reality clumsy and obtuse.

Ursula LeGuin contributes ‘Nine Lives’, about two irascible miners on an earthquake-prone planet who discover their new work mates are a ‘clone’ consisting of five males and five females. LeGuin’s intent is to explore the psychology of alienation, very New Wave-y; as a straightforward SF tale, the story does work.

The concluding entry is Norman Spinrad’s much-anthologized ‘The Big Flash’, which cynically mixes atom bombs, group psychology, and the power of rock music. Of all the entries, it best represents the New Wave ethos, without sliding too far into self-indulgence or excessive artiness.

Taken all in all, ‘World’s Best SF 1970’ displays the effects of the New Wave movement on the genre and its more salient authors. Some coped with the changes to writing and publishing brought by the New Wave era better than others. There are only three or four genuinely notable stories in this anthology, so I really can’t recommend it, save to those readers with a particular interest in late 60s SF.