A common mistake in literature is the omission of Science Fiction. For years when it existed in print as space operas (think "Star Wars") and pulp-printed tales of weirdness (think "Mars Attacks"), only a handful of novels were extended the invitation into literature by the readers/critics upon high. (Orwell's "1984" and Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451" both set the standard for the current onslaught of Dystopic tales).
Philip K.Dick spent nearly half of his writing career in penury drilling out stories for a penny a word to make ends barely meet. Born into a world as an outlier, Dick's life reads like a short story. His parents practically chose him to live instead of his twin sister in order to survive the Great Depression. With a family torn apart by divorce, Dick took comfort in the stories from Pulp Science-Fiction mags, eventually creating his own. Benzedrine fueled his writing at night, after working long days, and his best works capture a manic energy about social situations going awry either with or without the control of a higher power.
Much of the draw of classic Science Fiction depends on how well it "mirrors" our current situation. In Dystopic works, the reader must begin with the overarching notion "This cannot happen here" only to realize by the conclusion that it can. In his 1964 novel "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch," the Earth is either so ravaged (or has moved closer to the sun) that daytime temperatures peak at around 180 degrees Fahrenheit. So space travel has become necessary to settle other planets in our solar system (abbreviated to the Sol system) for living.
We learn of a farming community on Mars where inhabitants of Earth are "drafted" to go there to live in "hovels" (in actuality, Dick described one of his post-divorce cold-water apartments as this) where in small groups they farm by day. Of course, this work is slowly going. In addition, the gear they are sent with is not very helpful. Being 34 million miles from Earth on a cold, dusty planet whose best days may have already passed leads the inhabitants to find their only escape through the indulgence of a drug called Can-D. Can-D shares some interesting properties. If consumed as a group, it leads to shared hallucinations. Furthermore, the adventures they wish to have on this desolate planet are very conformist and consumer-based - to reflect the pursuits of life on Earth. In short, it is all fine in moderation, as a pressure valve and social bonding.
Before starting the novel, Philip K.Dick had a vision one day of a metal face in the sky. His interest in the Gnostic side of religion likely gave him the idea that this entity on high might not be so benevolent either. "It was a vast visage of perfect evil. I realize now (and I think I dimly realized at the time) what caused me to see it: the months of isolation, of deprivation of human contact, in fact, sensory deprivation." Dick later wrote about the inspiration for Palmer Eldritch.
In its own quasi-religious way, we never truly "meet" Eldritch while reading the novel. However, the presence is consistently felt. We learn his history, based completely on belief and no proof. In his travels to the Prox system, Eldritch (the name itself translates into "strange" and "sinister") becomes rich by finding a lichen that produces stronger and more intense experiences than Can-D. Now wealthy, he lives almost in exile in a private mansion on the Moon. This mystery about him and his reclusiveness fuels his myth even more. Even we as readers are as intrigued as the characters every time his name is mentioned.
With his hallucinatory product, Chew-Z, poised to wipe out Can-D, as a paraphrased Mark Twain might say, "the myth creates a legend." So, while in pursuit of Eldritch, it’s only natural that first precognition would predict his death. In addition, the loneliness on this quest creates such paranoia that anyone could be Palmer Eldritch. Dick is only playing with ordinary human nature in extraordinary circumstances. At one point, Eldritch even develops the ability to be in two places at once (as well as a bit of Schrodinger's Cat too). Chew-Z creates an entirely different world for him to occupy outside of space and time. As you would expect, even in this brave new world we are hoping to find Eldritch here. However, an alternate reality could have an alternate Eldritch. Or many different instances of them. Either way, this search for "reason" has so taken over his waking life now that it is as if Eldritch rules it.
Now, we simply cannot spoil the novel with the details of these adventures. However, we will divulge that you as the reader will also feel completely "lost" in the events unfolding and as eager to believe in Eldritch as the novel's second protagonist Barney Meyerson. What is most striking in hindsight is how Dick makes Meyerson the only "true believer" and this in turn unleashes demand for Chew-Z. On this sand-surfaced barren planet, the aspects of Chew-Z are creating an uningested alternate reality that feels like the possibility of salvation. However, for Barney Meyerson, Chew-Z followed by a too-quickly consumed second dose translates into a near-spiritual death.
He is now capable of staying on Mars, perhaps even at peace. His thoughts, while still wildly convoluted, read like the last bout with Chew-Z was almost communion-like:
"Earth," Barney said, "I've had." He too had meant what he said, his anticipations for his own life which lay ahead here on Mars.
If it was good enough for Palmer Eldritch it was good enough for him. Because Eldritch had lived many lives; there had been a vast, reliable wisdom contained within the substance of the man or creature, whatever it was. The fusion of himself with Eldritch during translation had left a mark on him, a brand of perpetuity; it was a form of absolute awareness." (214)
So many of Dick's novels contain pieces and parts of religion in them as a representation of the quest for knowledge or even reason. However, "The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch" masks them all in the guise of a space opera concocted to escape life in a dystopian world. Current Sci-Fi author China Mieville lists "Palmer Eldritch" among his top books of all time, saying "In the end, I went for ‘Stigmata’ because I remember how I felt when I put it down. Hollow and beaten. I kept thinking: "That's it. It's finished. Literature has been finished."
Mik Davis is the record store manager at T-Bones Records & Cafe in Hattiesburg.
THE NATIONAL - The First Two Pages of Frankenstein [LP](4AD/Redeye)
Having raised their profile by collaborating with Taylor Swift, The National return with their ninth album of evocative but propulsive songs. "Frankenstein" comes from a bout with writer's block and the band being separated through different projects and the shutdown. "Tropic Morning News" is the best example of their new mixture of downtrodden melodies and near-driving beats. The verse is searching through the fog as the chorus lands on its oblique title like rays of sunshine are making them all glow. Along for the ride, Phoebe Bridgers (on the heavy-but-light ballad "Your Mind Is Not My Friend"), Sufjan Stevens, and Taylor Swift.
TAJ MAHAL - Savoy [LP/CD](Stony Plain)
RICKIE LEE JONES - Pieces of Treasure [LP/CD](BMG Rights Mgmt)
Taj Mahal has always been a great interpreter of other music. Going back to the classic run of his first four with Jesse Ed Davis, Mahal rewrote Yank Rachell and steadfastly covered William Bell ("You Don't Miss Your Water ('Til Your Well Runs Dry"). Now an erstwhile presence in Blues and Roots music, Taj dives into the history of Jazz reeling off these standards like it was a house party in 1944. With his small (but big sounding band) and backing singers, this trip back to the days of the Hit Parade is welcome any time.
Rickie Lee Jones left New Orleans and flew in New York to reunite with longtime producer Russ Titelman on this exploration of more Jazz standards. As Jones pours over Kurt Weill's beautiful "September Song" and the eternal "Nature Boy" (with exotic instrumentation), the years of her experience seem to take you back to the whipcrack of that 1979 debut that made us all feel like Chuck E.
RUDY DE ANDA - Closet Botanist [LP/CD](Colemine/Secretly/AMPED)
The story goes that Rudy De Anda was all ready to leave California and move east. The singer/songwriter found Chicago midway and quickly developed some songs and a new Soul band that led his breezy, Sixties-flavored Pop/Soul to Colemine. Now on his second record, De Anda offers a balanced attack that does not celebrate too much of the old sound (the slapback echo and groovy organ stayed!) in favor of Thee Sacred Souls/Durand Jones-ish SOUL.
HOST - IX [LP/CD](Nuclear Blast/AMPED)
Paradise Lost vocalist Nick Holmes and guitarist Greg Mackintosh take a breather from the forceful Metal of their longtime band to venture into some eerie Goth. "Hiding From Tomorrow" sounds like a mixture of Killing Joke and Depeche Mode. Their harmonious vocals and strings (!) even get a dramatic workout on "Wretched Soul" with a great Nine Inch Nails-style break. "IX" may be Holmes and Mackintosh revisiting their past, but they have locked in on an idea that once divide Paradise Lost fans - but could possibly bring them new ones.
