I know it

You've been looking at the list of books I'm reading, and it's not changing, and I'm not reviewing any of them, and you're wondering if I actually do read. Or if I've just listed them (eclectic as they are) for show. Well, I suppose, you're partly right. You always will be. But today I finished reading Dick's Eye in the Sky.

First published in 1957, this novel does what Dick's stories always do - unsettle us, show us ourselves in a new way, comment on who we are, and what we might become because of it. The premise here begins with an accident involving the "proton beam deflector of the Belmont Bevatron". The story involves eight people who were touring the facility during the accident, and are injured because of it. Scientist Jack Hamilton, and his wife Marsha, are at the centre of it. Hamilton is the centre of the narration. Although this accident opens the novel, Dick steps away from it - kind of steps over it - and, without announcement the reader is ushered into a world that, at first, looks and sounds like a slightly scientifically-advanced version of the late 50s. Marsha is accused of being a communist sympathizer, and this puts Hamilton's work at the security sensitive lab in jeopardy. As Jack and Marsha try to deal with the uncertainty this accusation brings, we realize, as Hamilton starts to realize it that things in the "world" are just not right. Things are off-kilter. Over time Hamilton along with the others, come to realize that the "world" they are in has been adjusted by the bevatron accident. In fact it appears that they are, all eight of them living within the skewed reality of one of their own consciousnesses - and so they must confront the wonder, paranoias, biases, and foibles of that personality. Once they understand this, their task becomes to determine whose world they are in, and then to find a way to snap out of it - either by having that unique consciousness self-destruct, or by destroying it themselves.

Through this vehicle Dick explores not only the flaws of various personality-types, but also the possibility that we create the world in our own image. That if we think that people are out to get us, we will experience that they actually are preying on us. If we abhor disorder and chaos, we will create order to eliminate it. And so on.

That would, it seems to me, be enough of a project for a sci-fi novel, but Dick adds a topical, political layer - McCarthyism, or, what Orwell coined as thought-crime. The story begins with the accusation against Marsha, and Jack's questioning of his own loyalties. Who deserves my trust? Who should I stand beside? Why? He is tempted to leave his wife to keep his job, and to show his patriotism. He is tempted to disregard her protests at the thin evidence presented to him to build the case against her. Although during the middle passages of the novel this theme appears to be dropped, it is picked up again by the end. And then you can see it's presence throughout.

Again Dick suggests that no matter what technological advancements we devise, we will be subject to the flaws and limits of the human situation. We are, each of us, petty and uniquely cruel. Any one of us, if we could, would lord it over others and impose our own whims over those, even those we love. And in this he suggests what should be obvious: we are best when we allow variety to thrive, both in our gardens, and in our communities. Homogeneity in thought, taste, and politics is a nightmare, not a utopia. The "eye" of conformity must be confronted. The dangers of a dis-integrated world of individuals is a dream compared to the nightmare of the "borg".

Rode 56 ks (the Rosetown loop): Wind WNW 30+ ks, Avg 30.02 kph.


July 17, 2010
Yesterday I rode 27 ks: East to the Marais, and then back home. Wind ESE 30+ ks. Avg 31.54 kph.

I kept the ride short because we headed into the city for dinner with Ron & Sandi, Terry and Rhona, and Roland and Aniko. There we celebrated the success of the Himmelbleiw furniture exhibition and catalogue. We also discussed how Hungarians are unrepressed (and perhaps insane), while Mennonites are repressed (and perhaps insane), why Winnipeg is greatest in its smallness, why CBC Radio failing utterly - losing its most loyal, core audience (and who's going to save it, because we know that Stephen would rather like to see its demise), and how to pronounce kilometre (KILLoh  MEter ... not KILLawe MUHter), and why (you'll have to ask Ron about this, but it has to do with being consistent with the way we say "millimetre" and "centimetre").

And thanks to Rhona for her honest ramblings on the ride home.

A good time all told