I've never been a fan of Philip Dick, but that's based on a very thin acquaintance - primarily his novel [b:The Penultimate Truth|41064|The Penultimate Truth|Philip K. Dick|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1318765187s/41064.jpg|209478] (bought decades ago and wasn't bowled over by) and his collaboration with [a:Roger Zelazny|3619|Roger Zelazny|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1207671346p2/3619.jpg], [b:Deus Irae|22594|Deus Irae|Philip K. Dick|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1385446076s/22594.jpg|60252] (one of Zelazny's lesser works). Maybe the occasional short story here or there.

Still, Dick is one of the acclaimed geniuses of '70s SF, so I thought I should really give him more of a try. I started with this book, which, after all, won several awards. I wish I could say it deserved them.

I seldom have much trouble finishing books. Once I commit to a book, I pretty much always read it to the end. In the e-book era, I've made an exception for free e-books by unknowns - if it looks bad in the first few pages, I give up. But for most everything else, I read doggedly on.

This book required a lot of doggedness. Frankly stated, the first 75% of it is just downright bad. There are signs that it was constructed carefully, but not well. Only a mildly interesting, highly implausible, wrapup rescues it from one star status.

An afterword makes clear that for Dick this was a highly personal and slightly autobiographical novel. That's certainly interesting, but it doesn't make up for a book that's just not very well written.

If you're a fan of [a:Jack Kerouac|1742|Jack Kerouac|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1287257192p2/1742.jpg], [a:Hunter Thompson|5237|Hunter S. Thompson|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1206560814p2/5237.jpg], or [a:Alfred Bester|10992|Alfred Bester|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1224111385p2/10992.jpg], this might be for you. Otherwise, I honestly have trouble understanding why the book received the praise it did. It's a close look a drug culture, with a slight tinge of science fiction and a lot of paranoia. Beyond that, there's not really much there.

Racist

See also:
• http://www.accreditedonlinecolleges.com/blog/2010/20-greatest-works-of-dystopian-literature/

The psychosis and paranoia is too much for me.

“Maybe inside the terribly burned and burning circuits of your head that char more and more, even as I hold you, a spark of color and light in some disguised form manifested itself, unrecognized, to you, by its memory, through the years to come, the dreadful years ahead.”

Philip K. Dick's past becomes the center of this novel writing about those who played and were forced to stop after complete destruction ensued. Set in a world not very far off from our own, the ones who play take copious amounts of a drug referred to as “Substance D.” Substance D not only confuses the mind, but splits it entirely in half. Fred, who works in law enforcement, is tasked with taking down junkie, Bob Arctor, only these two men are the same person. The two coexisting identities are aware of one another at first, but as the novel progresses, Fred no longer views Arctor as himself, but a separate entity all together. The shift is subtle, yet brilliant, and made me feel like I was going crazy. This story does not have a happy ending, but is rather a story of the mind closing in on itself like a black hole.

Some Fight Club energy, and to me that's not a good thing, though the last few chapters did redeem it somewhat.

I am glad I read it for my book club but I don't think I would re-read it. Hard to follow at times. I am going to watch the film to maybe get a better understanding?