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Fundamental Disch
"Eighteen spellbinding tales" are included in this outstanding collection of Disch's shorter work, with an Introduction by Samuel R. Delany and two Appendices [I -The Story of the Story, On "Et in Arcadia Ego", The Uses of a Theory; II - The Fall of the House of Usher]. 398 pages.
398 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1980
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About the author
Thomas M. Disch
378 books321 followersThomas Michael Disch was an American science fiction writer and poet. He won the Hugo Award for Best Related Book—previously called "Best Non-Fiction Book"—in 1999. He had two other Hugo nominations and nine Nebula Award nominations to his credit, plus one win of the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, a Rhysling Award, and two Seiun Awards, among others.
His writing includes substantial periodical work, such as regular book and theater reviews for The Nation, The Weekly Standard, Harper's, The Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, The Times Literary Supplement, and Entertainment Weekly.
As a fiction writer and a poet, Disch felt typecast by his science fiction roots. "I have a class theory of literature. I come from the wrong neighborhood to sell to The New Yorker. No matter how good I am as an artist, they always can smell where I come from".
Following an extended period of depression after the death in 2005 of his life-partner, Charles Naylor, Disch stopped writing almost entirely, except for poetry and blog entries, although he did produce two novellas. Disch fatally shot himself on July 4, 2008, in his Manhatten (NYC) apartment.
Naylor and Disch are buried alongside each other at Saint Johns Episcopal Church Columbarium, Dubuque, Iowa. His last book, The Word of God, which was written shortly before Naylor died, was published a few days before Disch's death.
His writing includes substantial periodical work, such as regular book and theater reviews for The Nation, The Weekly Standard, Harper's, The Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, The Times Literary Supplement, and Entertainment Weekly.
As a fiction writer and a poet, Disch felt typecast by his science fiction roots. "I have a class theory of literature. I come from the wrong neighborhood to sell to The New Yorker. No matter how good I am as an artist, they always can smell where I come from".
Following an extended period of depression after the death in 2005 of his life-partner, Charles Naylor, Disch stopped writing almost entirely, except for poetry and blog entries, although he did produce two novellas. Disch fatally shot himself on July 4, 2008, in his Manhatten (NYC) apartment.
Naylor and Disch are buried alongside each other at Saint Johns Episcopal Church Columbarium, Dubuque, Iowa. His last book, The Word of God, which was written shortly before Naylor died, was published a few days before Disch's death.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
January 30, 2021
Fascinating, Maddening. Well worth reading.
Usually with short story collections, my score is an average of the love/hates for each individual story, adjusted a little, up or down, to reflect the overall impact of the whole collection. Here, I just said, to heck with it, and adjusted it right up to 5* -- yes, there are mis-steps here, and no, I didn't "love" every single story. But this is Thomas M. Disch, for god's sake: The mis-steps are as interesting as the hits, every word reflecting the complications of Disch as a writer, and as such are just as valuable as the gems.
Notice that it's called Fundamental Disch: not "The Best of Thomas M. Disch." I can only imagine the sneer with which Disch would have regarded anything with the nerve to call itself "the best of" ... What you have here are pieces that are fundamental to understanding the work of a fascinating, and maddening, author -- like it or lump it. Thomas M. Disch wouldn't really have cared. (Except, of course, I think he cared deeply, and that -- as some of the stories demonstrate, with deep self-awareness -- was his tragedy.)
Right, so -- I tracked down a battered, abused, ex-library version of this collection (which tragically, if the library stickers in the book are to believed, had never once been withdrawn from the University of Dayton Roesch Library) because, during the pandemic lockdown, I was haunted by Disch's 1967 story "Casablanca." Which I read as a teenager, 50 or so years ago. How's that for sticking power? It frightened the living bejaysus out of me then, and it has lost none of its power. In fact, in early 2020, as tourists faced the grim prospect of being stranded, by airline collapses and countries closing their borders, in increasingly inhospitable luxury destinations, it has acquired a real, terrifying crystal-ball quality -- This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but by being unable to cash your travellers checks ...
Two other stories, in my opinion, are first rate, and play effectively with the same themes as "Casablanca" (identity, entitlement, being an outsider ...) and those are "The Asian Shore" (1970), a marvellously creepy story, in which a smug, alienated academic, doing research in Istanbul for his obscure and contrary thesis on architecture and urban landscapes, is gradually overwhelmed by a ghostly doppelganger; and "Getting into Death" (1974), a surprisingly upbeat, touching and very funny story about an author with a complicated personal life, who is marooned in hospital, having discovered that she could die at any moment due to a heart condition. The parallels in the life and career of dying author Cassandra Millar to the life and career of one TM Disch are so striking that, although Disch lived on for30+ years after he wrote it, it could in some says serve as an epitaph for him, and I can only wish that, in his sad end, he was granted just a little of Cassandra's peace.
I liked Disch's SF and Fantasy stories well enough: "White Fang Goes Dingo," "Assassin & Son," and "Bodies," are very readable, and the world-building is impressive, but I wasn't blown away by them. I always feel that (with some notable exceptions) genre short stories can be disappointing, like tasters or trial runs for full-length novels (and sometimes, as with "White Fang," they are). But I especially liked "Et in Arcadia Ego" because it was a such a clever pastiche of a whole sub-genre of SF, neatly rolling up into a few wicked pages the themes and imagery and backstory that other, lesser authors grind out into thousand-pages novels and endless series.
I know it's one of his signature pieces, but personally, I don't care for "Angouleme" (1971) -- marvellous, sickeningly prescient idea (pre-teens decided to murder a homeless person, for fun ...) -- but its too artificial and stylized for me.
If there were any justice in this world, Thomas M. Disch would be more of a household name. As it is, I can only recommend that everyone who cares about good writing -- and good genre writing -- should track down a battered old ex-library copy of this collection, and read it for themselves...
Usually with short story collections, my score is an average of the love/hates for each individual story, adjusted a little, up or down, to reflect the overall impact of the whole collection. Here, I just said, to heck with it, and adjusted it right up to 5* -- yes, there are mis-steps here, and no, I didn't "love" every single story. But this is Thomas M. Disch, for god's sake: The mis-steps are as interesting as the hits, every word reflecting the complications of Disch as a writer, and as such are just as valuable as the gems.
Notice that it's called Fundamental Disch: not "The Best of Thomas M. Disch." I can only imagine the sneer with which Disch would have regarded anything with the nerve to call itself "the best of" ... What you have here are pieces that are fundamental to understanding the work of a fascinating, and maddening, author -- like it or lump it. Thomas M. Disch wouldn't really have cared. (Except, of course, I think he cared deeply, and that -- as some of the stories demonstrate, with deep self-awareness -- was his tragedy.)
Right, so -- I tracked down a battered, abused, ex-library version of this collection (which tragically, if the library stickers in the book are to believed, had never once been withdrawn from the University of Dayton Roesch Library) because, during the pandemic lockdown, I was haunted by Disch's 1967 story "Casablanca." Which I read as a teenager, 50 or so years ago. How's that for sticking power? It frightened the living bejaysus out of me then, and it has lost none of its power. In fact, in early 2020, as tourists faced the grim prospect of being stranded, by airline collapses and countries closing their borders, in increasingly inhospitable luxury destinations, it has acquired a real, terrifying crystal-ball quality -- This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but by being unable to cash your travellers checks ...
Two other stories, in my opinion, are first rate, and play effectively with the same themes as "Casablanca" (identity, entitlement, being an outsider ...) and those are "The Asian Shore" (1970), a marvellously creepy story, in which a smug, alienated academic, doing research in Istanbul for his obscure and contrary thesis on architecture and urban landscapes, is gradually overwhelmed by a ghostly doppelganger; and "Getting into Death" (1974), a surprisingly upbeat, touching and very funny story about an author with a complicated personal life, who is marooned in hospital, having discovered that she could die at any moment due to a heart condition. The parallels in the life and career of dying author Cassandra Millar to the life and career of one TM Disch are so striking that, although Disch lived on for30+ years after he wrote it, it could in some says serve as an epitaph for him, and I can only wish that, in his sad end, he was granted just a little of Cassandra's peace.
I liked Disch's SF and Fantasy stories well enough: "White Fang Goes Dingo," "Assassin & Son," and "Bodies," are very readable, and the world-building is impressive, but I wasn't blown away by them. I always feel that (with some notable exceptions) genre short stories can be disappointing, like tasters or trial runs for full-length novels (and sometimes, as with "White Fang," they are). But I especially liked "Et in Arcadia Ego" because it was a such a clever pastiche of a whole sub-genre of SF, neatly rolling up into a few wicked pages the themes and imagery and backstory that other, lesser authors grind out into thousand-pages novels and endless series.
I know it's one of his signature pieces, but personally, I don't care for "Angouleme" (1971) -- marvellous, sickeningly prescient idea (pre-teens decided to murder a homeless person, for fun ...) -- but its too artificial and stylized for me.
If there were any justice in this world, Thomas M. Disch would be more of a household name. As it is, I can only recommend that everyone who cares about good writing -- and good genre writing -- should track down a battered old ex-library copy of this collection, and read it for themselves...
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December 1, 2025Thomas M. Disch wrote weird stories... the plot is not that entertaining, the concepts are not that intriguing... yet for some reason they feel like good stories... its a weird experience. That being said, there are a few bangers in this collection: 'Descending' and 'White Fang Goes Dingo' (awesome title) were great, 'The Roaches' is a skin-crawlingly creepy urban horror story, and 'The Squirrel Cage' is an absolute gem that is in contention for being an all-time favorite. For emphasis: 'The Squirrel Cage' is really really good (and super short), and you should read it. I can't say what it is about Disch's fiction that is so mesmerizing, but I keep wanting to try more of it.
September 11, 2012
One might wonder why a collection described as ‘Fundamental’ would contain stories that even the author sees as at best adequate. But maybe this simply makes the collection unusual for its determination to reflect reality. Let’s say there is some drivel in this book. So there should be, for Disch was an arrogant person who didn’t need to bother writing at his best. Why would he when he could churn out stuff with a modicum of effort that sold? But what an unsatisfactory life he had as a consequence: Disch always thought he should have been recognised in some fabulous way that he was not. And yet he considered his audience to be idiots who’d be satisfied with his secondbest, consequently delivered. It seems obvious that one can’t have it both ways but Disch was maybe so up himself that he thought he could. Not only should he be more famous and successful than he was, but that his secondrate stuff should be adequate to that task.
It turns out, however, that his audience aren’t idiots.
There are lots of stories in this book that I found hard to put down, and I’m grateful when I decided to give it away at some point after a bad patch, that I was talked into continuing. At his best – the stories resulting from his obsession with death and his ‘our world, near future’ stories - are terrific. At his worst – when he is trying for a certain type of humour which I’m going to try labelling ‘silly’ and when he is doing science fiction – he is really weak. It is evident that he doesn’t respect the idea of writing science fiction and I don’t really see how you can write well if you don’t respect what you are doing.
I’m not sure that I trust him at his best, either. He thinks his stories don’t have to end with an ending. On the one hand, I want to think this is quite effective in an unsettling way. On the other, I feel like what if that is part of his treating me as an idiot, that he doesn’t have to bother with stories making sense, being tied up, having a conclusion?
Some of these stories get four stars. Some get none. Well worth reading for the former.
It turns out, however, that his audience aren’t idiots.
There are lots of stories in this book that I found hard to put down, and I’m grateful when I decided to give it away at some point after a bad patch, that I was talked into continuing. At his best – the stories resulting from his obsession with death and his ‘our world, near future’ stories - are terrific. At his worst – when he is trying for a certain type of humour which I’m going to try labelling ‘silly’ and when he is doing science fiction – he is really weak. It is evident that he doesn’t respect the idea of writing science fiction and I don’t really see how you can write well if you don’t respect what you are doing.
I’m not sure that I trust him at his best, either. He thinks his stories don’t have to end with an ending. On the one hand, I want to think this is quite effective in an unsettling way. On the other, I feel like what if that is part of his treating me as an idiot, that he doesn’t have to bother with stories making sense, being tied up, having a conclusion?
Some of these stories get four stars. Some get none. Well worth reading for the former.
August 18, 2012
The first two paragraphs of Disch's essay The Story of the Story: "The Double-Timer" in which he talks frankly about his first published piece of work:
In the long-ago days before every child had his own cassette recorder I delivered a talk over the Fairmont radio station on the topic of how something - either the Church or the School or the Family - molds us into good citizens. The talk had been recorded in advance, and when it was broadcast I was sitting with the rest of the combined seventh and eighth grades, confident of my impending moment of glory. At last a voice started delivering the speech I'd written, but it wasn't my voice. Some child was declaiming my lines in a shrill, affected, ridiculous pennywhistle of a voice. I started laughing, and when I couldn't be made to stop I had to be sent from the room. So much for glory.
Rereading "The Double-Timer", I feel a kindred emotion. Not only does it not seem to be my story, it seems downright bad - another retread of some tired B-movie with the flimsiest of science-fictional premises and no redeeming literary merit. The characters are Formica, the world they inhabit as textureless as Velveeta. The dialogue has negative flair, and to judge from its consistency the would-be hard-boiled prose has been boiled for no more than two minutes. Nevertheless, the story achieved its essential purpose. It sold to a magazine.
May 5, 2024
The first half of this roughly chronological collection is interesting to great, the back half interesting to dull. I knew going in that Disch, so often chilly and cerebral, was not the writer for me, yet found myself impressed by some of these, including "Descending" and "Dangerous Flags." It was telling that the midpoint story cited by Disch as the one in which he found his voice, "Angouleme," is where he lost me.
April 30, 2020
Okay, kids, here's a good way to get into a great writer that you probably haven't heard of.
November 18, 2012
Re-read. I don't remember what I got out of most of these stories 25+ years ago; probably not much.
There are some real gems, of course. My favorite quote from "The Doomsday Machine":
The first instance of suicide as a fad, as distinguished from suicides of convenience and literary suicide, took place in 1986 at the venerable Protestant Theological Seminary in Tubingen. In October of that year, young Ranier Markheim, in a stolen nun's habit weighted with three brass candlesticks, drowned himself in the river Nektar, leaving behind a note that said, simply, "Stop laughing at me, Jesus!" While Ranier's Selbstmord may fairly be adjudged the act of an unbalanced mind, not so those that followed, as, one after another, seventeen of Ranier's classmates signed their names, so to speak, to his petition, all before the commencement of the Christmas holidays. Each left a note remarkable for its triviality or unlikeliness. Karlheinz Gartner claimed to be dismayed by the odor of his roommate's after-shave lotion. Klaus Herzeleide wrote: "I can't take another moment of Organic Chemistry." Stefan Lerchenau, the last of the seventeen, complained with some bitterness that Germans, as a race, lacked a sense of humor.
There are some real gems, of course. My favorite quote from "The Doomsday Machine":
The first instance of suicide as a fad, as distinguished from suicides of convenience and literary suicide, took place in 1986 at the venerable Protestant Theological Seminary in Tubingen. In October of that year, young Ranier Markheim, in a stolen nun's habit weighted with three brass candlesticks, drowned himself in the river Nektar, leaving behind a note that said, simply, "Stop laughing at me, Jesus!" While Ranier's Selbstmord may fairly be adjudged the act of an unbalanced mind, not so those that followed, as, one after another, seventeen of Ranier's classmates signed their names, so to speak, to his petition, all before the commencement of the Christmas holidays. Each left a note remarkable for its triviality or unlikeliness. Karlheinz Gartner claimed to be dismayed by the odor of his roommate's after-shave lotion. Klaus Herzeleide wrote: "I can't take another moment of Organic Chemistry." Stefan Lerchenau, the last of the seventeen, complained with some bitterness that Germans, as a race, lacked a sense of humor.
January 14, 2025
Fundamentally funny (if not altogether forgettable) short stories by this author, each containing a twinge of melancholic terror.
March 28, 2017
Unfortunately about 2/3 of these were duplicates from other collections just reaad.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews