The Dreams Our Stuff is Made Of: How Science Fiction Conquered the World

by Thomas M. Disch

In The Dreams Our Stuff Is Made Of: how science fiction conquered the world, Thomas Disch does for science fiction what he did for poetry in The Castle of Indolence. First, he treats it not as a playground for idle dreamers, but as a branch of serious literature with significant cultural impact. Second, he brings the perspective of a seasoned practitioner to bear in separating the wheat from the chaff.

For example, if you ever wanted to know why L. Ron Hubbard managed to start a cult but Philip K. Dick didn't, Disch is your man. Beginning with Edgar Allan Poe, Disch elaborates a vision of science fiction as one of the twentieth century's most influential manifestations of America as a culture of liars. Among the frauds are the alien abduction stories of Whitley Strieber, the sadomasochistic dominance fantasies of John Norman, and the co-opting of cyberpunk by postmodern academics and avant-gardists trying to stay hip.

Disch plays very few favorites, and when ideology gets in the way of good writing, it doesn't matter what side you're on. Subliterary feminist fantasies of matriarchial utopias get slammed just as hard as subliterary conservative militaristic wet dreams. Not even one of sci-fi's most beloved Grand Masters, Robert Heinlein, is unimpeachable; Disch correctly nails Heinlein on his consistent sexism and racism, as well as his gradual descent into solipsism. One of Heinlein's last novels, The Number of the Beast, is described as "the freakout to which [Heinlein]'s entitled as a good American, whose right to lie is protected by the Constitution."

What does Disch like? For starters: Philip K. Dick, the British New Wave as exemplified by J. G. Ballard and Michael Moorcock, and Joe Haldeman's Hugo- and Nebula-winning The Forever War, described as being "to the Vietnam War what Catch-22 was to World War II," and which he believes deserved a Pulitzer as well.

Disch may confirm your suspicions, or he may raise every last one of your hackles. But one thing this book will definitely not do is bore you.

Genres: Nonfiction, History, Literary Criticism, Books About Books, Reference, Science, Essays

272 pages, Hardcover

First published July 5, 1998

About the author

Poet and cynic, Thomas M. Disch brought to the sf of the New Wave a camp sensibility and a sardonicism that too much sf had lacked. His sf novels include Camp Concentration, with its colony of prisoners mutated into super-intelligence by the bacteria that will in due course kill them horribly, and On Wings of Song, in which many of the brightest and best have left their bodies for what may be genuine, or entirely illusory, astral flight and his hero has to survive until his lover comes back to him; both are stunningly original books and both are among sf's more accomplishedly bitter-sweet works.

In later years, Disch had turned to ironically moralized horror novels like The Businessman, The MD, The Priest and The Sub in which the nightmare of American suburbia is satirized through the terrible things that happen when the magical gives people the chance to do what they really really want. Perhaps Thomas M. Disch's best known work, though, is The Brave Little Toaster, a reworking of the Brothers Grimm's "Town Musicians of Bremen" featuring wornout domestic appliances -- what was written as a satire on sentimentality became a successful children's animated musical.

Reviews

[Zach · Rating 1 out of 5]

I have so many problems with this stupid book that I think just listing them out is probably the best way to include most of them (and I'll still forget a few, I'm sure). I'll just add more as I think of them.

So:

1. Thomas Disch, who was a lifelong author of science fiction and presumably reader of science fiction and, with this book, "historian" of science fiction, HATES science fiction, and people who write science fiction, and especially people who enjoy reading science fiction.

2. Disch opens with the truism that golden age of science fiction is 12 (specifically 12 year old boys. Not girls. Girls don't belong here, but more on that later. Also, only white boys.) This isn't in order to deconstruct or just laugh at that assertion, though - this is one of Disch's central points.

3. Chapter two deals with the origin of the genre (why not chapter one? I don't know. More on that later also). Many (some? most? I don't know. Aldiss and Luckhurst, at any rate) point to Frankenstein as the first modern science fiction novel. Not Disch. Why? Because even though most people are familiar with the story, not many have read it.* Also no one would have ever taken Mary Shelley seriously if it weren't for her wealthy parents and her husband, who was a superior writer.

...

... You heard me. So who does Disch select instead? Edgar Allen Poe, who is an obvious choice because I (and I'm sure all of you) have read all of his science fiction works, like "The Raven" and "The Telltale Heart" and his one novel, _The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket_. Wait, no, none of those are science fiction. Disch is referring, of course, to the very well-known and widely-read Poe story "Mesmeric Revelation." You've read "Mesmeric Revelation," haven't you? God knows it is not only more popular than _Frankenstein_, but also has infiltrated the popular consciousness more fully. There's also a weird reference to Poe's other immensely popular and widely known "The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion" (1839) and the contemporary event in... Hiroshima? (To be fair, because of his often muddled and confusing prose, he might have meant Hiroshima was contemporary to the 1990s, although...?)

4. "Mesmeric Revelation" brings us to Disch's other main point (and the chief focus of chapter one): Poe was into mesmerism, which was a hoax, and science fiction is therefore the genre most suited to lying (as in "Suvinian novum = a lie" which is just one of many bizarre logical leaps Disch subjects us to), and America is now a nation of liars. Now, you and I might think to point out that fiction is, by definition, not "true," but to be frank this chapter has little to do with science fiction in general other than setting the scene for the rest of this book's kind of rambling non-sequitur presentation, and allowing Disch to spend a lot of time complaining about scientology (which makes some sense) but also Heaven's Gate (which doesn't make a lot of sense) and Aum Shinrikyo (which makes no sense at all given the fact that this is, I think, the only time ANYTHING having to do with a country other than the US or England is mentioned in the whole stupid book).

5. Disch is also pretty sure that books are a dying medium, because at the time of his writing (the late 1990s) special-effects technology was finally (and cost-effectively) catching up with the human imagination, so who would prefer books anymore to films or TV?

6. Disch also takes a certain breed of SF author, starting with Robert Heinlein, to task for promoting libertarianism and acting as shills for the military-industrial complex. This was the only interesting point that Disch had to make.

7. Disch also takes feminist SF authors to task for... being women in a man's game, essentially? Someone else on goodreads writes that "The chapter on feminism would have been offensive if it wasn't so absurd as to be amusing," which is absolutely true - this section really has to be read to be believed. Disch's biggest target in this section is Ursula K. Le Guin, who no one reads for fun (??) and who put together a Norton anthology of science fiction but, because of her RADICAL FEMINIST AGENDA, unfairly stacked the table of contents for her "one-volume affirmative action campaign" so that 26 out of 67 authors were women, "remedying the genre's perceived historical neglect of women and other exemplary victims" (so, just to be clear, Disch thinks that 38% of a volume consisting of stories by women is TOO MANY WOMEN! THOSE RADICAL FEMINISTS!!). Oh also that slim number of stories by men? RADICAL FEMINIST Le Guin made sure to select "relatively feeble or ephemeral stories by older big-name male writers" in order to make the women look better. Disch also mentions on one page that UKL unfairly left out British authors (despite the fact that one of his central arguments is that SF is a definitively American concern) and also some American "fellow-travellers" of the New Wave such as himself. He then, with no apparent hint of shame, reveals a page later that Le Guin solicited one of his stories for the book but that he turned her down. Like, seriously, Disch seems to be honestly aggrieved that he was not included in the anthology but has decided that this was not because he TURNED THEM DOWN but because of an unfair bias against men who write well. This is some MRA bullshit.

8. The chapter on race is mostly about white men writing about the 3rd world, and then we learn that Octavia Butler's "intense conviction coupled with a total lack of humor" allows her to "invent compelling, if implausible, plots." Butler's moral, then (that "miscegenation is a good thing, albeit very unpleasant") is something that Disch thinks should be called out, but, "[a]s SF's only prominent black writer who has chosen to focus on racial concerns, Butler is not about to be challenged for being politically incorrect." This concludes Disch's summation of the life and work of Octavia Butler, which took all of a single paragraph. He then spends two pages talking about Heinlein's _Farnham's Freehold_, which is a novel in which a nuclear war somehow throws a white family forward through time into a future where the Earth is ruled by cannibalistic black folk (this, it bears mentioning, apparently strikes Disch as a much more plausible plot than anything Butler came up with). He does admit that this plot might be just a little bit racist, but he insists that "the enjoyment of witnessing a taboo artfully broken is contagious." This is some reverse-racism bullshit.


Samuel Delany is the only other author of color mentioned, and Disch decides that he's more of an academic than an SF author (and Disch, surprise surprise, despises academics).

9. Speaking of Delany: "One of the genre's many teen prodigies, his first novel appeared in 1960, when he was twenty." [note: not only is 20 not a teenager as far as I am aware, but this novel came out in 1962, not 1960]


Were he alive today I guess Disch would be a big proponent of Jon Stewart's stupid Rally to Restore Sanity or whatever it was called, given his insistence that feminists are as bad as sexists and that African Americans should just, you know, Calm Down about racism and so forth. He comes right out and says, in fact, that "ideology" or political positions have no place in science fiction, which he thinks should be reserved for dumb meaningless escapism - missing the fact, as all good centrist liberals do, that his outlook is just as much an ideology as any other.

This is garbage. Perhaps I should get in the habit of automatically dumping books that use the phrase "politically correct" in earnest.


* An unsubstantiated claim, just like most claims made here. This is what makes reading journalism/popular works of nonfiction kind of frustrating for me sometimes, and is particularly infuriating in this kind of personal-memoir-cum-historical-review-essay.

[Andrew · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am Stil in two minds over this book - there is no doubt that Mr Disch is both a talented and proficient author but I am struggling to figure out if that is tinged with something else.

The book like many others of it style is a personal reflection of the genre and by that very fact the people who populate it from fans to progenitors. In the case of this author it feels like it it swings from awe and pride (how many authors has he met both living and now dead who could be considered SF royalty) to almost condescending criticism and dismissal.

I appreciate that Mr Disch considers himself among those ranks, however I wonder if this is a celebration or dissection. Yes there are dark corners to this genre and by its very nature it should try and shine a light in to those corners, I guess its how you approach them and what you do with what you find there.

Now I guess I should balance out this review- there is a lot to learn from this book and at the end of the author has taken his thoughts and put them in to words something I doubt I could do myself, let alone have the strength to then stand by them. Also this highlights the very personal nature of what interests and appeals to an individual (after all the emphasis should be individual) and how one persons heaven could be another idea of hell.

One thing that is not in doubt is the fact how influential Science Fiction has been and still is. Like all books that reflect on a genre, as soon as they are published they feel like they are dated. Nothing stands still after all. But the fact that someone has tried to capture what SF means in real terms is refusing (if a little uncomfortable to read at times) after all when I started reading SF it felt like an embarrassment or at the very least a tawdry impersonation. Now you realise that this is not the case and you are not alone.

[J. · Rating 3 out of 5]

What starts off promising to be a provocative and interesting history of science fiction's effect on modern life--a profound topic deserving a thorough treatment--devolves about halfway through into a personal and political bitchfest, and not a very entertaining one. Thomas M. Disch's work is marred by his copious barrels of sour grapes garnered over years as an also-ran, and his insistence as a political activist on conflating political agendas with personal and artistic integrity. More honest--and readable--critiques of the science fiction in-culture have been penned by people such as Brian Aldiss (who, though not lacking in anger, is far more eloquent and thoughtful in his critiques).

Though worth a read, particularly in the earlier chapters, the depth of nihilism and bitterness that seeps out between the lines is both startling and highly unpleasant, an experience mirrored in the rest of Disch's work past this point in his career.

His earlier fiction fared much better in terms of both artistic merit and quality of thought.

[David Nichols · Rating 4 out of 5]

The late Thomas Disch left behind a respectable body of fiction, mostly in the genre of science fiction (e.g. THE GENOCIDES, CAMP CONCENTRATION), but his best book may be this 1998 study of the relationship between SF and American popular culture. DREAMS is not an academic book, and its narrative tends to ramble or veer into autobiography, but Disch's tight prose style and breadth of cultural knowledge keep the reader's attention and maintain the book's relevance.

One may summarize Disch's overall argument by repeating Orson Scott Card's observation that science fiction is a form of religious literature, though Disch develops this theme much more thoroughly and objectively. Like many religions, sci-fi attracted a cult-like following of socially underdeveloped true believers (fandom), a few actual cult leaders (L. Ron Hubbard and Shoko Asahara being the best examples), a few half-mad holy men like Philip K. Dick (whose religious fugues Disch describes in considerable detail), and a larger group of grifters, hucksters, and fabulists like Whitley Streiber, who delighted in “assisting...the deception of the self-deceived” (39). It is also, however, a visionary genre offering both personal transcendence and sublime terror to the initiated. SF writers and movie makers delight in over-the-top special effects, the use of space travel as a metaphor for heavenly ascent, and speculation about humans' spiritual evolution – either through descriptions of alien intelligence and psychic powers, or through the use of time travel and future history.

Science fiction, Disch continues, interacted in productive ways with the anxieties and movements of the era in which it thrived (roughly, 1950 to 1990). The sci-fi monster movies of the 1950s used cathartic terror to help viewers deal with the dread of the nuclear age. The military sci-fi writers of the '60s and '70s, like Heinlein and Pournelle, offered their fans the chance to project the American “death wish” of the atomic era into a more expansive domain, and to indulge their paranoid fantasies about Big Government and ethnic Others. Star Trek, which acquired most of its fan base in the 1970s and '80s, offered its younger adherents a comfortingly bland, conformist future similar to the office jobs they one day expected to occupy – a spacefaring utopia they could more easily imagine themselves inhabiting than the dreary space program of the real world. Feminist sci-fi, to which Disch devotes a somewhat ill-tempered chapter, began with Ursula LeGuin's critique of earlier sci-fi's sexism but then morphed into a more inclusive form, as writers like Cherryh and Bujold converted women in SF novels from passive healer-helpers into explorers and warriors. Finally, the cyberpunk movement of the 1980s offered the disaffected dead-enders of Gen X a future whose compensations, namely computers, soft drugs, and goth clothing, were things they already enjoyed in the present.

Disch's predictions for the future of SF seemed reasonable at the time they were written (1998), though most have not come to pass. Science fiction, at least of the spaceship-and-planet variety, has largely disappeared from TV and movie screens in the last ten years, replaced by superheroes, zombie apocalypses, and other reactionary genres. The interactive novel has failed to emerge as a replacement for the conventional novel, which consequently remains more or less alive; ebooks have killed off bookstores but not (yet) actual authors, publishers, and readers. And to everyone's surprise, dystopian science fiction has emerged as the au courant young adult fad, which suggests that Generation Y is still interested in the future but that its vision thereof is rather bleaker than mine. At least their fantasies no longer revolve around sparkling vampires.

[Ed Erwin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a highly opinionated work with strong opinions that seem to rub some people the wrong way. Not me. I enjoyed it even when I wasn't in agreement.

I think Disch here is discussing mainly "pulp" science fiction, particularly short stories, which was, after all, the most popular of early SF. He himself wrote more literary SF, and praises other literary writers such as John Crowley. But that isn't what he is writing about here. In that light, his declaration that Edgar Allan Poe is the father of SF makes a lot of sense. Sure Frankenstein was earlier, but it is long, pondorous, and goes off on many boring tangents. It has little in common with pulp SF, and has few readers among those who prefer that type of SF. While Poe did write a few SF stories (and hoaxes), that isn't the point. Poe's artistic goal was to tell simple stories with a single striking idea meant to be read in one sitting. His influence is great among magazine fiction in all genres. Disch isn't the first to note this; he references Daniel Hoffman.

As I said, he is strongly opinionated and isn't afraid to be highly critical of writers he doesn't like, such as Ursula K. LeGuin and Joanna Russ. With LeGuin, one criticism is that when she got a chance to write the anthology "The Norton Book of Science Fiction", which with the prestige of the "Norton" name is used in many college courses, she intentionally limited it to "North America" and "1960-1990". Disch sees this as an way to skew the gender balance to include more women. Nothing wrong with that. But since the big names among male American writers were not at their best in that period, it forces her to represent them with their weaker stories. (And it also meant Disch couldn't make the cut.) When he says that nobody reads LeGuin for fun, that doesn't mean he thinks nobody likes her stories. He's making the point that she doesn't write pulp adventure stories.

I enjoyed his discusson of the trope of bald women in SF, SF-inspired cults, and information about the early career of Heinlein. Heinlein was politically pretty right-wing for most of his carreer, so it was quite a surprise to me to read that Heinlein was the editor of "Upton Sinclair's EPIC News" during the period Sinclair was running for governor of California in the EPIC party, which was seen as socialist. It was this socialist connection, and not his health, that prevented him from working in the armed forces during WWII.

This is not the most useful or balanced book on the history of SF. But it is a fun book of thoughts and opinions.

[Graham P · Rating 4 out of 5]

And here we sit at the dinner table with the brilliant curmudgeon, the uninhibited uncle of modern American SF, Thomas M. Disch. While not quite the acidic analysis of the vast genre I was expecting, The Dreams Our Stuff Is Made Of is a marvel of casual discourse about the ridiculous, the profane, and the morphing trends of 100+ years of 'out-there' literature. He badmouths Poe as a tawdry reporter of the occult, lauds HG Wells as pioneer, compares Star Trek to laying the foundations of a politically-correct modern office template, breaks down Heinlein with both applause and ridicule, badmouths the Republican SF mode in tandem with the new age 'emotionalists', and climaxes with a surprisingly optimistic take on the future modes of storytelling. While no means a deep analysis, it is a fine work throwing Disch's wide net over what makes science fiction a vital form in the global consciousness.

[Jason · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thomas Disch was an acclaimed Sci-Fi writer, but from the tone of the essays in this book it appears that he was a self-hating Sci-Fi writer.
The book in general attempts to illustrate how science fiction has shaped/influenced modern (mostly American) culture. Some of his conclusions are:

Sci-Fi is responsible for sociopathic klller/suicidal religious cults;
Feminist Sci-Fi writers are Rushian feminazis;
Heinlein was a bomb-loving racist;
If you believe in UFOs, then obviously you must be a reader of Sci-Fi;
The original Star Trek was pajama-wearing propaganda for office-working drone-ism;
Ray Bradbury is a perpetual child-man like Pee-Wee Herman (??? The same man who wrote the Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man & Fahrenheit 451 is really a Pee-Wee Hermensch? I would say that Bradbury is like Spielberg, both of whom create stomach turning family-values, child-like innocent pablum at one point, then create frighteningly adult masterpieces).

The fine points of the book are the sections on The New Wave & Cyberpunk.
I expected more analysis of the literature of sc-fi, rather than its influence upon pop culture. That was my mistake coming to the book. Disch’s mistake was in writing it (is that too harsh?). Ok, perhaps his mistake was in twisting or padding the evidence to conform to his thesis. And his tone does feel hateful towards sci-fi, which offended me.

[Alberto Martín de Hijas · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thomas M. Disch que fue uno de los autores con mejor nivel literario de la ciencia ficción anglosajona (Y podemos decir de la mundial) con grandes novelas como Campo de concentración, 334 o En alas de la canción aquí aborda un ensayo sobre la influencia cultural de dicho género. Sobre ese objetivo creo que el resultado es un poco fragmentario, con capítulos que tratan (o intentan tratar) diversos aspectos de dicha influencia pero enfocándolo como una historia crítica de la ciencia ficción (o más bien una serie de historias) resulta de lo más interesante. Disch llegó a conocer a muchos de los autores fundamentales del género y deja episodios muy interesantes.

Haciendo énfasis en los aspectos más digamos desagradables (El escritor de CF como una mezcla de showman y estafador, el mesianismo, el militarismo etc...) y ser como poco persona de fuertes opiniones no duda en atacar a los grandes popes (Heinlein y Le Guin quedan salen mal parados) Con todo, me da la sensación de que sus críticas surgen mayormente de la frustración por la falta de calidad literaria y el potencial desperdiciado y en buena parte del libro deja claro su cariño por el género.

No llega a ser una historia de la CF pero aporta mucho a los interesados en ella, especialmente si están familiarizados con autores como los citados o con gente como L. Ron Hubbard o Theodore Sturgeon/Kilgore Trout.

[Adnan Bajrović · Rating 4 out of 5]

Moju ocjenu ovoj knjizi izvlači jedna nepobitna činjenica - Disch se, koji ju je pisao pred kraj svog života znajući da će umrijeti, uhvatio jednog jako nezahvalnog posla: pisanja historije i genealogije naučne fantastike.

Njegov zadatak je već na startu naletio na jedan problem preko kojeg mnogi čitatelji neće moći preći - radio je samo sjevernoameričku naučnu fantastiku. Međutim, Disch to radi temeljito, u duhu pravog historičara, pa nekada čak i previše selektivno i bibliografski što bi moglo zasmetati običnom fanu naučne fantastike kojeg književna teorija pretjerano i ne zanima.

S druge strane, Disch uhvativši se ove nemani s bezbroj krakova, iako i sam pisac žanra, često djeluje kao neko ko ne podržava ništa što je naučna fantastika kao žanr iznjedrila u popularnoj kulturi. Prije svega, on navedi skoro samo negativne utjecaje žanra, pozitivne možda spominje tek u jednoj rečenici, što je razlog zašto ih nisam ni zapamtio.

Još jedan problem koji Disch ima je što preko nekih djela koja on ne smatra pretjerano bitnima (a koja su itekako bitna) prelazi užurbano, ostavljajući ih u prašini historije skoro nebitnima i prema tome nedostojnima da se o njima više govori. Pogotovo mu ne mogu oprostiti činjenicu da je o historiji naučne fantastike počeo od Poe, preskočivši recimo njegovu Eureku, spomenuvši je tek jednom u čitavoj knjizi u jednoj jedinoj rečenici koja se čak nije ticala ni autora ni djela. Prije toga je zaboravio spomenuti Keplerovo djelo koje su i Asimov i Sagan smatrali prvim djelom naučne fantastike. Disch i Sagana u knjizi praktično opisuje kao običnim šarlatanom.
Osim toga, kada krećeš od Poea, pa ideš preko Baudelaira, (opet u jednoj rečenici Stephena Kinga), i spomeneš filmove Alien više puta u kontekstu žanra, neoprostivo je da se kreator kosmičkog horora i inspiracija za nastanak mnogih drugih naučnofantastičnih hibridnih podžanrova, H.P. Lovecraft ne bude spomenut barem u jednoj rečenici. Barem toliko.

Ipak, nije sve tako crno. Disch zaista daje jednu opširnu studiju o žanru analizirajuće brojne tematske okvire i svjetonazorske temelje na kojima su određena djela nastajala. Zato je ocjena veća nego što bih inače želio dati. Tema je nezahvalna, opširna, koja ima veliku i duboku problematiku, a iznad svega toga, poput tamnog znamena, stoji višemilionska publika spremna da negoduje na svaku napisanu riječ o djelima na kojima su odrasli...

[Peter Tillman]

Skimmed and it sat on the shelf until due (a couple of months). Not for me! Read a couple of the negative reviews before you take it on, such as
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
"I have so many problems with this stupid book that I think just listing them out is probably the best way to include most of them ...

1. Thomas Disch, who was a lifelong author of science fiction and presumably reader of science fiction and, with this book, "historian" of science fiction, HATES science fiction, and people who write science fiction, and especially people who enjoy reading science fiction."
etc, etc. Pretty entertaining diatribe.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

A nonfiction sci-fi polemic, this book was much fun to read. For someone like me, a sci-fi dilettante with no real understanding of the genre's history, the early chapters were an interesting discussion of the 19th century roots of science fantasy.

Disch is wonderfully opinionated and this book sometimes reads like an erudite editorial. And, as with most editorials, I didn’t always agree with his conclusions, though I kept lapping it up page after page.

[Erik Graff · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thomas M. Disch, an established science fiction author, has here presented an overview of the field, focusing on characteristic themes of the 19th and 20th centuries. Erudite, opinionated (his views and tastes often being quite contrary to mine), this work of criticism places the genre within the Western literary tradition in an informed and entertaining manner. Read at day's end, the prospect of another chapter made me excited about going to bed.

[Jasmine · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a Karen 3 star book not a Jasmine three star book. I mean I didn't dislike it as much as books that I usually give three stars. Today three stars is good. It is a good fun book.

It is written by the guy who wrote the brave little toaster, yeah I know who knew the brave little toaster was actually a book. Why didn't I just read that you ask? it appears to be heavily out of print and difficult to find. However I found it on demonoid and will read it eventually. I am very excited about the prospect.

This book is about low culture scifi. The Disch lists his favorite authors and specifically says that he won't be talking about them because they are not the type of authors with mainstream pull (John Crowley is in this list). Scifi according to Disch is written by perpetual twelve year olds, this is constantly directed at ray bradbury among others. Authors who age become old news. He also talks about the necessary productivity of scifi authors. A book a year is the rule. There is an inherent culture in scifi that separates it from the more literary aka John Crowley and Atwood. although some literary gentlemen are very important to scifi for him mainly ballard and burroughs (william not agusten).

This book is about how scifi comments on and shapes the directions of technology. He says that the moon figured majorly in scifi novels until there was space travel. When the moon could no longer be imagined we had to move further out eventually into warp speed. This eventually leading to cyberpunk. The discussion of cyberpunk seems well done to me but since I don't know cyberpunk I can't be positive.

another interesting aspect of this book is it's age. historically Scifi was much bigger than it is now. Now people have fallen heavily into fantasy and vampires. When I was growing up I was obsessed with ray bradbury but now if I recommend him to a young girl people look at me like I have two heads. This book was written in the era when scifi was super popular by a writer who made his living writing it. It is a very inside history which I think sometimes makes the book a little boring or difficult for people like me who aren't there to grasp.

There is an interesting premise that scifi is a truly american genre based on american's belief in the right to lie. I can't do this argument justice but I think he is probably mostly right regardless of the fact I prefer british scifi.

He also has a long argument about the fact the Poe is the father of scifi not a few other people who at the moment I can't remember who are.

basically an interesting collection of thoughts by an author who is probably trying harder to understand his own place than to convince us of it.

[Katalili · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a great review of SF and it's impact on pop culture. It's razor sharp, some of it's views will probably leave you with a sour taste, Disch is very rigid in his reviews of some prominent authors in the field. Still, any reader with a dose of criticism will enjoy this take on SF. His dissection of "feminist" and "military" SF will be insightful to anyone willing to probe the genre with a clear mind. I must say I was startled at first with some of his views(like the one that the majority of SF is trash) but at the end I must agree with him. He still regards the "great" authors as valuable (Heinlein, Dick, Asimov, Clark) but not without flaws. Surely he does not view an author's opus as infallible, e.g. you can't compare the early works of Clarke with some of his last exploits ("The last theorem" was rehashed old ideas, and lacking any "edgy" ideas).
Anyway, I think this book will help any SF lover searching for a critical view of the field, opposed to some other reviews that praise the genre lacking any criticism and cool headed approach. He does have a point when he talks about the SF fandom resembling a sort of introspective group that sees itself as "above" the average reader. As does any group that loves to differentiate itself from it's surroundings, creating a false feel of "uniqueness".

[Alix J · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sloppy and offensive at every turn. Skimming for case studies, and looking forward to the end. Disch presents himself as so unlikable I'm feeling skeeved about how many times I watched The Brave Little Toaster as a kid.

[Jeffrey Greggs · Rating 5 out of 5]

The subtitle of the book should be Lies and Liars that We Like. Marvelous performance by Disch.

[Peter Landau · Rating 4 out of 5]

The nerds have taken over the world was probably not a new sentiment even when this book was published 20 years ago, but few charted their rise and dominance over our domain on the rocket ship of science fiction. Of course it would take a sci-fi nerd who grew up into a SF author (his preferred shorthand) to tell that story. He does so thoroughly from the beginning, claiming Edgar Allen Poe as the genre’s forefather, acknowledging other’s claims that Mary Shelly deserves the title and dismissing it. That gives you an idea of the book’s strong opinions on the subject, of which one might disagree but still be entertained and enlightened.

[Jacob Howard · Rating 4 out of 5]

good book

[Jay Rothermel · Rating 4 out of 5]

A wonderful, humorous, sometimes acidic look at the marvelous (Hal Clement) and embarrassing (Heinlein, Pournelle) in science fiction.

[Zachary Tanner · Rating 1 out of 5]

From “Can Girls Play Too? Feminizing SF”

“If guys can have their Beowulfs, and Rolands and Captain Videos, why shouldn’t girls (and transsexuals) enjoy their own warrior imaginings?”

[JA · Rating 2 out of 5]

I picked this up in a discount book store several years ago, but it didn't hold my interest so it got set aside. Still, it seemed like such a good concept that I wanted to give it another try (even knowing that such things don't necessarily age well, and a book about science fiction and culture published in 1998 is bound to seem a bit dated more than a decade later). So, I finally picked it up again several months ago, and have been reading it very, very slowly, in between and amongst other things.

Overall, it is not impressive. The word rambling might sum it up. Quite often, the logic of the connections that Disch tried to make completely eluded me. Often the best parts are his gossipy asides about the many science fiction writers that he has known personally.

The chapter on feminism would have been offensive if it wasn't so absurd as to be amusing. He seems to have a very personal animus (and indeed paranoia) directed at Ursula LeGuin. He starts off with a flat statement that "no one reads her books for fun".

*pause to let that sink in*

He then goes on at length about an anthology that she edited -- very important, according to him, although I'd never heard of it -- and insists that she deliberately picked inferior (and short) works by male authors in order to make the selections by female authors look better. Now that's dedication to a cause!

Similarly, I was rather entertained while also appalled at his (apparently quite serious) conflation of fandom with cult religion.

And so on. Overall, I'm not sorry I finally ploughed my way through it, but I can't say I recommend it. Perhaps someone else will (or has already) taken a similar concept and done it somewhat better...

[Olav · Rating 5 out of 5]

My copy of The Dreams Our Stuff is Made Of is dog-eared and well-loved, having been loaned out to literally dozens of SF fans. It's a book that offers richness after multiple readings.

Thomas M. Disch writes a history of Science Fiction from the perspective of someone who knew all the key players amongst writers and fans for most of the 20th Century.

It's written with evident affection for the genre, but he does not shy away from legitimate criticism. As one of the few openly gay SF authors writing in the 1960s, Disch faced significant prejudice from within the community, and his experiences inform the work.

By the time Disch wrote this, he had moved away from most narrative work, and was focusing on poetry. His use of language is rich and vibrant, thoughtful and nuanced. Some of his analysis of the genre helped me rediscover old classics in new ways, and helped me appreciate how the works of one author might be responses to the works of others.

This is not a definitive history of the genre or of fandom, but is a deeply personal work. Disch is upfront about his biases, but also makes a persuasive case for his interpretations.

I recommend this book highly to any fan of Science Fiction. I was already a World Con attending, serious fan when I first read it, but it still helped me appreciate the genre more fully.

[Invadozer Misothorax Circular-thallus Popewaffensquat · Rating 4 out of 5]

THE STUFF OUR DREAMS ARE MADE OF/an overview of
how science fiction changed the world. Includes Newt
Gingrich and Reagan saying outrageous predictions on how
to use the US taxes to become overlords of the
universe. Hypes, rightly, Haldeman's FOREVER WAR book. Says
STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND was required reading for the
Manson kids, and has the chapter that includes a 4 way
which was edited from the book. I skimmed over the
Wells and Poe section to hit the religious section
which was good pay dirt. There's a lot on PK Dick and
Hale Boppers, but the Unarian religion of El Cajon CA
is left out entirely. They have the most fantastic
promo videos for their space religion where 'we are all
brothers' under the universe and have lived many glitter
robe covered lives on many planets. The Ted Sturgeon 3
way and nudist thing is mentioned in about one
sentence with no juicy bits. This is an overview of well
written officially from a guy who knows almost all the
players.

PS:You can blame John Campbell for hyping
Dianetics with buddy Hubbard so hard in his magazine to have the awful ball start rolling on the Scientology gravy train...the jerk.

[Eli Bishop · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a rambling book about the history of science fiction and, especially, how it's affected life in America, by a very good SF writer and poet and critic. It's kind of a bleak picture; Disch didn't see much promise in the current state of SF, and he thought the Strategic Defense Initiative and the Heaven's Gate suicides were inevitable results of the American style of fantasy. But what he loved, he told about well, especially when talking about the '60s and '70s since he was there. Whether or not you agree with his readings of particular authors (skeptical admiration for Philip Dick; impatience with the politics of Delany and Le Guin; less about Theodore Sturgeon's books than about his sex life), it's heady reading, especially when he gets mad. (In particular, the chapters about right-wing SF, from Robert Heinlein to Jerry Pournelle to Newt Gingrich, for all their calm detail, read as if Disch had to keep stopping to laugh hysterically and throw things at the wall.)

[Skallagrimsen]

A fascinating overview of science fiction by an insider who, one gathers, rather regretted that fact. Overall, Disch takes a dim view of the genre for which he is best remembered. He is merciless in his assessments of sacred cows ranging from Poe (a terrible writer), to Heinlein (a barely-closeted fascist), to the later works of Le Guin (polemical at the expense of artistry). Agree with him or not, his perspective is always informed, eloquent and, to my mind, well worth considering. Ultimately, however, Disch comes across here as already well advanced into the furious disillusionment that would culminate in his suicide (2008). Tough love may be good and necessary, but The Dreams Our Stuff is Made Of, in my opinion, too often crosses the line into scorn. This book, like his life, would have been better had it been less bitter.

[Erin Becker · Rating 1 out of 5]

I was excited by the introduction, but then the first chapter turned into an incoherent ramble about how American society idolizes lying (with a bunch of honestly bizarre examples of faked accounts of rape and childhood abuse alongside UFO abductions, Watergate and Vietnam??). The second chapter was similarly incoherent, if at least marginally more on topic. The third chapter about humanities obsession with space travel was actually quite good. But I skipped ahead and read the chapters on women sci-fi writers and immigration/race and sci-fi and, oof-da, this guy has some heavy duty axes to grind. I won't be finishing this book or anything else of his. Total ugh.

[Nader Elhefnawy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Like most of what one finds when they go looking for a history of science fiction, especially when it's by a maker of that history (as a New Wave big name), Disch's Dreams Our Stuff is Made of is very much a collection of his personal views and observations on the subject, rather than a piece of historiography such as the title seems to promise. And I have to admit that there is a lot here that I don't altogether agree with. Still, the book never fails to be interesting, and has at least its fair share of insights.

[Luke Dylan Ramsey · Rating 3 out of 5]

C/C+

I was leaning more towards a B-/B and 4 stars when I finished this book, but after reading other people’s reviews on here, I decided to lower my rating and grade.

The top review for this book on here (right now) points out a lot damning aspects of this book: its treatment of women, in particular, which is largely fairly problematic. Le Guin is disparaged more than once, which would be criminal even if it only happened the one time. Octavia Butler is called humorless. McCaffrey is disparaged as being a pulp writer. Et cetera. It’s like Disch resented sci-fi’s grasp widening out of the boys’ club he grew up in.

This book is just kinda weird overall. Uncomfortable subjects are lingered on for far longer than they should be; books like The Turner Diaries and Farnham’s Freehold are given multiple pages of coverage while people like Gene Wolfe, RA Lafferty, and Octavia Butler are relegated so half-sentences here and there.

I thought this book would be much more similar to A Billion Year Spree by Aldiss but no, Aldiss’ book is far more in-depth, features much more actual research, and covers an amount of ground that is frankly astonishing when compared to The Dreams Our Stuff Is Made Of. As a history of SF this book is lacking, in other words.

So why is my score not lower? Disch is consistently entertaining (just a little (and sometimes way) too Old White Guy sometimes), the book is well-written on a word by word and sentence by sentence level, and I often looked forward to reading it everyday, even if it consistently let me down and pissed me off. Also, for the most part, Disch backs up even his more out there and/or straight up wrong opinions with a good amount of reasoning.

[Ian Banks · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mr Disch comes across in this book as a sneering elitist. What he is, though, is just a snob. A contradictory snob at times, but a snob nonetheless. What he dislikes is work that takes an easy way, or one that has a particular barrow to push. He’s a slightly more articulate - and readable - version of Holden Caulfield, but here we get a glimpse at what Disch does enjoy, as well as glimpses into the contradictory self-awareness that arires from it.

He has a wide knowledge of the field and the personalities that inhabit it and while he is harsh on authors that he sees as being of less worth than others (many of whom are, if I can be permitted a snide aside, younger and more successful than him) he does place his razor-like gaze (if I may be permitted a mixed metaphor) on the giants of the field whom he accuses of being successful on the coattails of an agenda. His piece about Ursula le Guin has angered many, but his annoyance seems to come largely from the fact that she was pushing a political vision in much the same way that others like Heinlein or John Norman were.

Disch has no truck with agendas, it would seem. And, given his written work in this book about L. Ron Hubbard and his contributions to SF literature, it would seem that he can hardly be blamed. While it does seem churlish to blame professional storytellers for being economical with the truth, the examples he chooses are almost entirely ones that do not present a vision of our beloved literature that is entirely honest and truthful or accurate.

And I admire him for that: not many people can marry their idealism to as bitchy a tone as Disch, but he manages it and provides an interesting read along the way.

[Bill Weaver · Rating 5 out of 5]

My old review below of this great non-fiction book by Thomas Disch, The Dreams Our Stuff Is Made Of (How science fiction conquered the world), but some fun updates for you. I started thinking about this again after some interactions with somewhat fanatical self-published (‘indie’) authors on X (formerly Twitter) and so have to put this up here. Disch has a way of writing that captures meaning but in a lucid and non-fanatical way that appeals to the reasonable and the rational, which as he points out in this book, appears to be an outlier for science fiction writers that include the likes of Robert Anton Wilson…

“A certain class of reader values bizarre and paranoid theories precisely because they are bizarre and paranoid. In the late ‘70s the SF writer Robert Anton Wilson brought out a series of books under the umbrella title of Illuminatus! that aspired to be a Summa of all conspiracy, occult, and UFO theories. Some of the books were offered as fiction, some as nonfiction. For Wilson and his fans, veridity was never an issue. I saw him once, after a book signing in Los Angeles, gravely romancing a would-be true believer, throwing out dark hints, then lapsing into winks and giggles. Did he experience cognitive dissonance? I wondered at the time.” (p. 29)

It is this personal touch, the feeling that Disch can discuss the sins of science fiction with an insider’s perspective, that carries much power here. I particularly enjoyed how he gets at the idea of cultish religiosity inspired and practiced by the charismatic leaders of the aesthetic:

“I admit that I never was face to face with those reputed to be the flakiest—L. Ron Hubbard himself or A. E. van Vogt—but I have had Jacob-and-the-angel sessions with Theodore Sturgeon, Philip Dick, and the film director Alexander ‘El Topo’ Jodorowski, all of whom were experts in the art of spiritual arm wrestling and quite unwilling to accept anything less than unconditional surrender. What each of these writers had in common . . . was a deeply rooted conviction of his or her own genius—not simply in a literary sense but as a direct psychic connection to some Higher Wisdom.” (p. 139)

His take down of Star Trek is also brutal but effective:

“Dress everyone in suits instead of pajamas, and it’s clear that the Starship Enterprise is actually an office disguised as the Future. . . . Star Trek is offering its viewers essentially the same parables of success-through-team-effort that can be found on such later workplace-centered sitcoms as The Mary Tyler Moore Show . . .” (p. 101)

My original review below:

This book changed my life. I’m still not sure how exactly but I feel it. Enough to give it 5 stars not because it is perfect but because of this feeling I found to be also in me and exemplified in this book. This feeling is not perfect information. Still it’s there. I had been for many years attempting to jettison this me out the airlock into space but it appears I must instead embrace all of me, including this shadow side. Back a few years, when this part of me was largely running amok in my psyche, I read Camp Concentration by Disch and found it to be so incredibly dystopian. I mean it is the story of a guy going insane as part of a mad totalitarian science project to weaponize syphilis. So depressing really. It surprises me that I didn’t enjoy that book more but there is something inaccessible about Disch. I suppose 1984 is similar but Camp Concentration puts you directly inside the mind of the madman, a more direct feed of insanity. For this reason it is uncomfortable to read. Perhaps the pandemic is finally too much to think about so I’m in the mood for madness again. I am researching UFOs (cue laugh track) so I was pointed in this direction of Disch due to his discussion of Whitley Strieber as mentioned in the book Prisoner of Infinity. Similarly this book is not entirely about my subject but only an oblique angle on aliens, abductions and UFOs, through the cultural lens of sci-fi. Disch was part of the sci-fi New Wave. He met a few heavy hitters like J. G. Ballard. From a certain angle Disch too is a heavy hitter but perhaps a lesser angel in the hierarchy compared to writers like Ballard. Perhaps this is what Disch is a little upset about. He is fairly pessimistic and does not hold out much hope for sci-fi or literature even. He seems to be on the cusp of anticipating the total corporate takeover of thought. Soon there will be no universities, only think tanks and thought leadership. Soon there will be no sci-fi only streaming events and media franchise tie-ins. Disch nails it: “Sameness is what the marketers want us to want.” (p. 211) You can quibble with these points, yes. They are not entirely accurate as to current state but only speak to a certain tendency in our society. But that is how society drifts into new realities. This book features what I found to be a fairly devastating critique of Star Trek, which was an after school special of sorts for many in my generation. Star Trek, says Disch, is propaganda for the HR department, getting you ready for your time in the cubicle. The Gen-Xer in me says ‘ouch’ but admits there is an angle of truth here. Perhaps I’m disappointed in my own desperate grasping for comfort/escape in my media intake. Like Wally from My Dinner with Andre I enjoy my electric blanket in media form now and again, including reruns of Star Trek. I wonder what Disch would have thought of the pandemic? He is what I now see as a ‘brutal realist’, a materialist even, though he positions himself neither to the right or to the left on the political spectrum. He is (or would characterize himself I think) as that rare breed, a 'free thinker'. On Wikipedia, I read a description of his first novel, which is titled optimistically ’Genocides’. Just the plot synopsis alone left me feeling drained of all meaning. He has so many zingers but I will quote this passage to give you an idea of his takedown of the self-deluded American solipsistic (narcissistic) psyche: “I am the Alpha and Omega; I’ve been abducted by aliens; the speed of light can be exceeded; I hunt for dinosaurs in my time machine every other Thursday; I may be fat but I’m a telepath, so beware. Anything goes, if it’s a satisfying daydream.” (p. 221) Back to Orwell’s unperson here, or as I’ve said elsewhere, the average or ‘statistical’ person of modern society, which could be described as the most extreme American daydream, the serial killer. Though Disch does not take his analysis in this direction one easily could. There are so many alternate realities on display here, so many possibilities for society.