1960s

Time is the Simplest Thing

Time SimakTime is the Simplest Thing is the fifth book by Clifford D. Simak that I have read. It was published in 1961, I read the Crest 1962 edition with Richard Powers’ artwork on the cover.  I keep working my way through Simak because I agree with the consensus that he is one of the best “vintage science fiction authors.”  Since January is, as everyone knows, Vintage Science Fiction month  Twitter Feed I took advantage and started 2018 off with another Simak. (Cp. origin of Vintage SciFi Month)

Compared with the other four novels of Simak’s that I have read, this one came across as far more aggressive. Simak is a very good writer, which is again demonstrated in this novel.  Simak sometimes touches on social issues in his works – not quite to the extent of Poul Anderson – but one gets used to finding these elements in Simak’s fiction.  This novel, though, seemed like Simak wanted to club readers in the head.  Speculative readers might suggest that Simak was giving social commentary, particularly reflective of the time in which it was written and published. However, I think “commentary” is a bit loose of a word. Simak’s commentary, then, is quite heavy-handed and forceful. More so than I am used to from him.

vintage-sf-badgeAnother facet that I have decided is part of Simak’s style, are the multitude of plotline directions that occur in his novels.  I think this generally works for Simak, but in each of the novels I have read, it did seem like there was a whole lot of different threads and the plot would 180° more sharply than I liked.  And maybe, sometimes, I did not love the new direction the story took.

Telepaths, like the main character, can project their minds beyond the usual barriers of space and time. Shep Blaine is one of the telepathic explorers – he mentally/spiritually – is able to traverse galaxies and time and explore. He is in the employ of a corporation named Fishhook which capitalizes on the findings of telepaths like Blaine. So, immediately, I was comparing some elements of this novel to that of Frederik Pohl’s Gateway (a novel I really despise). The novels are similar with regard to a few elements, particularly the corporation capitalizing on exploration.

Chapter eight gives a brief overview of the “telepathic” ability. Simak blends it with a variety of esoteric history such as shamanism and medicine men, magic makers, etc. He does a very skilled job of juxtaposing the existence of these abilities with that of the history of science. Unlike the exhaustingly common polarization of science vs. religion/magic, Simak insists that these abilities are just as “science” as regular Enlightenment-style science. Anyway, the storyline explains that those who kept researching the “magic” science were dispersed about the globe. But:

Finally, a country with a heart – Mexico – had invited them to come, had provided money, had set up a study and a laboratory, had lent encouragement rather than guffaws of laughter. – pg. 45

So, from this laboratory, Fishhook was born. Allegedly, it starts out with a focus on study and research. But, naturally, it eventually gets corrupted or, let’s just say, its purpose seems to be a little less about knowledge and a little more about control and economics.

By every rule of decency, parakinetics belonged to Man himself, not to a band of men, not to a corporation, not even to its discoverers nor the inheritors of its discoverers – for the discovery of it, or the realization of it, no matter by what term one might choose to call it, could not in any case be the work of one man or one group of men alone.  It was something that must lay within the public domain.  It was a truly natural phenomena – more peculiarly a natural phenomenon than wind or wood or water. – pg. 140

Shep Blaine is an employee of Fishhook and we meet him as he is on one of his space explorations. He has encountered an alien lifeform:

It was pink; an exciting pink, not a disgusting pink as pink so often can be, not a washed-out pink, not an anatomical pink, but a very pretty pink, the kind of pink the little girl next door might wear at her seventh birthday party.

It was looking at him – maybe not with eyes – but it was looking at him. It was aware of him.  And it was not afraid of him. – pg. 6

I am at a loss for words about that pinky paragraph – I have not read anything like that in awhile and thought any good review of this novel should include that segment. Anyway, here is the essence of difference between a pulp novel and a literary novel – painted in very broad strokes. A pulp novel, from here on out, totally focuses on the alien and Blaine and they have adventures or horrors or action. There is a mystery or a challenge and there is a great deal of rushing around resolving it. In a literary novel, its all well and good to meet up with unheard of lifeforms and interact with them. But those engagements seem to be something of a context rather than a focus.  Simak is not pulp, so early on in the novel, even though there are a few moments of escape/evasion, the majority of the novel is “social commentary.”  Utilizing the elements of space exploration and alien lifeforms and whatever is seen as “science fiction” to drive satire or comment on or even as an allegory for present-day scenarios.

I have said before I do not love agenda fiction. I would not classify Simak as such, though, because even in his social commentary he serves up a tasty and intriguing story. However, I wonder what two versions of the novel would be like. One version is this one, complete with social commentary and thoughtful allusions. Another version being the one that follows the fun and pulpy storyline exclusively. I want both, but if I have to pick just one, I do think this is the better choice. I cannot help but admit I miss the action adventure novel, though.

Another fact:  time travel – no matter how defined – is quicksand to science fiction writers. The concept draws them in and then they just sink in a muddied mire. I am not saying that this novel is about time travel. Not at all do I say that. I do say, however, that Simak does enjoy playing with time in his novels. Particularly in Time and Again.  But in the middle of this one, there is an explanation that Simak gives that impressed me a lot. I loved the way the situation was described and I appreciated Simak’s explanation.

This was the past and it was the dead past; there were only corpses in it – and perhaps not even corpses, but the shadows of those corpses.  For the dead trees and the fence posts and the bridges and the buildings on the hill all would classify as shadows.  There was no life here; the life was up ahead.  Life must occupy but a single point in time, and as time moved forward, life moved with it.  And so was gone, thought Blaine, any dream that Man might have ever held of visiting the past and living in the action and the thought and the viewpoint of men who’d long been dust.  For the living past did not exist, nor did the human past except in the records of the past.  The present was the only valid point for life – life kept moving on, keeping pace with the present, and once it had passed, all traces of it or its existences were carefully erased. pg. 65

This paragraph contains a sharp-minded and well-written concept of time. And I really wish all those authors who think they have a great idea about time/time-travel would read it. I like how this paragraph is haunting and shadowy – with a touch of sorrow. But also how it looks forward with an active and lively feel. I really liked this paragraph when I read it; I worked to imagine what Blaine was seeing.

Simak uses technology in his novel to round out the “future feel” to it. For example, dimensinos exist, which are something like virtual reality/hologram systems, even commonly in personal homes.  And then Trading Posts sponsored by Fishhook possess something like pseudo-Star Trek “transporters” that allow them to offer merchandise without having it in physical stock and opening the trade globally.  Believe the hype when they say science fiction comes up with the gadgets first!

Overall, this is a good novel. Readers expecting any pulpy alien-adventure will be disappointed. This one looks at humanity’s fear of the Other, the use and misuse of technology, the fear that ignorance breeds, the juxtaposition of persecutor and persecuted, and the control-factor of corporations/capital. The main character is fairly likeable, if a bit robotic. Readers who love vintage science fiction and who would like to read good 1960s offerings will enjoy this one.

4 stars

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The Woman in the Dunes

The Woman in the DunesThe Woman in the Dunes by Kobo Abe (1924 – 1993) was first published in 1962.  I read the Vintage International edition from 1991. The novel won the Yomiuri Prize. In 1964, a Japanese film by the famous Hiroshi Teshigahara was released – author Kobo Abe wrote the screenplay. The film was nominated for an Academy Award, but lost to the Italian film Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow by Vittorio De Sica.

This is probably Kobo Abe’s most famous novel. I have not read any of his other works, but I do own The Ark Sakura. I am open to reading other works by this author, but he does not interest me at the same level as some of the other super-famous authors of mid-20th Century Japanese authors. Sometimes his works are classified as absurdist/surreal literature, which is a genre I can sometimes devour and at other times am disinterested in.

The man intended to collect insects that lived in the dunes. – pg. 10

I enjoyed this book, and I really do appreciate what the author has shown us via sand. However, I cannot help but subtract a few points from my estimation of its rating due to a few sections of the novel.

There are dozens of ways to interpret this novel, but the erosion of the main character’s opinions via the Sisyphus-lifestyle is the overwhelming concept. The sand claims all – eventually. Survival alongside the eroding powers of the sand drives the story. The way the sand affects everything is really well done. The author very gradually traps the main character within the pit in the dunes. This is, in my opinion, the most beautiful part of the writing; the character being trapped is done so subtly and simply.

I really enjoyed the early chapters because the early interactions between the man and the woman are so very well written. In translation, the woman’s sentences are often open-ended, with ellipses or simple statements that only seem innocent:

“But somebody just said ‘for the other one.'”

“Hmm. Well, they’re referring to you.”

“To me? Why mention me in connection with a shovel . . . ?”

“Never mind. Don’t pay any attention. Really they’re so nosy!” – pg. 30

One of my favorite aspects of the novel is how the woman clearly knows what is going on and yet, is able to seem innocent. Though she knows what is happening to the man, she may or may not be powerless to stop/change it. Like the man, the reader will probably consider, in turns, the woman to be mentally challenged, an entrapping vixen, or a resigned, but dedicated villager.

The author really puts the main character through some suffering, but he also inflicts some on the reader. Readers will constantly want “justice” or “to know the reason” or “someone to accuse” through the novel. And Kobo Abe just doesn’t provide a clear and direct target for all of that. Frustrating? Maybe. Engaging? Definitely. (Probably the reason for Kafka comparisons.)

Stop looking so stupid! He was angry; he wanted to make her admit her guilt even if he had to force it out of her. – pg. 90

The subtle horror of being trapped/imprisoned for, seemingly, no reason is the key that makes this novel so vibrantly emotional. Even if I disliked parts of the novel, I have to credit the author with the ability of being able to tap into that fundamental chord in my being that I assume every human possesses, which rebels against such a circumstance. It seems it is easier to accept a prison sentence if there is a reason. But without reason or cause, without an authority or a captor to blame, without a purpose or goal – such an imprisonment is a magnitude of horror well beyond a reasonable incarceration.

For some time he concentrated on digging.  The sand was exceedingly tractable, and his work appeared to be progressing.  The sound of the shovel as it bit into the sand, and his own breathing, ticked away the time. However, at last his arms began to grow weary. He thought he had worked for a considerable time, but his digging had apparently had no results at all. Only a little bit of sand had fallen from right above where he was digging. – pg. 68

The man’s psychological state is what one might expect. He is outraged, indignant, and frustrated. He calms himself by convincing himself a rational and thoughtful method will rescue him. He dips into the violent and the desperate. He only very gradually comes to realize an outcome, which, perhaps, the woman knew from the start. The woman’s reaction to the man’s arrival, when you think about it in retrospect, contains all of the pensive understanding of what she knows he and, by connection, herself will have to undergo. Her early timidity is probably because she knows what emotional turmoil will occur – and she has to resign herself to going through the turbulence as well.  In a way, this also means that nothing the man does truly surprises her.

And what of the man’s mental state? At points he forces himself to be relatively rational. Bargaining and reasoning with his supposed captors. He also attempts “scientific” escapes and schemes. But he is also clearly disturbed because he has mental conversations with himself – or the Mobius man.  Kobo Abe even suggests, subtly, that there is an element of schizophrenia at play. Late in the novel, the man has a mental conversation with an imagined judge:

-Your Honor, I request to be told the substance of the prosecution. I request to be told the reason for my sentence.

-I am telling you that in Japan schizophrenia occurs at the rate of one out of every hundred persons. – pg. 217

And this fascinating little segment with the man conversing with himself continues to an amusing conclusion:

-Well, listen to me calmly.  Acrophobes, heroin addicts, hysterics, homicidal maniacs, syphilitics, morons – suppose there were one per cent of each of these, the total would be twenty per cent. If you could enumerate eighty more abnormalities at this rate – and of course you could – there would be statistical proof that humanity is a hundred per cent abnormal. – pg. 218

I disliked, though, the chunk at the end where the main character is told the “deal” how the villagers will let him see beyond the pit. This was weird/vulgar and destroyed a lot of good faith I had in the author. This part was the “too far” point in the writing.

Excellent in concept and writing, although the 1960s-Freudian-focus is a bit too prominent in the whole thing. Definitely for an adult readership. I appreciate the “horror” of the novel, but dislike some of the episodes. In any case, this is an excellent novel for book clubs, I think, because there is a lot to discuss about all of the various interpretations available.

3 stars

Death of an Old Girl

death-of-an-old-girlI enjoy vintage mystery novels quite a bit. I finally got around to picking up Elizabeth Lemarchand’s Death of an Old Girl at the end of 2016.  It was first published in 1967 – so I do not know how “vintage” that really is – but it is the first in her relatively famous “Pollard and Toye” series. Tom Pollard and Gregory Toye are two Scotland Yard detectives.  The series runs, at least, seventeen novels. It is the first Lemarchand (1906 – 2000) I have read.

The two novels that I read prior to this one were horrible disappointments. One and two stars were earned respectively. From the first page of this novel, I foresaw a good reading experience.  There was something immediately vintage and British about this novel and I could easily see the writing was a higher caliber than my previous reads.

The setting gave me some pause – I was concerned that a vintage girl’s private school in England could be a terribly boring setting. However, I also assumed that for her first mystery, Lemarchand was writing about something with which she had a good deal of familiarity. Let me reassure readers that although this is not the most exciting of settings, it is handled very nicely and does not become boring.

It is the end of semester and the school, Meldon, is having their annual get-together wherein the “old girls” are invited for supper and a meeting and, more or less, to gossip and reminisce. Most of the “old girls” enjoyed their time at Meldon and continue to look upon the school fondly.  Unfortunately, not all of the “old girls” are as welcoming to change and the future.  There is one in particular, Beatrice Baynes, who takes a keen interest in snooping around and keeping herself insinuated in every decision at the school. She even lives in her large mansion just on the road outside of the school’s gates.

Baynes is tolerated because the school is respectful and mannered, but also because Baynes is a heavy monetary contributor. Unfortunately, her financial contributions cannot be accepted without accepting her staunch suggestions and opinions about the running and maintenance of the school.  She also is the murder victim.

The cleaning lady finds Baynes’ body stuffed behind the puppet theatre stand in the art studio.Very undignified and also a strange location for Baynes to be found generally.

The Scotland Yard detectives get involved and the story really begins to focus on their investigation.  Now, there have been many police procedurals written in the mystery genre.  I have to believe, though, that this is one of the more thorough and detailed ones. Lemarchand literally takes every step with us. We make suspect lists and timelines together. We interview suspects and witnesses with nearly excruciating detail.  Yes, the story does get a bit boring – unless you are a big fan of investigations and deductions.  Now, if you are a fan of mysteries that are actually thrillers – this is not going to interest you at all and you will be angry reading it.

There are also a number of subplots that run alongside the main storyline.  Some of these help to develop our red herrings and suspicious persons.  The subplots involve boisterous wealthy people, romantic interests, whimsical young teachers, caretakers and groundsmen, and even family connections.  When the book blurb on the back cover shares that there are a lot of people who disliked Baynes and wanted her dead – that is not even the half of it.

Some of the supporting characters are likeable, some are detestable. All of them are realistic and convincing.  I think this is what really helps keep everyone guessing at who the criminal is right until the very end.  There is no character who stands out as more suspicious or obvious than the rest. Also, there are some supporting characters who are surprisingly introduced in such a subtle way that when they begin to take an active role in the investigation, it hardly seems remarkable that they were not there all along.

The two detectives from the Yard are fine. I do think they are the most diligent and detail-oriented detectives that I have ever read about.  I do not feel, though, that I have much else to say about that. I hope that in further novels in the series their personalities will develop and I can have more remarks about them.

There is a bit of wit and banter – all good-natured and fun-loving – between the policemen. It isn’t heavy-handed sarcasm and it brought little bits of lightness to an exceedingly detailed investigation. Made the whole thing not so droll and tedious.

You can’t commit murder without taking risks,” replied Inspector Beakbane. “It often holds me back.” pg. 135

Now because the book is such a detailed examination, it makes it seem longer than it is. And that means slower reading. And that means people with short-attention spans who seek thrills and chills will dislike it. I felt this was a nice comfy, intellectual mystery. I also appreciated the motive of the criminal and felt that the crime was tidied up nicely. If Lemarchand was still alive I would gladly tell her that I truly can see the effort that she used writing this novel and that I appreciate her attention to detail.

I will definitely read the next in the series and I am glad that I read this one. I am giving it a four-star rating especially for “apparent author effort.”

4 stars

A Trace of Memory

A Trace of MemoryA Trace of Memory was first published in novel form in 1963.  It is the second novel by Laumer that I have read. The novel is actually an expanded version of the story that appeared in Amazing Stories in 1962 (July – September). I read a 1984 Tor Books edition with artwork by Bob Layzell.

This novel feels like it is three chunks of story.  I read the first chunk and really enjoyed it. But when the story seemed to transition to the second chunk, I lost interest and the book sat around the house abandoned for awhile. Simply put the direction of the storyline was somewhat disappointing since I was rather impressed and engaged with how that whole first section had gone.

For the sake of clarity, let me suggest that the “first chunk” includes chapters 1 – 7.  The second chunk: chapters 8 – 12.  Finally, the third: chapters 13 – 18.

Now, before I hear complaint, let me explain why I made these divisions.  I do not own the 1962 magazines in order to see just how far the story was published in those.  So, I have no idea what chunk was published there. However, I made these divisions because while, generally, the plot is a whole, I cannot say that it is seamless and fluid.  Honestly, this is a reason why I did not give this novel a four star rating. Though the main character remains the same chap we meet early on, the settings and direction of the story change so much that the novel feels too broken.

The first seven chapters are really good and I was very much engaged in the storyline.  Written as noir/horror with a dose of sarcastic humor thrown in, the story speeds along following two characters meeting in a town called Mayport.  Laumer displays a keen sense of how to write one of those almost-pulp, noir-esque mystery settings.  We meet the main character, Legion, casing a storefront in late evening. A few pages later we meet the mysterious and mannered Foster.  Their fates connect simply because Legion is a fast-talking swindler and Foster is quick-thinker.  Together, though they present a pair of opposites, they actually are somewhat alike in their underlying personalities.

A few chapters in and this novel moves at breakneck pace and the reader will probably have a lot of questions and not get a lot of answers. And Legion is a real whip of a character, so his sarcasm can get over the top at points. However, this is a good solid story.  And then, the plot jumps to three years in the future and I kind of lost a lot of interest in all the stuff in the first part of the book.  Now Legion’s circumstances have changed and, honestly, its gotten to the point where it is difficult to buy into this story.  Here a pseudo-James Bond/ Dr. No situation is set up featuring South America and help from a minor female character. Evasion and escape and government/military intervention. Well, I just did not enjoy this section much at all. Best part of these chapters is that we meet the magnificent Itzenca character. (A darling, swell cat.)

Finally, what I call the third section moves the story very far off planet and across the galaxy. Here the story turns into a sort of feudal-fantasy thing with Legion trying to evade, escape, solve a mystery, rally the troops, and challenge the planet. It gets a bit too swashbuckling here, I think. (Yes, there are sword fights.) But there is a lot of fun and adventure and the writing is not too shabby.  Still, this is far and away from where we started – a noir tale in little Mayport.

So, at the end of this, let us just accept this for what it is.  It is an adventure story with some science fiction elements, that just builds and builds on the level of far-out. It was never meant to be intellectual and ponderous. It does speed along and it does have some audacious moments. Adventure fans will appreciate this one, though it may not be all that alluring to many dedicated science fiction fans.

3 stars

Way Station

Way Station

Way Station – C. D. Simak; Del Rey, 1986

Way Station by Clifford D. Simak (1904 – 1988) is the third novel by the author that I have read. It was published in 1963 and won the 1964 Hugo Award for best novel.  Off the bat, I have to say that this is the most polished of the three novels by Simak that I have read. Nevertheless, I admit that this was not an easy read for me to get through. The setting and the tone really caused the big slowdown with my reading of this novel.

In my comments on my previous Simak reads (Cosmic Engineers and They Walked Like Men), I take the stance that Simak has great ideas for novels, but his plotlines seem to meander around, get lost, or flop apart.  His actual writing seems perfectly functional – I would not call it anything better than solid writing. In Way Station, Simak writes a completed, polished work that – based on its themes – was obviously an easy pick for the Hugo Awards.  [In 1964, other nominations included Andre Norton’s Witch World and Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle.]

I say “easy pick” because this novel includes a couple of elements that lend to its selection. For one thing, it is a first contact novel. It is 1963 – a time when all of the golden age science fiction stylists have to reckon with the real life developments in the fields of spaceflight and cosmological exploration. This novel may be one of the better first contact novels I have read. A second element to resonate with the readers in 1963/1964 is that the story is told while there is a worldwide threat of war hovering just beyond the proximate setting. The 1960s, of course, are raw with Vietnam War scenarios and this novel does allow human warring to have an influence on the story.  In regard to both spaceflight and warfare, the novel takes a hopeful position. I do not say optimistic. Simak did not write of a humanity destined to ruin and destruction, but one that wrestled with its own warring tendencies.

The novel was tough for me to get through because the actual setting is a rural/rustic community.  Millville, Wisconsin, to be precise. This is the setting for a couple of Simak’s novels – probably because it is also his birthplace.  Simak has a definite familiarity with the location.  The first hundred pages or so have a lot of meandering descriptions and sunsets and trees…. and………. I am not good with rustic/rural things. I think I’ve only been to Wisconsin once. That was enough.  The woodsy/farming setting is like a sleeping potion on me. I can understand many people loving this scene and finding it wholesome and relaxing and I do not begrudge them their rural sentiments.

However, due to this emphasis on the setting, the pacing seems really off. I really think the first chunk of the book could be edited and reduced. The big “event” in the novel does not happen until page 129 (chapter nineteen) and from then on, events move faster. (Still not New York pace….)  A lot of threads get tied together and it all works out neatly in the end. Simak is not a cynical, snide bastard whatsoever. It says on his Wikipedia page that he was “well liked” and that much is obvious just from reading his novels. This is not a bitter, snarling chap; Simak likes the stories to end well. Anyway, the pacing feels off-kilter.

As mentioned above, there is a thread in the story that the Earth is on the cusp of worldwide war.  The reader is led to believe it is not quite at the active war stage, but the war that is coming looms large and destructive – like a boosted WWII+ situation.  This, of course, is juxtaposed with the sluggish, stolid Millville existence. This atmosphere carries a weight of melancholy to it. And the main character Enoch Wallace is a character full of melancholy.  In all actuality, the novel is a melancholy-weighted thing that definitely shows a move away from any form of space opera/action-thriller. As a first contact novel, Simak writes thoughtful, advanced aliens that are not infallible.  The aliens are also not goofy or ridiculous.  Simak lets his main character wrestle with the alienation [sic] of Wallace from his own people/species and his inclusion in the oneness of the Galactic Central peoples.

This is a good novel – it has some good concepts in it. The ideas are thoughtful and relevant. There is a hefty dose of “reflection” and “introspection” available, too. Wallace’s decisions and his woes are understandable and the reader should empathize. The writing is solid from page one to two hundred thirty-six. However, the melancholy added to the rustic setting was too much for me. At some points, I just did not want to read any more. There are some predictable events, but as a whole this is a good novel. A galactic waystation on the Earth is not a unique idea, but Simak does a very good job with the concept.

3 stars

Shield

Shield

“Shield” – P. Anderson; Berkley, 1963; cover: R. Powers

Shield by Poul Anderson was first published in novel form in 1963. I read the edition with the neat Richard Powers artwork. I like Powers’ interpretation of the shield (ink spots and lines) with the “figures” inside. Typical awesome. So, as I mentioned, this story is from 1963, I actually decided to read something more recent than the usual 1950s fare I have been reviewing.

I have previously read a couple of other things by Anderson.  I associate him with NOT-FUN. I mean, he is definitely an ideas man and he sure does have a pile of intelligence, but the novels that I have read thus far were drained of their fun like a carcass hanging from a slaughterhouse beam. Honestly, I have felt that Anderson should have stopped playing with science fiction and just settled into write articles and papers on his political/sociological opinions. Because, I believe, science fiction should be scientific, futuristic, exploratory, questioning, wondering, and imaginative….but it should also still maintain some core of entertainment value. It should give the reader something more than just a shell for diatribes and rants. The previous novels I read by Anderson were lacking in fun. They were such bores….

However, Shield is a very well written novel.  Finally, Anderson is able to write a fun/entertaining story that is nuanced and focused and interconnected AND contains some of his best trademark political/sociological discussions.  Indeed, this would definitely make a good movie for some enterprising politically-minded producer. Now, I will not say that this was just overflowing with fun, but compared to his other novels, this one seemed like Anderson remembered that he was writing a novel throughout the novel.

Sidebar:  I am one of those cantankerous Aristotelians, so my mind sharply searches for the “end.” I think this has some bearing on my general dislike toward “agenda fiction” (as I call it). Sure, there are a couple of exceptions in which “agenda fiction” is successful, but overall, I find it suspicious. Surely, this has colored my opinion when it comes to novels that have a hugely obvious “political” content wedged into their plotlines. If the sole purpose of a novel is didactic or prosthelytizing, I will call the author out. Entertain me, first. End Sidebar.

All of that being said, the key point here is that this is a polished novel containing a variety of facets that all work together. Good things include:  the novel is not overly lengthy.  At 158 pages in my edition, the story is contained, resolved, and packaged nicely. No abominable page count here.  Another item:  the influences of the Martians/Mars expedition is meaningful to the story, but does not weigh it down with either undue adoration for itself or rampant xenophobia. It is entirely balanced and it connects very well with the plot generally.

An example of this Martian element is in chapter 9 wherein the main character utilizes the communication he learned on the Mars expedition to subvert the machinations of the opponents. Very nicely written chapter.

The entirety of the novel is based on a single piece of technology referred to as a “barrier” or “shield.”  Basically, it was developed by the main character and Martians. There is a somewhat unwieldy generator box that is sometimes worn via harness. This generator produces a “field” that creates a barrier around the generator box. This field can be enlarged as needed and it is, more or less, indestructible – although not completely so. (Certain types of things can get through, however bullets and sound cannot.) This is fun tech and is used well in the storyline.  It is also the basis for Anderson’s political discussion because he contextualizes this piece of technology in a world in which “national security” is all the rage.

Chapters eleven through seventeen are mightily political.  Anderson has some really intensely developed discussions on politics going on in these chapters. Some of his famous “libertarianism” is included, of course. But he also examines things like national defense, international cooperation, economics, and egalitarianism. The discussions include brief shots at rebellion/revolution, method and result, and concerns about weapon proliferation and oversight.  In the world in which this novel takes place, the Earth has already seen much nuclear destruction and the USA is strongly positioned as a “watchdog.” Anderson’s one failing is his absolute panic regarding China. I do not wish to delve into politics on this blog, but it can be said that in this novel Anderson does present a variety of arguments that are relatively well thought out and actually are integral to the storyline, as opposed to being tacked on without subtlety or care.

Not that any of the above is insufficient for a novel, but there is one other element that readers will focus on.  The female lead character, Vivienne, is an enigma. Let us all admit that in the past women characters were not always treated kindly. Most of the time they are plastic, bizarre, and stereotyped. They are sex objects or “motives” for the heroic male. Female characters were never:  scientists, independent, thoughtful, or brave. Now, I am not saying that Vivienne is the best female character of all time. (Anderson introduces her as a quadroon, for heaven’s sake! Sheesh!)  Still she is such an anomaly for the 1950s/1960s science fiction female character set that she is becomes enigmatic and surprising. Maybe, and this is only my speculation here, Vivienne is such an enigma because she is not a forced character – she seems almost natural or “real.” Some of the “strong female lead” examples tend to be so strong that they are overpoweringly extreme. In Shield, Vivienne (and her history) is so surprising that she really is the star of the novel. (I must insert here that the last chapter totally surprised me. I expect it will surprise no one else….)

Anyway, this is a very good novel. It has an inviting level of action-thriller in it that balances the political/sociology. The characters are not complete rubbish and the page count is reasonable. It may not be the masterpiece of all science fiction, but it definitely earns four stars in my rating.

4 stars

Recalled to Life

rtlrsRecalled to Life by Robert Silverberg was a quick read that was rather apropos for a major election year.  This novel was originally published, as a novel, in 1962 (Lancer). There was a revised edition published by Doubleday in 1972 and then the ACE edition that I read, published 1977.  Frankly, I think the ACE has the best cover art – courtesy Don Punchatz.  Also included in the ACE edition is an Introduction written by Silverberg in which he tells us much of the history of the novel.

The Introduction tells us that Silverberg was influenced, at least for the title of the story, by Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities (a work that I find over-rated and epitomizing Western European writing).  Silverberg says he first encountered the phrase “recalled to life” when he was eight or nine years old. In June 1976, when he penned this Introduction, he shares that upon re-reading this “thirteen year old novel” it struck him that it is not written very well.

I cannot say that I agree with Silverberg. The writing style is no polished Nabokov or Dostoevsky or Flannery O’Connor. It does not have to be; because the rather sparing and direct way that it is written melds well with the political and social nature of the plot. I have certainly read things that were far more poorly written. In fact, if Silverberg had not brought it up, I would not have even thought to make comparisons.

So, the plot of the novel is quite straight-forward.  This novel is about the reanimation of recently deceased persons.  This science fiction novel is realist and focused on political and social context. Throughout the novel, the reader is forced to consider how the reanimation of the dead affects society – in both the sphere of morality and in everyday living. The novel takes place in the year 2033 during the 123rd Congress of the Union.  (For reference, in the real world, 2015 – 2016 brought us the 114th Congress in the USA.)  The main character is James Harker – former Governor of New York State with aspirations of attaining the presidency.

From what I have said already, the realist nature of the novel should be clear.  This is no pseudo-Frankenstein situation with hocus pocus and monsters.  The word “zombie” is bandied about, but this is very far away from the Walking Dead and anything of that genre. In this novel, a group of doctors and scientists approach Harker to be their lawyer/public relations front.  They work for Beller Industries and have managed to successfully bring corpses back to life – using medical advancements. Ultimately, their main development is the stimulation of specific brain-cell regeneration processes.

Harker is a politician and lawyer.  He is no scientist or magician.  His world is the world of political agendas, political parties, shifting alliances, and fickle journalism. So, the novel does focus more on the political machinations and social ramifications of the medical advancement than on character development.  The reader follows Harker’s (and Beller Industries’) struggles that occur once their practice of experimentation becomes public knowledge.

If nothing else, the shifting sands of the ill-informed, irrational, emotional masses is very disturbing, but not unfamiliar.  Similarly, the two political parties in the novel are as obnoxious and toxic and ridiculous as the current day political parties. Petty, knee-jerk reactions with concern over elections and “holding the Party line” as opposed to public welfare, common good, and social stability.  Again, there’s nothing new about any of these scenarios.  However, the hypothetical situation that Silverberg presents does place the political/social mess in an interesting light. Frankly, yes, it would be exactly as Silverberg has imagined it here. And probably worse….

One of the best parts of Silverberg’s novel is that he does not divorce religion from the plot. There is this horrendous exclusivism rampant in people’s thinking that tends to draw a severe and harsh line between religion and science. As if the two must be opposed. And even if they seem to contradict, that it is somehow possible to blindly ignore one or the other in the face of a problematic. In this novel, Silverberg does a bang up job presenting a very reasonable and strong religious position.  This comes in the form of a Roman Catholic priest with whom the main character consults.  And neither the priest nor the science suffers due to the inclusion of this character and his thoughts. No one is mocked or insulted.

Now, the main character ends up having to play a sort of combo Jesus/Sydney Carton rôle. I think Silverberg manages this subtly, but maybe not as realistically as the rest of the plot demands. Still, it is not impossible for the hypothetical to follow this trajectory, just, perhaps, a bit unlikely. Overall, it is an interesting Jesus/Carton play; not too overdone, thankfully.

This is an excellent novel for readers who like politics and morality in their fiction.  I would have students read this for a philosophy contemporary issues course.  Heaven knows they won’t read De Anima any more.  This might suffice as a substitute point of departure. Anyway, this is my first Silverberg read and though this is not a five-star novel, it definitely has shown me that Silverberg is an intriguing author.

3 stars