Sunday 27 October 2019

Alrightreads: Dawn of the Dick

PKD's early sci-fi novels. Written 1953–55.


Philip K. Dick, Vulcan's Hammer

1960 / Audiobook / 139 pages / USA

**

Whether or not it was really the first sci-fi novel he wrote, as Wikipedia's dubious bibliography claims, this is clearly a less assured writer expanding his prescient short story about AIs stealing AIs' jobs by throwing in generic sci-fi action rather than idisyncratic oddities. The uncharacteristically straightforward and methodical plot is refreshing, but lightweight.


Philip K. Dick, Dr. Futurity

1960 / Audiobook / 138 pages / USA

***

Heady themes like ethnic cleansing and euthenasia are the subjects of this early PKDystopia, dealt with in very trivial ways. Then our blacked-up hero goes on a pulpy time travel adventure featuring a literal time's arrow and it gets more fun.


Philip K. Dick, The Cosmic Puppets

1957 / Audiobook / 127 pages / USA

***

Like a precognitive audition for The Twilight Zone, this short early novel of suburban cosmic horror has very few of what would become established as PKD tropes, helping it to stand out in the canon if not the genre.


Philip K. Dick, Solar Lottery (a.k.a. World of Chance)

1955 / Audiobook / 188 pages / USA

***

The first distinctively PKD novel, its pot-luck dystopia is more satirical than credible, but could have been a classic with more recognition in the lottery of fame. The disparate plot strands don't pull together all that well, but that's the case for a lot of his books, even with experience. It's a lottery.


Philip K. Dick, The World Jones Made

1956 / Audiobook / 192 pages / USA

***

A particularly dark and philosophical work exploring moral relativism and determinism, lightened somewhat by compulsory aliens because it's the fifties.


Philip K. Dick, The Man Who Japed

1956 / Audiobook / 160 pages / USA

***

The satirical fascist dystopia is slowly maturing, but not as tangible as they'll be later, feeling much like the contemporary '50s but with interstellar travel and borrowing from Bradbury. You can probably read more into this tale of futile rebellion than the author concerned himself with when bashing out words for food.