Whether unjustly or not, no other science fiction author has been as closely linked to the 1960s drug culture--at least in the public eye--as Philip K. Dick...and understandably so. From the San Francisco bar in "The World Jones Made" (1956) that dispensed pot and heroin, to the Bureau of Psychedelic Research in "The Ganymede Takeover" (1966); from the amphetamine and LSD use in "Ubik" (1969) to the afterlife description in "A Maze of Death" (1970) that Dick mentions was based on one of his own LSD trips; from the time travel narcotic JJ-180 in "Now Wait For Last Year" (1966) to the drugbars in "Our Friends From Frolix-8" (1970); from the Can-D and Chew-Z drugs in "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch" (1966) to the outré acid trip featured in "Lies, Inc." (1983); from the discussions on LSD, peyote and "magic mushrooms" in "The Zap Gun" (1967) to the mescaline trip depicted in "Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said" (1974), no other sci-fi author has ventured to incorporate so many mind-altering substances into his oeuvre as Philip K. Dick. And Phil, of course, knew whereof he spoke. His prodigious output of the mid-'60s was assisted by prescription amphetamines, a dependency that later morphed into a speed addiction, and, as mentioned earlier, the man also dabbled in psychedelics (acid, mescaline) and was a casual smoker of pot and hashish. In between marriages (and Phil ultimately married five times), Dick would often consort and cohabitate with a motley collection of drugees, with whom he apparently enjoyed "partying hearty." But disillusionment soon set in, as the drug casualties around him mounted, leading to a change of heart in Dick as regards recreational substances, and the creation of his 32nd sci-fi novel, "A Scanner Darkly." As revealed in biographer Lawrence Sutin’s "Divine Invasions," Dick wrote this scathing anti-drug novel from February to April 1973 and revised it extensively in the summer of '75; the book was ultimately released in '77--his first since "Flow My Tears" and his last work before the VALIS trilogy, which was completed shortly before his untimely death in 1982--and stands as one of its author’s most heartfelt works, though its claims to belonging to the sci-fi genre are only slight.In the book, which transpires in the futuristic SoCal world of, uh, 1994, we meet an undercover narc whose name may or may not be Bob Arctor. So literally undercover that even his fellow police officers cannot see his face (in one of the book’s few sci-fi trappings, Arctor wears a so-called "scramble suit" to conceal his identity from both his coworkers and any possible department infiltrators), he is given the assignment of spying on the home of...Bob Arctor, a drug user who lives with two other suspicious characters, Barris and Luckman. Arctor, it seems, is addicted to the new drug of choice on the street, Substance D (short for "Death"). And if spying on his own house and roommates for the cops, with the assistance of 3-D holographic scanning devices, weren’t enough of a problem for Arctor, his plight is made even worse when Substance D starts to divide the two hemispheres of his mind, leading to a very skewed perception of reality, to put it mildly! As he rapidly approaches the burnout point, unable to get assistance from his drug-pushing friend Donna Hawthorne or his other, equally toasted acquaintances, Arctor has the devil of a time figuring out what is "real" and what is not; yes, still another Dickian character caught up in the tricky predicament of peering behind the curtain of "reality" to ascertain a possibly deeper truth. But can poor Arctor do so before the point of ultimate mental fizzle?Although it deals with Dick’s pet theme of the elusiveness of "reality" while taking a 180-degree turn in its outlook on drugs, "A Scanner Darkly" does not touch on several other of its author’s favorite topics. There is no mention of cigars or divorce, and only one mention of opera/classical music (a passing reference to the Mime character in "Siegfried"), although Dick’s penchant for the German language IS given a thorough workout here, with many Arctor ruminations in that language. And for some obscure reason, Dick seems to have a mania for cars in this work, and includes many discussions amongst Arctor and his pals regarding automotive repair; various types of cars--be it an MG, Karmann Ghia, Torino, Dodge, Corvette, Oldsmobile, Ranchero, Falcon, Ferrari, Chevy, Camaro, "Ford Imperator," Aston Martin, Henway, Mustang or Lincoln--are casually mentioned throughout the book. Dick seems to have had a "thang" for young brunette women, especially those of the precocious teenage variety, and here, the Donna character makes a fine addition to Dick’s brunette pantheon. Besides his own drug history, Dick seems to make reference to his legendary "pink light incident" of 2/20/74 ("some small thing seen but not understood, some fragment of a star mixed with the trash of this world") and his own problems with "pyloric spasms." As usual with him, he creates his own futuristic slang words (such as "dingey" and "gunjey"), although the drug passingly referred to as "quaak" just might be an homage to the substance called "quap" in the 1909 H.G. Wells masterpiece "Tono-Bungay."As mentioned, "A Scanner Darkly" is passionately written by its author, with several beautifully composed passages and tender moments. Take, for example, the small scene in which the aloof Donna, with whom Arctor is hopelessly in love, touches his hand: "In all the years of his life ahead, the long years without her, with never seeing her or hearing from her or knowing anything about her, if she was alive or happy or dead or what, that touch stayed locked within him, sealed in himself, and never went away. That one touch of her hand." Happy to say, "A Scanner Darkly" does not contain as many "Dick boners" as usual, from this notoriously sloppy writer. Still, a close reading DOES reveal some. The sun is said to be shining at 2 a.m. in one early scene; a "cephscope" is said to cost $900 in one section and $1,000 in another; and Donna expresses a desire to see all 11 (!) Planet of the Apes flicks, which are playing at a drive-in from 7:30 p.m. to 8 a.m. Only 12½ hours for an 11-movie marathon? But these are minor matters, in a book that turns out to be so very humorous in parts (some of the stoned-out conversations are as hilarious as they are sad) and deeply touching in others. Dick even manages to work in three genuine surprises toward his novel’s end, as regards the Donna character, the rehab clinic where Arctor winds up, and the provenance of Substance D."A Scanner Darkly" may be a hard book to love, filled as it is with mostly unlikable characters, grim situations and a fairly downbeat ending--the book also seems to be rather loosely put together--but as always, Dick’s sympathy for his "little-man" characters comes through winningly. And in a coda almost as touching as Steven Spielberg bringing out those real-life Holocaust survivors at the tail end of "Schindler’s List," Dick gives us his own list of 15 of his friends who had met ill ends because of their drug use ("To Gaylene, deceased; To Ray, deceased")...including himself ("Phil, permanent pancreatic damage"). This is a book, Phil tells us in his Author’s Note, narrated "from the deepest part of my life and heart." For all the drug casualties that he had known, Phil dedicated this work; as Arctor ponders with what little mind he has left, "In wretched little lives like that, someone must intervene. Or at least mark their sad comings and goings. Mark and if possible permanently record, so they’ll be remembered. For a better day, later on, when people will understand...."(This review originally appeared on the Fantasy Literature website -- http://www.fantasyliterature.com/ -- a great destination for fans of all things Dick....)
Der dunkle Schirm ist im Prinzip in wenigen Elementen ein Science Fiction Roman sondern eher ein Zeitbild der Nach-Hippie-Nixon Ära. Nichtdestotrotz ist er prophetischer und aktueller als viele Werke, denn er thematisiert die totale Überwachung des Bürgers durch den Staat, ihre Folgen, und den kompletten Zerfall von Menschen, die im Drogensumpf landen. Im Prinzip gibt es in der Geschichte Spießer, die sich an den repressiven Staat angepasst haben und Revoluzzer, die rebellieren, bedauerlicherweise aber alle drogensüchtig sind. Dazwischen operieren vom Staat angestellte Undercover Agenten, die in beiden Welten zu Hause sind und ständig mehrere Rollen spielen. „Robert Arctor starrte die Spießer in ihren fetten Anzügen, ihren fetten Krawatten und ihren fetten Schuhen an und dachte: Substanz T kann ihre Gehirne nicht zerstören, denn sie haben keine.“Auch wenn die Story auf die Nixon Ära Bezug nimmt, ist sie aktueller denn je, wenn man die ganzen USA/NSA-Bespitzelungen in letzter Zeit Revue passieren lässt. Dick sagte 1972 in Vancouver: „Wenn der Prozess andauert und wir ein totalitäres Gesellschaftssystem mit einem allmächtigen Staatsapparat bekommen, wäre folgende Ethik am wichtigsten für das Überleben von wahren, freien Menschen: betrügen, lügen, sich drücken, schwindeln, abwesend sein, gefälschte Papiere besitzen und in der Garage Apparate stehen haben, die die von den Herrschenden benutzten Geräte überlisten.“Wie prophetisch - eine der wenigen Science Fiction Ideen im Roman, der Jedermann Anzug, auf dessen Oberfläche unterschiedliche gemorphte physiognomische Schemata in schneller Abfolge projiziert werden, um den Träger für die Überwachungsgeräte unidentifizierbar zu machen, wurde heuer von der Realität eingeholt. Adam Harvey hat 2015 eine Modelinie entworfen, die Stealth Wear heißt und die den Träger vor Gesichtserkennung schützt. Reflektierende Stoffe, die Kameras, Körperscanner, Gesichtserkennungssoftware... verwirren hier geht es zur Website des Künstlers Außerdem wird in Wien im Museumsquartier gerade eine Ausstellung zu dieser Mode von Harvey bis 24. November gezeigt. Am 26. Oktober unserem Staatsfeiertag gibt es einen Workshop mit dem Künstler, in dem Make-Up Tricks gezeigt werden, wie man die allgegenwärtige Gesichtserkennung mit Schminke und Haarteilen austrickst. Artikel im Spiegel In der Geschichte schlittert der Drogenfahnder Bob Arctor durch seine Untercoveraktivität, durch den Zwang mehrere Rollen konsistent spielen zu müssen, durch die ständige Überwachung, durch den Drogenkonsum, der daraus resultierende echte und eingebildete Verfolgungswahn und die Unfähigkeit beide voneinander zu trennen, in eine immer größere Identitätskrise. Als er dann als anonymer Undercover-Agent auch noch beauftragt wird, sich selbst zu überwachen, kann er nicht mehr feststellen, welche Identität ihn selbst ausmacht. Er driftet durch seine Rolle und den hohen Drogenkonsum, den er zur Aufrechterhaltung seiner Tarnidentität pflegen muss, nach und nach in eine massive Persönlichkeitsspaltung ab. Minutiös wird der Weg von einem mehr oder weniger gesunden Menschen, Schritt um Schritt in eine völlig zerstörte wahnhafte Persönlichkeit mit massiven Hirnschädigungen beschrieben. Dies betrifft nicht nur den Hauptakteur der Geschichte, sondern die gesamte Clique, die bei ihren langatmigen, sinnlosen Drogengesprächen bis zu ihren paranoiden Schüben genauestens beobachtet wird. Ganz gezielt spielt Dick mit Realität und Paranoia und verwischt die Grenzen absichtlich und meisterhaft. Zu zwei Drittel der Story war sogar ich als unbeteiligter Leser davon überzeugt, dass alle Drogensüchtigen in der Clique Drogenfahnder sind, die sich gegenseitig überwachen und vernadern. Am Ende kommt zwangsläufig der Zusammenbruch durch die massive Hirnschädigung und Bob/Fred/Bruce landet in einer Entzugsklinik. Hier erfährt die Geschichte, so wie ich es bei Philip K. Dick liebe, nochmals eine unerwartete Wendung in der Handlung. Mehr möchte ich nicht mehr verraten. :-)Fazit: Der Roman ist grandios, dennoch bekommt er von mir einen Stern Abzug, da er auf weiten Strecken gar so heavy, wahnhaft und pessimistisch ist. Das ist aber nur mein persönlicher Geschmack. Ein Meisterwerk!
Do You like book A Scanner Darkly (2006)?
I like P.K. Dick, but this just plain sucked. No narrative tension, the writing is awful (I would quote some of it as proof, but I already got rid of my copy), and the most potentially exciting elements of the book (drug subculture and its lingo and take on friendship, multiple identities) are handled with the zest and elegance of a cut-rate rectal exam. Does that analogy even make sense? I don't think so, but neither did this book.I've heard this was the first book he wrote after he kicked drugs - which I certainly hope is not true because the book is decidedly un-hip for all its attempts to be otherwise. Usually Dick's weaker writing is forgivable because you can see him grasping at too many ideas; he's trying to cram so much into one story that his prose cannot contain the inventiveness. But with "A Scanner Darkly" you can see him trying to cash in on his drug experiences and years of paranoia but coming up with nothing.
—Will
The first PKD that I've read & it's a 3.5* for me.So we've got a bunch of all play no work mentality junkies,to be-vegetables,burned out dopers....paranoid heads whatever you want to call them.All of them love different dope,the foxy chick Donna prefers Hash/Opium but is also addicted to coke which she plans to hide in her snatch when she'll be crossing borders.Barris is the geek/nerd doper always reading & snobbish,whose on Mushrooms & maybe selling fake dope (view spoiler)[and we never get to know what he was really up-to (hide spoiler)]
—Mohnish
1Corinthians 13 1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. 4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; 6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. I thought I'd put the whole thing in there.I liked the book, but it's a druggie book. A very clever druggie book, which analyzes the slow slide of people from the middle-class who slowly rot into compost because they wanted some Nirvana. Reality isnt good enough or too painful or boring and drugs are fast and easy, but addiction sneaks up on them. PDK, who I adore and I'm a huge fan, throws in a bit of meta self-analysis through the mechanism of a made up drug called Substance D, which bifurcates the brain so that the left hemisphere can't communicate or synthesize information with the right hemisphere of the brain. This bifurcation is an actual condition, which in 1977, when this book was written, was being studied. Surgeons were cutting out brain parts which allowed the two brain hemispheres to communicate in an effort to save the lives of some epileptics. Scientists had developed tests that allowed them to see the odd functioning of the brain after this surgery. PDK uses some of the real effects of this surgery to highlight how drugs, especially his Substance D (D is for death), can appear to reveal insight into the self while in actuality the drug is eating your brain.I'm not the best person to write opinions about addiction because I don't have understanding opinions, because I don't have the classic addictive personality. I smoked cigarettes for 11 years, and it was a BITCH to quit, but when the benefits became less than than costs, I quit. I couldn't do it cold turkey, I had to substitute. I loved a certain brand, so I switched to a brand I hated, but with the same nicotine content. Over two years, I kept switching brands to lower and lower nicotine brands until the nicotine was down to 2 mm, which is the same as the gum. Then I went to the gum. To my complete shock and surprise, I needed to chew three pieces for half a day, while drinking coffee, and suddenly I was done with cigarettes. I got really good at spinning pens because I needed to have a pen in my fingers to play with. Later, I returned to knitting and crochet, and now I'm a medium good knitter. My only other vice (that I know of - looking in my glass, darkly) is books, which seems to be about MY boredom, fears, angst, etc. with reality. Like most big city childhoods, drugs were in the air I breathed growing up, but seeing the living wreckage sleeping it off in city alleyways as well as the after school parties where my friends woke up not remembering where their cars were or who the fathers were of their unexpected early pregnancies (goodbye college), it did not appeal. Whenever I was bored, I read a book. Whenever I was angry, I ran around the track or the block. Later, because druggies are - ALL - pushers, when I tried stuff, it made me puking sick, and I couldn't read. Being by nature a wimp, I learned how to dump things down sinks and into potted plants and the names of clear drinks that appeared to also be water, which I was actually drinking. I learned to hold capsules in my cheek, which I followed up by clapping my hand to mouth to laugh explosively, spitting out whatever. As a result of my efforts to avoid the dreadful puking, head-spinning and awful sickness, aching and sweating suckness of drug use, I was shocked and entertained by the behaviors of my peers out of their minds with what they saw as pleasure, and I saw as good material for stories. Sometimes they were insane and unable to settle, off and running to do 'fun' stuff like tear up the school grounds (and my track, GD them!) with their cars, or sat around asleep for 4 hours while I read a book on the couch, watching them drool, piss, or shit or eat ten bags of chitos. Interesting. However, I was finished being charitable when I came home and my roommate had my cat in a paper bag, trapped, and he was being forced to breathe hashish smoke being blown into the bag. He never was ok, but mental after that, and he ended up being put to sleep. The music stopped for me.I can still fake having charity to the druggies, out of politeness.I'm not a teetotaler, or against recreational usage, but I REALLY can stop after one.
—aPriL does feral sometimes
