The Lights in the Sky Are Stars

by Fredric Brown

Yes, I'm Max Andrews.
I'm one of the guys who fought and bled and worked to get to Mars. I figure what I gave up in those early years bought me the right to pilot the next big jump.
I've lied and stolen for that right. I'd have killed, too, but I didn't have to. Instead, I let a woman give her life so I could have my chance, my door to space.
You think I'd stop at anything, now?
I'll be on that rocket, blasting away on America's biggest adventure, the hop out into the stars themselves....

Only Fred Brown could have written this deeply moving science-fiction novel about one man's epic, life-long struggle to open mankind's pathway to the stars...'

Genres: Science Fiction, Fiction, Speculative Fiction, Novels, Science Fiction Fantasy

149 pages, Mass Market Paperback

First published November 1, 1953

About the author

Fredric Brown was an American science fiction and mystery writer. He was one of the boldest early writers in genre fiction in his use of narrative experimentation. While never in the front rank of popularity in his lifetime, Brown has developed a considerable cult following in the almost half century since he last wrote. His works have been periodically reprinted and he has a worldwide fan base, most notably in the U.S. and Europe, and especially in France, where there have been several recent movie adaptations of his work. He also remains popular in Japan.

Never financially secure, Brown - like many other pulp writers - often wrote at a furious pace in order to pay bills. This accounts, at least in part, for the uneven quality of his work. A newspaperman by profession, Brown was only able to devote 14 years of his life as a full-time fiction writer. Brown was also a heavy drinker, and this at times doubtless affected his productivity. A cultured man and omnivorous reader whose interests ranged far beyond those of most pulp writers, Brown had a lifelong interest in the flute, chess, poker, and the works of Lewis Carroll. Brown married twice and was the father of two sons.

Reviews

[Craig · Rating 4 out of 5]

Brown is primarily remembered for his mystery novels and short, humorous science fiction stories, but this one from 1953 is an excellent, serious near future (set 1997-2001) story of space conquest. It's thematically similar to Robert A. Heinlein's Harriman stories, and features a remarkably diverse cast of supporting characters for its day. A true time-lost classic.

[Sookie · Rating 3 out of 5]

I picked this book a decade ago from a pile of books that were on sale with neon pink sticker stating they were the cheapest in the store. I was attracted to the title and a passable blurb; politics and science fiction.

Brown's writing isn't close to his contemporaries or even his predecessors. The clunky dialogues are reminiscent of 50s thrillers which had communism, conservative politics, US-Russian space wars, lobbying etc. For a 50s book, thematically it gets quite contemporary in several instances. Brown puts forward arguments that still exists in current day politics - is building rockets worth the tax payers money? When India launched Mars program "Mangalyaan" majority of world media commented on the disparity of the situation. While on one hand a chunk of population lives on below poverty line and on the other hand government is investing considerable sum into space program. The argument is one of the themes that the major characters keep addressing it every now and then.

Though Brown's prediction for the 90s is way off, he did get somethings right.

[Florin Pitea · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this back in the 1980s and I can still remember the protagonist's nickname: Max No Difference.

[John Defrog: global citizen, local gadfly · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s hard to find Fredric Brown books (at least at the bookstores I manage to make it to), so imagine my surprise to find this one in an indie bookstore in Hong Kong. Brown wrote a lot of pulp SF short stories in his heyday, but not many SF novels. While this was his second SF novel, it was the first to make a serious attempt at speculative SF, imagining a future where humans have not only reached the moon by the 1960s, but also Mars and Venus. And when the novel starts in 1997, Jupiter is next on the list – at least for protagonist Max Andrews, a former astronaut who desperately wants to go to there.

There are snags, of course. Andrews is 57 and missing a leg from an accident that sidelined his space-faring career. Moreover, the political will to fund spaceflight has waned as more and more people believe spaceflight is a distraction from solving problems on Earth. Andrews’ last hope is Ellen Gallagher, a Senate candidate who promises to push through a bill authorizing a mission to Jupiter. Andrews helps her win (not entirely legally) in exchange for giving him a key role in the project. As you would expect, things do not go as planned, not least because Andrews … well, let’s just say he’s an unreliable narrator.

While there’s a lot of science here, this book is really more of a political novel, focusing on all the political wrangling and red tape Max and Ellen must navigate to get the project approved. On the downside, the love story angle is corny and predictable, and the Big Twist is rather incredulous since it relies on a “secret” that would have been ridiculously easy for anyone to uncover. On the upside, the main story overall did go in a direction I wasn't expecting. Also, considering this was published in 1953, Brown had a strikingly realistic grasp of how space flight would evolve, and the political realities that would determine its progress, even if he didn’t put much thought into other technological advances (apparently we’re all still writing letters to each other in 1997). Flawed but a decent read.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set at the end of the 20th century, Max Andrews is a starduster, one for whom space travel isn’t a cute dream but an obsession. He joined the Air Force, from which space pilots would be chosen, just before the flood of people also wanting to go into space. Max has been in space several times. A freak accident on Venus, just before returning to Earth, has permanently grounded him. Max compensates by becoming one of the best rocket mechanics in the business.

One of Max’s friends, M’bassi, is the last of the Masai race (the rest were wiped out by a plague). He is taking a different route into space than Max. Whereas Max wants to send his body into space, followed by his mind, M’bassi wants to send his mind into space, and maybe his body will follow. One day, M’bassi is found lying on the floor of his apartment, successful in his quest.

America has started to explore the solar system, mostly out of fear of the Russians. With communism no longer a threat, and with no other compelling reason to go into space, Max is afraid that the bases on Mars and the Moon will be closed and mankind will retreat back to Earth. Max meets Ellen Gallagher, a newly elected member of the US Senate from California. Her pet project is a bill that would appropriate money to build a rocket to Jupiter. It takes time to get the bill through Congress, and signed by the President. Meantime, Max wants to get started so badly, he is practically jumping out of his skin. Finally, everything is ready.

A political appointee, William Whitlow, is named as Project Director. Max will be Deputy Director, with the day-to-day responsibility. By this time, Max and Ellen have totally fallen for each other, but she does not live to see the start of construction. Whitlow thinks it will take months to find and acquire an appropriate piece of land. A very thick package lands on his desk the next morning, from Max. It’s full of pictures, descriptions and legal documents for a perfect piece of land in the American Southwest. Just before construction is actually ready to start, a big and dark secret from Max’s past is revealed, one that imperils his participation in the project.

This is a real gem of a book. Anyone for whom space travel is a burning desire needs to read this story. The author does a fine job, and the big, dark secret is a surprise. Very much recommended.

[Michael · Rating 1 out of 5]

"It's twenty of twelve. Start your leave as of noon, twenty minutes from now." The whole thing was like this. Overly verbose, robotic dialog and a story that goes nowhere, but somehow still manages to implode.

[Teresa Cervera · Rating 1 out of 5]

I love golden age Sci fi but this was poorly written and very dry

[Tentatively, Convenience · Rating 3 out of 5]

review of
Fredric Brown's The Lights in the Sky are Stars
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - April 22-23, 2022

This was probably my least favorite Fredric Brown novel that I've read so far but, still, it had something special to it. I was most reminded of Heinlein, the main character is Max Andrews, he's built up as someone who's going to defy the odds & accomplish something great. It's largely Human Drama more than it is Sci-Fi but it's a human drama that couldn't exist w/o the SF component wch shapes it.

"I'd been intending to stay a few more days but, that afternoon, something changed my mind. It was the sight of myself in the mirror in my brother Bill's bathroom. Stark naked, dripping wet, standing on one leg because I only have one leg to stand on, water running noisily out of the tub behind me, I decided to leave that very night." - p 1

Max lost a leg in a spaceport accident - thusly disqualifying him for the space exploration he longs for: a mission to Jupiter. He's an underdog & like all good underdogs, persistent in his struggle to get what he wants regardless of the obstacles.

"A million worlds for us to reach and take and live on.

"But that's going to be only the start, the beginning. That's only our own galaxy, as tiny in relation to the universe as our own little solar system is to our galaxy." - p 8

The bk was published in 1953, the yr I was born, & the writing seems somehow very straightforward to me (although Brown's sense of humor is always in evidence), somehow '50s, &, again, I'm reminded of Heinlein.

"Rory's wife Bess is a wonderful cook. Not that I hadn't enjoyed the meals at Bill's, but Merlene is a little on the fancy side as a cook, worries as much about how a dish looks as how it tastes. Bess Bursteder's cooking is old-fashioned and German, but she makes dumplings so light they need the thick rich gravy to keep them from rising off the plate and floating away, and the meat was so tender that it must have come from Circassian virgins, young ones." - p 11

Space travel has stalled b/c of "Conservationists" & Max learns that there's a Senator who plans to revive the Jupiter project, wch may cost her the election. Max wants to learn more & help her win.

"["]California's pretty conservationist and jetting off may cost her the election."

""We'll have to see it doesn't. Who's bucking her?"

""Guy named Layton, Dwight Layton, of Sacramento. Ex-mayor there and has a machine. Crooked as they come. Conservationist."" - p 12

Layton may be crooked but Andrews isn't above some crookedness himself.

"Rory said, "Should have thought of that myself. Well, to get back to what you can do about the election; you've got plenty of friends in San Francisco so you can register in a few precincts over there. You can probably be set to cast three or four votes next Tuesday."

"Can do. Five or six maybe." - p 13

"I said, "Don't worry about the starduster vote. You'll get it—several times over in at least a few cases."

"He smiled faintly. "I'm afraid to ask you just what you mean by that, so let's forget it, or still better let's say I didn't hear you."" - p 16

Keep in mind that this was published in 1953. Then think about the following.

"Rockets are going out, Bill had said.

"They are going out, but not far enough. We took the firststeps and then we lost our guts. Temporarily—it must be temporarily—we've lost our drive, or most of us have.

"Not all of us, thank God, not all. Millions of us, millions besides me, want the stars. But right now there are more millions who don't—or who mildly do but think it's impossible anyway in our lifetimes, and that it's not worth the money it would cost to try." - p 14

I'm one of those people in favor of NASA, in favor of extra-terrestrial exploration by the Russians or anyone else who wants to try to pull it off. So what's actually happened?

WAC Corporal
1946
It was the first (US designed) rocket that reached the edge of space.
USA

V-2
1946
The first pictures of the Earth were taken from an altitude of 105 km.
USA

R-1
1951
First time dogs were sent to space.
USSR

R-7
1957
First intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM) developed.
USSR

Sputnik 1
1957
First artificial satellite.
USSR

Sputnik 2
1957
First animal (dog named Laika) sent to the orbit.
USSR

Explorer 6
1959
First photograph of Earth taken from the orbit (by NASA).
USA

Vostok I
1961
First manned flight carrying Yuri Gagarin
USSR

OSO-1
1962
First orbital solar observatory (by NASA).
USA

Vostok 6
1963
First woman in space (Valentina Tereshkova).
USSR

Luna 10
1966
First artificial satellite around the Moon.
USSR

Apollo 8
1968
First piloted orbital mission of Moon (by NASA).
USA

Apollo 11
1969
First human on the Moon and first space launch from a celestial body (by NASA) - Commander Neil Armstrong and Pilot Buzz Aldrin.
USA

Luna 16
1970
First automatic sample return from the Moon.
USSR

Salyut 1
1971
First space station.
USSR

Pioneer 10
1972
First human made object that had been sent on escape trajectory away from the Sun (by NASA).
USA

Mariner 10
1974
First photograph of Venus from Space (by NASA).
USA

Venera 13
1982
First Venus soil samples and sound recording of another world.
USSR

STS-41-B
1984
First untethered spacewalk, Bruce McCandless II (by NASA).
USA

Voyager 1
1990
First photograph of the whole Solar System (by NASA).
USA

Mir
1995
First Record longest duration spaceflight (i.e. 437.7 days) set by Valeri Polyakov.
Russia

HALCA
1997
First orbital radio observatory.
Japan

NEAR Shoemaker
2000
First orbiting of an asteroid (433 Eros) – by NASA.
USA

NEAR Shoemaker
2001
First landing on an asteroid (433 Eros) – by NASA.
USA

Genesis
2004
First sample return beyond lunar orbit (solar wind)- by NASA.
USA

Cassini Huygens
2005
First soft landing on Titan (Moon of Saturn).

Hayabusa
2005
First interplanetary escape without undercarriage cutoff.
Japan

Stardust
2006
First sample return from comet (81P/Wild) – by NASA.
USA

Kepler Mission
2009
First space telescope designated to search for Earth-like exoplanets – by NASA.
USA

MESSENGER
2011
First orbit of Mercury – by NASA.
USA

Voyager 1
2012
First manmade probe in interstellar space – by NASA.
USA

Rosetta
2014
First man-made probe to make a planned and soft landing on a comet.
European Space Agency

2015
Lettuce was the first food eaten that was grown in space.
USA & Japan

- https://www.tutorialspoint.com/fundam...

One landing on the moon. In 1969. 5 landings on the moon since then, the last on December 7, 1972. Personally, I think the time for setting up a moon base is long overdue. Of course, I think it might be Bart Sibrel who claims that Apollo 11's landing on the moon was faked. It's been hypothesized that the US was worried that the USSR would win the space race & that it decided that a major propaganda move had to be made in the US's favor. Hence, the hypothetical faking of the moon landing. I don't find that to be as preposterous as many people apparently do. Whatever the case may be, it's 53 yrs since Apollo 11 & there were 5 follow-ups in 3 yrs & then zilch. If it cd be done from 1969 to 1972 why hasn't it been done since then?! It seems like the obvious thing to do to me. The point here, vis à vis this novel, is that I can relate to Max Andrews's disappointment at the lack of a more ambitious space exploration program. I can also credit Fredric Brown w/ being prescient enough to predict a stalling in the exploratory process.

It's 1998 & Max has a dilemma.

"Not even for the moon or Mars, these rockets out of San Francisco. Those rockets, the real rockets, take off from bases in New Mexico and Arizona. The government runs them, and the government has silly ideas about rocket mechs. The government thinks that rocket mechs should not be over fifty. The government thinks rocket mechs should have both legs made of flesh and bone. Oh, I've worked on the interplanetaries despite that latter ruling, times when friends of mine have been in a position to get me special dispensation on the leg. But not since I'd passed the fifty mark seven years ago; that's one rule that's really enforced at the government bases." - p 25

Max tells his story of his career.

"I got to the moon in late sixty-six, co-pilot and navigator on a two-man rocket with a five-ton pay load for the observatory that we were starting to build there. Co-piloted once more, to Mars in the next year, and then I was made spaceman first class and full pilot. I was twenty-six, but they'd extended active duty age to thirty, where it is now" - p 35

Max talks about Space School.

"["]Know how they tested us for claustrophobia, our first week in? Each of us would be locked up in a dark closet exactly two feet square—you couldn't even sit down in it—and each of us had to stay in one of those closets forty-eight hours, and stay awake. There was a button he had to press every hour on the hour—he had a watch with a radium dial so he'd know the time—to prove that he was awake and okay.["]" - p 44

Brown is generally prescient but there're times when his 'future history' falls flat.

"I was making a new friend, too, the man who was coaching me in unified field theory. His name was improbably, Chang M'bassi, but he himself was much more improbable than his name.

"Chang M'bassi was the last, or believed to be the last, of the Masai tribesmen who, until the late sixites, had lived in east equatorial Africa." - p 57

I've noted before that some or much sci-fi has been relatively free of the racism of the society that it was written in. Given that this bk's from 1953 & that where I lived, at least, was a very racist time, Brown's M'Bassi is remarkable as a positive black character.

"Meet M'bassi. Six feet five inches tall, and slender. Black as the Venusian night. About forty years old now. Quiet, contemplative eyes set in a fierce African face made fiercer looking by deep scars from the claws of a lion, claw marks that run from up in his kinky hair the full length of his face, having miraculously missed both eyes. A soft gentle voice that makes any language it speaks sound sweet and melodious. Buddhist, mystic mathematician, and a wonderful guy." - p 60

The following detail is the kind of thing that flips my switch.

"Neither of us cared for dancing but we both liked good modern Cuban music, the quartertone stuff that America had imported in the seventies and discarded in the eighties but that was still going strong In Havana. We liked Cuban dancing too; I guess we were both old-fashioned." - pp 75-76

It seems that Brown was really being fanciful in his future imaginings. He, of course, didn't know that Cuba wd be on the US's shitlist by the seventies & he probably didn't know much about music so he chose quartertone music as something 'futuristic'. If he'd been trying to be realistic maybe he wd've gone for percussion music instead. At least, then, he'd have had Amadeo Roldán as an historical backing.

Max refers to SF from time-to-time in the sort of formal self-referentiality that I love.

"["]A lot of my childhood playmates ended up behind bars, and I don't mean as bartenders. I guess only one thing saved me from going the same way.

""From the time I could read, I read all the science fiction I could lay my hot little hands on.["]" - p 103

""But what's that got to do with getting to the stars?"

""Your plan for reaching the stars is to send your body there, causing your body to carry your spirit—I'll call it your mind, so you will not object to the terminology, my materialistic friend—along with it. Mine is to send my mind there, causing it to carry my body along."

"I opened my mouth and shut it again.

"M'bassi said, "The idea should not be new to you. You have read early science fiction, I know. Certainly you must have read Edgar Rice Burroughs, who wrote the stories of John Carter on Mars—Princess of Mars, I believe, was the first, and there were at least half a dozen sequels to it."

""I read them," I said . "They were Godawful tripe."

""If they were Godawful tripe why did you read them?"

""Because I read them before I was old enough to know how bad they were.["]" - p 113

I read something like 13 to 17 E. R. Burroughs novels, mostly ones about Pellucidar, the Hollow Earth, when I was around 13 & I'd agree that they were "Godawful tripe" but I enjoyed them - they were thrilling adventure yarns.

"["]Let me translate into language that will not offend your materialism by calling it teleportation, the ability to transport a physical body through space without physical means." - p 114

""Thought is instantaneous, my friend. If we can learn to travel with the speed of thought we then travel with the speed of thought, not like snails at the speed of light or less. If we solve the secret of teleportation, we can travel to the farthest galaxy in exactly the same length of time it would take us to travel a single inch."" - p 115

Without giving away too much of the plot I'll just say that this bk is about impassioned people full of the dream of extraterrestrial travel whose dreams don't work out the way they hope they will but whose passion & dedication is admirable nonetheless.

[Pedro L. Fragoso · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Overhead and in the far distance the lights in the sky that are stars. The stars they tell us we can never reach because they are too far away. They lie; we’ll get there. If rockets won’t take us, something will.”

This book holds the record for the longest stay on my TBR list. I acquired the Colecção Argonauta edition back in the 70s, with what I believe was a translation by Eurico de Barros (I can’t find my copy to confirm, but I’m almost sure) and featuring a cover by Lima de Freitas – one of my favorites by him, even if it has nothing to do with the contents (as usual!). Ultimately, I’ve finally read it now, over 50 years later, in an ebook edition on my phone.

The plot unfolds between 1997 and the year 2000. In 1976, this was still science fiction: humanity's first mission to Jupiter, costing less than 30 million dollars, launched amidst political shenanigans, bureaucratic hurdles, and diverse human priorities. A future with solar system rocket exploration, transatlantic rocket travel, no internet (“Ellen’s letter had come by rocket mail and special delivery; it reached me early afternoon of the day she’d written it, Tuesday.”) or mobile phones (“I phoned room service and had a triple-sized breakfast sent up to my room so I wouldn’t have to get away from the telephone.”). Today, as SF, it reads like Alternate History. It’s strikingly clear that nothing ages like the future, especially the depiction of the female condition as envisioned in the 50s, even if Brown thoughtfully navigates an interesting personal argument on that front, occasionally getting it right.

I owed too much. Ellen had given me too much. Her love. Her life. Our rocket. The rocket would be built now. It would go to Jupiter.

Oh God, Ellen, if you could be here with me, to watch our rocket take off. Our rocket. But more yours than mine. You died for it. Here waiting in the breathless dark I feel humble before it and before you, before man and his future, before God if there is a God before mankind becomes one.

He did accurately predict some aspects of the future, and not always the obvious ones: “Thank God I was in on that, back in the glorious sixties when man erupted suddenly into space, the first step, the first three steps toward the stars.” Also, though it took until now and is currently only available in China: “Then I ran up three flights to the roof, got there two minutes before the helicab landed to pick me up”.

All in all, the book is fascinating, and not just for its dated vision of “the future.” Max Andrews (“Max No Difference”) is obsessively (and I mean, OCD-like obsessively) driven by the idea of humanity having the option to escape this prison we call Earth and truly explore the final frontier. Other characters share this obsession. As an engineer, Max naturally sees rockets as the means to get there, whatever the personal cost. Others attempt different routes. All will pay a price. These individuals are crucial for the advancement of our species, yet they are complicated, conflicted, and ethically challenged, making questionable choices and some truly terrible decisions and deceptions along the way. In Max’s case, he fittingly finds love. Maruja Torres once wrote that “Men have always loved getting together to discuss things, making it look like they're making consensual decisions that will make the planet a better place. But then reality steps in and defeats them.” (Original in Spanish: “A los hombres siempre les ha gustado mucho reunirse y discutir, y hacer ver que toman decisiones consensuadas que van a convertir el planeta en un lugar mejor. Luego viene la realidad, y les derrota.”) This sentiment very much encapsulates the core of the book, even with its underlying silver lining.

I truly didn’t expect such philosophical (and anthropological?) depth in a slim 1950s science fiction volume about humanity venturing into space.

I also wasn't prepared for the sheer quality of the prose:

Below, the lights of Seattle; above, the lights in the sky.

A little closer to the stars, the far far stars that someday we’re going to reach, the billion billion billion stars that are waiting for us.

The stars— listen, do you know what a star is? Our sun is a star and all the stars in the sky are suns. We know now that most of them have planets revolving about them, as Earth and Mars and Venus and the other planets of the solar system revolve around our sun. And there are a hell of a lot of stars. That isn’t profanity; it’s understatement. There are about a thousand million stars in our own galaxy. A thousand million stars, most of them with planets. If they average only one planet apiece that’s a thousand million planets.

He says mankind is wasting his most valuable resource, uranium, spending it in prodigious quantities to maintain valueless minor colonies on a dead moon and dead Mars. Earth is impoverishing itself in the futile effort to make a long- since- proved- impractical dream come true. Over a hundred billion dollars spent on Mars alone, and what is there of value to us on Mars? Sand and lichens, not enough air to support human life, bitter cold. Yet we spend more millions every year to supply a few dozen people who are mad enough to try—” “Shut up,” I said. “That’s enough.” (…) The planets are worthless and the stars— why, if we can reach them at all, it might take us thousands of years. I’ll buy part of that. It may take us thousands of years, and it damn well will unless we keep trying with everything we’ve got. But if we do keep trying it can happen suddenly too. It can come as unexpectedly as our reaching Mars came in 1965, four years ahead of our schedule for reaching the moon. Suddenly we’d found the A- drive and the chemicals fuels we’d been working with and figuring on were obsolete. We were in the situation of a man trying to cross the ocean in a rowboat, when only a few miles out from shore he is suddenly given a supersonic- speed airplane to use instead of his rowboat. (…) But Jesus, when you’re climbing a staircase to a room— an infinite room— filled with all the treasures of the universe, should you stop climbing just because you don’t find a handful of treasure on the first two or three steps?

We’d got to the moon and Mars and Venus, and because we hadn’t found plains strewn with gold and diamonds or alien aborigines or civilizations, we’d almost lost interest.

Living creatures, sea gulls, soaring lazily and gracefully overhead. Living creatures, a group of girls, walking by, giggling and jiggling. The lazy rhythm of the waves, the sun’s warmth and the sky’s blueness.

Why did I love Ellen? It was like asking why I had five fingers on each hand.

Alone—and I’d never felt alone before—I found that there were: too many evenings in a week.

My poor little brother, my poor brother who was rich in money and bereft of vision, my blind blind brother.

My suitcase by the door, ready. It wasn’t heavy; I travel lightly and live lightly. Physical possessions tie you down and God knows we’re tied down enough without them.

I was making a new friend, too, in the man who was coaching me in unified field theory. His name was improbable, Chang M’bassi, but he himself was much more improbable than his name. Chang M’bassi was the last, or believed to be the last, of the Masai tribesmen who, until the late sixties, had lived in east equatorial Africa. They don’t live there any more because they’re all dead except M’bassi; at least there is no other authenticated case of a survivor among them. (…) Meet M’bassi. Six feet five inches tall, and slender. Black as the Venusian night. About forty years old now. Quiet, contemplative eyes set in a fierce African face made fiercer looking by deep scars from the claws of a lion, claw marks that run from up in his kinky hair the full length of his face, having miraculously missed both eyes. A soft gentle voice that makes any language it speaks sound sweet and melodious. Buddhist, mystic mathematician, and a wonderful guy.

Ellen had warned me that he was a little stuffy, hadn’t she? Not that I gave a damn about his stuffiness. What was getting me down was the terrific speed with which the Jupiter rocket was not taking off. (…) And then Washington, D. C., two o’clock on Saturday afternoon, Whitlow’s office. William J. Whitlow looked exactly as his voice had sounded over the phone. He was small, dapper, precise, stuffy. Middle aged, but old; he’d been born old, you could tell that by looking at him.

Now, sometimes, I even talked to her; imaginary conversations, not aloud. I could go to her now, in my mind, for help and comfort when I needed them. And at times I could even think of her as though we were merely temporarily apart, as when she’d been in Washington and I in Los Angeles; think of her as though she was still alive and waiting for me somewhere. And in a sense she was; she lived in my memory and would live there as long as I myself lived. Even her death, I was learning, could not take her away from me completely. And with that knowledge came peace.

Every word I remembered, every word ran through my head in quarter tones to Cuban rhythms. “Afraid I can’t sell you any more, pal. Might cost me my license, pal. You’re pretty drunk.” Not drunk enough, pal, not drunk enough.

I wish that I could believe not in mortality but in reincarnation or individual immortality; I wish that I could be living again in another body or, God help me, even watching from the edge of a fleecy cloud in Heaven or out through the dirty windowpane of a haunted house or through the dull eyes of a dung beetle or on any terms. On any terms I want to be watching, I want to be there, I want to be around, when we reach the stars, when we take over the universe and the universes, when we become the God in whom I do not believe as yet because I do not believe he exists as yet nor will exist until we become Him. But I’ve been wrong so I can be wrong. Make me wrong, damn You, show me that I’m wrong, show me that M’bassi had cause to smile. Show Yourself, God damn You, make me wrong.

Sun going down. Son coming up; not my son, but the nearest I’d ever have to a son of my own, plodding up the hill toward me, his eyes filled with stardust. Sitting on the blanket beside me. The lost, longing look in his eyes. The look of a spaceman Earth-bound. The caged look. (…) Escape, God how we all need escape from this tiny here. The need for it has motivated just about everything man has ever done in any direction other than that of the satisfaction of his physical appetites; it has led him along weird and wonderful pathways; it has led him into art and religion, ascetism and astrology, dancing and drinking, poetry and insanity. All of these have been escapes because he has known only recently the true direction of escape-outward, into infinity and eternity, away from this little flat if rounded surface we’re born on and die on. This mote in the solar system, this atom in the galaxy.

Arranged to have Dr. Weissach-do you know of him?” I shook my head. “Probably the best brain surgeon in the world. Lives in Lisbon, but has no practice of his own, just operates. Where possible people are flown to Lisbon for him to operate on, but in an emergency case like that of Senator Gallagher he will come to the patient, although at a much higher fee.”

[sj · Rating 5 out of 5]

Originally posted here as part of the 30 Day Book Challenge.

I had no problem with this one. SUPER EASY.

A Book I Love That I Can’t Find On Shelves Anymore

Actually, I never once found it on a shelf. I found it in a box at a library sale. I think I paid a nickel for it. A NICKEL. Man, I wish I knew what happened to this book. It’s one of my favourite sf books that no one I know has read. [sigh]

Also, I refuse to pay close to ten dollars for a DRMed ecopy. No way, eff that. <.<

I am too tired to come up with other things to say about this book right now, just that it’s an excellent example of 50s science fiction, and it makes me sad that we’re no where close to being where Fredric Brown thought we’d be in the 90s.

[Roger · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Lights In The Sky Are Stars by Fredric Brown is a science fiction drama about one man's obsessive contribution to the future of space exploration, and reminded me of Robert Heinlein's "The Man Who Sold The Moon." Brown's protagonist Max Andrews, however, lobbies to promote a government project to reach Jupiter, and has no scruples about dirty politics to get what he wants, falling in love with a Senator along the way.
I found Brown's writing more realistic than most SF of the era, also like Heinlein, and his characters deeper. Andrews is a sympathetic character; his blind ambition makes him likable, and his sense of wonder, the desire to see space explored, were easy for me to identify with and kept me interested and rooting for him.

[Hibido · Rating 1 out of 5]

It's classic charm had appeal, as well as it's general divergence from the corny action packed SF tropes, but it's horrendous dialogue and just bad writing made me put it down.

Dated SF has never been a problem for me, sometimes it even gives it a charm I enjoy. Unfortunately my to-read list is big, I don't have time for bad writing.

[Chris Bassett · Rating 1 out of 5]

Boring romance novella between a male rocket mechanic and a female senator. He calls her “woman” a lot. Not much in the way of science fiction occurs. Pretty awful.

[Fred · Rating 5 out of 5]

one of the great 50's juveniles, equal to anything by heinlein or asimov

[Ed Vaughn]

I read this as a kid.

[Leew49 · Rating 3 out of 5]

Max Andrews has a lifelong obsession with space travel. More than anything else, he wants to be one of the first men to journey to the stars. Even as a young boy growing up in a tough neighborhood, it was his hope to one day become a space traveler that kept him out of trouble, kept him in school when his friends were dropping out, kept him working single-mindedly toward that distant day when he would climb aboard an interplanetary or even interstellar rocket ship. But one day Max realizes that a 55-year-old rocket mechanic with only one leg has little chance of ever getting a chance to travel in space.

Then Max learns that a Senate race could make possible or rule out altogether a chance to send a manned rocket to Jupiter. He intervenes in the political campaign and falls in love with the female candidate: the eventual winner of the race, who favors space travel. Hard work and useful personal contacts begin to make the realization of his dream begin to seem possible. Then a sudden unexpected twist in the story line ends his dream and almost his life as he plunges into despair.

This novel is part adventure, part melodrama. The story is told in unvarnished everyday language by the protagonist, who can be almost annoyingly singleminded. Occasionally the plot turns on some highly unlikely coincidences. Sometimes the science is mingled with mysticism. Max's point of view can occasionally seem badly outdated: The novel was written in the early 1950's, and a lot has changed since then. But the reader cannot help but be caught up in Max's vision of a remarkable human future: a fearless, self-sacrificing desire for something larger and more fulfilling than everyday existence. As Max learns, we can escape the mundane by turning inward or by reaching outward; and his life was based on the latter and bolder choice.

Fredric Brown is a lesser known author from an era that produced Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov and others. His novels can be a bit quirky and idiosyncratic, but they never fail to entertain and to create absorbing if sometimes fantastic self-contained worlds.

[Michael Reilly · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a peculiar book.

Fredrick Brown was one of the great pulp writers of the 40s and 50s. He wrote fast with lots of plot and adventure. His crime novels are classics. He also wrote a good amount of science fiction including "Martian Go Home", a great twist on the invasion of the planet genre.

This novel was written in 1953. It is set in 1997-2001. It is about the struggle to get into space. The odd thing is that unlike most science fiction books about getting into space, this is not really about rockets or spacemen or daring space adventures. This is a novel about the politics of getting funding for a new space initiative to go to Saturn.

Max Andrews is an ex-space pilot. He is now a space mechanic. He learns of a woman running for Senate on a platform of encouraging space travel. He sets out to help her. He engages in dirty election tricks. She gets elected.

Brown then takes us through the political wheeling and dealing to get the bill passed. Andrews has no patience with the political process. We get a love story and a tragic death.

There is an African with an exotic life story who becomes an MIT educated USC math professor. He and Max become buddies and then explore the possibility of out-of-body travel.

Max is not really a good guy. He is dishonest, self pitying and untrustworthy. The tough guy hero facade which Brown gives him is not convincing.

Then the story kind of grinds to a halt. It is as disorganized and random as I make it sounds. If feels like Brown had to get a book done and just kept typing until he had enough words.

The shame of it is that the title would be perfect for a great space opera romp and it got wasted on this oddity.

[Robert Stout · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the story about Max who lost his leg in a rocket test accident. He is a rocket mechanic who is obsessed with space travel. Ellen Galligher is running for the senate while promising to send men to Jupiter. Max digs up some dirt on her opponent and Ellen wins. Max meets Ellen and she promises to make Max the head administrator or the Jupiter rocket program. Max promises to get a degree in Rocket science before he takes the administrative post. Max has a tutor named Chang M'busse who is an African budist. Chang tells Max that mankind can travel to the stars using teleportation by thinking about it.

Fredric Brown gets into astronomy and cosmology in the book. He discusses Jupiter and mentions the four moons (Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto). The gravity well of Jupiter is too strong for a spacecraft to orbit near it. However a spacecraft can land on one of the moons. Brown discusses cosmology in the book and mentions that our universe may be one of an infinite amount.

Max falls in love with Ellen and the story takes a twisting fate. Also M'busse starts to fast and takes drugs to get in an altered state in order to transport to another location. Max finds him but Brown leaves M'busse fate in ambiguity.

If your looking for action you will not find it in this book. The book is sci-fi drama abount space flight and Max's blind ambition to reach the stars.

[Fred Katterjohn · Rating 5 out of 5]

For a novel written in the early nineteen fifties this story had a very current feel about it. The time period is set from 1998 to 2001. Brown got most of the technology for solar system exploration right. He even is correct on on the fact that space exploration would slow down after the initial thrust. He just belived that it would not dissipate until after Mars and Venus exploration.

The social structure and charachter interaction is very 1950s. With the notable exception of one black charachter who is very much an equal and a natural part of the social group.

Much of the novel is spent developing the political considertions given to approving and funding the next big mission. This is very well done. It also was a caveat why this is not one of my favorit Sci-Fi novels. Very much enjoyed the story, but this is not why I read Sci-Fi

[Stormcrow Hayes · Rating 3 out of 5]

After the delight of reading Brown's "The Mind Thing" I was looking forward to an optimistic planetary space journey. While it never got close to that, beyond some ideas, I was still open to wherever this might lead. Unfortunately, it doesn't really go anywhere that I didn't find completely predictable. Character is tired and, oh, look at that, they're dying. It all kind of falls flat.

I did get and enjoy the optimism of humanity's desire to explore the solar system and beyond, but other than that, the few surprises the book delivered were either telegraphed or so out of left field it felt a little like a cheat.

Still, I found some enjoyment reading it, but it's nothing I would really recommend.

[Tommy Baker · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a collection of science fiction stories from 1946, I read Placet is a Crazy Place by Fredric Brown and it instantly became one of my favorite stories. This is the first of his novels I've read and it's a quite a brainy, philosophical sci-fi, but written in a direct, humorous way, much like "Placet". I'd say it has a definite lefty liberal agnostic bent (1953 style) with a completely unexpected character Chang M'bassi, an African "mysticist" who becomes convinced he can teach himself to use his mind to transport himself physically. The main character Max learns that he is but an insignificant figure in the vastness of time and space but hey, that's okay, that's life.

[William Stafford · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not so much a sci-fi story as a tale of one man's passion for space travel, which he regards as necessary for human development. Max Andrews, one-legged mechanic, is our somewhat arrogant narrator. I couldn't take to him, although the book, from 1953, predicts lunar landings in the 60s, and is bang on about lack of support for the space program because of the cost. A quick read that does infect with its philosophising, but I knocked off a star because the narrator openly slags off John Carter! Grr!

[Reader · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm really glad I didn't read the synopsis on Goodreads before I breezed through this book - spoiler city! I'm guessing that's on the back of some version of this novel, but it's surely an odd move.

This is much more a grounded tale of people and relationships than it is SF but it's excellent nonetheless. Brown really knows how to pace a story and here he creates one with a lot of depth and care.

Now that I've finished this one I've read all his SF novels. I wish there were more. At least I have a ton of his short stories to read now!

[Erik · Rating 4 out of 5]

Written in the early 50's, Fredric Brown set this novel at the end of the 20th Century and had to make some guesses as to how far science had taken us by that point. Unfortunately many of his educated guesses were off, but that's how it is with sci-fi. The romantic sub-plot was pure soap opera and felt unnecessary. The writing was above par for this kind of pulp novel and, although the ending was somewhat disappointing, I did find myself really enjoying it. I'm making a conscious decision to add more sci-fi to my reading list, so this was a nice beginning.

[Ben · Rating 3 out of 5]

Brown can do tight quick stories well and this is one of them. Pick a protagonist that has a single-minded goal -- getting to the stars -- and fill him with just enough characterization to make him believable, and throw obstacles in his way. That seems to be the Brown formula. Plus a little bit of misogyny...or at least make any interaction between a male and a female in part about sexual attraction and flirtation. That stuff isn't aging well.

[Rick Bavera · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a decent sci-fi story from 1953. Not on the level of Asimov, Bradbury, Heinlein, or Clark. But definitely worth the read.

Story of a "starduster" who wants space travel to continue to Jupiter and beyond.

One interesting thing is there is more "character" in the story than in much of science fiction from that time period.

[Cr · Rating 2 out of 5]

It's definitely old sci-fi pulp. . .
Certainly not the best. Perhaps one of the weaker stories of
Fredrick Brown. Not much of a story, a little dry and lacking. . .

I'd say that it's best left to the boneyard. . .

Try his Martians go Home instead. . . At least, that has a small element of
amusement.

[Sci Fi Bookery · Rating 4 out of 5]

Max Andrews is an old rocket jockey with a busted leg and a dream to return to space. But what will he sacrifice to get there? How many bridges will he burn behind him? Follow Max as he schemes his way through a near-future space-age America, finding love, friendship and a higher purpose. This introspective first person character study is some of Fredric Brown's most personal writing.

[Viktor · Rating 3 out of 5]

A book that needed another 100 pages to flesh it out, but it was written too soon.
A story of the politics of the Space Race, it is hurt by trying to shove too much story into too little space. FB was onto something, but the story didn't have room to breathe.

[Rachel · Rating 2 out of 5]

I found this a very unsympathetic main character. When he starts talking about fixing the election for Ellen at the beginning of the book, I realized he was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, with a bit of delusional behavior thrown in. The ending was not surprising, but rather sad.