Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said begins with the story of variety show host Jason Taverner and his attempts to re-place himself within the context of a reality he was once positive of existing within. Waking up from a most obtuse and bizarre murder attempt—death by cuddle sponge—Taverner quickly finds things are not as they were. Colleagues, lovers, and business partners he once knew intimately do not recall his face or even his name. The setting strongly Orwellian, pols and nats (police and nationalists) patrol the streets, controlling checkpoints, and taking those without proper ID away to work camps, causing Taverner to have trouble leaving even the run-down hotel he’s awoken in. An underground of sorts exists, and it is with their help he sets out in search of his identity.
Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said is not one of Dick’s focused efforts. Taverner’s troubles related in acute and sympathetic detail, the story starts strong as readers quickly develop a relationship with the protagonist. Slowly but surely, however, things unravel. More and more characters are introduced, and a river delta of storylines forms. Some occupy significant stage time only to be discarded abruptly. Still others hold little of the spotlight, but later play an important role in the overall outcome. By spreading events in such random fashion, the reader loses track of the story’s purpose and plot direction. One character, police chief Buckman, is in particular poorly drawn but unfortunately a major player. One moment kind and logical, the next a deranged lunatic, he closes out the novel as the main character, meek as a lamb, and in late night stranger-hugging mode. From the attentive outset to the narrative delta of an ending, Dick’s inability to focus the narrative really hurts the novel, leaving readers to wonder: what’s the point?
But plot can be argued. Dick’s writing style, however, cannot. Famous for often producing bad prose, the novel is a prime example why. Sentence structure abominable, at no time is a rhythm established to settle into. Dick switches randomly between internal monologue, 3rd person narrative, and almost a fourth wall form of address. As a result, the action scenes are blunted, and worse yet, the moments of emotion that are supposed to affect the reader lose impact in the jumbled mess of text spilled across the page. The titular tears are the result of syntax rather than character empathy.
Unfortunately, there is a another major issue with the book that must be addressed: the reveal. Without spoiling things, suffice to say the manner in which Dick explains Taverner’s identity problems not only heavily contrasts the mood of the novel, but likewise does not fit the reality underpinning the setting as a whole. The reader’s willingness to suspend their disbelief is really tested. Ursula Le Guin in The Lathe of Heaven would later take Dick’s idea, modify it slightly, and apply it in a style allegorical rather than mimetic. Throughout her story readers are fully aware that Le Guin’s book is a thought experiment and ignore the larger portent. With his inclusion of so many “real” aspects of society, including celebrity-ism, 1984-ish government induced paranoia, and child molestation, things only become more confused when the source of Taverner’s troubles is revealed. Satire, allegory, social commentary, personal musing—none know Dick’s intentions, probably not even the author himself, creating a confused narrative in the process.
That being said, the social ills Dick portrays are one of the few strong points of the novel. There are strong indications that he was attempting to use the darker side of being a celebrity to elucidate his own ideas concerning multiple identities. This, and a few moments when the narrative congeals into emotive locution are the only positives of the novel.
In the end, Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said is not one of Dick’s stronger efforts. From the alien murder “device” in the book’s opening pages to the conspiracy theory reveal, the inclusion of sex with 12 year olds to genetically modified humans, late-night stranger hugging to celebrity-ism, Orwellian tyranny to philosophizing on love, jumbled prose to character development, nothing about the book seems to fit within an identifiable umbrella concept. Thus, the book is not a good starting place for a peek at Dick’s strengths as a writer and is in fact recommended only for fans forgiving of his faults. How the book won an award is based on something I don't understand.