Review of "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch" by Philip K. Dick

Perhaps Dick’s most misunderstood book, The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch is not wholly an examination of the reality of reality.  Despite that the characters’ experiences often transcend concrete objectivity, the book is more than metaphysics.  It is an exploration of morality, and if may be surmised from the parallel events of Dick’s own life, perhaps even an act of catharsis.

The universe of Three Stigmata... is not as we know it.  Global warming has turned Antarctica into a beach and humans inhabit the solar system.  Colonists living on other planets – often drafted like soldiers to leave Earth – participate in communal fantasies augmented by a drug called Can-D to escape the spiritual desolation of their lives.  Channeled through Perky Pat and Walt dolls (like Barbie and Ken), the dolls, drugs, and fantasies are supplied by Perky Pat Inc. at great profit.   Barney Mayerson, the main character, is a pre-fash working for the company, and under the authority of his greedy boss Leo Bulero, must identify items before they become popular so that they can be marketed as Perky Pat accessories.  Things are going well for the company until Palmer Eldritch, missing from the galaxy for 10 years, mysteriously appears on the scene, bearing Chew-Z, a drug that threatens to overtake Can-D and Perky Pat Inc.’s market share.  

Plot structure, however, takes a back seat in the novel to the characterization of Mayerson.  Having several years before divorced his wife and agreed to have their first child aborted in order to maintain his position at Perky Pat Inc., the guilt of this decision hangs palpably in his day-to-day life.  He mopes, lives lasciviously and erratic, and out of spite even undermines his ex-wife’s attempts at making her way as a pottery artist.  These events seeming to come from the pages of Dick’s biography (see his 1960 relationship troubles), Mayerson spends the majority of the novel trying to come to grips with his past, and ultimately upon his moral orientation.  Confusing matters highly -  throwing things into a violent spin, in fact - is Eldritch’s new drug Chew-Z, which seems to allow for escape from reality through interminable imaginative wandering.  The trouble Mayerson has clawing his way through reality and drug induced hallucinations – one often seeming like the other – is the emotional impetus fueling the story, and ultimately what makes the novel well worth reading. 

In the end, fans of Silverberg, Heinlein, and perhaps even Hunter S. Thompson, will enjoy The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch.  Furthermore, those who enjoy a good mind twist – reality extremely slippery underfoot – will also undoubtedly enjoy Dick’s portrayal of Mayerson’s uncertainty, there being several moments when the reader is unsure what is real, hindsight the only benchmark.  Readers who value highly stylistic novels should be warned that “lush” is word that has never been used to describe Dick’s prose.   He is an ideas man, and in The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch the metaphysical moves to the ethical in a fashion that will have you thinking long after you’ve finished.   ...how could I not have seen that religion and hallucinogenics are both based on the idea that true reality is perceived, yet, unperceived, somewhere in the middle, located between…

Review of "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" by Philip K. Dick

There are a variety of ways in which a books lingers with the reader after they’ve finished.  Emotional impact, imagery, character empathy, the message, and a variety of other reasons have the opportunity to impress us to the point we may be unable to forget a book despite that plot details may fade with time.  Philip K. Dick’s 1968 Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? caused this kind of reaction in me.  None of the aforementioned elements, however, are the reason his 37th novel hangs in mind after reading it.  It is simply the questions he asks and the myriad implications that follow.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is the story of Rick Deckard, an android bounty hunter, who experiences a crisis of faith as the emotional proximity to those he is supposed to be “retiring” becomes clouded.  Set in a post-apocalyptic future, man has begun inhabiting Mars to escape nuclear fall out on Earth.  Most cannot afford to emigrate, however, and remain on earth.  As a result, androids, artificially intelligent beings whose only discernable difference with real humans is their lack of empathy, are sent alongside emigrants to help in the colonization.  However, some escape and return to Earth where they live on the run from bounty hunters.  Seeking to fulfill a contract on a group of eight escapees, Deckard’s problems accumulate the farther he moves along the list, each android drawing the meaning of “retire” and “murder” closer and closer together.

Anything but polished or descriptive enough, Dick’s writing style is sparse, presenting only a bare minimum of details to paint the scenes and characters.  And so while the bleak picture of Earth Deckard inhabits suits the story, it, along with the other backing elements, deserve to be fleshed out in a longer novel.  That being said, however, the novel does not lack for much more, the plot moves at a good pace and is well structured.  Fans of Blade Runner will undoubtedly find more than what the film offered in the way of background content and side-stories, all of which go a long way toward highlighting the theme Dick was aiming at.  

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is recommended for anyone who enjoys literature which poses profound questions about the nature of life and of being alive.  Though simplistic on the surface, the direct manner in which Dick tells his story will give anyone a moment to ponder.  For those who prefer more literary presentations, be warned that Dick is not a stylist.  He is an ideas man, and that is what will have you thinking about the book long after.

Review of "The Man in the High Castle" by Philip K. Dick

Though not the first to create a work of alternate history, Philip K. Dick’s 1962 The Man in the High Castle is amongst the very best offerings of the sub-genre, if not literature relevant to an ever-globalizing world.  A thought experiment rather than a traditional novel, the book explores the idea: what if the allied powers lost WWII?  What would a world ruled by Nazi Germany and Japan be like?

The year is roughly 1960 and America has been divided into three parts: a Japanese controlled west coast, an American interior, and a German east coast.  The US as we know it could not be more altered culturally.  In the Pacific Coast State, white Americans are second class to the Japanese, the Chinese considered even lower.  Yi Jing, or, the Book of Changes is the ruling belief system and plays a prominent role in the lives of most of the main characters, decisions to confirmation.  Hitler still alive yet a senile non-entity, Goebbels, Haydrich, and the remaining members fight for control of his ruling party in Europe while continuing to spread Fascism.  Jews are still sought out and exterminated, hunting grounds expanded to include the Nazi territories of Africa, South America, Slavic lands, India, and even explorations to Mars.

But the setting is only informative; character ideology and interaction are the driving force of the novel.  Set predominantly in the Japanese controlled area of the west coast, multiple characters provide viewpoints into what life would be like in such a world.  Robert Childan, a dealer in expensive kitsch antiquities, tries to come to terms with Japanese etiquette and the meaning of art.  Mr. Tagomi, the Japanese ambassador to the Pacific Coast States, tries to retain a grip on reality while facing uncertain internal politics between the Japanese and Germans.  Fred Frink/Fink, a Jew in hiding, tries to balance the need for necessities while building a life for himself as a jewelry artist.  Juliana, Fred’s ex-wife, lives in the free state, trying to find meaning in a life turned upside down by the result of the war.  The characters’ stories told in pastiche fashion, The Man in the High Castle finds Dick shedding his reputation as a shabby scribe and subtly molding a story with mature, sensitive prose.  Achieving the delicate balance between proselytizing and under-statement, Dick combines content and form, and is therefore deserving of the awards he received for this novel. 

But if the writing and premise aren’t enough, Dick adds a degree of literary appeal few academics can not help but salivate over: the book-within-a-book.  Called “The Grasshopper Lies Heavy,” this subversive work of meta-fiction tells of a world wherein the allied powers win the war.  Not precisely in sync with the history we are familiar with, the book is an alternate reality within an alternate reality, and throughout Dick’s narrative numerous characters make mention of the work, its “fictional” outcomes lighting up their imaginations as much as Dick’s alternate reality lights ours.  So affected by the book, Juliana and her lover decide to pay a visit to the author Abendsen, the self-styled man in the high castle.  What they discover provides the base thematic juncture of Dick’s story: juxtaposition.

The characters never sure whether an art object is real or fake, whether people’s words, particularly Japanese etiquette, are sincere or only a formality, and ultimately, as in Tagomi’s case, whether reality is truly real, the scope of Dick’s novel is gloriously ambitious.  Coming through in flying colors on all fronts, however, little that is negative can be said about the novel.  Dick set personal expectations high, and as a result the standard for works of alternate history has been raised.  The book comes highly recommended for those who enjoy the sub-genre, are interested in thought experiments related to cultural studies, or who would just like to read a well written book about the effect the changes of war bring upon people.  Delightfully objective despite the non-politically correct elements which float on the surface, The Man in the High Castle is a triumph of speculative literature and is fully deserving to be read by fans as well as enemies of genre fiction, the category which the novel is mercilessly placed.

Review of "Ubik" by Philip K. Dick

Jung, Freud, and countless other psychologists, psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, psychometers, psychos, not to mention the average Joe laying on the sofa, have all tried to transcribe the meaning of dreams.  Art imitating life, it falls on the shoulders of writers, however, to recreate dream scenarios in words.  Reality continually shifting underfoot and the world never quite objectively fixed in the mind’s eye, this is the ocean through which Philip K. Dick’s 1969 Ubik swims.  That dreams are only the mode of the story, takes the book to another level, however!  A brief look at the plot will explain things.

It is not far into Ubik that strange events begin happening to our everyday protagonist, Joe Chip.  Moments from the past blend with the present, characters appear and disappear randomly, and above all, a mood suffuses his life that nothing is stable or trustworthy.  Set in the near future where certain people have developed the ability to psychologically invade the minds of others, anti-psis (people who can prevent this mind rape) arise naturally from the business landscape.  Joe may not have much going for him (he’s in debt over his ears), but he does have one valuable skill: the ability to detect the strength of people’s psyche.  This makes him a most prized asset to Glen Ruciter, the owner of one of the largest anti-psi companies.  Things go smoothly for the company until a contract turns bad.   Hired to do an anti-psi sweep of a company on the moon, a bomb explodes mid-operation.  In the aftermath, reality becomes more unstable each day.  However, whether or not Ruciter has been killed in the blast is only the beginning of Joe’s concerns.  

Viewing the book purely from a style point of view, Dick will not garner many awards for the scratchings of his pen.  Ordinary at best, his prose is neither melodious or gripping.  But where Dick shines are the idea and plot departments (it isn’t a coincidence that more than seven of his stories have been made into films), and Ubik, despite moving at pedestrian speeds, is no different.  It delivers a compelling story that does what literature should do: make us question life.  Many consider the novel Dick’s masterpiece, so if you are a fan of thought-provoking sci-fi, particularly that which discusses the roots of the interaction between the psyche and technology, then by all means have a read.  If this is not enough, then perhaps the additional content of death, alternate reality, paranoia, brain-in-the-vat, and the metaphysical questions these ideas give way to, may be.