While the blurb on the back of my copy sounded exciting (a hellish planet! Monsters that were once human! An impending apocalypse!), two things gave me misgivings: the protagonist's name (Brion Brandd? As in, Brian Brand, just spelled weird? Really?) and the publishing date: 1962. I had the feeling I was in for a pulpy, stupid, sexist read, and I was right.
I would have liked this book better if Harrison had treated it like a pulpy, stupid adventure. But no: he treats it like a serious, eye-opening, genre-defining work, with something to say about biology, politics, warfare, and psychology. What it does say is incredibly basic (organisms evolve in response to new environments! People who follow a pacifist philosophy don't know how to properly conduct a war!) and/or patently false (women are naturally less rational and logical than men). To be fair, better sci-fi works have been written around outdated or silly theories (Dune, for example). But because Frank Herbert was a better writer and worldbuilder than Harrison, he could make me accept things like genetic memory and seeing the future through drugs while I was reading. Harrison? Not so much.
Actually, this whole book reads like a version of Dune written by a less competent author. It takes place on a desert planet. Yes, the hell-planet Dis is just an ordinary desert planet, which was disappointing. Obviously, desert planets weren't cliches in 1962, but they definitely are now. Somehow, BriOn BrandD is the only one who can avert an upcoming nuclear holocaust, but it's never clearly explained why. He's not even properly trained for such a mission: he's a glorified, futuristic version of an Olympic champion. Yet we're supposed to believe he can succeed where numerous military and diplomatic personnel have failed? Come on. At least Paul Atreides was genetically engineered to be a superhuman. This guy walks hundreds of miles through a desert on very little water, establishes a rapport with the brown-skinned, naked natives (I know, I know), is the first to notice that something is wrong with the Magter, and can infiltrate a military base with a small escort--because he's good at sports, I guess. Plus he's empathic--or "empathetic," so that just means he's naturally better at reading people than anyone else. Oh, and he has a penis, so that means he's automatically competent: we can't forget that.
Why couldn't Harrison have just made Bri-Bri a professional soldier or diplomat? At least then his manly, macho prowess and posturings would have been easier to stomach. At least his vomit-inducing interactions with Dr. Lea Morees, the only female character and his eventual love interest (of course!) would have been slightly less painful, though considering what a Frankenstein's monster of negative female stereotypes Dr. Morees is, it might not have made much difference. Lea is, at various points in the book, shrewish, emotional, hysterical, tearful, unconscious, horny, in shock, or high on painkillers--everything except competent, in fact. She can't even do her JOB under pressure--or without sobbing and wailing that she wants to go home--without Brianrietta using his empathetic-ness to lend her some mental strength! (Naturally, Prion never goes into shock or breaks down--because he has a penis. But you know us women: our intelligence, physical strength, maturity, and competence always leak out of our vaginas. Or something.)
So I thought this book was awful. But if you miss the good ol' days of pulp sci-fi, where men were macho, superhuman killing machines, women were weepy, useless burdens who couldn't even walk down the driveway without being carried by men, and winning a gold medal in fencing meant you were fully qualified to undertake a diplomatic mission on a dangerous planet, this is the book for you.