Minner Burris: un maduro astronauta convertido por los cirujanos en un ser que ya no es completamente humano. Lona Kevin: cobaya de un experimento genético, la madre vírgen de un centenar de hijos a los que nunca llegará a ver. Duncan Chalk: un vampiro psíquico que alimenta a través de su imperio del espectáculo a millones de mirnes, al tiempo que se alimenta a sí mismo con el dolor y la desesperación de los demás. Tres personajes, un amor, un odio, un ansia. Y por encima de todo, una maravillosa historia de amor en los límites de lo concebible.
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Robert Silverberg is a highly celebrated American science fiction author and editor known for his prolific output and literary range. Over a career spanning decades, he has won multiple Hugo and Nebula Awards and was named a Grand Master by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America in 2004. Inducted into the Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame in 1999, Silverberg is recognized for both his immense productivity and his contributions to the genre's evolution. Born in Brooklyn, he began writing in his teens and won his first Hugo Award in 1956 as the best new writer. Throughout the 1950s, he produced vast amounts of fiction, often under pseudonyms, and was known for writing up to a million words a year. When the market declined, he diversified into other genres, including historical nonfiction and erotica. Silverberg’s return to science fiction in the 1960s marked a shift toward deeper psychological and literary themes, contributing significantly to the New Wave movement. Acclaimed works from this period include Downward to the Earth, Dying Inside, Nightwings, and The World Inside. In the 1980s, he launched the Majipoor series with Lord Valentine’s Castle, creating one of the most imaginative planetary settings in science fiction. Though he announced his retirement from writing in the mid-1970s, Silverberg returned with renewed vigor and continued to publish acclaimed fiction into the 1990s. He received further recognition with the Nebula-winning Sailing to Byzantium and the Hugo-winning Gilgamesh in the Outback. Silverberg has also played a significant role as an editor and anthologist, shaping science fiction literature through both his own work and his influence on others. He lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his wife, author Karen Haber.
It’s kind of like the scene in Anchorman when Ron Burgundy is talking to Baxter and says, “How'd you do that? Heck, I'm not even mad; that's amazing”
Robert Silverberg, How’d you even think like that? I’m not even aghast, I’m impressed.
Thorns, his 1967 novel that was a Hugo award nominee in 1968, is something of a departure from his usual fare … but then the Grandmaster has no set “usual fare”; part of his brilliant contribution to the genre is his extraordinary imagination and innovative story lines. This is, still, one of his darker pieces.
Essentially this concerns a triumvirate of emotionally charged people – almost a Sartre No Exit existentialist triangle except that here Silverberg has stacked the deck in one character’s favor.
Minner Burris was a spaceman, an exalted and elitist position in this world building, and he was one of the first humans to contact an alien civilization but came back from the experience horribly scarred and forever changed. (Perhaps a ubiquitous theme in Silverberg’s canon).
Lona Kelvin is a young girl who has been involved in a scientific experiment. While her participation in the research resulted in no outward changes, she is experiencing severe psychological and emotional trauma.
Silverberg presents one of his most complex and ominous characters: Duncan Chalk. Mr. Chalk is a corpulent, exponentially affluent “emotional vampire”. Silverberg’s description of Chalk and his key importance to the plot is the defining element in this entertaining but somewhat disturbing story.
Once again, Robert Silverberg demonstrates his incredible vision as much of the storyline revolves around a reality TV scenario, where the damaged characters are made to play out parts before a solar system wide audience of billions.
Silverberg’s rare talent for narrative excellence is again made apparent and this work also highlighted his gift for symbolism and metaphor.
severely damaged man and moderately damaged woman meet-cute within a futuristic sorta-kinda reality show produced by an aberrant emotional vampire.
Thorns reads like a retro version of modern day obsessions in its depiction of a quasi-celebrity couple forced into romance and despair by a repulsive producer catering to a greedy public. that the producer is a predatory being who feeds off of emotional pain created a special frisson for me, mainly because that's exactly how I imagine producers of various reality tv romances like The Bachelor to be. I admire how Silverberg avoids infodumping and instead turns up the jazzy Sci Fi New Wave stylings of his prose in the first section of the novel - it made figuring out the narrative a fun little challenge. and I love Thorns' thematic connectivity with the many other books by the author that explore alienation and transformation.
I did not particularly like how Silverberg envisioned his female protagonist. there wasn't parity between man and woman; it was particularly annoying when I realized that the woman was genuinely stupid and shallow. this shouldn't have surprised me because Silverberg has been rightfully accused of sexism in his many novels. he has a specifically 60s-70s version of sexism, one which does recognize women as independent sexual beings - and yay for that, of course - but still sidelines them in favor of more dynamic and interesting male characters. I get the feeling that Silverberg has positive feelings towards women - he's a chauvinist, not a misogynist - but that didn't make it any easier going down. angry and brilliant Minner is damaged due to being physically transformed into a monstrous being - and he's in terrible, ongoing pain because of that transformation; virginal wallflower Lona is damaged because she's unhappy that a hundred or so eggs were removed from her (consensually - and lucratively) and she'll never get to raise any of those children. it felt queasily reductive when I compared her problems to his.
anyway, I still liked Thorns. quite a bit. after the enjoyably bizarre first third, the novel settles down with our b-list celebrity couple touring various romantic spots on Earth and throughout the solar system. the various locales are drolly fascinating and Silverberg's evocative, almost Jack Vance-like descriptive powers are always a joy to experience. a bizarre and posh restaurant featuring unusual dishes; an arctic tour; a fairground on the Moon; a trip to Titan: all are superbly realized. just as enjoyable - in a squirmier way - was the descent of this fragile relationship into resentment, bitterness, and emotional warfare. plus the ending features sweet revenge, and I'm always a fan of that.
Did you ever think that giant, world-straddling, corporations, or more specifically, the leaders of such corporations, could be evil? Why do they always make choices that make life harder for the ones who pay them, that allow them to exist? Or that use and abuse everyone smaller than them, until there is nothing left, pushing away the dried husks and growing larger? I think these things. Those in charge, those who supposedly are here to protect us, are the most evil things I’ve seen in this world.
Silverberg’s embodiment of evil: Duncan Chalk. His dried up husks: Minner Burris, changed surgically into a monstrosity on an alien world, no longer useful to the space plan, in constant pain, isolation, and Lorna Kelvin, a young woman, naive and trusting, from whom science took advantage and life, leaving her alone, discarded. Chalk decides to match these two up and broadcast the results of the mismatched couple for profit. Large, over 600 pounds, he floats in comfort, far above the rest of the world, unimaginably rich. Godlike, he controls the fates of the peons.
I really enjoy the way Silverberg writes romantic scenes. I’ll include a snippet. Maybe I’m a bit of a pervert.
“He was her captive, her victim. ‘She wins, but I will salvage something.’ Turning toward her, he seized her shoulders, forced her to the mattress and covered her. This was her final triumph, womanlike, to lose in the moment of victory, to surrender at the last instant. Her thighs engulfed him. His too-smooth flesh embraced her silkiness. With a sudden great burst of demonic energy, he mastered her and split her to the core.”
A bizzarre science fiction novel from 1967 that takes unexpected directions.
Humanity has colonized the solar system and moved outward to begin exploring the far reaches of the galaxy. An interplanetary audience follows real-life stories of triumph and tragedy presented to them by Duncan Chalk, a sort of Simon Cowell of the future, with apparently limitless resources (written in 1967!!).
Chalk, unknown to all around him, is a kind of psychic vampire who draws sustenance from the emotions of others, particularly those of pain and trauma. Though he enjoys playing his inner circle of assistants against each other as a sort of daily snack, Chalk's true nourishment comes from the dramas he orchestrates for his audience.
Chalk's latest drama involves the pairing of Minner Burris, a space explorer who was captured and surgically altered by aliens on the planet Manipool, and Lona Kelvin, a 17-year-old girl who donated eggs for a fertility experiment that produced a hundred babies.
Some elements are absolutely prescient (reality tv), while some others didn’t age too well, but as always with Silverberg, there are many literary references and the writing itself, despite plain and simple, has a certain weight. I would read everything that this author has written, if only it wasn’t an almost endless number of books!
The line "Pain is instructive" opens and closes the story. It is first delivered by Chalk, and provides ominous foreshadowing; it is later uttered by Burris, who has accepted his condition and come to see the pain it causes as a means toward growth.
This theme is illustrated throughout the story in various ways. David Melangio, whose inner defenses have completely isolated him from memories of his terribly unhappy childhood, cannot face his pain and therefore will never become a fully realized adult.
Burris appreciates cacti and thorny succulents, and when Kelvin complains about thorns on a cactus, Burris praises the thorn as an elegant evolutionary adaptation to a hostile environment.
The science behind Lona's fertility experiment was quite novel for the late 60s, but has since become commonplace, and is one of the few dated elements in the novel.
By contrast, the idea of mass media serving as theater, and being used as a tool to manipulate and exploit people, has only become more timely with the rise of reality shows and the like on television.
"The title describes the book: prickly, rough in texture, a sharp book," Silverberg writes in his memoir Other Spaces, Other Times. "I worked quickly, often managing twenty pages or more, yet making no concessions to conventions of standard science fiction." His ambitions for the book were vindicated when Thorns was published in August 1967:
"All of Ballantine's science fiction titles were then automatically being distributed free to members of the two-year-old Science Fiction Writers of America, and so all my colleagues had copies in hand at the time of that year's sf convention. Many of them had read it, and -- as I hoped -- it shook their image of my work. At least a dozen of my friends told me, with the frankness of true friendship, that the book had amazed them: not that they thought me incapable of writing it, but rather that I would be willing to take the trouble. It seemed such a radical break from my formularized science fiction of the 1950s that they thought of it as the work of some entirely new Robert Silverberg."
Algis Budrys wrote of his surprise that "Silverberg is now writing deeply detailed, highly educated, beautifully figured books like Thorns" despite still producing 10,000 words a day.
Thorns has several thematic parallels with Silverberg's contemporaneous novel The Man in the Maze. In both novels, the hero has been unwillingly altered by aliens (physically in Thorns, psychically in The Man in the Maze) and become an embittered outcast; the protagonists expose the full core of their inner torment in order to achieve victory over a seemingly invincible opponent; both stories conclude with the protagonists choosing to embrace an untenable, even inhuman way of life.
While working on Thorns, Silverberg came across an Italian science fiction magazine that criticized one of his early novels as badly done and wordy -- malcondotto e prolisse in the original Italian. Silverberg promptly named Minner Burris' fellow astronauts Malcondotto and Prolisse.
...Sometimes spoiler avoidance is difficult... Pain is instructive. Thorns is a Silverberg novel from his amazingly productive year 1967; it's been called his first serious adult modern sf novel. It was nominated for both a Hugo Award for the best novel published that year (but lost to Roger Zelazny's Lord of Light) and the Nebula Award (but lost to Samuel R. Delany's The Einstein Intersection). It's a very imaginative far-future story with very well-drawn characters, none of whom are, unfortunately, at all sympathetic or likable, neither the humans nor the aliens. It features a psychic vampire who feeds on others' pain, and it foreshadows the horrors of reality television as entertainment in a spot-on manner. It was quite a departure from Silverberg's usual quiet style and was cited by Harlan Ellison as his favorite Silverberg book. I recognize it as one of Silverberg's best, but it's not among my favorites of his.
Although Robert Silverberg had been a prodigiously published author prior to 1967, that year is often spoken of as being something of a watershed time for him. Before then, the author had written no less than two dozen sci-fi novels, starting with 1954's "Revolt on Alpha C," not to mention dozens upon dozens of short stories (over 80 in 1958 alone, according to a certain Wiki site). But in 1967, a new maturity and literary quality entered Silverberg's works, to the surprise of both his fans and fellow writers. In 1967, Silverberg came out with no less than six novels (!): "The Gate of Worlds," "Planet of Death," "Those Who Watch," "The Time Hoppers," "To Open the Sky" and "Thorns." For this reader, a recent perusal of that last title has served to demonstrate what that "new maturity" of Silverberg's precisely entailed. Released in August of that year as a 75-cent Ballantine paperback, this short novel combines world-of-the-future sci-fi with some prescient forecasts, sharp characterizations, colorful backdrops and obscure literary allusions. It is a masterful piece of work from the then 32-year-old author.
In the book, we meet three very unusual people. Duncan Chalk is one of the richest men on Earth, the 600-pound owner of an entertainment and real estate empire. Putting on shows for the masses is just one of Chalk's endeavors, and when we first encounter him, he is arranging the newest installment of what today would be called a "reality TV program." Chalk, the reader soon realizes, is something on the order of...well, do you recall that classic episode of "Star Trek," the one entitled "Day of the Dove," in which Capt. Kirk & Co. encounter an entity that feeds on hatred and violent emotions? Well, that is what Chalk is...a psychic vampire who gluts himself most especially on the sorrow, misery and negative emotions of others. For his next TV show, he aims to bring together two miserable people--one physically damaged, the other mentally--and get his jollies as the enforced pairing turns from love to bitterness. The first of that pair is Minner Burris, a starship explorer who, on a recent visit to the planet Manipool, had been captured by the aliens there and surgically altered. Now living on Earth in shame over his altered physique, Burris' scars are actually both mental as well as physical. And then there is Lona Kelvin, a 17-year-old girl who is popularly known as "the virgin mother of 100 children." Lona, you see, had agreed to donate her eggs for an experiment in extrauterine fertilization, but now that 100 babies have been brought to life from her ova, via mechanical incubators and other women (another instance of prescience on Silverberg's part), she is not being allowed to see any of them. This has resulted in Lona becoming a, uh, loner, as well as a suicidal wreck, after two failed attempts. Chalk promises each what matters most to them--a brain transplant into a new body for Burris; two of her babies for Lona--and the stage is set for Chalk's latest misery maker....
"Thorns," with its underlying theme of the protective devices that people and things build to shield themselves from pain, wonderfully explores the relationship between these two broken characters, from initial intrigue and compassion, to a physical coupling, to feelings of love (well, on Lona's part, anyway), to acrimony and recrimination, and to a resolving of their mutual problems. For this reader, though, best of all is the colorful backdrop of the late 21st century Earth and its environs that Silverberg gives us. Minner and Lona are treated to a tour of the planet and beyond in the novel, and so we get to see Chalk's luxury hotel in Antarctica, his Luna Tivoli amusement park on the moon, and the upper-crust resort paradise on the frozen Saturnian moon of Titan. The novel is just chockablock with imaginative throwaway touches, such as the revolving ring on one man's finger, the spray-on garments, and the mercury Whirlpool ride at the Tivoli; it is a fully detailed backdrop for such a slim novel (my edition only runs to 157 pages). Adding credibility to his tale are the instances of scientific goobledygook that Silverberg treats us to, as when Lona thinks back on the incubation process: "As gastrulation proceeds, the mesodermal mantle extends forward from the blastopore, and its anterior edge comes to lie just posterior to the future lens ectoderm...." The novel also gives the reader some interesting secondary characters, such as Chalk's three henchmen, an idiot savant gifted at numbers, and the lustful, masochistic widow of one of Burris' fellow spacemen. As for those literary allusions previously discussed, Silverberg incorporates references to Melville's "Moby-Dick," Langland's "Piers Plowman," Marlowe's "Dr. Faustus" and Dante's "Divine Comedy," and mentions, in passing, Tycho Brahe's Uraniborg observatory, the Greek astronomer Aristarchus and the Roman physician Galen. (An extraordinarily well-read man, Silverberg--it should come as no surprise--is also the author of over 70 books on history and science subjects.) This is a sophisticated novel, beautifully written, intelligent and insightful, with wonderful dialogue and a satisfying conclusion. Really, a most impressive display from this great author, already a seasoned pro at this point but clearly venturing into a whole new stage of development in his writing. And for Silverberg (who at this late date is the recipient of--by my count--three Hugo awards and five Nebula awards, not to mention his status as a member of the Science Fiction Hall of Fame and, as of 2004, an official Grand Master), the best was still to come....
This review has spoilers! I decided to click off the spoiler button because after I went for a walk I decided I didn't want my point of view on this book hidden behind the spoiler wall so yeah read on if you like.
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Yes, it was written in the 60s, yes it was fascinating to read in the context of gender stereotypes and presentations but ultimately if this was written today Silverberg would be torn apart for his representations of women and men. Here's some of those representations.
1. Women as hysterical, masochistic, sex hungry and sexual objects 2. Women as annoying, suffocating, over protective and mothering. 3. Men as superior to women when it comes to intelligence, experience, culture and taste. 4. Women as lesser to men in skill, profession, aspiration. 5. Men as manipulators and manipulating. 6. Men as serious aggressors and violent. 7. Men's suffering is too complex for women to fathom. 8. Women as the only victims of verbal, physical and emotional abuse. (I am disregarding the fact that the whole premise of the main male character is that he was violently dissected and put back together in a grotesque form by aliens. But this doesn't actually happen in the book. ) 9. Men as disgusting, repulsive and grotesque yet some how are constantly having beautiful, seductive and voluptuous women throwing themselves at them. And the men look down on these women because of all of those things. (MASSIVE incel vibes here)
I'm sure many people would disagree with my reading of this but seriously one thing we can all agree on is that Silverberg is a boobs guy and he writes from the view that if a women is flat chested she is less or completely undesirable.
Oh and the main male character Minner strangles Lona, the main female character, because she annoyed him and never apologises. What makes this worse is that he discusses his feelings of remorse with another man who's only character defining traits are that he basically sees women as sexual objects. He never brings it up with Lona at all.
ANYWAY [insert exasperated sigh here]
What I loved most about this book were the actual sci-fi bits like interplanetary travel and beings. I loved the world exploration (when it happened) but everything else can get in the bin.
In. The. Bin.
PS. I picked this up a the charity shops because of its rediculous front cover (the main characters naked and clutching each other in front of earth - I knew going in I would have big issues with it.)
Überlege mir gerade, ob ich mich der 5-Sterne-Diktatur entziehen soll. Der Roman ist gut, weder "nur" eine drei, noch eine vier. 3,5 Sterne gibt es nicht. => auf 4 aufgerundet.
3.5 stars. Great concept deftly realized by one of the masters of science fiction. The story involves an astronaut, brutally transformed by alien surgeons, and an innocent, yet emotionally scarred, young women. These two people are brought together by a sinsiter media mogul, Duncan Chalk, interested in exploiting them for his own purposes. The character of Chalk is fascinating as it turns out he is a psychic vampire that feeds on negative emotions.
Nominee Hugo Award Best Novel (1968) Nominee Nebula Award Best Novel (1968)
Esta extraña sinopsis, a la vez cautivadora y desconcertante, esconde una gran novela. La historia gira en torno a tres personajes: Minner, Lona y Chalk. Éste último maneja al resto como si fueran sus marionetas pues se dedica al mundo del espectáculo y en esta realidad, ese espectáculo ha de proporcionar emociones fuertes.
Chalk, el vampiro psíquico, se nutre con las emociones más desagradables y siempre lleva a sus títeres al borde del abismo para sentirse bien y poderoso. Sabemos que es una historia de amor y que todo tiene que acabar mal, pero esta es una de esas obras que aún conociendo el final estás atrapada con el desarrollo.
Es una historia llena de miedos y complejos, de cómo superarlos o, al menos, aprender a vivir con ellos. Sentirse asustado es una sensación muy humana y aprender a superarlo y sobreponerse es un aprendizaje clave para estos personajes.
Me ha parecido una gran historia, una en la que no buscas explicaciones a por qué las cosas son así, sino que lo asumes y te dejas llevar con los personajes. Se te abren mirillas a un mundo que parece que siempre ha estado ahí, no necesitas explicaciones ni grandes desarrollos para convencerte de esta realidad.
150 pages of just utter nonsense. Was really looking forward to reading this because I really enjoyed one of his other works, but this is just too "out-there" to bear any enjoyment from.
Aprovat justet. Sense cap dubte el Silverberg més fluix que he llegit fins al dia d’avui. Tots els elements típics de l'autor hi són: els bons, com la capacitat de crear personatges memorables —normalment magnats o oligarques de dubtosa reputació— com en Duncan Chalk, i també els pitjors, com el masclisme carrincló i els personatges femenins purament ornamentals. En aquest cas, però, el que destaca per damunt de tot és l'absència d'una trama consistent i interessant.
A «Thorns» Silverberg ens relata la història d'amor entre un astronauta capturat i torturat de maneres insospitades pels alienígenes i una adolescent que ha patit una abusiva investigació genètica a partir del seu cos. Duncan Chalk, un vampir psíquic que s'alimenta del dolor i el patiment, és el nexe d'unió entre ambdós. Chalk és l'element que fa brillar la novel·la. O com a mínim el seu concepte, perquè al llarg de la història li manca una major profunditat pel que fa al tractament del personatge. Molts anys abans que l'icònic vampir psíquic de «What We Do in the Shadows», Silverberg es treu del barret un individu grotesc i captivador que lluny d'assemblar-se al típic individu esprimatxat d'ullals esmolats recorda més aviat a una barreja entre un home i Jabba the Hutt. Com deia, Chalk fa de Celestina amb els dos titelles esparracats que són en Minner i la Lona, i ho fa per passar-ho bé. I fins aquí arriba la trama. Més enllà d'aquest punt tot és una mena de viatge de noces sideral un pèl tronat.
A la contracoberta s'intenta vendre la novel·la com innovadora i trencadora, però més aviat és un pastitx de conceptes interessants cuinats sense gràcia que s'allunya de les seves obres més cèlebres. Nominada als Hugo i als Nebula de l'època —cosa raonable pensant que sempre hi havia la mateixa colla d'amics—, el text només destaca en l'escala que fan els pardalets a Tità, un dels satèl·lits de Saturn, on Silverberg desplega la seva prosa majestuosa i imaginativa. De la resta de la novel·la, poca cosa en puc destacar.
No em queda mal gust de boca perquè, tot i ser una obra menor de l'autor, és superior a moltes obres de sci-fi que he llegit. Al lector avesat, però, la novel·leta se li quedarà curta, ja que els pocs espurneigs literaris no aconsegueixen il·luminar unes ombres que, d'altra banda, són d'esperar en un individu amb una vastíssima producció com la de Silverberg.
En definitiva: entreté però resulta oblidable. Dit això, si podeu opteu per «Up the Line», «Star of Gypsies», «Tower of Glass» o la fantàstica «The Book of Skulls». Allà hi trobareu el Silverberg autèntic, el que et fa xalar de veritat.
It's a short but pretty powerful book. The central characters are a media mogul who is also a psychic vampire who draws sustenance from other people's pain, and the two people who he brings together purely for entertainment, an astronaut who has been horribly mutilated by aliens and a young woman who has been at the centre of a media storm after allowing a hundred of her eggs to be fertilised for donor pregnancies. The notion that a senior media figure is obscenely benefiting from causing people pain remains horribly valid today; now that it's possible, egg donation seems much less scandalous than Silverberg anticipated, as far as I can tell. (And while we don't yet have aliens mutilating astronoauts, we have plenty of unwilling celebrities who have been horribly injured in public.)
I've seen this described as Silverberg's first good novel, and while I'm not familiar enough with his early work to pass judgement, it is pretty good (even if deservingly beaten by Lord of Light for the Hugo). The set-up is all too plausibly done in the context of the story's future technology, and the payoff delivered in due course after some grim sidetracks. Well worth getting hold of.
Another book by Silverberg that is less than great although not at all bad. It just doesn't quite have enough substance to it for me to rate it higher.
The inextricable link between pain and being alive is the central theme of this book. The two protagonists of this book are brought together by a cynical, manipulative tycoon who promises them an impossible hope of escape from their situations but really wants only to profit, in more ways than one, from their suffering.
One of the protagonists is the lone survivor of an alien encounter in which is crew mates were killed and he was left alive although heavilly mutilated by alien experiments to "improve" upon his human body and in constant pain. The other is a young woman who has had her eggs used in a experiment to see if they can fertilise, germinate and grow children entirely outside of the body. She now has 100 children which she is denied all contact with and left feeling suicidal. Can they find solace in each other's company? Is being the center of media focus a price worth paying for a chance to realise their respective dreams?
Good but I wanted, and expected, more. I know Silverberg is capable of it and I will keep on exploring his reknowned works so that I can once again experience his genius.
Well I didnt plan it but it sort of happened - that I have found myself working through my collection of Gollancz SF classics, this being the second one I have read in short succession. Now this series was printed in the early 2000s and went on to become part of the Masterwork series (in fact several of the titles were reprinted in that format more recently).
The book itself is quite brutal in story and theme although being originally written in the 60s it does show its age (in a good way, I am not sure if it would have worked so well if it were written in todays style and vocabulary) but it is an impressive story even through all the fabulous ideas and concepts there are elements that not no do i see in modern books I read today but also ideas I can related to as well.
In short there is not much I can say about the story without giving away parts of the plot and like I repeatedly say better people than I have written more compelling and interesting reviews however I will say that even with the age of the story I think it is as interesting and as compelling now as it was then. Now I will admit that Robert Silverbergs style is not always easy to read as some but I think he has some amazing stories to tell and this was one of them.
What an odd story. I'm still not sure why someone would write this; it surely isn't because one wanted this story told. I'm not even sure that I get the point of it.
There are three components to Thorns. 1) It is a relational drama. Certainly not an action adventure or speculative fiction, this is about the vagaries of romance. 2) It is set in a science fiction future. That future is really a backdrop for the "romance," but you do get a nice narrated tour of an interstellar future. 3) It is a slow, mysterious reveal. The reader is thrown into a bizarre universe that never truly makes sense. Learning about the universe - its inhabitants, its planets, its people - is the heart of the book. The book has a certain hypnotic quality in drawing you in: one always wants more. More is dealt out in small but satisfying increments over the course of the novel. And then it ends. You'll still want to know more, but by the end of it you'll realize that being led along with tidbits to whet your curiosity was mildly intriguing, and that, in turn, was enough to generate a small bit of affection toward the book.
In a near-future world shaped by corporate power and scientific experimentation, two strangers come together under the manipulations of a media mogul. Minner Burris, a bitter astronaut surgically altered by aliens, and Lona Kelvin, a young woman traumatized by a bizarre fertility experiment, find their lives intertwined in ways that force them to confront pain, intimacy, and the costs of human ambition.
Thorns by Robert Silverberg came to my attention through the BookTube channel BookJack. I don’t remember the exact details of his remarks, but whatever he said was enough to add the novel to my TBR. I’m not sure how much time passed before I finally picked it up (maybe a month, perhaps a year), but when I was looking for something new and saw it available on Libby, I borrowed it.
This was my first time reading Silverberg, and after finishing the book and learning a bit about him, I wonder if it’s an odd place to start, though I can’t say for sure. One detail worth noting: this is the first Libby book I’ve ever needed to renew. It wasn’t because of the prose or the length (the book is actually on the shorter side for a novel). The writing is excellent: pragmatic, immersive, with just the right amount of flourish. The reason it took me so long was the density of ideas. I had a similar experience with Geek Love by Katherine Dunn: the material demands time to process. So, what did I think of Thorns? Foremost, I liked it. What struck me most was how pure and unselfconscious the book feels. Works like this can sometimes slide into self-indulgence, which is usually a deal-breaker for me, but not here. Silverberg’s strange science-fiction world is compelling, the characters memorable, and the situations provocative. That said, I found the third act weaker than the first two, and the finale felt abrupt. With that said, I admired Silverberg's courage with the closing sentiments.
Overall, I would recommend Thorns to readers who enjoy unusual, idea-driven science fiction. I would add a caveat that this was written by a man in 1967, and some of the gender dynamics may feel dated or off-putting to younger readers.
Silverberg is an enormously prolific and generally well-respected sci-fi writer, though I’m not sure he’s read very much anymore. And Thorns is probably not the best place to start with his work. Thorns tells the story of a conniving, perverse media mogul named Duncan Chalk, who engineers a celebrity relationship between two psychologically/physically damaged people for the sake of profit and personal prurience. This book is a quick read, and has a lot going for it. The prose is engaging and highly allusive (sometimes to a fault); the themes are complex and prescient (this book was written well before reality TV); and the character of Duncan Chalk is deliciously evil. But unfortunately we don’t spend nearly enough time with our antagonist. Instead, the second half of the book becomes quite dull, as the bickering celebrity couple goes on a series of expensive dates around the solar system. Besides Duncan Chalk, most of the characters are somewhat stereotypical (competent man, innocent woman, etc.). I feel like this could have been streamlined into a short story or novella. However, the last couple pages are great, when the book’s title finally makes sense. (high 3/5)
Short slow ugly book. A character study of ugly characters in an ugly world. And the title and introduction made it clear that the ugliness was the point. There were some interesting bits here. Some hints as to what the future looked like at the time. There was a terrific introduction by the author. And it had kind of a fast but definite ending. And this was nominated for hugo and nebula, so I'm not sorry I read this. But I wouldn't recommend or re-read.
An unflinching and authentic depiction of star-crossed lovers, featuring the apt observations, wonderful prose, generosity of ideas, and preoccupation with weird sex typical of Silverberg. Sags somewhat in the middle, but carries plenty of thematic heft, and provides a cathartic conclusion for the characters. Another illuminating portrait of human nature from a great storyteller.
The phrase opens the novel and closes the novel. It is first stated by a greedy media mogul who intends to exploit a tragedy to the amusement of his media's audience spanning the planet. Duncan Chalk. A self-absorbed parody of billionaire (or, in this case, trillonaire), who feeds on those he exploits--literally. He is a psychic vampire who can only digest negative emotions to sustain his mortality, and his latest project is going to be a virtual banquet.
Minner Burris is a returning Starman from beyond our solar system, having visited the planet Manipool, with his body completely surgically altered by the very aliens he was sent to make contact with. He no longer resembles a human, nor is one. The new body he now possesses is the source of his perpetual pain with every movement, torture, every breath, agony. He must learn to live with it, both the pain and every alien surgical alteration to his physical form externally and internally. With it comes depression, discomfort, and the desire to lock himself away from society where he can wallow in self-pity salted with bitterness. Duncan Chalk wants a taste.
Then there's Lona Kelvin, the seventeen year old virgin with hundreds of babies, the subject of a scientific fertility experiment using only her harvested eggs. (Note: the novel was written in 1967). Once used up by the men in lab coats, she is discarded to an apartment with a government trust fund and hundreds of baby pics--her babies--taped to her wall. She attempts suicide twice, and with the tech of the far future, it's rather difficult to succeed. She lives in despair and constant suicidal fatigue. Duncan Chalk wants a taste.
Duncan's project: Get the two tragic figures to meet, fall in love, and then grow to hate each other! What a feast it will be! And the audience will eat it up as well!
Robert Silverberg's prolific outburst of novels during the late 1950s, through the '60s, into the '70s, reminds me of PK Dick's rapid output of novels. In fact, sometimes I feel I'm reading a PK Dick novel when I read Silverberg's. But then Silverberg announces himself within his prose with literary references only he can give, and you forget Dick for a few pages.
Thorns is a novel PK Dick could've easily written if he took a short break from his paranoid, reality questioning mind-bending brain bleeders composed while on amphetamines. Instead, in the hands of Silverberg, we get a New Wave sci-fi novel showing a growing maturity in the writer. He may be a counterculture sci-fi liberal guru writer and not a misogynist, but he is a chauvinist. It rears its ugly head in the writing of Lona's character and the way Minner observes, passes judgment, and, eventually, treats her. All for Chalk to feed on.
Thorns is my third Silverberg novel, and like PK Dick, I prefer his early prolific period over his later days, finding his counterculture influenced novels to be the most fun to read, being psychedelic and absurd. This won't be my last Silverberg.
Duncan Chalk begins every working day climbing the iron rungs that form a switchback trail to his desk perched forty feet above the floor. Duncan Chalk weighs over 600 pounds. "Pain," he explains to his minions, "is instructive."
Chalk should add that it is also profitable. He runs a media empire that ranges from carnival attractions to the most exclusive resorts in the solar system. His broadcast speciality is programming that allows the audience to watch other people go through hard times, or simply to suffer in general. Actually, none of this is made particularly clear by Silverberg, but given that the novel dates from 1967, he rates "fortune teller" status for his prescient view of what the future viewing public will want to watch.
Chalk, through a process that is also not made clear, feeds off the misery he markets. And he needs a new attraction. Fortunately for him. an astronaut named Burris has recently returned from a disastrous encounter with the inhabitants of the planet Manjipoor. (Yes, it sounds like an Indian restaurant.) The Manjipoorians, for what seems to be no better reason than idle curiosity, performed operations on Burris that killed two of his shipmates and left him a grotesque deformity. Then there is Lona, a young woman who is mother to 100 children. She donated eggs for what turned out to be fantastically successful experiment. Her anonymous participation was blown by the press, and she became more famous than our own, beloved Octomom. Months later, her unwanted celebrity a thing of the past, she lives in seclusion with severe post-partum depression.
Chalk decides these two should get together, have a very public romance, followed by an inevitable public breakup, a scenario that will delight both him and his millions of consumers. I know none of this makes any sense, but Silverberg pulls it off. Every character, from Burris and Lona to Chalk's lowliest minions are well-developed individuals. The settings, that range from shopping malls for the vulgar masses to resorts that only the most fabulously wealthy humans can afford, are more believable today than they would have been to Silverberg's readers forty years ago. The resorts are like Steven Wynn wet dreams.
Thorns is consistently entertaining but I am not sure that it has a point. Our absurdly mismatched lovebirds learn some hard lessons, Chalk receives a spectacular comeuppance, and I suppose the ending is more or less positive. It's a great ride with just a bit of a letdown at the end.
Retomo con Silverberg -aprovechando una tanda de libros en oferta que me encontré en Los Miserables, un golazo- y nuevamente me engancho desde las primeras páginas. Cierto es que aquí, por primera vez, encuentro que repite algunas ideas o, por lo menos, desarrolla conceptos similares a otros que ya le había leído en esta extraña historia que tiene como protagonistas a dos parias. Por un lado, Minner Burris un desgraciado astronauta que sufriera todo tipo de cambios morfológicos en su exploración de un lejano planeta, y por otro Lona Kelvin, una adolescente que -a pesar de no haber tenido contacto carnal alguno- fue vientre de albergue para cien hijos a los que nunca llegó a ver. Ambos son contactados por Duncan Chalk, el dueño del universo todo (o así parece) un magnate de las comunicaciones pero que es además una suerte de vampiro psíquico que se alimenta del dolor y la desesperación. Y pronto entiendo porque la parte fantástica o cienciaficcionera de Silverberg está algo descuidada, está concentrado esta vez en una historia de amor. Una historia de amor forzado, entre dos descastados del universo todo que, mientras recorren todo lo que hay para recorrer, van desgastándose más y más a sí mismos. Es, entonces, tanto una historia de amor como una de desamor. Silverberg no escatima, nunca, en la creación de universos plenos y completos en detalles, así que el viaje -por triste y decadente que sea por momentos, aunque tenga un final que lejos está de ser contundente- es tan maravilloso como siempre que pone su pluma e imaginación a nuestra disposición.
Thorns is a 1967 novel set in the future where space travel has taken us to the nearby stars. The story concerns Duncan Chalk, a rich impresario who feeds off the suffering of unique people. He finds Minner Burris, a starman returned from first contact with an alien species that transformed Burris' body into something they thought was more efficient. He now looks strange and inhuman. Chalk arranges for Burris to fall in love with Lona Kelvin, a 17 year-old virgin who is mother to 100 babies. Lona agreed to donate her eggs to science, not knowing the consequences of having a 100 children she would never now. Burris and Lona do fall in love because of their isolation and misery hoping to find happiness, not realizing that Chalk's kindness and generosity will lead to even greater suffering.
This is a strange novel, but I found compelling. There's not much to it, but I'm discovering that Silverberg is a much better storyteller than I remember. This is 1960s science fiction, which is much different than the more famous 1950s science fiction that most people remember as Classic Science Fiction.
This book was well written and quite interesting with a good, solid premise and believable, dynamic characters. So, why didn't I like it? First of all, I didn't really like any of those characters, no matter how well-developed and genuine they were. The premise, which is that an unbelievably fat, disgustingly rich emotional vampire pairs up two very damaged people so that he can get a thrill off it when their relationship implodes, made me mildly queasy. The world-building was excellent, probably the best part of the book, but each of the disparate scenes (a low-rent tenement, a high-class restaurant built on the outside of a dome, the South Pole resort, the Moon Carnival, the high-class hotel on Titan) seemed cold and sterile, despite being imaginatively described. All in all, not Silverberg's best.
1968 Hugo nominee. I quite liked it but it was nothing to write home about. 1968 clearly not a very good year. The winner was Roger Zelazny's Lord of Light which I quite liked but couldn't quite see why it was an SF Masterwork and I've also read Piers Anthony's Chthon, which I quite liked too. I haven't read Chester Anderson's The Butterfly Kid but it's not exactly a household name...
Jo Walton appears to agree with me, which is always reassuring...
Der Ex-Astronaut, der von ETs zwangsweise umgebaut wurde und die junge Frau, der man Eizellen entnommen hat und 100 Kinder daraus gemacht, bilden ein seltsames Paar. Doch die Beziehung gibt ihnen Kraft... erst mal. Doch sie wurde von einem superreichen Unternehmer initiiert, der keine lauteren Absichten hat.
Ein Entwicklungs- und Beziehungsroman, das ist für SF ungewöhnlich. Das Szenario ist eher bizarr als plausibel, trotzdem gefiel mir der Roman über weite Strecken recht gut. Aber das Ende... einfach nur Sch... Drum ein Punkteabzug.
Silverberg puts a bizarre spin on Beauty and the Beast, with alien experiments and vampire empaths. Brilliant characterisation, raises questions on the morality of science and mass entertainment, otherwise a little abrupt, and the narrative at the climax loses some of its internal credibility. Poetic as always.