review of
A. Bertram Chandler's Space Mercenaries & Emil Petaja's The Caves of Mars
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - February 21, 2017

There was probably a time in my life when I wd've felt like I was being too unintellectual to be reading bks w/ titles like Space Mercenaries & The Caves of Mars.. but, what the heck, I ACCEPT that SF is my life's blood (metaphorically, ie). I almost always find something enjoyable & stimulating in SF.

Space Mercenaries is the last of the Chandlers I have laying around the house to be read. This is the 23rd I'll've read & reviewed in the last 9 mnths. I don't really care if I say much about it b/c I've already written so much at length about him. Readers interested in my take on Chandler wd be better off reading reviews that're here: https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/456068-grimesblower or here: https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/459244-i-like-a-bertram-chandler-s-stories b/c I don't have anything new to say in this review.

"["]I like money," remarked the ex-Empress Irene. "I have always liked money. But I possess a conscience. A luxury," she added thoughtfully, "which I can now afford to indulge."

""Mmph?" grunted her husband, as he made a fractional adjustment to the gain control." - p 5

I dunno about this "Mmph" business. I think John Grimes shd sue. Next thing we know Trafford'll be stinking the place up w/ a pipe.

""Give the wench time to recover from her brain-washing. She had a far rougher time on the hallucinogenic world than either of us. It'll be months before she's anything more than a puppet."" - p 8

Ok, ok, I wasn't going to tell you wch bks are being referred to but then I won't be able to show off that I know. &... drum roll please, the story being referred to is.. The Alternate Martians (You might as well read my review of it here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1713635932 ).

"From the Terran viewpoint Slithila City had little to recommend it—but a climate congenial to reptiles is not likely to appeal to mammals. Trafford had made Slithila his first port of call after lifting from the planet of the hallucinogens, for only one reason: it was the nearest world with a regular service of interstellar passenger liners. He had wanted to get the prisoners off his hands" - p 11

The polka-dotted swoomerang spun around & flicked its forked tail in Irene's direction:

"The driver regarded her with the expression of a petulant crocodile, then stared reproachfully at Trafford, "Kapitan, do I the orders of this egg-layer take?"" - p 12

Wha?! "polka-dotted swoomerang"?! Where did that come from? What's wrong w/ this review?! The hallucinating was in The Alternate Martians, the reviewer is not supposed to interpolate fictional elements just for his or her own amusement! Keep in line there, buddy-boy!

Linguists: Is Slithilan SOV? 60 pp later & we're in Sweden, these spaceship setters sure do get around:

""There were not many neutrals, but among the neutral powers was Sweden. The Swedes owned a considerable merchant fleet, and their ships, with Swedish flags painted on their topsides and superstructure, sailed in the big convoys that plied between the United States and England. In spite of their display of national colors they were often fired upon by German aircraft that attacked the convoys. And there is nothing more annoying tha"[n] [Ok, I'm correcting a typo here] "being shot at without having the wherewithal to shoot back. The Swedish mariners didn't like it.

""Finally, some unsung genius came up with an answer to the problem. Of course, the ships could not mount armament that was the property either of their own government or of the British or American Admiralties. But . . .

""It was then, and is now, perfectly legal for Masters and Officers to carry weapons for their own protection. Normally, such weapons are only side arms—but there is nothing laid down in black and white. So the Swedish ships did, at the end, carry machine guns—and these guns, legally speaking, were the personal property of each Captain and his Mates. They signed receipts for them. Those point thirties or point three-oh-threes or whatever were private property, not government issue."" - pp 72-73

&, yes, that historical tidbit alone made reading this bk worthwhile to me. But what about telepathy-jamming, you ask? If I'm commanding a bicycle from a neutral country shd my telepathy-jammer be my own property or my government's?

"Metzenther, working with a team of local biological engineers, had produced a number of personal thought-wave jammers, each of which consisted of a fragment of a cat's brain, kept alive in a tiny vial of nutrient solution, which continuously broadcast on an emotional rather than an intellectual level, which screamed hungrily—and the hunger motivating the scream was for the red, bleeding flesh of birds, any sort of birds." - p 76

That's all well & good, I mean it's positively the cat's pajamas but have you ever had one of those mornings when you're hungover & you go to the fridge & you grab what you think is the strawberry jam & you spread a dollop on the bread that you don't notice the mold on & after it's too late you realize that you've just eaten that fucking cat-brain thought jammer by mistake?! I mean, that's a really bad way to start of your late afternoon.

Uh.. Where was I? Oh, yeah, I was upside-down in The Caves of Mars. Have you ever heard of Emil Petaja? Maybe when you were in a dangerous bar near the waterfront? Whispered w/ fear as the patrons slink hastily toward the exit door? Well, out boy Petaja was of Finnish ancestry so I shd probably be listening to Einojuhani Rautavaara's "Cantus Arcticus" right now insteead of Lutoslawski's "Mi-Parti for Symphony Orchestra". Sorry Finland. OR, I shd be listening to something by Charles Wuorinen, maybe his "Time's Encomium" b/c it's electronic & electronic music & SF go together hoof & mouth. Ideally, I'd be listening to music by a Finnish-American composer living on Mars but Wikipedia is really lacking in info about that category.

"Emil Petaja was born in Western Montana in 1915. In his early years, he immersed himself in reading fantasy books and exploring his surroundings. He attended the University of Montana, but did not receive his degree; instead, he moved to Los Angeles, where he became acquainted with some of the great mainstream writers of his time.

"In California, he wrote 14 science fiction novels and 150 short stories. He wrote in the genres of fantasy and science fiction, detective and western fiction." - http://www.finnala.com/Petaja_Emil.html

So, ok, Petaja isn't a pen-name for William Faulkner. Too bad. The story opens like a door onto oblivion:

"He'd stopped at a bar and downed two quick drinks before his climb up this neon-splashed ad pylon on the highest building he could find. But he wasn't fuzzy. BY no means! Wind pressed his leanness against a narrow strut; three inches of steel supported his booted foot." - p 5

"He couldn't bear to look down at the plastic arm they had glued onto his right shoulder stump. It worked after a fashion, sure. It had helped him climb up here. But, being the kind of man he was, an awkward mechanical arm just wasn't enough. he couldn't take it. He wouldn't. So . . ." - p 6

At least he wasn't climbing an ad python w/ a Plastic Jesus glued to his stump.

Then there's Mars. Where, o where, did its inhabitants go? I think there was s slight fuck-up at the very popular bubble gum factory & before you cd say the 1st name of every microbe on the planet while juggling Martian pink elephants everyone turned invisible.

""It's not a new theory, exactly," Ric pointed out.

""No. But my evidence is. In my opinion the migration was not caused by any lack of water or dwindling atmosphere. They had progressed to the point of producing their own, or evolved beyond the point of need. No. Some sudden overwhelming tragedy occurred. Possibly self-inflicted. Something that wiped away all trace of the existence of those great cities and reduced them to electronic dust."

""What could do that?"

""We almost succeeded in doing the same thing." Alan pointed out. "Had it not been for an almost perfect stalemate, the Third War would have brought Earth to exactly the same kind of ending."" - p 10

That's a pretty generic SF premise, I prefer mine. As for "the Third War"?! We wish, right?! How about the Three-Hundred-Thousandth War? Anyway, next thing you know, your arm's vaporized by a doorway.

"Ric ran his hand along the smooth rim thoughtfully, then in, further and further in and down, where the crevice widened near the floor.

"It happened then, and fast.

"His arm was bitten off, as if by sudden lightning." - p 11

At least he didn't stick his 3rd leg in there. Imagine climbing an ad python w/ a Plastic Jesus glued to that stump. Nasty. What happens next? Weeelllll, I introduce "M-P" w/o telling you what it is.. letting yr lurid little imagination run rampant w/ "Military Police" or Motor Petrol" or "Malignant Puma" or "Massive Penis" or "Mutual Problem" or "Marvelous Passions"..

"M-P didn't need hypno-ads. Everyone who tried it praised it to the skies. Their health was so improved they were reborn. New teeth sprouted in octogenarian mouths, diseased organs replaced themselves, sightless people saw. Deaf-mutes chortled their heads off, extolling M-P. The strange fungi spores swept the world like a beautiful plague." - pp 15-16

& the next thing you know we're 34pp more into the bk & it's like we're at Jonestown or something.

"the voice out of nowhere came again.

""My dear friends! My children!"

""Father!" they chanted in ecstasy.

""I greet you again before our day of happy toil begins," the deep voice intoned, with a sense of inner power and paternal warmth. "We are all happy here in Gilead, are we not?"

""Yes!" The affirmation was a great roar to the topmost crag.

"The rich voice was deliberately slow in coming. Each word was a pearl. "We are happy because we are healthy. Our bodies and our minds are free from all ills. That is as it should be. That is as it will be for all mankind!"

""Father!"

""I thank you for your love and your trust. Now, each one of us must dedicate this bright day to his tasks. With sustained courage and hope, and with the realization that he is participating in the beginning of a new and glorious Earth! There are greater miracles to come, my children. All of you shall become the vanguard of a new super race!"

"There was more, a hint that the time was drawing near when the whole world would not only accept them with open arms but would revere them as courageous pioneers. All the while this benevolent voice rang out across the wide valley Ric squirmed. The verbiage was familiar and distasteful, somehow. It smacked of bad old times, of dictators who cozened their followers with "superior race" nonsense." - pp 50-51

"["]Once a megolithic leader created an ingenious ring of stone on an island, which by its astronomical accuracy in reading the movements of the sun and the moon told our astronomers that momentarily our minds could fuse."

""Stonehenge!"" - p 102

Father!

"["]While our scientific minds were hopefully struggling with Earth-contacts and other vast mysteries, lesser minds were struggling for domination of our people. Just as your lofty minds have been superceded by power-mad militarists, so the Yeth. There were wars, suicidal wars. Atomic fission was discovered. Our resources were depleted. Our atmosphere was polluted.["]" - p 103

Yeth sirree-bob, there're definitely recurring themes in SF for at least 20 yrs post the inexcusable bombings of Hiroshima & Nagasaki. If they had to bomb, why not the Emperor's palace, eh?! Pessimism was a badly needed warning & most of us who read SF were on the same page, so to speak. ( )

ACE Double.

"Caves of Mars" by Emil Petaja. Pretty good 1960s novella by an American author who had many stories in the SF pulp magazines. He wrote a dozen SF books in the 1960s with moderate success.

"Space Mercenaries" by A. Bertram Chandler. Average 1960s novella by this English/Australian author. I usually like his tongue SF adventures but this one was dull. He had short stories in over 20 American SF pulp titles in the 1950s. He also wrote at least 50 SF novels. ( )