I’d love to hear your favorites (they don’t have to be novels)!

Obviously, these types of experimental works only appeal to some readers (especially fans of the sci-fi New Wave movement of the late 60s and early 70s) but I personally love seeing experimentation in an often — dare I say — stylistically stale genre.  Often, the metafictional aspects do not prevent authors from deploying traditional narratives.

My top seven (and an honorable mention):

1. Beyond Apollo, Brian N. Malzberg (1972) (REVIEW) — what you read is most likely the novel written by the main character. However, he’s most likely insane so attempting to get AT the true nature of his voyage to Venus is purposefully layered… Complicating the matter is how unreliable of a narrator he is and the fact that he’s tells many versions of the same story. Malzberg pokes fun at pulp science fiction throughout — which he clearly enjoyed as a child.

2. Stand on Zanzibar, John Brunner (1968) — the metafictional aspects are rather hidden in this New Wave masterpiece (my single favorite sci-fi novel).  Brunner’s vast (in scope and depth) mosaic of invented book fragments, advertising jingles, and narrative portions are interspersed with news articles taken from his own day — including the school shooting at the University of Texas in 1966.  Of course, as readers we’re geared to imagining that everything Brunner is presenting to us is in the future — in this case an overpopulated world wrecked with social problems — the articles from  the authors era make his message all the more terrifying.

3. The Iron Dream, Norman Spinrad (1972) (REVIEW) — in an alternate past Hitler leaves Germany for the United States after WWI and becomes a hack sci-fi writer (WWII never happens). What you read is Hitler’s posthumous Hugo-winning novel, Lord of the Swastika (which is really a sort of sci-fi post-apocalyptical future version of what Hitler wants to do — and really DID in our timeline — albeit in a different way) — also, attached to the end is a brief afterword by an editor of Lord of the Swastika — which, is clearly some version of Spinrad for he critiques his own writing.  However, the editor does not know our timeline so he has trouble figuring out the meaning behind the story.  An absolutely brilliant critique of pulp SF/F. Spinrad DESERVES a revival.

4. What Entropy Means to Me, George Alec Effinger (1972) (REVIEW) – Effinger revels, and I mean gloriously revels, in metafictional experimentation.  The result is a multi-layered/complex homage to the the act of literary creation.  The novel will especially appeal to readers who love to read about the act of writing, readers who have previously tried their hand at writing, and those aware of the history of literature (Medieval Romance, etc).

5. The Man in a High Castle, Philip K. Dick (1962) — most sci-fi fans know this famous alternate history of WWII…. Not only was I Ching supposedly used as an external narrative dictating principle by Dick himself but a novel appears within the book describing what really happened in WWII…. A delightful work and an easy way to introduce people to metafiction.  Kingsely Amis, in his alternate history novel The Alteration (1976) in which the Reformation never happened, pays homage to PKD’s novel by including a book named The Man in a High Castle describing the world in which the Reformation occurred.

6. The Einstein Intersection, Samuel R. Delany (1967) — a bizarre tale, as are most of Delany’s works, where Delany’s own diaristic travel experiences feature heavily before each chapter… The interplay between the actual narrative and his interjections can be intriguing (although, when I first read the book years ago I found it more frustrating than not — but, it is often downright poetic).

7. Revelations, Brian N. Malzberg (1972) (REVIEW) — The entire novel is comprised of the contents of the main character’s drawer — fragments of diary entries, interviews, show transcripts, letters.  Malzberg manages to weave together all these fragments into something cohesive and fascinating.

An honorable mention goes to Malzberg’s Guernica Night (1975) (REVIEW) — The author himself enters the narrative and recounts a dream he had about the person to whom the novel is dedicated: “And so it is night, and I dream that I am talking to Gil Orlovitz (1919-1973) once again, perhaps in a state of dreaming, perhaps waking, one is not sure; night is unjointed as one ages.  ’Use artifice,’ Orlovitz counsels, ‘use artifice, use art, use masks, the manipulation of masks behind which the truth may be given, because only the masks are universe, and only the deceits count’” (124).  Of course, these are key concepts to “understand” the story he has told.

What are your favorites?  Your top 5?  Your favorite metafictional short stories?

For more LISTS and ARTICLES consult the INDEX.

(Vincent di Fate’s (?) cover for the 1972 edition)

4.75/5 (Very Good)

Nominated for the 1973 Nebula Award

Simply put, Norman Spinrad’s The Iron Dream (1972) is a fantastic alternate history novel.  However, unlike a standard “what if this happened instead and now let’s write a traditional narrative” alternate history, The Iron Dream is organized around a powerful metafictional conceit which explicitly serves to satirize pulp science fiction and fantasy and condemn its lurid nature and Spinrad would argue, racist inclinations.

The premise is straightforward: after the Great War (WWI) Hitler comes to the United States (and thus WWII never happens) and becomes a science fiction illustrator.  Eventually he starts writing science fiction and articles in fanzines.  However, he’s considered by the establishment to be little more than a hack writer and lives the rest of his life in squalor.  It is only after he dies (from symptoms related to syphilis) that he receives any critical success. What you read is Hitler’s 1954 posthumous Hugo-winning novel (which he wrote in six weeks), The Lord of the Swastika,  along with a short pseudo-scholarly “afterward to the second edition” by Homer Whipple (246).  The novel within the novel follows Feric Jaggar’s rise to power in a post-apocalyptical future — a series of events that mirrors the historical Hitler’s own rise to power in our timeline.

Remember, you are reading what Hitler would write if he wrote a science fiction novel.

Spinrad himself points out: “To make damn sure that even the historically naive and entirely unselfaware reader got the point [that it in no way endorses fascism], I appended a phony critical analysis of Lord of the Swastika, in which the psychopathology of Hitler’s saga was spelled out by a tendentious pedant in words of one syllable. Almost everyone got the point…”  (Science Fiction in the real world, Norman Spinrad, 158).  The fact that some people might confuse his point shows the effectiveness of Spinrad’s satirical aim — Hitler’s novel and pulp SF/F contain many similarities.  As with the majority of pulp science fiction/fantasy, The Lord of the Swastika spews out over-the-top action, battles and more battles, the most cringe-worthy purple-prose, scene after scene filled with priapic imagery, endless fetishization of uniforms and weapons, effusive (and disturbing) rants about genetic purity, and contains no female characters.

By following the story line that countless SF/F novels have followed, Hitler’s The Lord of the Swastika demonstrates (via hyperbole of course — as all good satire) how these tendencies manifest themselves in both genres.  Spinrad’s pseudo-scholarly afterward, is also a fantastic work of satire.  Homer Whipple, its author, cannot rationalize the sheer horror that is The Lord of the Swastika with the cavalcades of critical and public praise it has received.  Whipple claims that: “Of course, such a man [Feric Jagger] could gain power only in the extravagant fancies of a pathological science-fiction novel. For Feric Jagger is essentially a monster: a narcissistic psychopath with paranoid obsessions” (256).  Whipple dismisses the ideological implications of the novel as simply an imaginative fantasm — not a dangerous work espousing dangerous ideology.  Also, the events in The Lord of the Swastika in no way matches up to Whipple’s alternate timeline.  So, his analysis flails around trying to piece together the chief players and countries and what they stand for.  But of course, we all know that Hitler did indeed killed millions and millions and millions and plunged the world into war….

Highly recommended for fans of satirical, metafictional, and New Wave science fiction.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis

From the pseudo-scholarly afterward to Hitler’s novel:

“Lord of the Swastika is at least schematically a typical pulp sword-and-sorcery novel.  The Hero (Jagger) receives the phallic weapon as a symbol of his rightful supremacy and then triumphantly fights his way through a series of gory battles to final victory.  Aside from the political allegory and the more obsessional consistency and intensity of the phallic symbolism which distinguishes Lord of the Swastika from a host of similar science-fantasy novels” (from Homer Whipple’s afterward, 249).

Because The Lord of the Swastika – Hitler’s novel within the The Iron Dream – was conceived in an alternate timeline where Hitler immigrate to the United States after WWI and never started WWII, the narrative is a “fever dream” (256) of what he imagined/wanted to happen.   Feric Jagger, Hitler’s supremely brutal and psychopathic protagonist,  comes to power in a way closely resembling how Hitler actually rose to power in Germany.  Of course, Spinrad recounts the historical similarities via the terminology, future world, and narrative common in the pulp sword-and-sorcery genre.  Specific historical facts, like Hitler’s vegetarianism, are recast in this future world: “Meat was, of course, the traditional staple in Heldon as elsewhere, and upon occasion Feric indulged himself with this questionable fare [...] Nevertheless, he knew full well that progress up the food chain from vegetable matter to meat concentrated the level of radioactive contamination of foodstuffs, and he therefore eschewed flesh as much as possible.  His genetic purity was not his to squander on the indulgence of his appetite; in a higher sense it was the common property of the community of true men and demanded to be guarded as a racial trust” (33).

In this post-apocalyptical future created by nuclear weapons and filled with mutants created by the radiation, Heldor (a stand in for Germany) considers itself the bastion of the”genetically pure.”  Jagger, born in a nearby region, desires above all else to be labeled a Trueman and a citizen of Heldor.  He soon discovers that the Heldor government does not actively root out, exile or sterilize Dominators (who supposedly use their telepathic powers to control others) and various other mutants.  The Lord of the Swastika is prone to long rants about genetic purity, “swarming on the streets of Gormond was a mongrel horde of Blueskins, dwarfs, Eggheads, Parrotfaces, Toadmen, countless other varieties of pure mutants and mongrelized crosses and human-mutant hybrids; a random collection of bits and pieces of dozens of different species cobbled together piecemeal and dressed for the most part in reeking rags” (31).

Soon Feric encounters the Black Avengers (perhaps referring to Nazis who hunted with Göring as his lodge in the Schorfheide Forest), a group of motorcycle-riding woodsmen who go around murdering mutants.  Feric proves himself in drinking games and hand-to-hand combat and wins the “the Great Truncheon of Stal Held, the lost sceptre of royal power, the Steel Commander” (69).  The Black Avengers become The Sons of the Swastika (the SS).  With the ultimate phallic weapon always dangling at his side in meetings or waved erect over the enemy, Feric manages to convince all in Heldor to exile or sterilize the genetically impure.  It is in the account of Feric’s invasion of Zind (a stand in for Communist Russia) that the narrative departs from the crude historical outline of WWII — obviously, since Hitler was unsuccessful in his campaign against Stalin.  The outcome in Hitler’s dream must have a positive outcome…  Involving, in this case, a plan to “fecundate the stars” (245).

A terrifying work of satire…  I will never read pulp SF/F in the same way…

(Bob Habberfield’s cover for the 1974 edition)

(Rowena Morrill’s cover for the 1982 edition)

(DP  Fact and Fiction’s cover for the 1999 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Uncredited cover for the 1970 edition of When Two Worlds Meet (1970), Robert Moore Williams)

A while ago I put together a post on the theme of Models, Dolls, and Mannequins in cover art.  Little did I know that Curtis Books (a rather minor publisher of generally minor authors) and Born, a Dutch imprint, used a substantial number of cover compositions comprised of manipulated photographs/collages etc of plastic toy spacemen in unusual alien environments.  Also, a few more major publishers/magazines — Four Square Science Fiction and Analog Science Fiction Science Fact — had their own take on the theme.

I find these covers very charming and fun (sort of like a science fiction B-film from the 50s) — not necessarily artistic masterpieces.  They certainly evoke childhood games with toy figurines — perhaps placed in the lawn or sandbox or amongst the grass. I’ve included a few from my previous post and another can be found in my post on Pyramids (spaceships + future earthscapes + alien temples).

I really wish I knew the artist for the Curtis book covers….

My favorite is the uncredited cover for the 1968 edition of All The Traps of Earth (1962) (by Clifford D. Simak) — the landscape evoked is hostile and alien.  What are your favorites?

If you know of any other examples of covers using toy spacemen let me know.

Enjoy!

(Uncredited cover for the 1967 edition of Shoot At the Moon (1966), William F. Temple)

(Uncredited cover for the 1970 edition of Monte Cristo #99 (1970), John Jakes)

(Uncredited cover for the 1970 edition of The Cruachan and the Killane (1970), Cristabel)

(Uncredited cover for the 1971 edition of Beyond Another Sun (1971), Tom Godwin)

(Uncredited cover for the 1968 edition of All The Traps of Earth (1962), Clifford D. Simak)

(Alex Jagtenberg’s cover for the 1970 edition of From Carthage Then I Came (variant title: Eight Against Utopia) (1966), DouglasR. Mason)

(Studio Lemaire’s cover for the 1971 edition of Bedlam Planet (1968), John Brunner)

(Alex Jagtenberg’s cover for the 1972 edition of The Wind Whales of Ishmael (1971), Philip Jose Farmer)

(Unredited cover for the 1967 edition of FROOMB! (1964), John Lymington)

(Studio Lemaire’s cover for the 1971 Dutch edition of World Without Stars (1966), Poul Anderson)

(Alex Jagtenberg’s cover for the 1969 edition of Three Worlds To Conquer (1964), Poul Anderson)

(Alex Jagtenberg’s cover for the 1970 edition of The Furies (1965), Keith Roberts)

(Uncredited cover for the 1971 edition of Get Off My World (1971), Eando Binder)

(Mike Gilbert’s cover for the December 1974 issue of Analog Science Fiction Science Fact)

(Uncredited cover for the 1971 edition of To Prime the Pump (1971), A. Bertram Chandler)

For more art posts consult the INDEX

By far most interested in William Tenn’s lone novel (he was predominately a short story writer) Of Men and Monsters (1968) — humans living in the walls, like mice, in the homes of the alien invaders of Earth.  Geston’s novelette The Day Star (1972) should be a fast and fun read — hopefully despite the comment by previous owner of the book who inscribed ”TEDIOUS” on the back cover with a ballpoint pen…

Some fun covers.

1. Hellstrom’s Hive, Frank Herbert (1972)

(R. Shore’s cover for the 1975 edition)

Excerpt from the inside flap of the first edition hardback: “In the summer of 1971, Doctor Nils Hellstrom appeared in his own film production, The Hellstrom Chronicle.  The motion picture was a frightening documentary detailing how insects could someday rule the world.  It depicted how even a tiny ant or housefly, undaunted by drought, pollution or radiation, could survive through the most deadly holocaust — when higher forms of life, like man, would wither and perish.  The film was an astounding financial success, earning the doctor quite a large sum of money — money with which to seclude himself on his small stretch of Oregon farm land… money to finance his ultimate production.  That’s when the government began to investigate.  Sending special agent Carlos Depeaux to the scene, authorities discovered the Hellstrom was running a beehive-like commune — populating the well-guarded compound with human insects.  No bug-like in appearance  of course, they still possessed insect powers far outstripping those of mortal men [...]“

2. The Day Star, Mark S. Geston (1972)

(George Barr’s cover for the 1972 edition)

From back cover: “Odyssey from futurity.  Once, at the height of Earth’s fabled history, there was a city called Ferrin.  Compared to Ferrin, all the cities of Earth that ever were or ever would be — from Imperial Rome and towering New York before to the city called R afterwards — paled into insignificance.  But in the long twilight centuries that followed the fall of Ferrin memories faded and men’s ambitions waned… and by the time that the young man Thel heard of Ferrin, no one was sure it was anything but a myth.  But part of an abandoned highway still passed near Thel’s home — and when a starry fragment from Ferrin came into Thel’s possession, he knew there could be no rest for him until he had followed the ruined roadway that still spanned time and space to find the truth about the Rise and Fall of Ferrin — and also of all humanity’s hopes.”

3. A Brand New World, Ray Cummings (1928)

(Uncredited cover (Jack Gaughan?) for the the 1964 edition)

From the back cover: “The new planet came out of the infinite deeps of interstellar space, moved in towards the sun like a comet, and stayed — a new member of the Solar System, between Earth and Venus.  Xenephrene it was named and it was made a pretty vision in the evening sky… until other things began to appear in the heavens.  Flying things, strange visitants, mysterious lights — and people knew then that they were no longer alone.  Xenephrene was inhabited  and its inhabitants were discovering the Earth.  But were they coming as friends or as invaders? For trade or for conquest?”

4. Of Men and Monsters, William Tenn (1968)

(Stephen Miller’s cover for the 1968 edition)

No summary blurb on back cover or inside page — from wikipedia: “The storyline introduces giant, technologically superior aliens who have conquered Earth. Humankind survives and even flourishes in a way. Men and women live like mice in burrows in the massive walls of the huge homes of the aliens, scurrying about under their feet, stealing from them.

A complex social and religious order has evolved, with women preserving knowledge and working as healers, while men serve as warriors and thieves. For the aliens, men and women are just a nuisance, neither civilized nor intelligent, and certainly not a worthy adversary. In fact, they are regarded as vermin, to be exterminated. Which, ironically, may just be humankind’s strength and point the way forward.”

(John Cayea’s cover for the 1976 edition)

4.5/5 (Very Good)

“‘They want to kill us all, you know.  They’re trying [...].  The government.  Men.  You.’  Still his eyes searched hers. ‘We’re no use to them.  Worse than useless.  Poachers.  Thieves.  Polygamists.  We won’t be sterilized.  There’s no good in us.  We’re their creation, and they’re phasing us out.  When they can catch us’” (33).

While reading John Crowley’s Beasts (1976) I was reminded of the life of Stephan Bibrowski (1891-1932) à la Lionel the Lion-faced Man.  Stephan was afflicted with hypertrichosis (most likely) which caused his entire body to be covered with hair.  His mother was so horrified at his appearance  – which she believed was caused because she saw her husband mauled by a lion while she was pregnant – that she gave him to the circus at the age of four.  He was exhibited around Europe and even appeared for major circuses in the US.   He was renowned for his intellectualism and soft-spoken demeanor.  Unlike Stephan Bibrowski, the eponymous beasts of Crowley’s novel are human-animal hybrids created by unchecked genetic tinkering.  But they too are strangely alluring (even sexually) to humans whom they come into contact with.  Crowley’s work explores humankind’s repulsion and simultaneous fascination with their ostracized creations.

John Crowley, more famous for his fantasy novels — Little, Big (1981) and the Ægypt Quartet (published between 1987-2007) — produced three science fiction works in the late 70s, The Deep (1975), Beasts (1976), and Engine, Summer (1979).  Beasts is perhaps the least known of the three and the first of his novels I’ve read.  I too am strangely drawn to his vision of a post-apocalyptical/balkanized United States with roving bands of genetically manipulated leos (lion/man hybrids) hunted by the government and mountaintop communes whose occupants are aloof and unaware of society’s political decay.

Crowley’s prose is characterized by an odd detachment, incredibly poetic passages, and haunting images.  It is easy to slip into the world but by the time you’ve emerged — a mere 184 pages later — you feel like you’ve only touched the edges.  In part because the narrative is comprised of nine distinct voices (some animal, some animal man hybrid, some human) — each is seductive, but many will find that each voice is all too ephemeral.

Highly recommended.  Especially for fans of literary science fiction (or perhaps I should say, literature with science fictional tropes).

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis

The Union for Social Engineering — comprised of “militant, dedicated, selfless, expert propagandists, righteous proponents of ends that justified their means” (14) — claim to be able to end the “fratricidal quibblings” that had caused civil wars and promise a return to “central planning and rational co-operation” (14).  The leos, created under a previous government, are mercilessly hunted by the USE as part of a greater plan to bring all the tribal entities and independent states, including the remnants of the previous Federal Government,  under their control.

One plotline follows Loren Casaubon, an ethologist, who loses government funding for research on hawks and becomes a tutor for two gifted children of Gregorius, the leader of Federal Government.  Another follows Painter, an outlawed leo, on the run from the USE.  Very clearly a Messianic character, Painter gathers together a vast assortment of humans who are drawn by his presence and way of life.  The ways of his pride contrast with the moral strictures of purely human society: “the leos’ only loyalty was to their pride.  Whether they had inherited his trait from their lion ancestors or had consciously modeled themselves on lion society wasn’t known” (76). Painter, violently opposed to human civilization, embodies a vision  that many humans find alluring. Chased by agents of the USE, Painter journeys through decaying cities returning to the wild…

“The park they had long regarded with calm possessiveness was rank and wild, its few attendants went armed with cattle-prods, and their chief duty was to guard the concrete playground kept open during daylight hours for children who played glumly with their watchful nuses amid the tattooed seesaws and one-chain swinfs.  Few people went into the wilder park north of the museums, where ivy had begun to strangle the aged trees with their quaint nameplates, and city stinkweed to crowd out their young, except at need. “We lost them in the park,” the provisional police would report after a street fight with one or another faction” (103).

Caddie, a young woman who was indentured in a shady bar, becomes the first human to join Painter’s pride.  Although she is intrigued by Painter’s presence, she fights back her revulsion.  Eventually she becomes Painter’s lover: “for every conjunction they achieved, there were layers of shame to be fought like through the layers of their thick clothing: and only by shameless strategies, only by act after strenuous act of acquiescence, her voice hoarse from exertion and her body slick with sweat, did she conquer them: and entered new cities, panting, naked, amazed” (31).

And then there’s Meric Landseer — who unfortunately is given only a few chapters — a documentary film maker who descends from the Genesis Preserve, a utopian community that seals itself away in order to preserve the mountains, to join Painter.  Meric’s original job was to construct each year’s Birthday Show celebrating creation of the Preserve, a propagandistic program filled with terrifying images including a “flaming and degraded industrial landscapes [where] a black manna seemed endlessly to gall, and dogs and pale children seemed to seek, amid blackened streets, exits that were not there, and the sky itself seemed to to have turned to stone [...]” (67).  Manipulating all (for often ambiguous purposes) is a character straight from medieval legend, Reynard the Fox — he’s the only fox human hybrid in existence.  And he enters into dealings with Painter.

Beasts embodies a fascinating dialogue between nature and civilization, man and animal…  Do not expect a straightforward narrative for many chapters function more as mood pieces.  Each is part of a mosaic of images, characters, and philosophies that struggle to survive, or are altogether snuffed out, in a rapidly collapsing Old Order.  The new society Painter embodies is obliquely hinted at rather than explicitly described.

My mind too stumbled, like Caddie from Painter’s embrace, from the last pages of Beasts, “panting, naked, amazed” (31).

(Uncredited cover for the 1978 edition)

(Michael Lye’s cover for the 1987 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

(Robert Foster’s evocative cover for the 1972 edition)

3.25/5 (collated rating: Average)

James E. Gunn’s The Burning (1972) is a fix-up novel containing three previously published but linked novelettes: ‘Witches Must Burn’ (1956), ‘Trial By Fire’ (1969), and ‘Witch Hunt’ (1969).  The first two are contiguous while the third section is more loosely related.  I will rate each separately as I did with the superior The Immortals (1962).

As someone who has lived in areas of the United States plagued by virulent strains of anti-intellectualism, massive higher education funding cuts (especially for the liberal arts), and an increasing emphasis on “practical” fields of study, James E. Gunn’s The Burning (1972) is a profoundly unsettling read.  Of course Gunn’s dystopic future is much more one of doom and gloom: The universities lie in smoldering ruins, the professors (“eggheads”) have been murdered, and the “Lowbrow movement” (39) (a mob) playing on the fears of the common man has seized power.

More than simply a critique of anti-intellectualism, the The Burning contains social themes born from a gamut of Cold War fears — chief among them, increasing public distrust of the scientific establishment whose research created nuclear weapons.  Thus, the intellectuals of Gunn’s future (and perhaps, to this day) fail to see the potential ramifications of their inventions and are thus far from reproach.  Because the public’s security is threatened the universities become scapegoats.

In Gunn’s view both the people who have violently lashed out in fear against the scientists (and other intellectuals) and the scientists themselves deserve the blame.  The way the destructive tides of the resulting Dark Age [queue numerous misconceptions of the Medieval era] can be ameliorated is to bring knowledge to the people by going among the people — if this practical knowledge is viewed as witchcraft and magic, so be it.  The knowledge generated by insular debate amongst academics needs to be translated in some way to the people.

The intriguing subject matter — in a way a demystification of the pre-1950s cult of the scientist — in itself does not make a satisfying novel.  The work reads more as a polemical brochure than a novel.  Despite my adoration and predilection for social science fiction, I found the sheer quantity and length of the social critique exasperating.  Regardless, The Burning is worth reading for fans of James Gunn and social science fiction of the 50s and 60s.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis (*spoilers*)

Part I ‘Witches Must Burn’ (47 pages) 3.25/5 (Average):  John Wilson, Ph.D., Associate Professor, Department of Psychology is on the run after a mob destroys his university.  The forces at play are the mob driven forces of anti-science — “a continuous threat through the fabric of man’s intellectual history, an antithesis to the thesis of man’s conquest of his environment” (20).  But Wilson is not blameless.  Until he was forced to consider the reason for his dire situation he was blind to the social dangers that his “electroencephalograph” (21), a tool that turns psychology from a “mere intuitive art” to one with an “objective basis” (9), could cause.  His invention has the potential, in that it predicts what people will think, to be used as a weapon.

While on the lam Wilson’s forced to come to grips with his predicament while eluding the “lowbrow” mob.  He meets up with a blonde bombshell named Pam — who engages him in rigorous academic debate about the reasons for the decay of society and what to do about.  She argues that the “Lowbrow movement can’t be stopped, but it can be guided” (39).  Eventually, he meets up with a society of individuals who attempt to convince Wilson to admit he’s wrong: “too long they [the universities] served as fortresses of isolation, walling in the learned man” (42).  More importantly, “the Lowbrow seeks his security in human convictions and faiths and strong attachments; you seek your security in the assurance of Absolute Law.  Both are static; both are equally deadly” (42).  Wilson admits his faults and sets off to find the “truth about himself” (47).  And that involves turning himself in… This “truth” is a compromise between the two static poles.

Part II ‘Trial By Fire’ (51 pages) 3.5/5 (Good):  The world has descended into some variation of the feudal state where the Senator who facilitated the destruction of the universities is now a dictator supported by the masses.  Part II contains two narrative threads which link chronologically at the end.  The first, follows Wilson’s kangaroo court trial for supposedly destroying his own university.  The second follows his earlier position — before he turned himself in — as a “witch doctor” in a rural community where he uses his scientific knowledge to heal common ailments of an increasingly superstitious people who believe science is magic.

The rate of social change (democracy to feudal state) and the complete shift from science as something that can be provable to science as magic strikes me as rather preposterous…  Especially since television and other forms of technology are still in use!  While Wilson’s a witch doctor he tutors students who are interesting in following in his footsteps.  But like him, they need to go out into the world because “knowledge is worthless without an end.  The idle learner is a danger no only to himself but to others.  He will put his knowledge to work only to satisfy his idle curiosity, heedless of the consequences” (57).  Wilson’s trial — through most of which he’s drugged and unable to offer his own testimony — concludes and he’s found guilty.  And, on the way to the pyre he’s rescued….

Part III ‘Witch Hunt’ (53 pages) 3/5 (Average): While the first two parts were straightforward narratives with large polemical digressions, Part III takes a fabulist turn.  I found this strangely jarring and not as effective as the first two parts.  A nameless pilgrim, a student of a witch doctor, journeys out among the people in order to learn about the world and about himself.  On the way he meets a young female pilgrim with whom he falls in love.  Their paths intersect numerous times as he encounters neo-scientists who seek to use science to create a slave class so they can live an easy life and Luddite wanderers who subjugate women.

He’s initially intrigued by the neo-scientists despite their use of electronic collars to punish and even kill their disobedient workers (125): “the pilgrim spent seven days in New Pittsburgh, talking, living a carefree, comfortable, intellectual life, and in spite of the obvious degradation of the man he could not help being fascinated by the equally obvious liberation of the thinking mad to do that which makes man most human” (129).  Likewise, after New Pittsburgh is destroyed by a roving band of Luddites, he’s initially intrigued by the Luddite life: “it was a good, clean, manly life.  The pilgrim felt himself growing lean and strong.  His face became bronzed like those of his captors” (133).  But, after he discovers that his love interest (and all the communities female members) are treated little better than slaves they both run away.  When both pilgrims meet again they are finally ready to be initiated into the society of the witch doctors who are the repositories of knowledge and obligated to teach and heal mankind.

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

I finally have a copy of Hal Clement’s hard science fiction masterpiece, Mission of Gravity (1953)…  And a collection of William Tenn’s short stories with a downright gorgeous Powers cover — Tenn is supposedly up there with Sheckley in the satirical pantheon of the 50s… Among others…

Has anyone read Michael Frayn’s A Very Private Live (1968)?  I’ve never heard of it before but the Lehr cover was too amazing to pass up…

1. The Human Angle, William Tenn (1956)

(Robert Powers’ cover for the 1956 edition)

From the inside flap: “WIT: an extra-terrestrial sells pornographic literature from his world on earth. IMAGINATION: A politician seeks complete security  only to find… CHARM: Modern art gets viewed from the future.  IRONY: Just what king of an animal is a human being?”

2. Mission of Gravity, Hal Clement (magazine publication 1953)

(Ed Emshwiller’s cover for the 1959 issue)

From the back cover: “The giant, disk-shaped world of Mesklin was an Earthman’s nightmare — so cold that the seas were liquid methane and the snow frozen ammonia, with crushing gravity of up to 700 times that of Earth.  No human being could explore Mesklin’s surface.  Yet — a desperately needed research rocket was down on Meskin.  Someone had to go after it.  That someone was the strangest explorer ever to appear in science-fiction — the Mesklinite merchant seaman, Barlennan — fifteen inches long, thirty-six legs, weighting hundreds of points.  And, as it turned out, the sharpest trader an Earthman had met.”

3.  A Very Private Life, Michael Frayn (1968)

(Paul Lehr’s cover for the 1969 edition)

From the back cover:” INSIDE: The inhabitants lived perfectly happy lives in perfectly insulated underground dwellings   They had holovision for amusement and adventure, pills for every kind of emotion, and for sex they just had to turn a dial.  OUTSIDE: Earth was a polluted wilderness of ruins, industrial waste and forests, where half-savage groups lived and roamed, pillaging, killing, raping, and most shocking of all, actually touching.  Then one day a beautiful young Insider named Uncumber dialed a wrong number… and began a voyage of discovery into the horror of the Outside — and into the strange terror of being human…”

4.  Ring Around the Sun, Clifford D. Simak (magazine 1952)

Robert E. Schulz’s cover for the 1959 edition)

My slightly later edition does not have a back cover summary — from wikipedia: “The novel tells the story of an invasion by “aliens” who are actually a secret society of mutant humans from a parallel Earth. They attempt to subvert Earth’s economy by introducing disruptive devices and everlasting goods, such as the so-called Forever Car, and making them available at a ridiculously low price.”

(John Richards’ cover for the 1958 edition of Crisis 2000 (1955), Charles Eric Maine)

On science fiction covers from the 40s and 50s the atom is often emblematic of atomic power and all the dangers and promises that such a scientific breakthrough could (and did) yield.  In John Richards’ cover for the 1958 edition of Charles Eric Maine’s Crisis 2000 (1955) the humanoid super beings arrive from Saturn to terrorize Earthmen — and, carefully covering the private areas of one of these denizens of Saturn is the atomic symbol surrounded by blood. The cover is made even more unnerving by the multiplicity of identical heads…

In H. W. McCauley’s fantastic cover for the 1957 edition of Empire of the Atom (1957) by A. E. van Vogt not only is the Emperor of Linn’s garment graced with the atomic symbol but his scepter as well.  Hubert Rogers’ cover for the January 1951 issue of Astounding Science Fiction (I’ve included this one in a previous post so I apologize for the redundancy) is one of my favorites — human progress, indicated by a morass of human forms, is accompanied by the atomic symbol.  The godlike being in Alejandro de Cañedo’s cover for the February 1948 issue of Astounding Science Fiction creates an atomic explosion (indicated by the atomic rings emerging from the conflux of his rays) suggesting his great power…

For related posts I recommend Part I, Part II, and Part III of my nuclear explosion series.

What are your favorites?

Enjoy!

(Arnold Kohn’s cover for the August 1947 issue of Amazing Stories)

(Hubert Rogers’ cover for the January 1951 issue of Astounding Science Fiction)

(Alejandro de Cañedo’s cover for the February 1948 issue of Astounding Science Fiction)

(Alejandro de Cañedo’s cover for the May 1948 issue of Astounding Science Fiction)

(Hubert Rogers’ cover for the March 1950 issue of Astounding Science Fiction)

(Lela Dowling’s cover for the 1978 edition of Children of the Atom (magazine 1950), Wilmar H. Shiras)

(H. W. McCauley’s cover for the 1957 edition of Empire of the Atom (1957), A. E. van Vogt)

(Pattee’s cover for the November 1950 issue of Astounding Science Fiction)

(Uncredited cover for the 1953 edition of Slan (magazine publication 1940), A. E. van Vogt)

For similar posts consult the INDEX

4.25/5 (collated rating: Good)

James E. Gunn’s The Immortals (1962) is less about the lives and mental state of the eponymous humans “blessed” with immortally (a fascinating topic in itself) and more about the ramifications of their existence on the rest of society not “blessed” with such genetic structures.  Their presence exacerbates the problems of an already dystopically tinged world where medical care is increasingly the domain of the ultra wealthy.  With the knowledge that a random genetic mutation has created a bloodline whose members are immortal, society is all too eager to root them out and (literally) bleed them dry.  Living longer — achieved by whatever means — becomes the single-minded desire of all.  Most of humanity is oblivious to the festering (and carcinogenic) urban landscape created by exorbitant medical care contracts, nefarious black marketeers, organ hunters, and the sheer loss of brainpower — which could be directed towards other endeavors – of all the brightest who are funneled into the institution that is The Hospital.

The work’s relentless pessimism — Gunn’s fears (which are often depressingly prescient) writhe about on every page — combined with the dichotomous pairing of the sterile hospital setting with the diseased expanses of the city creates a particularly searing experience.  Occasionally Gunn’s conflicted characters spell out the obvious “meaning behind things” at length but unlike the inferior The Burning (1972) this tendency is kept on a shorter leash.

The Immortals (1962) is a fix-up novel containing four previously published novelettes (two are reworked from their previous incarnations): ‘New Blood’ (1955), ‘Donor’ (1961), ‘Medic’ (variant title: ‘Not So Great an Enemy’) (1957), ‘Immortal’ (variant title: ‘The Immortals’) (1958).  I have not read the original magazine publications of the novelettes so I’m unsure how much was kept the same or modified.  Due to the fact that the novelettes cover a vast amount of time and a changing cast of characters I will rate each individually.  However, each novelette is linked by the character of Dr. Russell Pearce although he has an often minor role.

Along with The Joy Makers (1961) (and to a lesser degree The Burning (1972) the 1958 collection Station in Space), The Immortals is highly recommended for fans of 50s/60s science fiction dystopias.

Be aware that the newest edition (2004) was “updated” by the author with an additional story, ‘Elixir’ (2004).  I read the original 1962 edition.  Not sure how I feel about authors touching up their novels after 50 + years…

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis (some spoilers)

Part I ‘New Blood’ (27 pages) 4/5 (Good): A young man, Michael Cartwright, walks into a clinic to give blood for $25 — his blood is destined for endless transfusions of the incredibly wealthy waiting to die.  Unbeknownst to the staff his blood carries a genetic mutation with startling implications, immortality.  When his blood is transfused into a particularly nefarious near death businessman named Weaver, it causes him to regress in age and “miraculously” heal.  He desires above all else to hunt Cartwright down especially when he discovers the blood’s effects are only temporary.  Dr. Russell Pearce, the doctor who oversaw the operation, sees the dangers if Weaver and men like him get there hands on Michael: “You’d kill him as certainly as you’re a member of the human race.  You’d bleed him to death, or you’d kill him just because you couldn’t stand having something something immortal around” (23).  Michael Cartwright and his descendants become hunted men….

Part II ‘Donor’ (29 pages) 4/5 (Good):  Many years after the events of Part I, The National Research Institute (i.e. the hospital) has gained extraordinary power and political clout.  Its purpose, at least to the general public that lives in its shadows, is shrouded in mystery.  Thousands enter its precincts ever day donating blood.  A select few know of the presence of Cartwright and his descendants in hiding and the Institute screens for them and anyone else who might have the mutation.  One of the employees of the institute, Sibert, thinks he’s found one of Carwright’s descendants and attempts to blackmail the institute by threatening to expose his knowledge to the public.

Part III ‘Medic’ (59 pages) 4.75/5 (Very Good):  By far the best part of the novel….  In ‘Medic’ the nature of the dystopic world is revealed in which the average person struggle to scrounge the funds for medical contracts.  If they fail to pay their bodies are repossessed by the hospital.  Many live illegally without medical contracts and buy into the false promises of black market medicine pushers.  The cities have devolved into a “sea of carcinogens” (59).  The medics who descend from the hospital into the urban morass plug their noses with filters, drive armored ambulances with automated defense systems, and are constantly on the lookout for pushers whom they have arrested. The main character is an idealistic medic named Flowers who slowly comes to realize the world the medical establishment, and its relentless search for immortality, has created.   He decides to be a different sort of doctor after a visit with Dr. Russell Pearce who is miraculously still alive. The urban landscapes often feels straight out of the novels of William Gibson, for example Neuromancer (1984) and Virtual Light (1993), some twenty plus years later.

Part IV ‘Immortal’ (48 pages) 4/5 (Good):

“Coming toward them was a motorized wheelchair.  In it was something lumpy and monstrous, a nightmarish menace — until Harry recognized it for what it was: a basket case, a quadruple amputee complicated by a heart condition.  An artificial heard-and-lung machine rode on the back of the wheelchair like a second head.  Behind galloped a gangling scarecrow creature with hair that flowed out behind” (125)

The last part is a more action oriented segment than the previous ones.  It appears that some of the Carwrights have been captured and bled to provide immortality for a select few.  The cities likewise have decayed even further.  The “ragged and dirty and diseased” (109) inhabitants are so desperate for cash that they “would do anything: trade identity cards, scuff up their inner arms so that the previous needle hole would not show, sweat that the scars were from antibiotic shots…” just to give more blood — for which they receive five dollars in cash — than they are allowed to.  Then they turn around and buy a vast variety of illegal back market remedies for their innumerable ailments. These are the people who cannot afford medical contracts… Harry Elliott, a young doctor, in the hope of being granted immortality has devoted his life to geriatrics like thousands before him.  He hopes that he will make a breakthrough on the synthesis of the elixir vitae so that he too will be granted immortality.  After the theft of a shipment of Cartwright blood, Harry is send on a mission with a young woman and an old man to give word to the immortal Governor Weaver (think emperor) of Kansas who lives in a palatial residence far from the city…  Harry must brave the organ hunters who paralyze their victims and send them to the hospitals and other perils…  Often devolving into Mad Max-esque violence, Gunn’s conclusion is all too abrupt.

(Uncredited cover for the 1968 edition)

(Uncredited cover for the 1979 edition)

(Peter Jones’ cover for the 1975 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX