Of course, we have to be generous in our thinking.  "Cosmic Puppets" was only PKD's second completed novel, and he was still feeling his way.  Not unlike his main character here, Ted Barton.

Here comes Ted, on vacation with his terrifically annoyed wife Peg, driving from New York to the little valley town of Millgate, Virginia, where he was born and raised to the age of nine.  He's got this unexplainable urge to visit, although he hasn't been there in 20-odd years, but when he shows up everything has changed.  And not in the usual "You Can't Go Home Again" way, either - the names of the streets are different, absolutely none of the people he knew are there anymore, the buildings look like they've been rotting in place for at least a half century or so.  What's more, according to the files of the local newspaper, he himself died of scarlet fever in his childhood.

Not a bad setup, all told, but somewhere along the line PKD forgot to include anything like a reason why we should care about Ted Barton or Millgate.  You get the reason later - much later - but why on Earth should you sympathize with a man who drags his wife down south in the summer heat just to see some little town in a Virginia valley, when she has made it perfectly clear that she's bored out of her mind?  She's not a very nice person, but then again, neither is he.  And how pleasant would you be after hours and hours on the road in a non-air-conditioned car with nothing to see but mile after mile of mile after mile, nothing to drink but warm beer, and a husband who keeps yammering about his hometown and doesn't pay the slightest attention to anything you say?

Well, as the title implies, Ted Barton is under the influence of some pretty powerful forces, so he's got some excuse.  Unfortunately, you don't learn what that excuse might be until long after it would make any difference.  This is one of those puzzle novels; mysterious things happen for pages and pages, and when you find out what's behind the mystery, the story is over.  Which is all very well if the characters are sympathetic, or the issues at hand bear some personal weight, or the writing style fascinates, or your favorite celebrity turns up and gives you a million dollars, or something.  Having said that, I don't think I need to tell you that none of those things are present here.  There is a rather clever, though sexist, joke in the novel's last line, but you'll have to decide for yourself if that laugh is worth the previous 140-odd pages.

Given the fact that you don't learn the big secret until the novel is at least two-thirds over, it scarcely matters what that secret is.  To be sure, it's fairly impressive that PKD decided to explain Ted Barton's predicament by reference to the ancient Persian religion of Zoroastrianism.  I can't say much more without giving the game away, but clearly PKD's interest in religion bore some fruit even this early in his career.  On the other hand, again given the fact that you don't learn the big secret until pretty late, the religious elements strike one as little more than a gimmick.  Whereas science fiction is the literary exploration of the plausible, fantasy like this is the literary exploration of the possible, and with that enormous freedom comes an equally enormous responsibility for the fantasy author to control his or her elements such that they don't just land on the reader out of a clear blue sky.  Alas, "Cosmic Puppets" is an object lesson in just that sort of error.  Zoroastrianism or no Zoroastrianism (try saying that three times fast), "Cosmic Puppets" contains an explanation because there has to be an explanation.  Any other would have done as well.  Sorry, that's just not good enough.

And I've got a couple of other questions, too.  For one thing, the Millgate Ted Barton remembers is a bustling, morally upright business center straight out of Disney's Carousel of Progress, where all the shops are on the main thoroughfare to take advantage of the tourist traffic, whereas the Millgate Barton finds himself in is sleepy, rundown and relaxed.  The message is clear - it's better to conform to the capitalist idea and grow, grow, grow than leave things to their natural course, mostly because it means no one's picking up the trash.  Would someone please explain to me why the first should automatically be the better course?  Especially in a novel by Philip K. Dick?

For another thing, I can tolerate a certain amount of boilerplate fictional language from a developing author, such as PKD was here, but was it absolutely necessary for his characters to ask all those rhetorical questions in italics, so we know just how serious the whole thing is??

And finally, is it obvious that this review comes from a disappointed fan?  I've said it before, like many more credible readers, and I'll say it again; PKD was among the most imaginative, lunatic, fascinating authors that America produced in any genre of fiction, and when he was bad he was horrid.

But at least you get one of PKD's favorite themes - the unreliability of our perceptions when it comes to reality.  He even put in scenes of a kind that we can see in his later work, such as the one where a man watches an entire building disappear before his very eyes.  There's a scene just like that in "Time Out of Joint".  So go read that one.

Benshlomo says, There are some things that even youth does not excuse.
Of course, we have to be generous in our thinking. "Cosmic Puppets" was only PKD's second completed novel, and he was still feeling his way. Not unlike his main character here, Ted Barton. Here comes Ted, on vacation with his terrifically annoyed wife Peg, driving from New York to the little valley town of Millgate, Virginia, where he was born and raised to the age of nine. He's got this unexplainable urge to visit, although he hasn't been there in 20-odd years, but when he shows up everything has changed. And not in the usual "You Can't Go Home Again" way, either - the names of the streets are different, absolutely none of the people he knew are there anymore, the buildings look like they've been rotting in place for at least a half century or so. What's more, according to the files of the local newspaper, he himself died of scarlet fever in his childhood. Not a bad setup, all told, but somewhere along the line PKD forgot to include anything like a reason why we should care about Ted Barton or Millgate. You get the reason later - much later - but why on Earth should you sympathize with a man who drags his wife down south in the summer heat just to see some little town in a Virginia valley, when she has made it perfectly clear that she's bored out of her mind? She's not a very nice person, but then again, neither is he. And how pleasant would you be after hours and hours on the road in a non-air-conditioned car with nothing to see but mile after mile of mile after mile, nothing to drink but warm beer, and a husband who keeps yammering about his hometown and doesn't pay the slightest attention to anything you say? Well, as the title implies, Ted Barton is under the influence of some pretty powerful forces, so he's got some excuse. Unfortunately, you don't learn what that excuse might be until long after it would make any difference. This is one of those puzzle novels; mysterious things happen for pages and pages, and when you find out what's behind the mystery, the story is over. Which is all very well if the characters are sympathetic, or the issues at hand bear some personal weight, or the writing style fascinates, or your favorite celebrity turns up and gives you a million dollars, or something. Having said that, I don't think I need to tell you that none of those things are present here. There is a rather clever, though sexist, joke in the novel's last line, but you'll have to decide for yourself if that laugh is worth the previous 140-odd pages. Given the fact that you don't learn the big secret until the novel is at least two-thirds over, it scarcely matters what that secret is. To be sure, it's fairly impressive that PKD decided to explain Ted Barton's predicament by reference to the ancient Persian religion of Zoroastrianism. I can't say much more without giving the game away, but clearly PKD's interest in religion bore some fruit even this early in his career. On the other hand, again given the fact that you don't learn the big secret until pretty late, the religious elements strike one as little more than a gimmick. Whereas science fiction is the literary exploration of the plausible, fantasy like this is the literary exploration of the possible, and with that enormous freedom comes an equally enormous responsibility for the fantasy author to control his or her elements such that they don't just land on the reader out of a clear blue sky. Alas, "Cosmic Puppets" is an object lesson in just that sort of error. Zoroastrianism or no Zoroastrianism (try saying that three times fast), "Cosmic Puppets" contains an explanation because there has to be an explanation. Any other would have done as well. Sorry, that's just not good enough. And I've got a couple of other questions, too. For one thing, the Millgate Ted Barton remembers is a bustling, morally upright business center straight out of Disney's Carousel of Progress, where all the shops are on the main thoroughfare to take advantage of the tourist traffic, whereas the Millgate Barton finds himself in is sleepy, rundown and relaxed. The message is clear - it's better to conform to the capitalist idea and grow, grow, grow than leave things to their natural course, mostly because it means no one's picking up the trash. Would someone please explain to me why the first should automatically be the better course? Especially in a novel by Philip K. Dick? For another thing, I can tolerate a certain amount of boilerplate fictional language from a developing author, such as PKD was here, but was it absolutely necessary for his characters to ask all those rhetorical questions in italics, so we know just how serious the whole thing is?? And finally, is it obvious that this review comes from a disappointed fan? I've said it before, like many more credible readers, and I'll say it again; PKD was among the most imaginative, lunatic, fascinating authors that America produced in any genre of fiction, and when he was bad he was horrid. But at least you get one of PKD's favorite themes - the unreliability of our perceptions when it comes to reality. He even put in scenes of a kind that we can see in his later work, such as the one where a man watches an entire building disappear before his very eyes. There's a scene just like that in "Time Out of Joint". So go read that one. Benshlomo says, There are some things that even youth does not excuse.