Ellison’s dissatisfaction with American cultural
progress (3/5)
Prior to reading the Paingod
collection, I had read twenty-one pieces of Ellison’s short work—mostly in his
machismo so-called suspense collection No Doors, No Windows (1975)—only
six to which I gave 4 or 5 stars. From that figure, you could deduce that I’m
not a big fan of Ellison’s work. Paingod is the last piece of his work
on my shelves, but I’m sure it’s not the last forever.
Ellison graces the
reader with an unbelievably brief introduction of only three pages. The sheer
chore of reading other rambling introductions often urged me to chuck the book,
but three pages I could tolerate, but even then the paragraphs were bloated
with whims, conjured disassociative memories, lists, and mini-rants. Each, too,
has a brief introduction, but here he tends to digress, as well; case in point:
After twenty-five line of an introduction for “Deeper Than the Darkness”
laments on our personal responsibility for our own action, name-drops Marilyn Monroe,
mentions the Afterlife, says life is for dignity alone and sluggish without
then, “And, oh, yeah, about this story” (136).
Unlike DangerousVisions (1967) where each introduction took a back-patting or disassociate
tangent, the ones in Paingod are usually well-focused. Sometimes they
give a glimmer of meaning behind the story or the impetus for its writing. Most
introductions, though, carry a common theme: That of Ellison’s dissatisfaction
with American cultural progress and/or his inability to adapt to American
cultural progress.
The first three
stories are strong. “Paingod” follows a rather simple plot line with the right
twists at the right times, but delivers a message and reminder about the
benefits of pain. While the previous story was rather dour, “Repent” is more
humorous as the hero of the story first unintentionally erodes the standing
system of punctuality then decides to do a few things intentionally. “Crackpots”
follows this whimsical note with the notion that what may seem to be illogical
actions of some are actually carefully performed acts with higher logic behind
them.
The last four stories
cross the lower spectrum of interest: “Bright Eyes” has ethereal descriptions
of its environment, but never becomes grounded into a satisfactory story; “The
Discards” is fun and dark yet too predictable for my tastes; “Wanted in Surgery”
contains too many geeky futuristic SF elements so as to make it feel written
for a juvenile audience; and “Deep Than the Darkness” takes on psi-powers with
mixed success as it throws in aliens, fire starters, mind readers, some silly-sounding
science, and military intervention.
For me, the first
three stories were glimmers of hope for a solid collection of Ellison’s, but
the last four stories didn’t delivery what I wanted… something of which even I
can’t define. I know what I like and I know what I don’t like; in between is my
fluctuating opinion that covers 90% of my reading.
------------
“Paingod” (shortstory,
1964) – 4/5
Trente was appointed
the Paingod by the overseeing power of the universe—the Ethos. Pain must be
experienced by all the universe’s being, however sentient, and it is he who
must deliver that pain. Upon spiders, slugs, and slime of innumerable systems,
the Paingod is there; however, his curiosity gets the best of him when on
planet Earth where he takes the bodily form of a sculptor. He awakens to the
beauty of his pain-filled creation and the beauty of his universal task. 10
pages
“‘Repent,
Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman” (shortstory, 1965) – 4/5
Pestered by a lifetime
by deadlines, tacit expectations of punctuality, and his own perpetual
tardiness to all things related to time, Everett C. Marm finally catches the
attention of the Master Timekeeper. When he unloads millions of jelly beans
upon the commuting labors and the moving walkways—the vital bloodline of the
city—he disrupts the sacred schedule of all things by seven minutes, which is
an offense very worthy of the personal interest of the Timekeeper himself. 12
pages
“The Crackpots”
(novelette, 1956) – 4/5
They Kyben rule the
galaxy as diligent administrators and observers, but their ubiquitous rule
doesn’t limit them to only the grand scale of things. On one planet, the native
Kyben have absolutely gone to pot—it’s citizens are the craziest, most
illogical beings of the whole galaxy and Themus is part of the team in charge
of detailing the actions of the so-called Crackpots. Some things don’t only
perplex Themus, but they also compel him, leading him to an underground tribe
that harbors secrets. 37 pages
“Bright Eyes”
(shortstory, 1965) – 2/5
Bright Eyes is a mere
boy in the eyes of the stars and the planet on which he roams with his tame rat
named Thomas. As he sits upon Thomas experiencing the varied travesties that
have afflicted the unfortunate planet, both are perturbed by the river engorged
with the horizon-spanning mass of discolored, bloated corpses. Thereon, Bright
Eyes learns of the meaning of his life and the fate of his race. With the rat
as his companion and new equal, he faces their collective fate. 12 pages
“The Discarded”
(shortstory, 1959) – 3/5
Having been banished
from the Earth due to their various forms of mutation, the ship full of
Discards roams Sol’s system looking for a place to call home, yet all inhabited
places coldly reject their request. Bedzyk, the figure of leader for the
helpless hundreds of Discards, considers their hopelessness as more and more
suicide. When a ship from Earth docks to their vessel, Bedzyk is quick to
condemn all Earthmen, yet his followers kill him in the belief that when they
can help, the can also be rewarded. 13 pages
“Wanted in Surgery”
(novelette, 1957) – 3/5
In the late
twenty-first century, doctors all over America have become disheartened when
their professional trade is overrun by the more perfect robot surgeons and
diagnosticians called phymechs. Dr. Stuart Bergman just can’t accept the
progress of the state of the art of surgery—he begins to speak out against the
mechanical heartlessness of later devises ways to discredit the machines. In
the end, when feeling defeated, he returns to what he knows best—bedside
manner. 29 pages
“Deeper Than the
Darkness” (novelette, 1957) – 2/5
Alf Gunnderson sits
glumly in a jail cell being miserable with his situation and life overall. His
unique talent is also a burden to him as he’s a pyrotic—one capable of
producing flames from the rubbing of molecules; however, he can’t control his
talent as well as some Blasters and Mindees can control their sparks and
telepathy, respectively. When Spacecom interrogates him, they realize his
potential as a weapon and send him off to the home system of their alien enemy,
where Alf can choose to use his talent for good or for evil. 21 pages
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