Gateway to Elsewhere by Murray Leinster

Imagine that you are in a science fiction bull session back in the early 1950s. You are sitting by a warm fire in a neighbor's living room, nursing cups of coffee or glasses of coke in your hands. Somebody earnestly raises the question: "What sf writer would have the color, the poetry, the sense of the exotic to do justice to a modern treatment of the Arabian Nights?" Maybe Fritz Leiber or Jack Vance? Yes, they would be serious contenders. Maybe C.L. Moore or Leigh Brackett? (Remember the Northwest Smith and the Eric John Stark stories.) Possibly van Vogt? (After all, he _did_ write The Book of Ptath) Somebody briefly mentions Poul Anderson, Theodore Sturgeon, and Ray Bradbury. Well, mayb...

But who would seriously propose Murray Leinster? After all, he is so damned _prosaic_... And yet Leinster did_ write such a book, while none of these other authors did. The book in question first appeared in Startling Stories in 1952 under the title "Journey to Barkut." It appeared as half of an Ace Double Novel in 1954 under the title Gateway to Elsewhere. The flip side of the book was A.E. van Vogt's The Weapon Shops of Isher, which was pretty stiff competition. But Leinster's novel was not a contemptible piece of writing.

The book title is certainly a snappier one than the magazine title-- but not a more accurate one. The hero does not enter a fantasy world by crossing through a magic portal or gate or door. Rather, he leaves the city of New York and with the aid of a magic coin - journeys - until he gradually makes his way to Barkut, an Arabian Nights type of country. There he has assorted adventures, mainly with djinns, djinnis, and beautiful slave girls. There are romantic interludes, but they are constantly interrupted by the comings and goings of other characters.

It is all reasonably entertaining... but I found myself wishing for some of the things that weren't there. Where were the forty thieves? Where were the rocs? The mechanical flying horses of ebony and ivory? The flying carpets? The magical dancing fish of red and yellow and blue and white? The Old Man of the Sea, legs locked around his victim's neck? The crafty Viziers? The valleys of diamonds? The magic caves filled with treasure? The enchanted pomegranate seeds that can impregnate the wives in a harem? The giant serpents? The leviathans that are mistaken for islands by hapless sailors? Where are all of those things, eh? It is a competently told adventure, but it lacks a certain amount of spectacle and variety. (Paul Camp, Amazon)