Review of "A Scanner Darkly" by Philip K. Dick

In an afterword that reads like an epitaph, Philip K. Dick explains the impetus behind A Scanner Darkly.  He tells the reader that, having witnessed the death and onset of senility of many of his drug-abusing friends, the novel is a reminder to himself and others that the euphoria of narcotics has a flip side.  Largely autobiographical, Dick openly admits some of the characters—Barris, Luckman, and Arctor—are based on people who exist or existed in real life.  A tragedy in the Greek sense, A Scanner Darkly is as such a brilliant, drug addled story of the counter-culture in an anachronistic future, flower power not everything it was cracked up to be.  (Sorry for the pun.)

A Scanner Darkly is the story of Bob Arctor and his duel life.  One half narcotics agent, one half drug dealer, he is a user as well as dealer of Substance D, and all confusion as a result.  And Arctor’s friends don’t help.  Barris is either an intelligent man solving the world one riddle at a time or a complete crackhead.  The more the story progresses, the faster the reader oscillates between the two possibilities, his antics like a puzzle piece that fits in two different places at once.  No such discernment is needed with the luckless Luckman whose brand of sentience has its area code in another dimension.  And Donna, Arctor’s would be lover/always dealer, forever hangs on the fringes, teasing and haunting just as he’s ready to give up on her.

Captured as only Hunter S. Thompson can, Dick perfectly portrays the rigid paranoia, dementia, and eccentricity of the drug riddled mind.  The dialogue, while surveying the stratosphere for looniness, never loses touch with reality.  Dick guides the deranged banter with an unfailing hand, into wonderland and back, shaping a wholly unpredictable yet highly readable narrative in the process.  Trusting that conversation amongst the main characters is based on objective message is truly the most interesting aspect of the novel.

 A Scanner Darkly is one of Dick’s more realist works.  There are a few sci-fi elements, e.g. scrambler suits which disguise people’s identities, holoscanning, and synthetic drugs, however, the remainder is as real as apple pie--even out-dated to some extent.  The cassette tapes and rattletrap cars the characters drive (Arctor has a boat of an Oldsmobile) lend the story a strong retro feel.  Not a sterile, clean future, the grittier, dystopian side of America is portrayed.  Sagging porches in run down suburbia, poorly mown lawns beside old shopping malls, and people living under the threat of petty theft are redolent throughout the story. 

Sadly, it is the realist elements which highlight the only real fault of the novel.  The grand reveals of Now Wait for Last Year, Ubik, and especially The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch all fit their respective stories despite stretching the imagination, .  Dick is, after all, read to expand the mind.  The conspiracy theory denouement of A Scanner Darkly, however, fails slightly.  The main reason for this is because of its contrast with the message Dick was trying to drive home.  Without spoiling anything, the larger forces at work give the characters an escape route from the responsibility of drug use—the theme Dick was trying to cultivate in the first place.  That being said, the softened ending does not fully dilute the social agenda, various other points in the novel portraying the negative effects of extended drug use as good as any novel has.  

In the end, A Scanner Darkly is one of Philip K. Dick’s greatest achievements.  Poignant to a culture still dealing with drug problems, Dick’s imagination on the nature of narcotics induced mental health issues, government watchdoggery, and general discontent amongst an otherwise functioning group of people is social commentary not to be ignored.  That Dick is able to focus what few writing abilities he possesses into a consistent, enlightening and a well-paced narrative is also to be lauded, the opportunities rare.  The scrambler suit, for example, is an amazing literary parallel to the identity problems Arctor faces.  The conspiracy theory ending unnecessary, readers will forgive Dick his whims given the powerful statement that is the afterword.  Simply put, readers cannot call themselves a Dick fan without having read A Scanner Darkly.  Of all his novels, perhaps this has the greatest chance of standing the test of time.

(The opportunities to applaud a film adaptation of a novel rare, the following note should be made.  Richard Linklater’s film version of A Scanner Darkly is superb.  Perhaps the best adaptation of any Dick story, Linklater omits only a few minor details while clinging tightly to the novel’s characterization, dialogue, plot and theme.  Keanu Reeves the weakest point, Robert Downey Jr. is a perfect Barris, however, just as Woody Harrelson and Wynona Ryder portray Luckman and Donna as I imagined them while reading.  The rotoscoping effect of the film serves to make the film not only unique in appearance but it also more vibrantly displays the hallucinogenic aspects of the story, the scrambler suits especially.) 

Review of "Now Wait for last Year" by Philip K.. Dick

Like a mad dream of himself, some Philip K. Dick books seem more autobiographical than fictional.  One can almost see him, hunched over the typewriter, taking his wacky visions and delusional experiences of the afternoon and plunking them into a story.  Bad marriages, paranoia, experimental drug use, precogs, suicide, etc., etc., are landmarks navigating his novels.  Written in 1966, Now Wait for Last Year has all of this and more, and leaves the reader asking: how many different ways can Dick combine his favorite motifs.  The answer: at least one more.

Containing the ambiguous leader concept of The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, the reality-altering property of drugs from FlowMy Tears, the Policeman Said, and the surreal mood and broken relationships of every seemingly Dick book, Now Wait for Last Year has little new to offer well-read Dick fans in the way of ideas.  The writing beginning broken and jumbled but settling in after the first few chapters, Dick’s poor prose is also present, but not in spades.  Thus, from being nothing special through one glass, to a representative sample of PKD’s work through another, the verdict is ho-hum.

The year is 2055 and Eric Sweetscent, an artiforg (artificial organ transplant surgeon), is employed by one of the richest men in the world keeping the centuries old businessman alive.  When not at work, he spends his time in constant disharmony with his wife, Kathy.  She a drug addicted, emotional wreck, their domestic life alternates awkwardly between hurtful disagreements and tender sensitivity—a lifestyle which does not well suit the mild-mannered, highly passive Sweetscent.  But when the UN Secretary General, leader of the Earth’s government, recruits Sweetscent to be his own personal physician, events start rolling. 

In Dick’s 2055, earthlings are the third wheel in an interstellar battle between the power hungry ‘Starmen and the insectile reegs.  The Secretary General, Gino Molinari, spends his time trying to sidetrack the ‘Starmen, with whom Earth has signed a peace treaty, in order to prevent humans from being sent to the front to fight.  Molinari’s main method of redirecting ‘Starmen requests for soldiers is not so subtle: he plays dead, literally, and Sweetscent must keep him alive.  But when Sweetscent finds both an assassinated version and a younger version of the ageing Molinari in the white house, questions arise.  Further complicating events is the appearance of a mysterious drug named JJ-180.  Having the ability to send people back and forth in time, things really lose touch with reality when Kathy slips Sweetscent some of the strange drug.  Highly addictive, Sweetscent is forced to abandon his relaxed life to escape the mysterious shifts in time, possibly just saving Earthlings in the process.

Now Wait for Last Year of the middling grade in Dick’s oeuvre, diehard fans will undoubtedly enjoy it despite the lack of anything truly fresh.  A direct analogue of Dick’s own relationship troubles (Wikipedia states he was married five times), Sweetscent’s broken marriage is perhaps the strongest aspect of the novel.  The dialogue that occurs between he and his wife, particularly the hurtful vitriol hurtling across the room in the opening scenes, is especially realistic.  Dick’s final resolution of the relationship—almost a note written on a mirror to himself—is touching and closes the novel in affective fashion.

Time travel a gaping hole just waiting for writers to trip and fall into, Dick handles the motif with ease.  Perhaps too lax, its effect on the reality of the novel is poorly thought through.  In the same vein as the drug effects of Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said, if a large number of people are able to modify reality simply by taking a pill, one would expect reality to be in constant, chaotic shift, rather than responsive only to the main character’s actions.  This selfish personalization, while effectively focusing the plot on the main characters, fails to deliver a message at any logical or social level, thus diminishing the idea’s credibility.

In the end, Now Wait for Last Year is an average read.  Readers who enjoy time travel will like the book, however, there are several other books which portray the motif in more convincing fashion.  (The Anubis Gates by Tim Powers or Terry Gilliam’s 12 Monkeys’ film are good examples.)  Fans of the author will find nothing to complain about; all the typical Dickian elements are present in quantity.  One of his stronger examinations of a broken relationship, readers should expect domestic turmoil to heavily affect the plot.  However, when contrasted against the larger conflict occurring in space, its depth gets lost solving the mystery of who or what Molinari really is .  There are better Dick stories out there, but there are probably more that are worse.

Review of "Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said" by Philip K. Dick

Adhering to the nature of its title, Philip K. Dick’s 1974 Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said is a cipher.  Events unfolding in typical Dick fashion, which is to say in a way that actively propels the plot into the unknown, one irreconcilable event after another, the resulting story creates suspense effectively but at the expense of inter-connectivity.  So many concepts come to underlie the dynamic paranoia that the novel ends up suffering an identity crisis of its own.  

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.

Review of "A Game of Thrones" by George R.R. Martin

Goodkind, Feist, Eddings, Salvatore, Brooks, Williams, Donaldson, Jordan, etc., etc., the list of post-Tolkien imitat—err, I mean, writers—goes on and on.  All are largely dependent on, and therefore derivative of, J.R.R.’s version of epic fantasy.  Elves, broken swords, trollocs—sorry, trolls—evil lords, quests for numinous objects, ancient prophecies, farm boys turned kings, dragons, and ideas on and on fill these writers’ stories, original material a paucity.  In 1996 another R.R., George R.R., came along and smashed this mold.  Tolkien-esque only in scope, A Game of Thrones is epic fantasy for a new generation.

Iconoclast, A Game of Throne’s firm footing in realism is the biggest difference separating Martin from other writers in the genre.  His cast of characters real-to-life not larger-than, the story’s source material is War of the Roses instead of Norse myth.  Eddard Stark, one of the main protagonists, has many a blemish on his record, among them a bastard son.  But even more realistic are his and the other characters’ motives.  Caught in larger circumstances, the Stark family, as well as Lannister, Barratheon, and Martell families, find themselves reacting to rather than shaping events.  Despite holding positions of power, their choices are most often less than optimum, no outcome guaranteed.  Such is life in our world, as in Martin’s.

A Game of Thrones is primarily the story of the Stark family and its attempts to retain their legacy and unity as events in Westeros, the fantasy setting of the book, begin spinning out of control.  The king, Robert Barratheon, a drunk, licentious man, cares not to become involved in the decay of the political and social structure of his kingdom and asks Eddard to become the King’s Hand, his second in command.  Eddard, though reluctantly accepting the offer, sets about righting the ills of the kingdom according to a sense of propriety instilled in him by his forefathers.  He tackles the economic, political, and religious issues with verve, trying to balance affairs with the deviant council he chairs in the king’s stead.  But with myriad families and cabals, lords and bastard sons planning and plotting their piece of the monarchial pie, Eddard’s hope of righting the sinking kingdom quickly fades and survival becomes the name of the game—you know which.

But the story does not focus solely on Eddard.  The appendices containing an extensive list of dramatis personae, the King’s Hand only marginally occupies the main character role.  Each chapter devoted to a specific viewpoint, several of Eddard’s children, as well as members of a rival family, the Lannisters, flesh out the cast.  In fact, characterization is the main strength of the novel.  Though they number many, Martin is able to give each viewpoint a voice of their own.  Though at times extreme in a sensational fashion, it’s always an affective voice.  Contextually, readers will truly hate some while fall head over heels in love with others.  Prince Joffrey is one for the gallows while Arya’s tomboy antics will have readers holding their breath over her every move. 

If this amount of plot is not enough, there is a secondary storyline occurring on another continent to rival the interest of events on Westeros.  Extracted and compiled into a novella, the story of the exiled queen, Daenerys Targaryen, and her plight to retake the throne from the Seven Kingdoms was so good as to win a Hugo.  Arranged to be married to Dothraki warlord (think Genghis Khan), the events of Daenerys’ life take one unpredictable turn after another as she and her brother attempt to rebuild a base of power for a return to retake their beloved Westeros.  However, like events in the lives of Eddard, his and the other families, things do not always pan out as intended for Daenerys.

The setting of Westeros, when viewed objectively, is not particularly unique save the Wall.  The shape even similar, it could be Robin Hood’s England.   Where Martin makes the world his own is by developing the history of the people populating it.  Underpinning the novel and giving it depth, events which brought things to their current state of affairs are related to the reader in full detail.  The Battle of the Trident, only a few decades past, divides the factions currently vying for the throne.  Discussed on many occasions, each viewpoint has its own take on how events transpired that day.  Who was on who’s side, who killed who and how, are not forgotten, the accounts not always in agreement.  This story within a story—its own mythos—continually evolves as events in the present unravel and brings readers into closer contact with the characters—a brilliant play by Martin.

In the end, A Game of Thrones is epic fantasy in the mode of realism rather than myth.  Events of the supernatural do occur, but they are few and far between.  (Martin has been quoted as saying he prefers to sprinkle his fantasy like salt and pepper rather than pour it on the reader.)  On the whole, it is the story of people—high to low—fighting to survive as radical change sweeps a land.  Medieval in feel, kings, queens, knights, jousts, castles, and swords are the medium, but peasants, farmer's boys (not the typical fantasy farmer's boy), and the generally lesser known players all have a stake.  Rich details and characterization, though occasionally operatic in simplicity, flesh out the medium into a vivid story worthy of the term “epic”.  Though many of the plot devices have been tried-true in mainstream literature, there are few readers who pick up the novel and remain unaffected.  Regardless of the final success of A Song of Ice and Fire (there are still two or three books to be written in the series), A Game of Thrones will be regarded as the standout of post-Tolkien fantasy, as without it, writers like Abercrombie, Morgan, Ruckley, and Lynch simply wouldn’t exist.

(An afterword on the television series: HBO’s adaptation of A Game of Thrones is less than average. Some of the acting is quality, including Sean Bean, Peter Dinklage, Lena Headey, and Mark Addy who occupy their roles with subtlety. However, most of the actors are either cutting their teeth in the film industry or are simply bad.  The sets and props are among the best a tv series can offer, but no matter how well you dress a turkey, it’s still a turkey.  Watching the show it’s obvious the producers believe that sensationalism sells.  Nearly every episode from the book has been altered to feature nudity, swearing, erotic scenes, and moments of the operatic—tears and tension—that embarrass the intelligent viewer.  (Renly, for example, has been made homosexual to garner alternate viewership.)  Far from prudish, I complain only that the most blunt tools possible are being used to get viewers: sex and melodrama.  Do yourself a favor and read the book instead.  At least the operatic elements are diluted by the mythos of Westeros the characters are embedded within.)

Review of "A Clash of Kings" by George R.R. Martin

(Warning: do not read this review unless you want parts of A Game of Thrones spoiled.)

Picking up slightly after the final events of A Game ofThrones, George R.R. Martin’s second novel in the Song of Ice and Fires series, A Clash of Kings (1998), continues to build story, pushing matters across Westeros and beyond toward a larger climax.  Events in the east, at the Wall, and especially in the heartland of Westeros are all taken to the next level.  Suffering no sequel blues, readers who loved the former will feast on the latter as the reads like a pure extension of A Game of Thrones.

The title apt, A Clash of Kings is referred to internally in the novel as the War of Five Kings.   Houses Stark, Lannister, Greyjoy, and Barratheon (both Stannis and Renly) are vying for the throne of swords at King’s Landing.  New characters introduced and viewpoints added, the majority of the plots encompass this larger group at war.  Favorites and hated each being put through the wringer by Martin, once again nobody’s fate is certain, yet all shifts and moves organically.

Review of "A Storm of Swords" by George R.R. Martin

(Warning: this review discusses events which occur previously in A Song of Ice and Fire but will not spoil matters for A Storm of Swords.)

Like a master composer, George R.R. Martin, in his third installment of A Song of Ice and Fire, works with a theme he established in fresh fashion.  Readers who the enjoyed the first two books in the series will be bowled over reading A Storm of Swords (2001).  He has somehow managed to maintain the high quality without repetition or self-parody.  Having established the world and its characters, Martin takes story to the next, organic step in its progression, leaving Westeros in a more unpredictable yet strangely settled situation.  

As the smoke clears from the major battles of A Clash of Kings, subterfuge and backstabbing take center stage in A Storm of Swords.  Things get personal and petty, and not everyone survives.  And yet, all of the plot twists and major events still feel natural.  Unlike many other books which try to architect dramatic circumstances only for unrealistic coincidences to occur, little seems as forced in A Storm of Swords.  The stage set two books prior, events leading to this point have unraveled like a ball of yarn, the surprise stage exits feeling natural.   

Review of "A Feast for Crows" by George R.R. Martin

George R.R. Martin has stated in numerous interviews, like a granddad to children, that in writing stories he likens himself to a gardener rather than architect.  Letting stories grow as nature would have it, sticking to detailed plans is not his forte.  A more dynamic process than adhering to a blueprint, the first three novels of A Song if Ice and Fire bore all of the fruit of this mindset.  In A Feast for Crows, fourth book in the Song of Ice and Fire series, the foliage proves verdant.  But too heavy?

A Game of Thrones caught up with a kingdom which had not quite put behind it a major change in power; A Clash of Kings set the new powers at one another's throats in massive clashes; and A Storm of Swords picked up the multitude of aftershocks in the aftermath of the battles.  The latest installment, A Feast of Crows, sees the kingdom trying to pick itself up from the ground.  

Review of "Twilight of the Machines" by John Zerzan

Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World ends with the protagonist dangling from a noose.  Technology pervasive to the point of sterilizing society, John the Savage felt suicide was the only escape. John Zerzan’s 2008 Twilight of the Machines would have society take the same figurative step.  

A grand denouncement of civilization, past to present and future, Twilight of the Machines is a collection of essays which scathingly rebuts all –isms not beginning with primitive.  Bluntly critical, Zerzan dismantles the Western worldview one agricultural, political, economic, technological—even lingual and epistemological—block at a time.  Despite that the nomadic hunter-gatherer lifestyle is identified as the optimum societal state, the book is not a primitivist manifesto; no path is laid toward achieving primeval utopia, nor is any creed presented in 1,2,3 format.  

Broken into two halves, Twilight of the Machines first presents/attacks civilization from a historical context before moving on to assail it from a modern perspective.  Material in the first half includes such topics as language, patriarchy, war, technology, communal existence, and knowledge.  The basic approach of these essays is to contrast positive aspects of the past, e.g. bliss in ignorance, with the present state of affairs, e.g. the burden of wisdom.  Zerzan’s conclusion, backed by limited archeological research, is that primitive man had a higher quality of life.  Though not directly stated, the improvements of medicine and relative elimination of food scarcity are rendered unimportant in the face of prehistoric lifestyle attributes.  

The second half of the book examines the symptoms of a disease Zerzan terms postmodern civilization.  This includes environmental degradation, health problems, the detrimental effects of globalization, and the isolating effect of virtual reality, to name a few.  The increasing rates of mental disorders, obesity, and resource deprivation are just a few of the specific examples cited in support.  In full attack mode, Zerzan’s relates civilization today as a bubble about to burst, the blackest of motives and devices underlying it all.  

Readers interested in primitivism will undoubtedly take something away from Twilight of the Machines.  A more urgent and explicit version of Spengler’s Decline of the West, Zerzan fills his short book with an eclectic plethora of research.  (There is an eighteen page bibliography.)  However, many of the quotes are thrown together in a rushed, haphazard fashion.  At times cohering into powerful arguments, the tremendous leaps in logic can disorient readers at others.  In this regard, the book would benefit from a fuller realization—a more lengthy exposition—linking contentions and supporting scholarship closer together, thus improving credibility.

There are some additional loopholes in Twilight of the Machines, particularly ideological.  As if intending its development to take on such a destructive role, Zerzan continuously works under the assumption humanity controls its destiny.  All of the current ills are spoken of in an implicative tone, for example, “If humans would never have developed written language, we wouldn’t find ourselves in our current predicament.”  The crux of this perspective is obvious.  In the same vein of assumption, Zerzan places an overwhelming amount of trust in archeological research, not only into recent millennia, but information propagated by researchers regarding 100,000 and 200,000 years ago.  Humanity still unsure what happened decades ago, the dependence sans caveat is worrisome.  Other arguments readers may find specious include “The general crisis of modernity has its roots in the imposition of gender.", or "Among the specific reasons [war] doesn't go away is the desire to escape the horror of mass-industrial life."  Some readers may revel in such quotable material, while others may feel Zerzan’s zeal overcomes logic.

Some viewing it as an inexcusable flaw, others unaware of the elision, the fact Zerzan never proposes a manner in which society can once again obtain primeval status—return to its prehistoric roots, as it were—remains an observation of the book.  The negative critique of modern society unending, Zerzan meekly writes a few words to the effect “the time is ripe for revolution” when discussing possibilities for the future.  Never is the next logical step taken: offering solutions to the problem identified.  

Readers will love or hate Twilight of the Machines.  The author’s narrow view will quickly push a person to one side of the fence or the other.  But no matter societal wake-up call or conspiracy theory, the collection of essays is at heart nihilist: no plausible solution is offered for the variety of social ills pronounced.  Therefore, readers expecting discussion and commentary on the manner in which civilization can dig itself out of its holes will be disappointed.  However, those who enjoy rancorous language censuring current civilization integrated with an impressive quantity of scholarly texts will walk away satisfied.  In the end, the reader must decide whether cultural suicide is the only way to societal utopia.