Wine of the Dreamers by John D. MacDonald

As Joachim Boaz reminded us on twitter, February 24 was famed SF artist Richard M. Powers' birthday.  By coincidence, just two days earlier, I had purchased at Half-Price Books the 1979 Fawcett paperback edition of John D. MacDonald's 1951 novel Wine of the Dreamers, largely because of the very engaging cover painting by Powers.  This piece is becoming one of my favorite things by Powers.

I'd never read anything by MacDonald, who, I guess, is primarily famous for writing mystery novels about a Florida detective who owns a boat.  Still, I try to be open to new literary experiences, and so this week I read Wine of the Dreamers.

MacDonald sets his novel some 25 years in the future, in 1975.  Society has become more permissive; female promiscuity is the norm, divorce is common, and a drugged soft drink that heightens perceptions is as popular as Coca Cola.  The radio news is full of stories of strange crimes - when the perpetrators are apprehended, they claim they have no idea why they were acting so strangely and irresponsibly.

The main characters on Earth are on the staff of a major joint military-civilian project, the construction of a star ship.  One of the most dedicated physicists on the project suddenly assaults the security personnel and smashes some delicate equipment, setting the project back four months!

The reader immediately knows, of course, that aliens or some other beings are entering Earth people's minds and causing mischief.  MacDonald's Earth characters - heroic scientists, a sexy female psychologist, and duplicitous careerist military men - are pretty boring, so it is fortunate for the reader that the chapters about the alien Watchers are pretty good.  These Watchers are human, but small in number, inbred and, for the most part, ignorant and physically feeble.  They live in a large building that robotically provides food, and which most of them think is the entire universe.  Illiterate and decadent, they kill time by laying down in booths and sending their minds across the galaxy to planets, including Earth, where they temporarily control the inhabitants.  Almost all the Watchers think the people they control and the worlds they explore are fictional "dreams" generated by a computer, and so they blithely direct the people they control to commit murder, suicide and all manner of mayhem.

A few Watchers, including a brother and sister who are more robust and brave than the rest and have gone to the unused corridors and learned to read the dusty books there, have an inkling that the people in the "dreams" are real.  When the literate Watchers try to contact the Earth scientists and to stop the Watchers from abusing Earthlings, there is trouble both on Earth and in the crazy Watcher society.  Eventually the kinds of paradigm shifts we often see in science fiction novels follow.
 
The whole "aliens taking over peoples' bodies for fun" bit is similar to Robert Silverberg's 1968 story "Passengers," which won a Nebula.  MacDonald also includes in the book the technique Silverberg had at the center of his novel The Second Trip - the government can erase the personalities of criminals or the mentally ill and install in their minds fictional memories and "healthy" personalities.      

This edition of Wine of the Dreamers includes a 1968 afterword in which MacDonald expresses contempt for science fiction and the science fiction community and brags about how prescient Wine of the Dreamers is.  He also claims that mankind's technology has been unable to improve the human condition or make life a more rewarding experience, which seems silly.  Thanks to modern sanitation, transportation, and communications technology, life in the West was obviously much better, materially and culturally, in 1968 than in 1868 or 1768.

Even though I found the afterword annoying, Wine of the Dreamers is a moderately good novel and an interesting piece of 1950s SF.  If I blunder across Ballroom of the Skies, MacDonald's other 1950s SF novel, for sale for the same price I paid for this one, I will probably buy it.      

The Reefs of Earth by R. A. Lafferty

This 1968 novel, like the other Lafferty works I have read, is unconventional, a bizarre fable or fairy tale full of silly jokes that disregards believability, character development, pacing, and other typical literary concerns. The book is punctuated by brief tall tales told by the characters and includes numerous references to some of Lafferty’s particular interests, Christian theology and Native American Indian history and lore. Lafferty also takes swipes at government welfare and agricultural policies and government inefficiency and corruption in general; it is notable that Reefs of Earth was a preliminary nominee for the 1984 Prometheus Award Hall of Fame for Best Classic Libertarian SF Novel.

I read the 1977 Berkley Medallion paperback, with the Richard Powers cover. The last four pages contain advertising for the works of Robert Howard, Poul Anderson, Robert Heinlein and Frank Herbert, including a listing for the 1978 Dune Calendar by John Schoenherr.

Reefs of Earth is the story of the Dulanty family, four adults and seven children (or, perhaps more accurately, six children and one ghost child) who are members of the alien race known as the Puca. The Dulantys were sent to Earth to scout around, learn Earth culture, and perhaps solve the problem presented by Earth. Earth, we are told repeatedly, is the meanest, scariest, stupidest planet in the universe, and most of the human characters act as evidence for these assertions. Exceptions are made for some humans, including American Indians, a priest, and the writer of The Gospel According to Luke. The bulk of the novel takes place in and around the small rural town of Lost Haven, site of a coal mine and a commercial fishery.  Lost Haven is run by three murderously corrupt men: Coalfactor Stutgard, his right hand man Crocker, and lawyer and politician Mandrake Marshall.

The Puca can pass for human, but most look odd - we are told their features resemble those of goblins, ogres, or kobolds. The alienness of their appearance waxes and wanes depending on their mood or health. The Puca have great power; their Bagarthach verses, when recited, can (among other things) bring inanimate objects to life and kill humans. Lafferty includes many of these four line poems in the text, and it seems that he wrote them to be intentionally bad, for humor value.

Despite their superiority to humans, the Puca have a very difficult time on Earth, being susceptible to “Earth Allergy.” This malady, to which the adults are particularly vulnerable, leads to weakness and death, and during its course it causes terrible psychological damage; Puca afflicted with Earth Allergy may sour on life, become unwilling to forgive trifles, and even begin to fear death as humans do.  Healthy Puca understand, of course, that death is simply the passage to a new and exciting period of existence.  As in The Devil is Dead, in this Lafferty novel there are numerous references to life after death.

The four adult Puca are incapacitated early in the story, due to death, illness, and incarceration by the authorities on trumped-up charges. The seven children set off on their own to avoid being scooped up by the welfare system. They buy the town drunk’s raft with a stolen bottle of whisky, and, accompanied by the drunk’s goat, set sail on the ambitious mission they have set themselves: the mission of exterminating all human life on Earth.

The Puca children, despite their best efforts, never actually manage to kill anyone, though they do cause lots of property damage and are pursued by the authorities. Indians (some alive, some dead) help the children evade capture. Meanwhile, the two male adult Puca, also aided by Indians, contend with Stutgard, Crocker and Marshall. There is a jailbreak, a blistering chase, and a violent showdown, and in the end all of the adult Puca, as well as Stutgard, Crocker, and Marshall, are dead. The six children (the ghost child has vanished), have been matured by their adventure, and when they sail away from the newly liberated Lost Haven, they are still intent on fixing the Earth, but have decided to try to do so without killing all of mankind.

What to say about such an odd piece of work? It is entertaining, and its inherent strangeness makes it engaging and novel, so I can recommend it, but as far as ideas, plot, or characters (the most well-realized and interesting character is Mandrake Marshall, the lead villain) are concerned, there is not much going on. Maybe I am missing some allusions to the Bible or to Irish or Indian folklore, and there is more going on than I realize. So, a recommendation, but a conditional one.

Trader to the Stars by Poul Anderson

Poul Anderson is one of the famous “deans” or “grand masters” of science fiction, having had a long glorious career, written dozens of books and won millions of fans.  My attitude towards Anderson’s work has always been mixed; I almost always like his plots and his point of view, but his style is never better than average, and his later work can feel terribly bloated.  In September in an Ames, Iowa used bookstore I picked up the 1976 Berkley paperback of Anderson’s Trader to the Stars (Z3199) which has a red Powers cover and blurbs declaring Anderson to be the most popular SF author.  

(I sometimes wonder about these Powers covers: why would marketing people think such an abstract piece would sell more copies than a realistic depiction of Nicholas Van Rijn, or of a space ship, or bizarre aliens, or men and/or women tensely gripping blasters?  Powers himself could paint and draw attractive and realistic people and space ships, as he did in profusion for Heinlein’s lamentable Number of the Beast – why not instruct him to? Maybe the abstract Powers covers were an effort to appeal to a more sophisticated audience?  Maybe the publisher knew the book would sell based on Anderson’s name, and used the abstract cover to save people embarrassment at the checkout counter or on the subway?  I know when I was on the New York subway I would wave a volume of Proust around like a banner, but bend and crush a Mickey Spillane collection all out of shape to make sure the cover was invisible.)

The bulk of the book consists of three stories featuring Nicholas Van Rijn, interstellar merchant during a period of history in which human beings are expanding their reach throughout the universe, meeting and trading with dozens of intelligent alien races.  There are also brief philosophical/historical passages that present a sort of background for the stories' libertarian capitalist setting.

I have to admit I expected Nicholas Van Rijn to be a slender or muscular hero type, either hard-bitten and blunt or sophisticated and flippant.  So I was surprised to discover he was an obese (we are told he has numerous chins) gourmand and lecher who splutters and complains at his employees like a sitcom boss.  This was an interesting surprise, though I did find Van Rijn's accent and speech patterns more irritating than amusing.   

“Hiding Place,” the first story in Trader to the Stars, has detective story elements, and a charming gimmick: the human crew of Van Rijn’s vessel have a brief period of time to figure out which group of alien creatures on a zoo ship are the intelligent beings who have the information they need to escape death at the hands of space pirates.  This is a particular challenge because the intelligent aliens have mistaken the protagonists for the murderous pirates, and are trying to hide every indication of their intelligence.  This is a fun and appealing story.  The intelligent alien race turns out to be quite reminiscent of the aliens described by Burroughs in Chessmen of Mars, written in 1921, making me wonder if Anderson had read that work.

I found the other two stories in Trader to the Stars, “Territory” and “Master Key,” less appealing and less memorable.  In both of them Anderson painstakingly develops preindustrial alien societies with complex social relationships, but the details about these societies faded from my mind as soon as I finished reading the story.

In “Territory,” Van Rijn is center stage, marooned on an alien planet when the spear-wielding natives rise up and drive off all the humans save him and a beautiful female do-gooder.  Van Rijn figures out the natives’ culture and society, gains their respect by defeating their champion in hand to hand combat, and then negotiates a business deal which will benefit himself and the natives, making Anderson’s point that private business and the profit motive are a better way to solve problems and order life than government and charity.  “The Master Key” has two first person narrators, a man who is visiting Van Rijn in his luxurious apartment and a Van Rijn employee who relates the main story, which is about his difficult experiences trying to establish trade with the natives on a newly discovered planet.  So sagacious is Van Rijn that he is able to figure out what makes the alien society tick just from his employee’s description.  Then Van Rijn passionately laments that most people do not truly desire freedom and independence, but prefer to be told what to do, provided for, and protected from others and from themselves.

Trader to the Stars is a readable, enjoyable, but average SF book, distinctive only because of its libertarian sensibilities, which will endear it to some but irritate others, and because its hero is fat (though being fat doesn't stop him from outfighting other men and getting the girl.)

"World Without Children" by Damon Knight

Today I read the 1970 version of “World Without Children,” a 65 page story by Damon Knight.  I’m not crazy about Knight’s fiction, and I bought the anthology it is in (Lancer 74-601) largely because I loved the cover, which I thought at the time was by Richard Powers. Like everybody, I like Richard Powers’ work, but I often find it flat and cold, lacking in depth and in emotion.  But this cover, I thought, overcame those criticisms: the sphere and the bizarre figure both have a three-dimensionality to them, and the figure and colors used provoke strong emotions of fear and dread, mystery and unease.  A few minutes research online today suggests that nobody knows who painted this masterpiece, but whether this cover is by Powers or not, I love it.

As for the story “World Without Children”, it is mediocre.  In the middle of the 20^th century, some 300 years ago, man achieved immortality, but to control population pressures having children is now forbidden – taking birth control pills is mandated for both sexes by the world government.  But a scientist has just discovered that the human race is going totally sterile – if the human race is to avoid extinction, the small percentage of people still fertile must start breeding, and fast!  The world government will not allow this, as it is believed that any population growth will lead to such upheavals as wars, famines, and revolutions, so the scientists must participate in spy fiction shenanigans, like fleeing from the police, using coded messages, having secret meetings in restaurants and safe houses, etc.  

All this is kind of boring, but even worse is the ending, when it is revealed that women have been secretly having babies, millions of them, so the whole sterility/extinction issue is moot, and when a minor character off screen convinces the world government to stop chasing the scientists.  Ugh.  

Not only is the story a nonsensical drag, but sensitive types will likely find the joke on page 49 to be homophobic and the ending speech to be sexist.  

The most interesting thing in the story is the idea that Pablo Picasso and Greta Garbo are still alive after 300 years and still producing work – what kind of art would a talented person with 300 years of experience come up with?  Knight, pessimistically, suggests that an artist who was in his or her fourth century would create work that was stale and tired.  Bummer!