A Son of the Rock

Whippleshield Books, 2012. 54p plus 21p appendices.

Not only does the usual warning apply to this review, the book has a quote from me on its back cover.

In a timeline where NASA did not abandon Moon landings and the Cold War gradually became hotter and hotter before finally boiling over, a group of US astronauts is stranded on the Moon with the Earth only a devastated, barren cloud of dust in their sky. Their only hope of survival is a piece of weird Nazi tech “liberated” at the end of WW2, a “torsion field generator” known as the Bell, which one of them is using to try to jump into a universe where life on Earth is still intact. This ongoing story strand, told in an urgent present tense, is interspersed with the back story of Colonel Vance Peterson, a gung-ho USAF pilot whose past is related, in reverse, in italic sections with larger page margins. After several abortive tries with the Bell a shift at last brings a blue Earth. There is no radio contact but telescopes reveal a space station in Earth orbit. The astronauts cobble together fuel and a return vehicle from the left over Lunar Descent modules scattered near their Mare Imbrium base. Peterson flies it “home.” To reveal what welcomes him would be a spoiler.

Both narratives are seen from Peterson’s viewpoint and crammed full of the alphanumeric soup that was/is NASA speak. I must say, though, I wasn’t entirely convinced by Peterson’s blinkered psychology.

An abbreviations section is provided in the appendices for those who need it and a glossary reveals the history of the US and Soviet space programmes in the altered timeline. Sales’s research is not exactly worn lightly – the man has probably forgotten more about the space programme than I ever knew – but it adds a high degree of verisimilitude and is arguably necessary.

Overall, though, this story stands comparison with any of those nominated for the recent BSFA Awards.

And the quote? “Science Fiction as it might have been. A FALL OF MOONDUST meets DR STRANGELOVE – with a dash of The Cold Equations.”

Methuen, 1986, 185p. (Also known as Crompton Divided.)

Due to “virus schizophrenia” Alistair Crompton has had his personality divided. Two of his alter egos have been decanted into Durier bodies and sent to far-flung parts of the galaxy. Crompton himself, an abstemious prude, has developed a fine nose and concocts subtle perfumes for Psychosmells Inc. After trying to steal a highly expensive essence he seeks out his alter egos to attain “Reintegration.” The first, Loomis, who lives on the planet Aaia, is a prodigious womaniser, likes his life and so does not want to re-merge. Crompton manipulates things so that he will. They move on to the planet Yggia where after a long search they discover the third personality, Dan Stack, is homicidal. They come to him as he is about to be hanged for murder (though the victim hasn’t quite died yet.) The merge takes place just as the hanging reaches its culmination. It then turns out the victim is a fourth alter ego.

The absurdities do not stop there as the Reintegration is not straightforward and in a search to achieve it the united but unintegrated personalities travel to the Intersentient Therapeutics Centre where all sorts of weird things happen.

In all of this the characterisation never rises above the stereotypical, not to say sketchy. In addition the book is riddled with info dumping and overloaded with science-fictional neologisms. There are frequent typos – but one was magnificent, “his sanity was underminded” – and, among the poor jokes, an OK one when Crompton says, “I’m a paranoid schiz,” and his interlocutor replies, “There’s quite a few of you lads here.”

Character names such as Al Dente and firms called Harbinger&Omen clearly signal the book is meant to be light-hearted. Whether it may have been funny in 1978 when it was first published is moot. It certainly isn’t now.

SFL Div 1 Play-off Final, First Leg, The Rock, 16/5/12

This was weird. It was totally unreal to watch my team – my diddy team – on live television, with the full treatment, build up – though that was short – replays, half time study on the manager etc. It was also unreal not to be shouting encouragement (or otherwise) during the game.

Anyway, Airdrie had most of the possession but didn’t really do much with it. The shots Stephen Grindlay had to save were mostly comfortable for him, their other efforts went high or wide. We did not play well, our passes too often went astray. Nerves, perhaps. We took the lead out of nothing, Brian Prunty finished it well, though. Then – total unreality – we scored with a free header from a free kick. Unlikely hero, Tony Wallace and a great delivery from Scott Agnew.

Airdrie’s Paul Lovering then conned the ref into booking Tony Wallace, who was perhaps still affected by that a few minutes later when he made the challenge the ref gave as a penalty. Even with the replays I was struggling to see a foul there.

I knew Grindlay would save it, unfortunately he didn’t block the rebound shot.

Second half not much happened, except Pat Walker was brought down by the keeper after he’d flicked the ball past him in the box but the ref wasn’t interested then near the death Prunty had a one-on-one which the keeper saved with his legs before Paul Nugent made the needless challenge that led to his second booking.

So we have it all to go through again on Sunday. I don’t think I could stand another 90 minutes of 0-0. It’s on a plastic pitch too, which you’d think would favour them.

I see from Jim Steel’s blog that Interzone 240 is out.

This is the issue that contains my review of Mez Packer’s The Game Is Altered.

The tension is mounting for tonight’s game.

It’ll be strange to watch the Sons on live TV instead of in the flesh.

These are a few photos I took at the last away game of the season proper at Forthbank Stadium, Stirling.

It’s traditional for the Sons fans, aka the Apache Army, to dress up for the last journey of the season. You can spot a few in fancy dress here.

This is the fans celebrating clinching third spot and a play-off place.

The players returned the tribute.

Not only will Wednesday night’s game be our first play-off final it will also be our first ever appearance on live TV.

Brush up your Gaelic, though. It’s on BBC Alba. See here for its availability.

To get through to Dumbarton on a midweek night and back again in a decent time would be pushing it for me. This news eases that dilemma. This week I won’t have the Europa League (sic) final to take my mind off things, I’ll have the Sons game itself.

This is in Commercial Road, Leven. It’s an estate agent’s now.

Poundland. I can remember when this was a Woolworths.

This one is on the promenade. It may have been a toilet block. I don’t know what it’s used for now. You can just see New Bayview, East Fife’s ground, in the background over the River Leven. You wouldn’t have been able to see it when Methil Power Station stood in between.

SFL Div 1 play-off, second leg, Gayfield Stadium, 12/5/12. (Aggregate 1-2.)

Why do we do this to ourselves?

This was torture. As Onebrow said to me at the end, “That was the best and the worst 0-0 draw I’ve ever seen.”

Arbroath are the best footballing side I’ve seen this season (in the game at Gayfield on 10^thMar; Cowdenbeath, though, were the most effective.) In the first half here however they abandoned their measured approach and were much more direct.

The omens were clear inside five minutes. Alan Lithgow made a mistake allowing an attacker in on Stephen Grindlay, who forced him wide, but he still got his shot in. Lithgow had recovered to head it off the line. A goal then might have sunk us.

We were barely in it for twenty minutes, Arbroath having several shots/headers on goal – a one-on-one save by Stephen Grindlay and other efforts put wide, but gradually we managed to foray upfield. Craig Dargo was through on their keeper but took it just too far past him and had to turn it back from the bye-line but his cross in was poor. Prunty was then right through but the keeper deflected it for a corner.

Arbroath came out for the second half much more settled and started to stroke the ball about. There followed a succession of chances for them. It didn’t feel like backs to the wall stuff, though, we just couldn’t seem to pass the ball to our own players. Stephen Grindlay had a very good save from a free kick and then an unbelievable one from a close range header. He without doubt saved the jerseys, Dumbarton’s man of the match, no question. He rode his luck a few times, though, when coming for the ball.

The second half was excruciating, with us mostly not able to get out of our own half and unable to keep it for long when we did.

Edited to add:- I forgot to say Lithgow had one magnificent tackle when an Arbroath forward seemed right through.

Late on, in one of our few flurries, sub Pat Walker nutmegged a defender by the bye-line, crossed it in and Mark Gilhaney forced the keeper into a save.

There was still time after that for Arbroath to force a couple of corners. The final whistle was a relief and a release.

Given our defensive record this season it’s a minor miracle we managed to keep a clean sheet. This was a magnificent and remarkably disciplined effort (Kevin Nicoll’s booking apart) by the lads.

We have to do it all again on Wednesday and Sunday, though.

Edited to add:- I was drained at the end of this. I hope I’ll be as drained (in a good way) next Sunday!

Sons players celebrate:-

Sons fans celebrate.

Just to show what an unusual day it was here’s a man in his shirt sleeves at Gayfield. The sun was out for most of the game. Normally you have to be well wrapped up. The wind got up as usual, naturally. It’s a vintage Palermo shirt apparently.

This is more or less how I first glimpsed it. It’s in North Street, just off the main shopping street, which is now pedestrianised.

This is the front view.

I’m not sure if it’s still a snooker club. The damaged sign and general dilapidation argue against it.

The stained glass (what survives of it) is nice. And the detailing above them.

This is the view from the west.