Scan barcode
A review by oleksandr
The Space Merchants by Frederik Pohl
4.0
This is a SF novel, originally published in 1952, which contains several surprisingly modern ideas.
The title, [b:The Space Merchants|392566|The Space Merchants (The Space Merchants, #1)|Frederik Pohl|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1407594017s/392566.jpg|953666], led me to assume it will be a kind of space opera about interstellar trade. Actually, it is about a copysmith (advertisement specialist), who should sell the idea of Venus colonization to public. Unlike, say, [b:The Man Who Sold the Moon|16688|The Man Who Sold the Moon|Robert A. Heinlein|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1406525754s/16688.jpg|527886], the protagonist is not the ephemeral ideal of the author’s views on how things should be done but the opposite. This future USA is a plutocracy (“Our representative government now is perhaps more representative than it has ever been before in history. It is not necessarily representative per capita, but it most surely is ad valorem.”) and advertisement is the king (the protagonist’s desire is to put it on “its rightful place with the clergy, medicine, and the bar in our way of life.”) At the same time it is an entrenched plutocracy, where persons on the top see themselves as a new nobility, which would duel anyone, who they thought slighted their honor. Their only opposition are the Consies (short for Conservationists), who fight spurious consumption that plunders the planet.
A nice short read.
"You're on the inside now," I said simply. "That's the way we work. That's the way we worked on you."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're wearing Starrzelius Verily clothes and shoes, Jack. It means we got you. Taunton and Universal worked on you, Starrzelius and Schocken worked on you—and you chose Starrzelius. We reached you. Smoothly, without your ever being aware that it was happening, you became persuaded that there was something rather nice about Starrzelius clothes and shoes and that there was something rather not-nice about Universal clothes and shoes."
"I never read the ads," he said defiantly.
I grinned. "Our ultimate triumph is wrapped up in that statement," I said.
"I solemnly promise," O'Shea said, "that as soon as I get back to my hotel room I'll send my clothes right down the incinerator chute—"
"Luggage too?" I asked. "Starrzelius luggage?"
He looked startled for a moment and then regained his calm. "Starrzelius luggage too," he said. "And then I'll pick up the phone and order a complete set of Universal luggage and apparel. And you can't stop me."
"I wouldn't dream of stopping you, Jack! It means more business for Starrzelius. Tell you what you're going to do: you'll get your complete set of Universal luggage and apparel. You'll use the luggage and wear the apparel for a while with a vague, submerged discontent. It's going to work on your libido, because our ads for Starrzelius—even though you say you don't read them—have convinced you that it isn't quite virile to trade with any other firm. Your self-esteem will suffer; deep down you'll know that you're not wearing the best. Your subconscious won't stand up under much of that. You'll find yourself 'losing' bits of Universal apparel. You'll find yourself 'accidentally' putting your foot through the cuff of your Universal pants. You'll find yourself overpacking the Universal luggage and damning it for not being roomier. You'll walk into stores and in a fit of momentary amnesia regarding this conversation you'll buy Starrzelius, bless you."
***
Of all the self-contradictory gibberish—but it had a certain appeal. The ad was crafted—unconsciously, I was sure—the way we'd do a pharmaceutical-house booklet for doctors only. Calm, learned, we're all men of sound judgment and deep scholarship here; we can talk frankly about bedrock issues. Does your patient suffer from hyperspasm, Doctor?
It was an appeal to reason, and they're always dangerous. You can't trust reason. We threw it out of the ad profession long ago and have never missed it
The title, [b:The Space Merchants|392566|The Space Merchants (The Space Merchants, #1)|Frederik Pohl|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1407594017s/392566.jpg|953666], led me to assume it will be a kind of space opera about interstellar trade. Actually, it is about a copysmith (advertisement specialist), who should sell the idea of Venus colonization to public. Unlike, say, [b:The Man Who Sold the Moon|16688|The Man Who Sold the Moon|Robert A. Heinlein|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1406525754s/16688.jpg|527886], the protagonist is not the ephemeral ideal of the author’s views on how things should be done but the opposite. This future USA is a plutocracy (“Our representative government now is perhaps more representative than it has ever been before in history. It is not necessarily representative per capita, but it most surely is ad valorem.”) and advertisement is the king (the protagonist’s desire is to put it on “its rightful place with the clergy, medicine, and the bar in our way of life.”) At the same time it is an entrenched plutocracy, where persons on the top see themselves as a new nobility, which would duel anyone, who they thought slighted their honor. Their only opposition are the Consies (short for Conservationists), who fight spurious consumption that plunders the planet.
A nice short read.
"You're on the inside now," I said simply. "That's the way we work. That's the way we worked on you."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're wearing Starrzelius Verily clothes and shoes, Jack. It means we got you. Taunton and Universal worked on you, Starrzelius and Schocken worked on you—and you chose Starrzelius. We reached you. Smoothly, without your ever being aware that it was happening, you became persuaded that there was something rather nice about Starrzelius clothes and shoes and that there was something rather not-nice about Universal clothes and shoes."
"I never read the ads," he said defiantly.
I grinned. "Our ultimate triumph is wrapped up in that statement," I said.
"I solemnly promise," O'Shea said, "that as soon as I get back to my hotel room I'll send my clothes right down the incinerator chute—"
"Luggage too?" I asked. "Starrzelius luggage?"
He looked startled for a moment and then regained his calm. "Starrzelius luggage too," he said. "And then I'll pick up the phone and order a complete set of Universal luggage and apparel. And you can't stop me."
"I wouldn't dream of stopping you, Jack! It means more business for Starrzelius. Tell you what you're going to do: you'll get your complete set of Universal luggage and apparel. You'll use the luggage and wear the apparel for a while with a vague, submerged discontent. It's going to work on your libido, because our ads for Starrzelius—even though you say you don't read them—have convinced you that it isn't quite virile to trade with any other firm. Your self-esteem will suffer; deep down you'll know that you're not wearing the best. Your subconscious won't stand up under much of that. You'll find yourself 'losing' bits of Universal apparel. You'll find yourself 'accidentally' putting your foot through the cuff of your Universal pants. You'll find yourself overpacking the Universal luggage and damning it for not being roomier. You'll walk into stores and in a fit of momentary amnesia regarding this conversation you'll buy Starrzelius, bless you."
***
Of all the self-contradictory gibberish—but it had a certain appeal. The ad was crafted—unconsciously, I was sure—the way we'd do a pharmaceutical-house booklet for doctors only. Calm, learned, we're all men of sound judgment and deep scholarship here; we can talk frankly about bedrock issues. Does your patient suffer from hyperspasm, Doctor?
It was an appeal to reason, and they're always dangerous. You can't trust reason. We threw it out of the ad profession long ago and have never missed it