In February 1974 something profound and inexplicable happened to author Philip K Dick that changed his life forever. Was it an illness, a psychotic reaction, or something truly mystical?
Today in pulp I look back at the exegesis of Philip K Dick...
Philip K Dick was both prolific and influential. In his youth he came to the conclusion that, in a certain sense, the world is not entirely real and there is no way to confirm whether it is truly there.
By the end of the 1960s Philip K Dick had published over 40 novels and stories, as well as winning the 1963 Hugo Award for The Man In The High Castle. But he still struggled financially.
As well as money problems he had become a heavy amphetamine user. In 1972, after his fourth marriage failed and his home was burgled, he made his first suicide attempt. He later entered the X-Kalay rehab centre to recover.
On 20 February 1974 Dick was at home recovering from dental surgery, which had involved sodium pentothal. He was in great pain and his wife ordered some strong painkillers to be delivered to their home.
The painkillers were delivered by a woman wearing a gold necklace with a Christian fish symbol. On seeing this he was suddenly blinded by a flash of pink light and a series of powerful visions ensued.
He later described this vision as anamnesis - "loss of forgetfulness." He immediately knew he and the delivery woman were both persecuted Christians in ancient Rome. Time was unreal, or rather it was a Platonic ideal.
More visions happened in the following months: abstract patterns, philosophical ideas, sophisticated engineering blueprints. He felt he was actually living two simultaneous lives. In one he was Philip K Dick the author...
In his other parallel life time had stopped in 70 A.D. and everything that happened afterwards was an illusion. The Roman Empire was alive under Richard Nixon and he was an undercover revolutionary.
One of his visions told him his child had an undiagnosed life-threatening hernia, which turned out to be true. His night-time murmurings turned out to be Koine Greek. Whatever was happening, it wasn't easy to dismiss.
Dick later describes the event as "an invasion of my mind by a transcendentally rational mind." The invader called Zebra, made more effective and rational decisions than he could, including sorting out his finances and royalties.
Dick wrote a private journal - called Exegesis - from 1974 up to his death in 1982. In it he tried to make sense of the intense visions he had experienced. He made a further suicide attempt in 1976 when his visions ceased.
He worked on many theories for his visionary experiences: God, the KGB, satellites, aliens, a telepathic first-century Christian called Thomas, the CIA, a version of himself from a different dimension, his twin sister in the spirit world...
Most of Philip K Dick's later works explore the gnostic ideas and implications of his visions. VALIS - "Vast Active Living Intelligence System" - is part of his unfinished trilogy of books about what he believed he had discovered.
In his Exegesis he wrote: "We appear to be memory coils... in a computer-like thinking system which, although we have correctly recorded and stored thousands of years of experiential information... there is a malfunction of memory retrieval."
Whatever the cause, the experience seemed to make him more secure and happier in his later years. It didn't make sense, it couldn't perhaps be understood, but he felt a form of truth had been revealed to him, and that was enough.
Philip K Dick passed away on 2 March 1982. His ashes were buried next to his twin sister Jane, who had died in infancy. Her tombstone had been inscribed with both of their names at the time of her death, 53 years earlier.
Philip K Dick's later work can be an acquired taste, but if you understand the author's frame of mind at the time you can perhaps appreciate what he was trying to describe. It's unique and unsettling and thoroughly rewarding.
More stories another time...
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Monday 23 June 1984 seemed like a normal day. The latest issue of Tammy was out, with the latest instalment of The Forbidden Garden and the new Secret Sisters strip. Little did we know it would be the last issue ever!
Today in pulp I ask: whatever happened to Tammy?
British girls' comics have a long history, starting out as story papers in the 1920s and 30s. Public schools, caddish sorts and lots of healthy outdoor activity were the main staples of the genre...
Postwar the girls' comic template was firmly set in 1951 by Girl, the sister paper to The Eagle. Adventure, duty and jolly hockey sticks were the order of the day.
IPC acquired Girl in 1963, so you can guess what happened next...
Today in pulp I’m looking at the publishing phenomenon that was the Belmont/Tower merger of 1971.
Two pulp universes crashing into each other, with terrible literary consequences...
Tower Publications started out in New York City in 1958. Initially they were the people behind Harry Shorten’s risqué Midwood Books imprint. These were sometimes marketed as Midwood-Tower books.
Shorten had set up Midwood in 1957 as a rival to Beacon and Nightstand Books, distributing racy titles to railway and bus station newsstands. Lawrence Block, Robert Silverberg and Donald E Westlake all wrote for Midwood under various aliases.
I'm looking at Space:1999's Moonbase Alpha, and trying to answer a few questions:
- is it related to the SHADO moonbase from UFO?
- how did it travel so far in space?
- is Elon Musk really planning to build it?
Let's find out...
In Space:1999 Moonbase Alpha is a 4km wide settlement in the Plato moon crater. It's both a research centre and a monitoring station for the vast amounts of nuclear waste Earth has dumped on the Moon.
It is the greatest frog-worshiping zombie biker occult horror film ever made. Possibly the only one. It's certainly like no other movie you've ever seen.
Today in pulp, I look back at the 1971 classic Psychomania...
By the early 1970s British horror films were trying to get 'with it' to attract a younger audience. So it wasn't surprising that in 1971 screenwriter Arnaud d'Usseau tried to create a biker horror movie.
d'Usseau had previously written Horror Express, an Anglo-Spanish sci-fi/horror movie loosely based on John W. Campbell's novella Who Goes There. Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and Telly Savalas did their best with the material.
Today in pulp I’m looking at the work of illustrator Robert Jonas.
This means we need to talk about Penguin Books in America…
Allen Lane, the founder of Penguin, had started exporting his paperbacks to the US in the 1930s, but the cost (and during the war years the dangers) of sending books across the Atlantic didn’t really make commercial sense. A new approach was needed.
So he recruited Kurt Enoch, one of the founders of Albatross Books, and with the help of Ian Ballantine a new US Penguin series was launched In early 1942.