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doctortdm's review against another edition
4.0
An intriguing story which ends with a perspective on what is important in human life.
doctortdm's review
4.0
An intriguing story which ends with a perspective on what is important in human life.
metaphorosis's review
3.0
reviews.metaphorosis.com
3.5 stars
Edmond Hall, born a mutant with too many joints in his fingers and a double mind, tries to find a purpose in a society of humans. While pondering whether he's a superman or the devil, he explores pleasure, power, and passion.
This is not a warm and fuzzy story, but it is a good example of science fiction with a purpose. Stanley Weinbaum envisions a superior human, and does his best to imagine what such a man would do in human society. The process is methodically thought through, and Weinbaum sticks to his script most of the way through. The result is a reasonably credible and interesting speculation on what an unheralded superman might do with his time.
Weinbaum lets his strictures slip slightly at the end in order to introduce some drama and to illustrate the dangers of hubris, but he does so smoothly enough that it works. Even in this slippage, his narrator is fairly consistent. The chapter titles as well demonstrate a keen, dry sense of humor at work.
All in all, a good example of thought-experiment SF, and worth reading.
sophiaforever's review against another edition
2.0
So bad it's good? Not quite though it is quite awful. This book is bonkers. It's like if Sheldon from Big Bang Theory wrote a book in which he was the main character. The author goes far out of his way to tell you how smart and perfect and above other humans this guy is. The author does this by spending the first 30 pages telling you "This guy is a stereotype autistic savant." On page 30 he invents a new way to generate electricity b/c he's just that smart. On page 34, he sells said technology then commits insider trading to amass a large amount of wealth. The way this is presented is kinda in a way of "Why doesn't everyone do this?" but I can assure you, there were insider trading laws in 1939.
From there the guy decides he wants a wife and instead of courting a woman and building a relationship built upon mutual respect hegaslights her uses his amazing brain to will her into loving him. The character is a huge asshole and lords his intellect over people who are "driven by emotions."
Here's the part that kinda throws you for a loop: All of the other characters in the book are constantly taking the piss out of him. They know he's not hot shit. They know he's really smart but they constantly affirm that that doesn't make him special. Okay, so the author is making a comment on how intellect isn't everything and you need humanity to balance it out right? Except I'm not so sure because despite all the other characters giving him the side-eye, everything ALWAYS works out for this guy. He's never given any sort of comeuppance about his behavior other than people thinking he's sort of weird and by the end of the book he's not in any way remorseful or punished for his behavior .
From there the guy decides he wants a wife and instead of courting a woman and building a relationship built upon mutual respect he
Here's the part that kinda throws you for a loop: All of the other characters in the book are constantly taking the piss out of him. They know he's not hot shit. They know he's really smart but they constantly affirm that that doesn't make him special. Okay, so the author is making a comment on how intellect isn't everything and you need humanity to balance it out right? Except I'm not so sure because despite all the other characters giving him the side-eye, everything ALWAYS works out for this guy. He's never given any sort of comeuppance about his behavior other than people thinking he's sort of weird and by the end of the book he's not in any way remorseful or punished for his behavior
thamyris's review
4.0
Thanks for nothing Nietzsche
They're a miserable lot, these übermenschlich. ('Mensch' means human, ladies, not male, so don't feel left out). One of them in this novel, Sarah Maddox, is female and a real bundle of Stygian glee.
Nothing dates faster than the future and it's odd to read a science-fiction work today in which people drink highballs, say "Bah!" when cross and have a cigarette to end every meal. Such jarring notes transport one, not forward to some distant future, but back to the odd future that Weinbaum foresaw from sleazy 1920s Chicago. Nonetheless, this was a brave reworking of Nietzsche's (pre-Nazi) Superman, with some imagined scientific basis added.
The science is intriguing and, while dated, still seems prescient. Weinbaum, using the element niton (before it was renamed to radon), crafts a plausible description of superman Edmond Hall creating a viable atom smasher – and also warning of the danger of a nuclear weapon long before one was actually built.
But the conceit of the novel is the evolution of humans to a "higher" species, which will look upon us as we look on monkeys. A vein of deep sadness runs through the story. The sheer joy and happiness of Edmond's little pet monkey, Homo, contrasts with the alien coldness and contempt the superhumans feel for the scrappy emotions and shallow knowledge of the normal humans around them. It can't end well – for anybody.
This was landmark science fiction for its day and is well written and worth reading. Despite the smell of faded floral wallpaper it evoked, it also left me strangely disturbed and thoughtful.
One caveat – there's a glaring flaw. Weinbaum suggests that human poetry, although flawed and clunky, is the highest level of language because its meanings are often hidden in enigmatic lines, so it transfers understanding subtly to the subconscious. Therefore, the superhumans would communicate in poetry, transferring their higher concepts in the interstices of verse.
Good idea, but appalling in Weinbaum's execution of it. His superhuman verse dialogue is dire and reminded me hilariously of the "great" Scottish bard William McGonagall. Consider this an unintended comic bonus in an otherwise bleak world, and you'll get through it.
They're a miserable lot, these übermenschlich. ('Mensch' means human, ladies, not male, so don't feel left out). One of them in this novel, Sarah Maddox, is female and a real bundle of Stygian glee.
Nothing dates faster than the future and it's odd to read a science-fiction work today in which people drink highballs, say "Bah!" when cross and have a cigarette to end every meal. Such jarring notes transport one, not forward to some distant future, but back to the odd future that Weinbaum foresaw from sleazy 1920s Chicago. Nonetheless, this was a brave reworking of Nietzsche's (pre-Nazi) Superman, with some imagined scientific basis added.
The science is intriguing and, while dated, still seems prescient. Weinbaum, using the element niton (before it was renamed to radon), crafts a plausible description of superman Edmond Hall creating a viable atom smasher – and also warning of the danger of a nuclear weapon long before one was actually built.
But the conceit of the novel is the evolution of humans to a "higher" species, which will look upon us as we look on monkeys. A vein of deep sadness runs through the story. The sheer joy and happiness of Edmond's little pet monkey, Homo, contrasts with the alien coldness and contempt the superhumans feel for the scrappy emotions and shallow knowledge of the normal humans around them. It can't end well – for anybody.
This was landmark science fiction for its day and is well written and worth reading. Despite the smell of faded floral wallpaper it evoked, it also left me strangely disturbed and thoughtful.
One caveat – there's a glaring flaw. Weinbaum suggests that human poetry, although flawed and clunky, is the highest level of language because its meanings are often hidden in enigmatic lines, so it transfers understanding subtly to the subconscious. Therefore, the superhumans would communicate in poetry, transferring their higher concepts in the interstices of verse.
Good idea, but appalling in Weinbaum's execution of it. His superhuman verse dialogue is dire and reminded me hilariously of the "great" Scottish bard William McGonagall. Consider this an unintended comic bonus in an otherwise bleak world, and you'll get through it.
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