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This book is, quite literally, the only Dick book that I actually wanted to read. Like The Zap Gun this was really quite good, in a number of ways.

The basic premise is that there’s this moon in the Alpha system where we had a sort of mental hospital colony, which we subsequently left to its own devices. The patients have settled in different towns along the lines of their mental illnesses.

It suffers from having too much unimportant crap in it though. Psionic powers, for no reason and to no effect, and aliens of dubious importance.

Worth reading, in some ways better than The Zap Gun, in other ways not quite as good. I’m just saying the man needed a better editor.

So, yes, I did just run out and buy the next book. How could I not?

There’s a, potentially literal, metric shit ton of media at Sigler’s website, in case you aren’t quite sure it’s worth reading these books. There’s also some real gems on there. That guy in red opening his laptop has a look on his face suggesting there’s a special Snuggie accessory under there. I haven’t looked that excited… probably ever, but that’s mostly because I distrust good things. I believe that’s a remix of the original ad, but I’m in a library at the moment and forgot my headphones, so, uh, best of luck.

Anyway, on to the actual review. First things first, I didn’t enjoy it as much as infected. It’s been a couple of days since I finished reading it, but I’ve put off posting about it until I could figure out why it should be. The writing is largely excellent, the story is great, and there was certainly enough tragedy and absurdity to make it feel real. It finally dawned on me that what this book lacked was the same feeling of tension. Raw, personal tension. In Infected we all knew Perry was going to have to deal with some serious shit, and it wasn’t clear, really even at the end, how he’d come out of it. Would he live? Would he be even a little bit intact physically or mentally? Was his sacrifice going to net anything? Because the larger plan was largely unknown we didn’t get any large perspective style tension, but that was ok, we had something that, emotionally, works a lot better. A known that was as inevtiable as it was terrible, and an unknown that you could only assume would bring worse things.

My only other gripe would be that the team of Margot, Otto, and Amos, aren’t given much dimension. The brush strokes for them feel rather wide, and sometimes the emotional context feels kind of forced because of that. Since there’s a limit to how long a book can realistically be, I’ll give that a pass.

Contagious is the resolution of Perry and revelation of at least the critical parts of the invasion plan. What the story lacks in that emotional tension isn’t really lacking, but rather it has shifted the focus onto larger, more frontal lobe sort of fears. The primary mechanic is really pretty simple; we move from being afraid because we know too little, to being afraid because we know too much.

Rather like finally getting ahold of Cthulhu’s day planner, you just rock back and one can’t help but wonder if that was any use at all. Or like knowing a nuke is going to hit your house in ten minutes. It digs into the basic human delusion that information immediately confers power, and confronts you with a scenario that isn’t changed one bit by you being aware of it.

The new element of the plot is Chelsea, the nexus of the new breed. She’s a little girl, seven I believe, and is a great vehicle for holding the nuclear family up to a distorted, oddly polarized lens. While I didn’t find any great  tension in her part, there was sort of a stark examination of the way families interact, and just how a kid experiences it. A perfect example is the spanky spoon. To a parent, such a thing often seems totally reasonable, but to a child it may as well be a dire instrument with flaming heads. This new breed sort of converts you to the other team, and links you up to the mental network of infected, and Chelsea holds the reigns. While not mindless, her father is compelled to punish mommy with the spanky spoon. We don’t know how, again the unknown is used brilliantly, but we do know that mommy now knows exactly the sort of terror she inflicted on her daughter, even though the actual action is presumably more brutal. The inversion of familial power was a great bit, sticking out in my memory even though it’s really a small part of the story.

Long story short I enjoyed the book immensely, but it took me a bit to shift gears. Had there been a longer span between me reading one and the other I would have likely found no flaws whatsoever. So, again, I suggest you run out and buy it. Or stay in and buy it if you’re a shut in.

If you’re a fan of horror, especially horror in the sci-fi vein, then you really need to pick up this book.

Are you familiar with Chekhov’s gun? I now announce Sigler’s chicken scissors. Ok, a photo of him holding said item is the first google result for chicken scissors.

This book is incredibly fun, in a terrifyingly nauseating way. The science is plausible enough to easily suspend your disbelief, and the info dumps are only there when critical plus they’re presented in such a way as to maximize your discomfort. You feel like you have entirely too clear an idea of what’s happening. This is the sort of thing people who keep copying Lovecraft wish they could do.

The absolute best part, for me, is that he manages to take you inside the head of a man being driven insane in such a way that his insane decisions all seem totally plausible. Like if you were working with the same dataset you might just make similar decisions.

I still get nauseous thinking about the poultry scissors. I knew, from the outset, exactly what was going to happen with them, but instead of feeling cheated or let down it just magnified my dread.

Really, you can’t handle being told more. Go buy this book, sit down, cup your warm tender spots, and rock back and forth for a while as you read.

If I can’t convince you with that, surely knowing that the author likes terrible movies will.

Soon I must pick up the sequel, called Contagious.

I think the “and” there is a little misleading. Apparently Bester started this book, then died, and Zelazny was given the chance to finish it. That said, it doesn’t often feel like two authors worked on it in such a divorced state.

The premise of the book is hard to describe, though easy to get into. Mainly it’s tough to describe because it has that really breezy feel you get from old sci-fi, where the author didn’t have a glimmer of a clue how something could be done, but it seemed so plausible to them that it needed to be done. It was the age before we had to deal with info-dumps, which, good or bad, are at least awkward to the author and usually impact pacing.

Enough stalling. The idea is that a journalist is sent to check out a shop that’s rumored to be able to exchange traits. One example is an artist that can see, in a confusing way, the past and future. He ends up trading this dubious gift for the ability to see into much higher and lower parts of the EM spectrum. This premise is great. The journalist, Alf, is great. The guy running the shop is not bad.

A little more about the proprietors of the shop. The head honcho is from far in the future, but has traveled far into the past, even by the standards of Alf’s day, to run this shop. He’s a very human like being, but is actually from a sort of artificially evolved race of cats. The assistant is a woman, also from the future and the past, is from a race of snake beings. She’s described as beautiful, but I don’t see it. All they really go on about is how far apart her eyes are, which isn’t all that cool a feature if you ask me. Also, no breasts or nipples. I’m just sayin’.

Anyway, a few adventures ensue, and a lot of it is very fun. Now, time travel seems to make writers massively fucking lazy. This story is no exception. Turns out that Alf is a Collosoid (which is a hideously stupid name) and has been tracking the cat guy. No, I don’t recall his name, he wasn’t all that interesting. This nonsense about Alf took all the interest away from him too. Essentially he’s a super-human bounty hunter from the future, but had hypnotically blanked his memories to avoid detection. Meh. Having a witty, yet standard issue, human deal with this impossible shit could have been great. Instead, we have super beings fighting.

It’s worth a read, but don’t expect a lot.

I’ve been pondering the various books that I can really say have changed me. Typically these are works that either exposed me to something I hadn’t known before, but identified with on a level which I can only describe as genetic, or challenged me in some fashion.

Here’s mycurrent list, in the order that I recall reading them.

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Showed me the value of taking nothing seriously.

The Great Gatsby – No other book, that I’ve read anyway, has demonstrated the power, and folly, of self delusion and obsession.

I, Robot – Sure, I should have read Frankenstein first, but I didn’t. Still, the idea of a functional, complete being that is treated as monstrous is something I imagine any teenager can relate to. For that matter it’s an idea that’s powerful to me even now, when I examine my inner landscape.

Dune – These books challenged me to think about what it means, what it should mean, to be human, the power and damage of blind(ing) faith, behavioral cycles, and really described a way of looking at the mind as a toolbox. It also laid the foundations for me to understand the Middle Eastern power struggles he drew upon, such as OPEC and the concept of hydraulic despotism, all tied to a culture of zealotry.

The Stars My Destination – A classic of Sci-Fi, illustrating a man’s progress from greedy, selfish animal to a citizen within a social contract. At the end of it all, he rises from his selfish crimes to commit a potentially world destroying crime, one that requires the power brokers of the solar system to own up to what they’ve done, changing soceity into something more honest. The most important thing is that, having done this, he knows it was still a crime, and the he must pay penance, even if the crime yielded something good. I’d say this really exposed me to the idea of moral complexity, as well as generating some feeling of what social contracts are about.

A Book of Five Rings – Distinguishing between strength, cunning, actual strategy, and how often these things are confused with each other, especially by the successful. Another powerful idea is that everything is of the world, so knowing one thing teaches you principles that apply to all things.

Catcher in the Rye – The ending of the book is like slamming your head in a door. It might be just trauma, or there might be meaning, but I can’t really tell and often find myself flipping around what it all meant. This confusion, and uncertainty, is by itself useful. Nothing is worse than absolute certainty.

Armor – I’m pretty sure it’s at least influenced by Batman and Superman, but I certainly won’t hold that against it. It takes a character that is, essentially, monstrous, but only because he is so very human. It describes a form of frustration that is difficult to define in less than a novel, while also demonstrating the cleansing effect of having your ego smashed against someone who is, quite simply, better than you. Not because you can’t be as good, but because what you thought was depth of will was actually a wading pool, and that you merely lacked perspective. The monstrousness comes about because the character, our protagonist, is essentially a tool of vengeance, not a traditional hero. He is constantly running, because the will to live is encoded beyond his control, while another character, truly a classic hero, dies fruitlessly, but not meaninglessly. It’s very complex, and brings up so many little challenges to the self, with a handful of big questions stitched into its very fabric, that I couldn’t help but feel different after reading it.

Blindsight – Talk about challenging. This book peeled back layers inside a version of me that I already thought pretty sparse. I related all too readily for comfort to the semi-sociopathic narrator, and found myself shattering alongside him. Question what being me really is, not just the useless idea of why but really what it all is. I felt lessened after reading it, but all the stronger for having the excess shaved away.

Wow, what a read. Seriously, fucking ignore me and just go buy the damned thing. Oh, sure, I guess if you don’t like science fiction you may not want it, but screw you.

I take some issue with his lines of logic, but not in the usual “Wow, that’s just wrong and dumb” way. It actually challenges the ol’ brain box, but without being inscrutable garbage. The consciousness theory is so complex that he could have bored the shit out of me easily, but it was implemented in the story so well, it was so incredibly critical, that instead it became this powerful and dynamic lever for the story he was telling. The multi-core human was fun, and interesting. Then there’s the vampires.

This is probably the only thing I really take any strong issue with. It doesn’t get in the way of the story, and it’s just shy enough of total bullshit that it didn’t take me out of the story, but I still never really bought some of it. Specifically the undead state bit, which he relates to the hibernation you find in at least some varieties of lungfish. My issue so much the concept, but the driving force behind its evolution, which is to say a food source that reproduces at about the same rate as it does. We being food because they lack the ability to synthesise a critical bit of biochemistry. Anyway. It rings a little forced to me. Usually, from my admittedly limited understanding, predators are exceptionally territorial for this very reason. Also, just how the hell would such a parallel predator ever take off to begin with? By this I mean the fact that it’s an offshoot of humans, so it seems like there wouldn’t be enough room, but rather some early man would go “That’s one fucked up baby” and kill the child on the spot. Repeat for every occurrence of such a child. It isn’t like one lucky survivor could go off by itself, since it absolutely needs to feed from humans. Then you have to believe that there’s enough generations in there, someplace, and enough mutation to end up with an unholy collection of adaptations right before going extinct.

Like I said, however, it didn’t bug me enough to mind, and it gave the story some essential tools. Also, as you can see, even the bit I didn’t really care for has made me stop and think, which is a wonderful thing.

He also has a blog, if anyone ever comes here and actually reads this.

Wandering through the library I spied this and immediately thought “There was a book?!”, because I’m such a clever guy.

It’s short. Real short. As you can see, it was supposedly written by two guys. It wasn’t bad, per se, but I have no idea how it stuck in anyone’s mind long enough to end being made into a movie. There’s virtually no description of anything, and it rings the gong on the “young people have ruined it all” note far too frequently for you to end up caring.

So. Worth a read, if no reason other than to compare to the film, but don’t expect it to have anything to chew on.

The emotional quality of this book is amazing. At least the first half, the second half is a little… Zardozish. That isn’t really accurate, but it’ll do.

Unlike Zardoz, this is worth going through. It’s a sci-fi story from 1953, with an interesting concept and some great insights. In the first half. Unlike Armor, where the second half was eventually so very worth it, this just dissolves into the same territory so much sci-fi of the era does.

The book, if nothing else, reinforced my belief that prose is superior to poetry for conveying a feeling. Poetry is too concerned with structure, and people that write it are too concerned with playing at word games to make an impact. I generalize, naturally, but that’s the overall view I have. Word games are fun, to be sure, but people always talk about it conveying feelings. Compare any damned thing you like with this for bringing across a deep depression conveyed by isolation-

“The sap falls and the bear sleeps and the birds fly south, all doing it together, not because they are all members of the same thing, but only because they are all solitary things hurt by the same thing.”

I mean, that’s just brilliant. Thankfully I was already depressed, so it just put a slight edge to it.

Go, any who find this, and read it. The damned thing breaks down, but it was such an early time for the genre that everyone felt they had to shoot for utopia.

Good lord what a piece of shit.

No, seriously. If someone gives you this book, I’d suggest you only hang onto it for starting fires. It’s some ok to pretty good artwork filled with the author jerkin’ his Jesus complex over and over.

The premise: A blue light shrinks everyone down. Adults average six inches tall.

As premises go it isn’t really bad, but the writing is. Everyone freaks out, and I do mean everyone. Except for the precognitive son of some dude in an office building. See previous reference to Jesus Jerkin. I don’t know about you, but I’d be way more concerned if I was the only one shrunk. I have enough self-image issues. But no, we’re expected to believe that mankind would devolve to barbarism and tribalism within an afternoon because of this. It just doesn’t wash. A good writer could probably suspend disbelief enough to play with the concept, but that isn’t what we get here.

In the short- Boring, bible thumping garbage without a single thing to recommend it. People ooh and ahh over the artwork, but it really isn’t all that impressive. Some panels are good, most are about average. We can only hope the author accidentally strangles himself while flogging the bishop over his Left Behind collection.

The real horror- It’s already optioned as a movie.

I think that last name is keeping this dude down. I can’t even look directly at it without feeling a little vertigo.

As I read this I found myself thinking “Huh, Michael Clayton in space“. This isn’t really fair, but it’s not really that far off either.

It’s set in a pretty believable future, with nothing on that score to niggle at me. I know, obviously my hate machine is slowing down with old age, right? Just wait until I bother to talk about Brian Aldiss here, that’ll convince you otherwise. The setting is the moon, where the five mega-corporations of the future have created a large settlement that seems to be equal parts industrial park and tourist trap.

The first scene in the book is the only one that bothers me. One of, if not the, primary characters has arrived on the moon and is awaiting an overdue escort. Another fellow makes conversation with him, which, towards the end is becoming somewhat strange in its forced “hey let’s go hang out buddy” tones. Then another fellow flanks the main character, sits silently for a few minutes, then starts talking to the other random dude, both trying to sweep our main man off to parts unknown.

I don’t know about you, but by this point I’d have gotten the fuck out of Dodge, yet our main man never even acknowledges that this episode seems entirely like an attempt to roll a man with obvious resources.

If you can let that slide you’ll be treated to some great characters. The book builds slowly, but strongly, with only a few times where I felt something was a misstep. Characters don’t grow so much as they’re revealed, like watching someone carve a statue from raw stone, and by the end I was surprised by the revelations, yet they remained totally believable.

I look forward to digging up the next book.