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XXXV: Thomas M. Disch, On Wings of Song (1979)
It must say something that my earliest reading of sf included both E.E. Doc Smith and Thomas M. Disch, and that I was reading the New Wave before I had a real sense of what the Old Wave was. My guess is I read Disch's spoof interview in New Worlds 10 with R.G. Allbard, author of Rash fairly early on, certainly before knowing who Ballard was. When venturing into the adult library during a similar period I discovered Ballard and Dick, and then (having been turned onto Vonnegut) Jack Trevor Storey and John Sladek - specifically The Müaut;ller-Föaut;kket Effect. Somewhere along that line of reading I must have connected back to Disch.
This would have been prior to the Minnesota Sequence - there were the various disaster novels, several collections of short stories and I even found some of the poetry. Whilst Disch was clearly a master ironist, his fiction seemed relentlessly downbeat, without the sense of psychic fulfilment that the ending of, say, The Drowned World had. Aliens invade and human fight back - unsuccessfully. A hero is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and is killed. There is no up escalator.
Whilst I bought my copy of On Wings of Song 18 October 1991 from Murder One (presumably on the way to the PKD event) I must have read it earlier than that, probably in hard back. As a mark of rememberance and as part of an on-going project I've alluded to before, it was time for a re-read.
The novel was serialised in F&SF (Feb, Mar and Apr 1979) and then collected by Gollancz and St Martin’s (1979). Set in a typically Dischean dystopian American, this is the Bildungsroman - almost a Kunstlerroman - of Daniel Weinreb, growing up poor in an oppressive twenty-first century America. Some people are able to fly, and leave behind the bounds of their bodies and the earth, but this is both discouraged and criminalised. Weinreb is sent to prison, and after his release falls into a relationship with a rich heiress, Boadicea Whiting. They marry, but Boa disappears flying during a stop off in New York on their way to Europe, and the plane they were to take is blown up by terrorists (or possibly her father). Daniel hides in New York, with Boa’s body, aware that if he becomes famous he may be exposed.
The title is an instance of Disch's irony - alluding to a romantic poem by Heine in which there is a promised land. In a Disch novel this is not expected to be reached - and there are moments of thought here which recall (anticipate) Gilliam's
It must say something that my earliest reading of sf included both E.E. Doc Smith and Thomas M. Disch, and that I was reading the New Wave before I had a real sense of what the Old Wave was. My guess is I read Disch's spoof interview in New Worlds 10 with R.G. Allbard, author of Rash fairly early on, certainly before knowing who Ballard was. When venturing into the adult library during a similar period I discovered Ballard and Dick, and then (having been turned onto Vonnegut) Jack Trevor Storey and John Sladek - specifically The Müaut;ller-Föaut;kket Effect. Somewhere along that line of reading I must have connected back to Disch.
This would have been prior to the Minnesota Sequence - there were the various disaster novels, several collections of short stories and I even found some of the poetry. Whilst Disch was clearly a master ironist, his fiction seemed relentlessly downbeat, without the sense of psychic fulfilment that the ending of, say, The Drowned World had. Aliens invade and human fight back - unsuccessfully. A hero is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and is killed. There is no up escalator.
Whilst I bought my copy of On Wings of Song 18 October 1991 from Murder One (presumably on the way to the PKD event) I must have read it earlier than that, probably in hard back. As a mark of rememberance and as part of an on-going project I've alluded to before, it was time for a re-read.
The novel was serialised in F&SF (Feb, Mar and Apr 1979) and then collected by Gollancz and St Martin’s (1979). Set in a typically Dischean dystopian American, this is the Bildungsroman - almost a Kunstlerroman - of Daniel Weinreb, growing up poor in an oppressive twenty-first century America. Some people are able to fly, and leave behind the bounds of their bodies and the earth, but this is both discouraged and criminalised. Weinreb is sent to prison, and after his release falls into a relationship with a rich heiress, Boadicea Whiting. They marry, but Boa disappears flying during a stop off in New York on their way to Europe, and the plane they were to take is blown up by terrorists (or possibly her father). Daniel hides in New York, with Boa’s body, aware that if he becomes famous he may be exposed.
The title is an instance of Disch's irony - alluding to a romantic poem by Heine in which there is a promised land. In a Disch novel this is not expected to be reached - and there are moments of thought here which recall (anticipate) Gilliam's
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<B>XXXV: Thomas M. Disch, <I>On Wings of Song</I> (1979)</B>
It must say something that my earliest reading of sf included both E.E. Doc Smith and Thomas M. Disch, and that I was reading the New Wave before I had a real sense of what the Old Wave was. My guess is I read Disch's spoof interview in <I>New Worlds</I> 10 with R.G. Allbard, author of <I>Rash</I> fairly early on, certainly before knowing who Ballard was. When venturing into the adult library during a similar period I discovered Ballard and Dick, and then (having been turned onto Vonnegut) Jack Trevor Storey and John Sladek - specifically <I>The Müaut;ller-Föaut;kket Effect</I>. Somewhere along that line of reading I must have connected back to Disch.
This would have been prior to the Minnesota Sequence - there were the various disaster novels, several collections of short stories and I even found some of the poetry. Whilst Disch was clearly a master ironist, his fiction seemed relentlessly downbeat, without the sense of psychic fulfilment that the ending of, say, <I>The Drowned World</I> had. Aliens invade and human fight back - unsuccessfully. A hero is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and is killed. There is <I>no</I> up escalator.
Whilst I bought my copy of <I>On Wings of Song</I> 18 October 1991 from Murder One (presumably on the way to the PKD event) I must have read it earlier than that, probably in hard back. As a mark of rememberance and as part of an on-going project I've alluded to before, it was time for a <lj-cut text="re-read">re-read.
The novel was serialised in F&SF (Feb, Mar and Apr 1979) and then collected by Gollancz and St Martin’s (1979). Set in a typically Dischean dystopian American, this is the Bildungsroman - almost a Kunstlerroman - of Daniel Weinreb, growing up poor in an oppressive twenty-first century America. Some people are able to fly, and leave behind the bounds of their bodies and the earth, but this is both discouraged and criminalised. Weinreb is sent to prison, and after his release falls into a relationship with a rich heiress, Boadicea Whiting. They marry, but Boa disappears flying during a stop off in New York on their way to Europe, and the plane they were to take is blown up by terrorists (or possibly her father). Daniel hides in New York, with Boa’s body, aware that if he becomes famous he may be exposed.
The title is an instance of Disch's irony - alluding to a romantic poem by Heine in which there is a promised land. In a Disch novel this is not expected to be reached - and there are moments of thought here which recall (anticipate) Gilliam's <I><Brazil</I>. Any situation which Daniel finds himself in which may be of comfort turns out to be either illusory or so sickly sweet that you doubt its veracity. Whilst the society at the end of the novel is not as dystopian as that at the end, the system cannot be beaten. I think a rabbit is pulled from the hat, but Disch does actually play fair in its set up.
In the end then - and I suppose we cannot help but read this in the light of what Disch did to himself - Disch has his cake and eats it. There is the repeated sense in the linkage of music and flying that there is an acknowledgment of the transformative and transcendent qualities of art. But Disch's - pessimism? cynicism? realism? demands that these be shot down. Perhaps a belief in transcendence is too elitist. Or too romantic.</lj-cut>
For those of you who have already read the novel, or who are unafraid of spoilers, I've written about it in different terms at <a href="http://flares.wordpress.com/2008/07/26/disch-on-wings-of-song/">Solar Flares</a>, a <a href="http://flares.wordpress.com/">space</a> I've set up for my exploration of 1970s sf.
It must say something that my earliest reading of sf included both E.E. Doc Smith and Thomas M. Disch, and that I was reading the New Wave before I had a real sense of what the Old Wave was. My guess is I read Disch's spoof interview in <I>New Worlds</I> 10 with R.G. Allbard, author of <I>Rash</I> fairly early on, certainly before knowing who Ballard was. When venturing into the adult library during a similar period I discovered Ballard and Dick, and then (having been turned onto Vonnegut) Jack Trevor Storey and John Sladek - specifically <I>The Müaut;ller-Föaut;kket Effect</I>. Somewhere along that line of reading I must have connected back to Disch.
This would have been prior to the Minnesota Sequence - there were the various disaster novels, several collections of short stories and I even found some of the poetry. Whilst Disch was clearly a master ironist, his fiction seemed relentlessly downbeat, without the sense of psychic fulfilment that the ending of, say, <I>The Drowned World</I> had. Aliens invade and human fight back - unsuccessfully. A hero is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and is killed. There is <I>no</I> up escalator.
Whilst I bought my copy of <I>On Wings of Song</I> 18 October 1991 from Murder One (presumably on the way to the PKD event) I must have read it earlier than that, probably in hard back. As a mark of rememberance and as part of an on-going project I've alluded to before, it was time for a <lj-cut text="re-read">re-read.
The novel was serialised in F&SF (Feb, Mar and Apr 1979) and then collected by Gollancz and St Martin’s (1979). Set in a typically Dischean dystopian American, this is the Bildungsroman - almost a Kunstlerroman - of Daniel Weinreb, growing up poor in an oppressive twenty-first century America. Some people are able to fly, and leave behind the bounds of their bodies and the earth, but this is both discouraged and criminalised. Weinreb is sent to prison, and after his release falls into a relationship with a rich heiress, Boadicea Whiting. They marry, but Boa disappears flying during a stop off in New York on their way to Europe, and the plane they were to take is blown up by terrorists (or possibly her father). Daniel hides in New York, with Boa’s body, aware that if he becomes famous he may be exposed.
The title is an instance of Disch's irony - alluding to a romantic poem by Heine in which there is a promised land. In a Disch novel this is not expected to be reached - and there are moments of thought here which recall (anticipate) Gilliam's <I><Brazil</I>. Any situation which Daniel finds himself in which may be of comfort turns out to be either illusory or so sickly sweet that you doubt its veracity. Whilst the society at the end of the novel is not as dystopian as that at the end, the system cannot be beaten. I think a rabbit is pulled from the hat, but Disch does actually play fair in its set up.
In the end then - and I suppose we cannot help but read this in the light of what Disch did to himself - Disch has his cake and eats it. There is the repeated sense in the linkage of music and flying that there is an acknowledgment of the transformative and transcendent qualities of art. But Disch's - pessimism? cynicism? realism? demands that these be shot down. Perhaps a belief in transcendence is too elitist. Or too romantic.</lj-cut>
For those of you who have already read the novel, or who are unafraid of spoilers, I've written about it in different terms at <a href="http://flares.wordpress.com/2008/07/26/disch-on-wings-of-song/">Solar Flares</a>, a <a href="http://flares.wordpress.com/">space</a> I've set up for my exploration of 1970s sf.
