Like most people these days, I came to Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and Philip K. Dick through Ridley Scott’s film Blade Runner.  I knew the film was based on the book and always had it on my to-be-read list, but that list grows faster than I keep up with it.  Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep kept its spot as other books piled on.  Then I stumbled onto this comic adaptation by Tony Parker and BOOM! Studios. It’s word for word from the book with panel-to-panel continuity.  I couldn’t resist.

If you like Blade Runner, you really owe it to yourself to read the book or comic.  Both the film and novel are excellent, but they are really two different animals (pun intended).  The film is very character driven and its thematic focus is very narrow. It’s good, but it’s narrow. The novel is idea driven and is much more complex than the film.  Philip K. Dick was as much philosopher as storyteller.  There are some crucial scenes and ideas in the novel that make it superior to the film, because they add so much more depth and meaning to the story.

For example, one crucial element in the novel is Mercerism, a religion that uses technology to give people a sense of connectedness.  People can plug in and feel connected physically and spiritually to Mercer (and all humanity as a result) as he eternally struggles up his hill, like Sisyphus.  As his invisible persecutors throw rocks at him, everyone connected feels the pain.  They actually bruise and bleed.  This is a human need that androids do not understand.  The film doesn’t have enough time to develop this idea, and it is too far removed from Dekker’s primary mission.

The Mercer idea also leads to Buster Friendly, a media personality constantly broadcasting on TV and radio.  Everyone loves him.  Everyone watches.  He has a cast of silly characters that join him similar to variety show and late night TV.  The idea of Mercerism and Buster Friendly are just two examples of Philip K. Dick’s prescience.  They also contribute to the development of Deckard’s character and the difference between humans and androids.

I’m not sure if the comic adaptation now constitutes a third animal in addition to the film and traditional novel.  It includes everything in the novel, and readers who know the film will recognize elements of it in the comic as well.  Tony Parker’s illustrations are brilliant and flow seamlessly with the text.  I had to keep reminding myself that I was actually reading a novel that was written in 1968.  Everything fits and looks perfect in this adaptation.

Parker’s illustrations also illuminate Dick’s underlining themes and the bigger questions at play.  What does it mean to be human?  If the androids are more than human, what does that mean?  What is empathy and why do we have it? Deckard feels like he is increasingly becoming dehumanized by the hunt for the escaped androids.  During Deckard’s internal monologue, Parker often illustrates him imagining that he is killing the androids.   By the time that moment comes in reality, Deckard has already done it in his mind repeatedly.   There is a sense of anti-climax.  It doesn’t mean that much anymore. He has lost some of that empathy.

In addition to the great adaptation, the comics also include an essay at the back of each issue by the likes of Warren Ellis, Jonathan Letham, James Blaylock, TimPowers, etc. The essays are very different from one another.  Some discuss the book and film from an academic perspective.  Some discuss Philip K. Dick in general.  Some are like memoirs. I found all of them illuminating after reading the respective issue.

In short, the comic adaptation is fantastic.  I loved every second of it.  I managed to use the internet machines to track down all 24 issues of it, but BOOM! has issued 6 volumes that collect the whole series.  I will close with a quote from Gabriel McKee’s essay at the end of issue 21:

Dick’s universes have shaky walls and insubstantial foundations.  But throughout it all—and this is where I think many of Dick’s academic admirers get him wrong—he never abandons hope that an authentic ultimate reality exists.  At the core of all of that anxiety… there is a faith that something real is hidden beneath the veil, and that it can and will break through that veil to help us.  And it is that hope, more that the surface anxiety, that gives his stories such power.

 

 

If you’ve ever read Jack Kerouac, I encourage you to check out the documentary One Fast Move or I’m Gone. As the subtitle hints, the documentary focuses on the book Big Sur, which is deemed Kerouac’s darkest book.  Because the book is basically Kerouac dealing with his demons on the page for everyone to see, the documentary gives a really intimate view of who Kerouac was, contradictions and all.  Plus, it has Tom Waits in it, so it has to be good, right?

The soundtrack by Jay Farrar and Ben Gibbard is also worth checking out.

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Sebastian Junger’s War will be for the Afghanistan war what Michael Herr’s Dispatches was for the Vietnam War.  By capturing the unabashed experience of a platoon of soldiers in Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley, Junger has captured the essence of this war for this generation.  He doesn’t debate politics, because the politics of it all mean very little to the men fighting.  What matters is their collective survival and doing their job.   Junger uses biology, psychology, and military history to put what these men are going through mentally and physically into context.

Junger made five trips into the Korengal Valley over the course of a year.  He writes this about the valley:

The Korengal Valley is sort of the Afghanistan of Afghanistan: too remote to conquer, too poor to intimidate, too autonomous to buy off.  The Soviets never made it past the mouth of the valley and the Taliban didn’t dare go in there at all.

It is a sparsely populated slit of steep mountainsides and draws near Pakistan, and it was the most dangerous posting in Afghanistan.  It is nicknamed the Valley of Death.  The U.S. withdrew all troops from the valley a month before Junger’s book was published, stating a shift in strategy in the larger war effort.

Junger follows several men more than others, but he never delves into one soldier’s character completely.  They are a collective, and they operate as a whole.  He finds that the best fighting men are the worst garrison soldiers.  They’re troublemakers.  In fact the platoon has a tradition of beating all new members, including officers.  They beat guys when they go to and come back from R&R.  The only way you can leave without getting beaten is to be wounded or dead. Speaking of being poor garrison soldiers, one soldier states, “Okay, I got to shine my fucking boots.  Why do I care about shining my goddamn boots?”  But these are the men you want with you in a firefight.

The sheer physical toil of the war is almost unbelievable.  The men tote 80 to 100 pound packs up and down steep slopes.  The rocks shred their clothes. They carve an outpost out of mountainside in the middle of the night.  The outposts are infested with fleas and tarantulas.  And not least of all, they receive enemy fire on almost a daily basis. Junger states that the men reek of ammonia because they have burned all the fat from their bodies and are now burning muscle.

The only thing worse than the physicality of the war is the psychological strain.  One soldier compares the rush of adrenaline from a firefight to crack, and many of the mean don’t know how they will handle returning to the States.  Junger writes:

The attention to detail at a base like Restrepo forced a kind of clarity on absolutely everything a soldier did until I came to think of it as a kind of Zen practice: the Zen of not fucking up.  It required a high mindfulness because potentially everything had consequences.

Of course the war in Afghanistan has its own peculiarities, but it is still war.  It shares what all wars have in common. When one of the men discusses signing back up after his tour despite all of the terror and violence he has experienced, Junger writes:

War is a big and sprawling word that brings a lot of human suffering into the conversation, but combat is a different matter.  Combat is the smaller game that young men fall in love with, and any solution to the human problem of war will have to take into account the psyches of these young men.  For some reason there is a profound and mysterious gratification to the reciprocal agreement to protect another person with your life, and combat is virtually the only situation in which that happens regularly.  These hillsides of loose shale and holly trees are where the men feel not most alive- that you can get skydiving- but the most utilized.  The most necessary.  The most clear and certain and purposeful.  If young men could get that feeling at home, no one would ever want to go to war again, but they can’t.

Sebastian Junger and photographer Tim Hetherington filmed a Sundance award-winning documentary about their experiences with Battle Company in the Korengal Valley.  The film is name Restrepo, after the base carved in the mountainside.  The base was named after a medic who was killed.

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