A Scanner Darkly

Please buckle in and brew a cup of coffee because this is a long one. I rarely finish a book and think to myself, “I should probably read this again,” but that's the first thing I thought once I got to the back cover. I don't think that my experience is unique to A Scanner Darkly (ASD) either. I think it's going to be the case for every Philip K. Dick (PKD) novel I wind up reading, [b:Ubik 22590 Ubik Philip K. Dick https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327995569l/22590.SY75.jpg 62929] was also a trip and a half. This book is really similar to Ubik with its trippy prose and dreamy atmosphere, and it is just as good here if not better. PKD is a polarizing author, his stuff is a little dense and surreal; but if it works for you as it does for me, I think you'll find ASD is an achievement. This is haunting and brilliant, with an empathy for its characters that is as rare as it is gut-twisting and thought-provoking. These were my comrades whom I had; there are no better. They remain in my mind, and the enemy will never be forgiven. The “enemy” was their mistake in playing. Let them all play again, in some other way, and let them be happy.Before we go any further, I think it's important to give a few tidbits of context to the genesis of this story. PKD is someone whose stature borders on the mythical, he is about as close to a folk hero as we got in the 20th century. ASD is in part autobiographical; PKD was a heavy user of amphetamines in the earlier years of his career and this story relates much of his experience in the “drug scene” of the late 60s and early 70's, particularly of his life in 1970. This story was written and edited after he got clean, between ‘73 and ‘77. ASD is further influenced by his experiences during that time, most notably his experiences of hallucinations and a parallel life which happened in 1974 (See “2-3-74” for more; Dick claimed he began to live two parallel lives—one as himself, “Philip K. Dick”, and one as “Thomas”, a Christian persecuted by Romans in the first century AD.). If you know all of these details this story reads in part like a post-mortem (or therapy) concerning those events in his life, and it explains the stylistic and narrative choices contained within.ASD is about Fred/Bob Arctor, an undercover police officer tasked with infiltrating society's underbelly and uncovering the source of a dangerously addictive and powerful psychoactive drug called Substance D. Fred goes about as deep undercover as one can go, regularly taking substance D and opening his house to other addicts. Much of this book concerns itself with all of the addicts who live with Bob, their stories, and their connection to Bob. Bob Arctor eventually comes onto the radar of the police, and Fred is assigned to surveil him. Caused in part by his consumption of the drug, his identity as Fred is subsumed by that of Bob Arctor and his personalities split, he becomes two different men who share the same body and mind.In wretched little lives like that, someone must intervene. Or at least mark their sad comings and going. Mark and if possible permanently record, so they'll be remembered. For a better day, later on, when people will understand.I think the magic of ASD is that you can watch the movie, and read the plot summaries and the reviews but still have no idea what you are in for until you read the novel. If you ask me that's because this book is less about the plot and rather about the experience of reading it- and I can't say that about most of the books I've read. The experience of reading ASD is to step into the shattered and burnt-out mind of an addict, to see and feel in a way that I cannot adequately describe, the rhythm of that life. The characters that inhabit this world are pulled right from his time on the streets in 1970, each one an echo of someone or some experience from that time. Through these lived-in memories, each character is used to explore identity, paranoia, and the human cost of societal decay. This book is a portrait of a time, of a place, of a person and his associates whose existence was scrubbed from the record, of a mode of existence that is alien while simultaneously commonplace. “I, unfortunate Atlas! A whole world,A monstrous world of sorrows I must carry.I bear a weight unbearable; a burdenThat breaks the heart within me”The prose is probably going to be the dividing line on whether or not you like this book. This is a first-person narrative that delves into the inner thoughts and struggles of Fred/Bob Arctor. In so doing the prose mirrors Bob's ever-worsening state; much of Bob's thoughts and so the narrative structure are fractured and disorienting. Dick masterfully blends the mundane and the surreal, creating a narrative that blurs the line between reality and hallucination- marked by a sense of paranoia and confusion. In plain English, it's confusing and weird to read. Characters just keep going down insane thought experiment rabbit holes, there are large pauses between developments while Bob and his friends go about performing one scam or another, and there's a distinct change in perspective depending on whether Bob or Frank are the subjects of a chapter. At its worst, it is literally throwing German at you (excerpts from Faust, the Fidelio libretto, and Heine). I can't blame anyone who gets lost in this book because it is trying its best to throw you. All of those negative things said it's still incredible; this is immersive to a fault! It invites us to navigate the intricate web of deception and self-destruction woven throughout the narrative. Yes, even the German eventually ties in (and once you pull up the translations, they are incredibly appropriate selections). It's a stylistic choice that adds depth to the exploration of identity, addiction, and the consequences of a society under constant surveillance. Chefs kiss “I prayed a long time ago, a lot, but not any more. We wouldn't have to do this, what we're doing, if prayer worked. It's another shuck.”“Most things are.”Reading this in 2023 means that a lot of the opinions and discussions surrounding drug culture have shifted somewhat. I think that I read this with a much more sympathetic eye than its contemporaries, but I'm not sure if we are the generation of people who embody the sentiment of “a better day, later on, when people will understand.” As I type this review the drug war continues to rage on, and the mechanism of the state is still set against drug producers and dealers and users almost exactly as it was in the 1970s. We may declare the drug war a failure in left-wing circles but the war on drugs has cemented itself as something more than an effort of the state, it has become an industry in and of itself. PKD's portrayal of that industry rings true nearly 50 years later, burgeoning and lucrative. If anything his “dystopia” has been outdone by reality; we've built a mechanism of suffering on the backs of those piteous souls who made the error of drug use. Closing Notes. I liked this more than Ubik and the themes and ideas in this book are probably going to be bouncing around in here for a long time to come. I would also be completely remiss if I didn't plug the FANTASTIC audiobook that's available for this, it's read by Paul Giamatti and he absolutely kills it. I read along with him whenever the narrative got confusing and hard to follow and that did the trick.

“When a person went to the doctor–there was only one, and he specialized in everything–there was only one medicine. After he had diagnosed you he prescribed the medicine. You took the slip to the pharmacy to have it filled, but the pharmacist never could read what the doctor had written, so he gave you the only pill he had, which was aspirin. And it cured whatever you had.”