Part Two
Writings on Science Fiction and Related Ideas
The essays in this section concern themselves primarily with the nature of the SF genre, the role of the SF writer, and speculation on future scientific possibilities.
“Pessimism in Science Fiction” (1955) was first published in Oblique, No. 6, December 1955, a fanzine edited by Clifford Gould.
“Will the Atomic Bomb Ever Be Perfected, and If So, What Becomes of Robert Heinlein?” was first published in the fanzine Lighthouse, No. 14, October 1966, edited by Terry Carr. The style represents Dick at his most informal, employing the open and uninhibited fanzine forum to orate, opine, and vent at will. It is not Dick’s most impressive work, although it has its moments of humor and of dark insight, as in its brief remarks on the difficult relationship between Dick and his mother. There was a tempest in a teapot when, in the subsequent issue of Lighthouse (No. 15, August 1967), an SF fan wrote a letter attacking Dick for the callousness of his remarks both as to Heinlein and as to Dick’s mother, and implying that Dick had suffered permanent brain damage from his use of LSD. In point of fact, Dick did not suffer from brain damage and was rather prone, during the sixties, to exaggerate his LSD usage greatly (he used the drug on only a handful of occasions, finding it far too frightening for his liking). Dick replied to this attack in the following issue with blustering outrage, implying that he might bring a suit for libel; the letter-writer apologized and the matter was dropped, to the evident relief of both parties. Dick never relented in his animus toward his mother; with regard to Heinlein, however, Dick’s attitude changed considerably. See Dick’s “Introduction” to The Golden Man story collection in this same section.
“The Double: Bill Symposium” replies by Dick were included in the pamphlet volume The Double: Bill Symposium, published by D:B Press (1969), which included the responses of ninety-four SF writers. The two editors were Bill Mallardi and Bill Bowers. The questionnaire was prepared by Lloyd Biggie, Jr.
“That Moon Plaque” first appeared in Men on the Moon (1969), an Ace anthology edited by Donald A. Wollheim, an important figure in Dick’s publishing career.
“Who Is an SF Writer?” was first published, in truncated form, in Science Fiction: The Academic Awakening (1974), a College English Association (Shreveport, Louisiana) chapbook. The editor was Willis E. McNelly, an English professor at the University of California at Fullerton with whom Dick enjoyed friendly relations. The essay appears here for the first time in its full typescript length, which is roughly one-third longer than the original published version.
“Michelson-Morley Experiment Reappraised” first appeared under the title (supplied by an editor) as “Scientists Claim: We Are Center of the Universe” in New Worlds, No. 216, September 1979.
“Introduction” to Dr. Bloodmoney, written in 1979, was first published in the 1985 Bluejay Books edition of that novel.
“Introduction” to The Golden Man first appeared under the title (supplied by an editor) “The Lucky Dog Pet Store” in Foundation, No. 17, September 1979. It was republished, with minor changes, as the “Introduction” to The Golden Man (1980) story collection edited by Mark Hurst. The story notes that concluded this essay were republished in the five-volume Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick (1987). The opening essay on his SF writing, not included in the Collected Stories, is presented here.
The “Book Review” (1980) of The Cybernetic Imagination in Science Fiction, by Patricia Warrick, has never before been published. It is unclear if Dick ever submitted it to any publication. It is important to note that this review may well have been written in a moment of temporary pique; Dick and Warrick carried on — both before and after this review was written — a voluminous correspondence on philosophical and spiritual matters, and Dick frequently praised and thanked Warrick, in this correspondence, for her insights and support. Nonetheless, the review is worth publishing because it does accurately reflect the high degree of suspicion, even animosity, that Dick felt toward “mainstream” academicians who sought to adopt SF, as it were, and make it respectable or “important.” At the same time, as Dick confesses in his “Introduction” to The Golden Man, the lack of mainstream attention for his work was a source of pain for him.
“My Definition of Science Fiction” was first published in Just: SF, Vol. 1, No. 1 (1981), edited by John Betancourt.
“Predictions” was first included in The Book of Predictions (New York: Morrow, 1981) by David Wallechinsky.
“Universe Makers. . . and Breakers” (1981) first appeared in SelecTV Guide, February 15-March 28, 1981. This guide was issued by Dick’s cable company, and his payment for writing the piece was a free year of cable service. See my prefatory comments to “Notes on Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” (1968), in a subsequent section, for further information on Dick’s views on the film Blade Runner (1982). “Universe Makers.. .” was reprinted in Radio Free PKD (the successor to PKDS Newsletter, edited by Gregory Lee), No. 1, February 1993.
“Headnote” for “Beyond Lies the Wub,” written in 1980, first appeared in accompaniment with the reprinted story in First Voyages (New York: Avon, 1981), an SF anthology edited by Damon Knight, Martin H. Greenberg, and Joseph D. Olander. It was reprinted in PKDS Newsletter, No. 24, May 1990, and in Radio Free PKD, No. 3, October 1993. This headnote was not reprinted in the available Collected Stories volumes; hence its inclusion here.
“Pessimism in Science Fiction” (1955)
Since science fiction concerns the future of human society, the worldwide loss of faith in science and in scientific progress is bound to cause convulsions in the SF field. This loss of faith in the idea of progress, in a “brighter tomorrow,” extends over our whole cultural milieu; the dour tone of recent science fiction is an effect, not a cause. If a modern science fiction writer mirrors this sense of doom, he is only doing what any responsible writer does: If a writer feels that present-day saber-rattling and drum-beating are leading the world to war, he has no choice but to reproduce his feelings in his writings — unless he is writing purely for profit, in which case he never reproduces his feelings, only those sentiments that he feels will be commercially acceptable.
All responsible writers, to some degree, have become involuntary criers of doom, because doom is in the wind; but science fiction writers more so, since science fiction has always been a protest medium. In science fiction, a writer is not merely inclined to act out the Cassandra role; he is absolutely obliged to — unless, of course, he honestly thinks he will wake up some morning and find that the high-minded Martians have sneaked off with all our bombs and armaments, for our own good.
Of course, doom stories become monotonous, since there are infinite bright, successful, nondoom futures, but only one doom; that is war. Once the war-doom story has been written, there is not much to say; and Ray Bradbury has written that story at least once. So the responsible science fiction writer repeats himself, since although there are many things he might write about, there is only one horrible future he really believes in: The rest are exercises in logic, imagination, and writing skill. If the writer honestly believes we are moving toward racial suicide, then skillful, cheerful stories become — although interesting — mere fiddle-scraping. But a natural hope, taking the place of legitimate optimism, crowds us into preferring these pleasant substitutes. Well, they are a lot of fun, just as detective novels were a lot of fun in the thirties. And the question is not: Which makes more enjoyable reading? Because nobody would seriously debate that one. After all, pleasant exercises in imagination and logic are supposed to be pleasant; and the doom stories are merely intended to call attention to reality. The latter activity has never been popular.
In a sense, the job of the science fiction writer in continuing to write pessimistically if he feels pessimistic, is a worsening of the spot every one of us is in; the SF writer will be cooked no deader than anybody else. But the SF writer has all day to brood; brooding, or at least thinking, is his job. If the SF writer is requested not to think about doom, if it’s immoral to write about an approaching war, then it certainly is an evil thing to worry about it.
The only really legitimate complaint that can be raised against doom stories (outside of the complaint that they are all the same and hence only one really adequate doom story is required) is that there have always been war and danger, and that the sense of doom may be misplaced. This is a good argument, and I am beginning to believe it. A doom story never offers a solution to the problem: It merely utters the problem over and over again. Well, assuming we accept the existence of the problem (the approaching war), perhaps a more realistic or at least more valuable function would be to seek, in our science fiction stories, partial solutions to the menace. How are we going to survive? What will our world be like after a few (or a lot) of us have survived?