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chasityholcomb's review against another edition
dark
funny
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
fbroom's review against another edition
5.0
I read this without reading anything about the book and so while reading it, I was wondering how the hell did PKD come up with these non-sense conversations that went on between friends high on drugs? the conversations were written in this hippie slang full of sexist and racist content and also the silliest jokes ever. It turns out that this was all based on real events and real people and many of these people either died or suffered permanent brain damage or other health issues which is extremely sad. It was a strange book but also really good.
Random Quotes:
"ONCE A GUY stood all day shaking bugs from his hair. The doctor told him there were no bugs in his hair. After he had taken a shower for eight hours, standing under hot water hour after hour suffering the pain of the bugs, he got out and dried himself, and he still had bugs in his hair; in fact, he had bugs all over him. A month later he had bugs in his lungs."
"Happiness, he thought, is knowing you got some pills."
"some thing. Which, unlike little dark-eyed Donna, does not ever blink. What does a scanner see? he asked himself. I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me—into us—clearly or darkly? I hope it does, he thought, see clearly, because I can’t any longer these days see into myself. I see only murk. Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone’s sake, the scanners do better. Because, he thought, if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we’ll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too."
"But then some junkie’d shoot up a hit of half smack and half microdots.” “Well, then, he’d be the fuckingest educated junkie you ever did see.”
“It’s a downer to tell anything to a kid. I once had a kid ask me, ‘What was it like to see the first automobile?’ Shit, man, I was born in 1962.” “Christ,” Arctor said, “I once had a guy I knew burned out on acid ask me that. He was twenty-seven years old. I was only three years older than him. He didn’t know anything any more. Later on he dropped some more hits of acid—or what he was sold as acid—and after that he peed on the floor and crapped on the floor, and when you said something to him, like ‘How are you, Don?’, he just repeated it after you, like a bird. ‘How are you, Don?’”
‘You just want to believe you’re pregnant,’ the chick was nattering at her. ‘It’s a guilt trip. And the abortion, and the heavy bread it’s going to cost you, that’s a penance trip.’ So the chick—I really dug her—she looked up calmly and she said, ‘Okay, then if it’s a hysterical pregnancy I’ll get a hysterical abortion and pay for it with hysterical money.’” Arctor said, “I wonder whose face is on the hysterical five-dollar bill.” “Well, who was our most hysterical President?” “Bill Falkes. He only thought he was President. When did he think he served?” “He imagined he served two terms back around 1882. Later on after a lot of therapy he came to imagine he served only one term—” With great fury Fred slammed the holos ahead two and a half hours. How long does this garbage go on? he asked himself. All day? Forever?"
“—so you take your child to the doctor, to the psychologist, and you tell him how your child screams all the time and has tantrums.” Luckman had two lids of grass before him on the coffee table plus a can of beer; he was inspecting the grass. “And lies; the kid lies. Makes up exaggerated stories. And the psychologist examines the kid and his diagnosis is ‘Madam, your child is hysterical. You have a hysterical child. But I don’t know why.’ And then you, the mother, there’s your chance and you lay it on him, ‘I know why, doctor. It’s because I had a hysterical pregnancy.’” Both Luckman and Arctor laughed, and so did Jim
"“How could a guy do that?” Arctor said. “Pose as a nark?” “What?” both Barris and Luckman said together. “Shit, I’m spaced,” Arctor said, grinning. “‘Pose as a nark’—wow.” He shook his head, grimacing now."
""When he turned on the tape-transport once more, Arctor was saying, “—as near as I can figure out, God is dead.” Luckman answered, “I didn’t know He was sick.”"
“How’d you like to gaze at a beer can throughout eternity? It might not be so bad. There’d be nothing to fear.”
This novel is about more people than I knew personally. Some we all read about in the newspapers. It was, this sitting around with our buddies and bullshitting while making tape recordings, the bad decision of the decade, the sixties, both in and out of the establishment. And nature cracked down on us. We were
Random Quotes:
"ONCE A GUY stood all day shaking bugs from his hair. The doctor told him there were no bugs in his hair. After he had taken a shower for eight hours, standing under hot water hour after hour suffering the pain of the bugs, he got out and dried himself, and he still had bugs in his hair; in fact, he had bugs all over him. A month later he had bugs in his lungs."
"Happiness, he thought, is knowing you got some pills."
"some thing. Which, unlike little dark-eyed Donna, does not ever blink. What does a scanner see? he asked himself. I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me—into us—clearly or darkly? I hope it does, he thought, see clearly, because I can’t any longer these days see into myself. I see only murk. Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone’s sake, the scanners do better. Because, he thought, if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we’ll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too."
"But then some junkie’d shoot up a hit of half smack and half microdots.” “Well, then, he’d be the fuckingest educated junkie you ever did see.”
“It’s a downer to tell anything to a kid. I once had a kid ask me, ‘What was it like to see the first automobile?’ Shit, man, I was born in 1962.” “Christ,” Arctor said, “I once had a guy I knew burned out on acid ask me that. He was twenty-seven years old. I was only three years older than him. He didn’t know anything any more. Later on he dropped some more hits of acid—or what he was sold as acid—and after that he peed on the floor and crapped on the floor, and when you said something to him, like ‘How are you, Don?’, he just repeated it after you, like a bird. ‘How are you, Don?’”
‘You just want to believe you’re pregnant,’ the chick was nattering at her. ‘It’s a guilt trip. And the abortion, and the heavy bread it’s going to cost you, that’s a penance trip.’ So the chick—I really dug her—she looked up calmly and she said, ‘Okay, then if it’s a hysterical pregnancy I’ll get a hysterical abortion and pay for it with hysterical money.’” Arctor said, “I wonder whose face is on the hysterical five-dollar bill.” “Well, who was our most hysterical President?” “Bill Falkes. He only thought he was President. When did he think he served?” “He imagined he served two terms back around 1882. Later on after a lot of therapy he came to imagine he served only one term—” With great fury Fred slammed the holos ahead two and a half hours. How long does this garbage go on? he asked himself. All day? Forever?"
“—so you take your child to the doctor, to the psychologist, and you tell him how your child screams all the time and has tantrums.” Luckman had two lids of grass before him on the coffee table plus a can of beer; he was inspecting the grass. “And lies; the kid lies. Makes up exaggerated stories. And the psychologist examines the kid and his diagnosis is ‘Madam, your child is hysterical. You have a hysterical child. But I don’t know why.’ And then you, the mother, there’s your chance and you lay it on him, ‘I know why, doctor. It’s because I had a hysterical pregnancy.’” Both Luckman and Arctor laughed, and so did Jim
"“How could a guy do that?” Arctor said. “Pose as a nark?” “What?” both Barris and Luckman said together. “Shit, I’m spaced,” Arctor said, grinning. “‘Pose as a nark’—wow.” He shook his head, grimacing now."
""When he turned on the tape-transport once more, Arctor was saying, “—as near as I can figure out, God is dead.” Luckman answered, “I didn’t know He was sick.”"
“How’d you like to gaze at a beer can throughout eternity? It might not be so bad. There’d be nothing to fear.”
This novel is about more people than I knew personally. Some we all read about in the newspapers. It was, this sitting around with our buddies and bullshitting while making tape recordings, the bad decision of the decade, the sixties, both in and out of the establishment. And nature cracked down on us. We were
fastasashark's review against another edition
dark
funny
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
Content Warnings
Moderate: Sexual violence, Misogyny, and Sexual harassment
thejennarose's review against another edition
challenging
dark
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Although we lived decades apart I have never read anything that better describes what it was like to lose so many of my friends to a similar lifestyle.
“… they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed - run over, maimed, destroyed- but they continued to play anyhow”
“… they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed - run over, maimed, destroyed- but they continued to play anyhow”
bookslurp's review against another edition
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
kaamezcua2's review against another edition
dark
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Content Warnings
Moderate: Drug abuse
iswendle's review against another edition
4.0
As another review said: this book makes you realize how PKD came up with all these trippy and over-the-top concepts in his works. The story begins as hazy as its characters, and while it unfolds for your eyes so does it become more hazy for its characters.
The book is set in California and follows a drug addict called Bob Arctor. Bob is actually an undercover narc, spying on his roommates and through eventual paranoia, himself. In the future undercover agents are in so deep that even their bosses don't know their identity. When Bob meets with his superiors, he wears a scramble suit. The scramble suit is a futuristic device that blurs the wearer and his voice like a modernistic painting of man.
As the story develops it becomes clear that Bob is slowly losing his mind. While he builds a case and reports to his superiors about his drugged up housmates he loses his touch in reality, reporting on himself, seeing himself in the surveillance scanners unaware of it being him.
PKD spent some time with the drug scene of California, and this book is a sort of autobiographical account of the time. This becomes evident in the beautiful and (I'm using the word again because it describes so perfectly) hazy atmosphere of drugs and drug habbit. The user starts of losing their touch with reality when they want to, to get away from it all. But when the substance conquers them, and they become addicts, they see glitches and bugs everywhere. Reality fades away into a tripped out world. Apart from sketching this estranged feeling the writer also fabricates these fragmented conversations between addicts really well. All in all the scene couldn't be set better.
The novel is ended on a note that the novel indeed is autobiographical, but that Dick feels like he is the novel, not just some character. All the characters were his friends, some he lost, most he lost to permanent damage in some way. He said it best: "Their sin was in wanting to play all the time but the penalty was far harsher then they deserved."
The book is set in California and follows a drug addict called Bob Arctor. Bob is actually an undercover narc, spying on his roommates and through eventual paranoia, himself. In the future undercover agents are in so deep that even their bosses don't know their identity. When Bob meets with his superiors, he wears a scramble suit. The scramble suit is a futuristic device that blurs the wearer and his voice like a modernistic painting of man.
As the story develops it becomes clear that Bob is slowly losing his mind. While he builds a case and reports to his superiors about his drugged up housmates he loses his touch in reality, reporting on himself, seeing himself in the surveillance scanners unaware of it being him.
PKD spent some time with the drug scene of California, and this book is a sort of autobiographical account of the time. This becomes evident in the beautiful and (I'm using the word again because it describes so perfectly) hazy atmosphere of drugs and drug habbit. The user starts of losing their touch with reality when they want to, to get away from it all. But when the substance conquers them, and they become addicts, they see glitches and bugs everywhere. Reality fades away into a tripped out world. Apart from sketching this estranged feeling the writer also fabricates these fragmented conversations between addicts really well. All in all the scene couldn't be set better.
The novel is ended on a note that the novel indeed is autobiographical, but that Dick feels like he is the novel, not just some character. All the characters were his friends, some he lost, most he lost to permanent damage in some way. He said it best: "Their sin was in wanting to play all the time but the penalty was far harsher then they deserved."
g_me's review against another edition
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
erintowner's review against another edition
1.0
Another white dude who's working out some issues through his art and has "deep" thoughts. The end was good but there was lots of meandering to get there.
anyajulchen's review against another edition
3.0
A ratos entretenida, a ratos aburrida, siento que no aprovechó todo el potencial de la trama.