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A review by stiricide
To Your Scattered Bodies Go by Philip José Farmer
2.0
People keep telling me that Farmer is uhmaaaaayzzzing. I'm two novellas in, and don't see it. I see some very interesting ideas, obfuscated by the sort of navel gazing that really, only a straight white dude in the '70s is capable of.
This is now the second story of his I've read where all the women have effectively been NPCs, falling distinctly in to the virgin/whore dichotomy, used primarily as fodder for the protagonist's misdirected existential angst. I get it, Farmer blew the lid off of sex in scifi, but yeeeeeeesh, is it ever dated.
This is now the second story of his I've read where all the women have effectively been NPCs, falling distinctly in to the virgin/whore dichotomy, used primarily as fodder for the protagonist's misdirected existential angst. I get it, Farmer blew the lid off of sex in scifi, but yeeeeeeesh, is it ever dated.