The Pollinators of Eden

by John Boyd

This hybrid has enough Freudian fertilizer to swamp any Eden which in this case happens to be Flora, "the Planet of Flowers." Freda Caron's fiance, Paul, has been seduced by a garden of giant orchids on Flora so instead of returning to earth, he sends her some singing tulips for her experimentation as well as young Hal Polino. Originally frigid, Freda blossoms while tiptoeing through the tulips with Hal. Through circumstances too bizarre to go into, Freda ends up with an orchid on Flora, gets pregnant and gives birth to a little seedling. A sorry transplant indeed.--Kirkus

Genres: Science Fiction, Fiction, Science Fiction Fantasy

212 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1969

About the author

Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.

John Boyd was the primary pen-name of Boyd Bradfield Upchurch, an American science fiction author.

Reviews

[Craig · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Pollinators of Eden was John Boyd's (a pseudonym of Boyd Bradfield Upchurch) second science fiction novel. It was published by Weybright and Talley in 1969 with a nifty purple Paul Lehr cover. It's one of his most successful stories of speculative science, dealing with ecology and a remarkably developed biology. It drags a bit in places when he gets a little mired in the execution of planetary and scientific administration, but it's quite a fascinating read if one can set aside the pacing problems and either appreciate or ignore the many chuckle-and-eyeroll-worthy double-entendres. There's a significant quantity of sexual content, uncommon for the time; the redoubtable P. Schuyler Miller compared it to the best of Philip Jose Farmer and suggested it as a best-novel-of-the-year candidate. The last twenty or so pages take a twist that's obvious in hindsight but is quite surprising as it unfolds.

[Alex Sarll]

Every so often I semi-randomly pick up a second-hand science fiction book about which I know nothing, because otherwise one can get into canonical ruts. This one made the cut through having a cover which looked like Roger Dean after he’d been at the Bosch (have I ever mentioned how much I love Pan’s covers?), and a raised-eyebrow blurb trying not to get too overexcited while praising the lesbian scene between a human and an orchid. Because yes, this book was published in 1969 – the rudest sounding year of the sexual revolution – and boy, does it show. Early on, the pushy young researcher tells our heroine that she might as well put out because he’s going to tell everyone she did anyway – and this is treated as ‘Ooh, you are a caution!’ rather than cause to lamp him. Later, she’s slipped a soporific/aphrodisiac herb so that she won’t panic during her first act of human/plant congress – and learning this the next day, she’s happy to regard it as a sensible precaution on her companion’s part. And so on. At first, I just took this sort of thing (which like the workplace sexual harassment, and all non-spaceflight technology, seems not to have progressed between the mid-20th century and the mid-23rd) for a hilarious/horrific artefact of the time in which the book was written. Which was stupid of me, because it’s exactly the sort of assumption I rail against myself when others fall prey to it – assuming, just because a piece of art doesn’t conspicuously signal itself as highbrow, that any prejudices apparent within it are endorsed or implicitly accepted by it. Very much not so. A big part of what Boyd is getting at here is that even if humans do jack in science, ambition, our own civilisation, and fuck off to the Planet of the Flowers to live in pastoral ecstasy as symbiotic pollinators for sexy flowers…is that really so much worse than the situation we’re already in? Organisational structures reduce humans to drones, without being half so much fun. Marriage can be seen as a slave relationship every bit as much as subjection to the plants of Flora. I’m not going to claim that everything suggested here would be entirely compatible with modern thinking on eg consent, but this is nonetheless a profoundly (if sometimes clumsily) radical response to unjust and unpleasant social systems.

It’s also an awful lot better than most science fiction of its era when it comes to the actual business of science. Yes, the end results are doubtless full of holes (it doesn’t help that Freda is described throughout as a cystologist when I’m fairly sure she’s meant to be a cytologist; the idea of plants seeing is treated as crazy in the mid-23rd century, when we now know it’s accepted fact in the early 21st). But in terms both of experimental method and academic politics, this is streets ahead of the usual handwaving, or the token scene where the lone genius has a moment of inspiration and immediately works out that the unstoppable alien beast is vulnerable to washing powder or something. Perhaps too much so; I imagine the testing of hypotheses in xenobotany may have got a bit much for some readers who were just after the sexy sapphic flower aliens. Still, connoisseurs of novels about bureaucracies and their failure modes will definitely find much to appreciate here. Though while much is still painfully recognisable, the terms on which the core debates are conducted are interesting: there’s a ‘Spartan’ faction opposed per se to giving humans access to paradise planets, lest they desist from striving and subside into sinful indolence. Can you picture that as an open agenda now, in the West? Sure, there are anti-porn laws and the like, the horrid emphasis on work as a virtue in itself, still riding on the poisonous old prejudices of a rotten and crumbling creed. But write a book about a seductive alien world now and the villains of the piece, assuming you didn't start with Da'esh establishing a global caliphate, would surely be bent on monetising Flora, not sealing it off altogether. Though I honestly don’t know, between the venal and the puritanical, which flavour of villainy I hate more.

There’s more, of course; I’ve not even mentioned the sideline about Entropists and the plan to outlast the universe, or the style of the writing (a sometimes baffling mix of Shakespearean allusions with hip slang). It's a mess, sometimes it tries too hard, and in places it's outright creepy in ways I don't think were intended. But I’m certainly glad I picked this one up.

Correspondences to Jerusalem, because they seem to arise in every book I finish while reading Jerusalem (except possibly the sub-par Doctor Who anthology, and the sex blogger's memoir, for which I skipped this bit): the disrespect for limiting authorities, whether that be Earthly governments or Time's determination to bring all to dust. Against the latter, especially, both books represent a determined attempt by Life to find a way.

[Kurt Reichenbaugh · Rating 2 out of 5]

It should have been good, but the style dented the weird human-on-plant erotica there was to be had. Also, for a novel that's taking place in the year 2237, things haven't really advanced that much. Yeah, there is space travel, sure, but back here on good old Earth we're still using standard mail, normal telephones, typewriters, paper, and film that has to be developed. But most annoying thing is that it's one of the those novels where everyone speaks in witty repartee and quips while all end up sounding like each other. I'm not saying it was all bad; there were a few good parts to it, and one kind of cool sexual bout with a plant, but on the balance of things this one came up high 'n dry.

[Joe Smyth · Rating 2 out of 5]

Suggested sub-title review:

"A tale of killer plants and administration (but mostly administration)".

[Oliver Terrones · Rating 5 out of 5]

¡Uh, como me ha gustado esta novela del 69! Atmósferas vegetales, experimentos botánicos y un balance entre biología, neurología y psicología que en ocasiones satiriza a algunas escuelas psicológicas.

Su personaja principal, la Dra. Fedra, es similar a la botánica Pamela Isley (Hiedra Venenosa), popularizada por Batman y que, según sé, hizo sus primeras apariciones en cómics en 1978. Aunque 'Los polinizadores del Edén' (1969) no trata exclusivamente sobre ella, sino sobre un experimento botánico con tulipanes extraterrestres. Si conocen novelas similares, recomiéndenmelas.

—

"Una oda a los dioses de climas más amables, a los Júpiter sin rayos, a los Thor sin truenos, a galileos nunca crucificados".

"Tienes que practicar la suspensión de la incredulidad, porque el universo es ilógico, y tú misma eres una imposibilidad matemática".

"—Hal, no trates de pensar en las flores como seres humanos".

[Charlotte Lewis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Utterly bizarre but in the most delicious way. Written in the style of similar science fiction novels of the time, but with its own unique story-line. I did feel the "lesbian" aspect of this book is exaggerated and is in fact brief, and would better be aligned with polyamory. I loved the combination of hard science with psychology which captivated me until the end.

[Alien · Rating 3 out of 5]

Paul, der Verlobte der Wissenschaftlerin Freda, will erst mal nicht vom Planeten Flora zurück kommen. Und das obwohl bald die Hochzeit ist! Er scheint völlig fasziniert von den Orchideen auf Flora, er will das Geheimnis lüften, wie sie sich vermehren. Sowieso sind fast alle Wissenschaftler, die von dort zurückkommen, total begeistert, haben ihre wissenschaftliche Nüchternheit verloren. Nur ein Assistent warnt vor den Blumen.

Wow, nur 3.2 von 5 bei Goodreads. Das ist eine der schlechtesten Bewertungen, die ich je gesehen habe.
Das Buch macht auf humorvoll/Satire. Der Hauptcharakter Freda ist nicht uninteressant, die administrativen Machtspielchen sind etwas zu ausführlich geschildert. Die Tatsache, dass der Tod von 3 Menschen einfach achselzuckend zur Kenntnis genommen wird, war seltsam (ist halt eine Satire oder was?).
Ich fand es aber doch gar nicht übel, wobei der irgendwie doofe Schluss dann doch noch den 4. Stern gekostet hat.

[Nicholas Whyte]

"http://nwhyte.livejournal.com/1343991.html[return][return]This is the book which begins by describing its heroine as 'blond [rather than blonde] and ovately willowy'. I guess I am convinced that she is thin with wide, childbearing hips, but it is possible to imagine a more comprehensible description.[return][return]Anyway, Freda Caron is a botanist working on some strange flowers from a newly discovered planet. That's basically the plot. Boyd appears to be trying to say deep things about sexuality and sexual politics, and the nature of humanity, but it really doesn't work. I was surprised to discover that the book dates from as late as 1969; it feels of an earlier 60s vintage. The ending is particularly silly."

[Nicole · Rating 1 out of 5]

There were a few neat ideas in this book, but overall I couldn't stand any of the characters or the author's obsession with the politics of... administration. Between that and Freda's constant nagging at or about Hal and his poor methodology I quickly grew bored and wouldn't have finished if it weren't such a short read.

[Tom · Rating 3 out of 5]

Few science fiction novels try so diligently to portray science at work in such a reasonable way, which is both interesting as an approach and dull in effect. If I told you that you were about to read a book about sentient, murderous, sex-crazed plants that were brainwashing astronauts into abandoning their families and earthly attachments to live as nudists on a forbidden, planetary Eden, you might be shocked to learn that the majority of the book takes place in a greenhouse on Earth and devotes a fair amount of time to government bureaucracy (complete with senate hearings, memos and briefings, etc).

It's trying something, and I have to give it points for that, and it's totally possible that you wouldn't have been allowed to get away with writing any different kinds of sentient, murderous, sex-crazed plant novels in 1969, but this is probably more interesting as a curio than as direct entertainment.

[James Crawford · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is like a forerunner of today's x-rated stories about plants having sex with women. In this case it's in the future and a planet named Flora has been located. Freda is a scientist on Earth while her husband is on Flora. There's a lot of job politics going on and a (misguided) attempt to try to grow the flowers on Earth.

Not such a good idea.

She becomes concerned that the female flowers on the planet will seduce her husband so she intends to go there and make sure that doesn't happen. You can pretty well guess what actually happens.

It's a dated book and rather mild in comparison to what is written today. Still, it's an okay read.

[Colin Mitchell · Rating 3 out of 5]

Strange story. Written in the 1960's about the 23rd century but the author did not foresee mobile phones, the internet or personal computers.Plant specialists have a high place in society and resorces to travel the universe and on Flora the plants have made and Eden but how do the pollinate as there are no insects. In the end Dr Janet Caron is seduced in more ways than one by the plants and orchids in particular. Not a memorable sc-fi novel.

[Xabi1990 · Rating 3 out of 5]

De los tres que he leído de este autor me quedo con "Mercader de inteligencia". Este le tengo como "Los polinizadores del Edén", de M.Roca SF

[Lumen Reese · Rating 2 out of 5]

This idea had promise to be a fun, pulpy read. I love plants especially potential man eaters/intelligent and manipulative ones. I was willing to overlook the cheesiness of the main character being a 24 year old PHD, bombshell, nymphomaniac virgin, but the story falls completely flat. The author seems to think very highly of himself, every page is thick with overwrought description and dialogue that is completely inaccessible, and he languishes way too much in politics that don't move the story forward. The book's biggest sin, though, is that its characters are flat and make nonsensical decisions. At almost no point are Freda's motivations believable at all, and that's not because of the outlandishness of the story, it's because of the way the author writes her as such a skin-deep caricature. I had high hopes for this and was so disappointed.

[Andrew · Rating 2 out of 5]

When you have a thing for picking up pulp 60s/70s sci fi paperbacks in second hand book shops, you can sometimes come across some real undiscovered gems. Sometimes, however, you get this. I don't mind how dated it is, that comes with the territory, but it's incoherent, rather dull, and for a book that starts with the discovery of an amazing planet of intelligent flowers, inexplicably sets 95% of its action on Earth.

[Kathleen D V · Rating 3 out of 5]

What a weird book. I did find the story original and clever. But the first part drags on and on about the Caron tulips and politics. The story gets interesting when we're reaching the end of the book starting on page 183. When Freda gets sent to the planet Flora at last to join her partner Paul.

[Melissa Lemke · Rating 4 out of 5]

Highly entertaining and weird.

[Lain · Rating 4 out of 5]

First half: boring. Second half: just the thing to read if you’re into botanical erotica

[Daniel Paniagua Diez · Rating 1 out of 5]

Muy aburrida, me equivoqué con esta novela.

[Deb Omnivorous Reader · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tricky to review. Very tricky, and to rate. On one hand I was often frustrated by the writing, but it has stayed with me, the parts I like getting stronger while the annoyances fade in my memory...

Overall, I loved the concept and I think I will re-read it. I might just not have been quite prepared.

Plot is good but fails to take itself seriously, so probably not for everyone: We start with Freda waiting for a spaceship to return from the recently discovered planet of Flora, where her fiancée has been working on the botany. He is not on the ship, he has stayed behind to continue work on the orchids he is fascinated by, but he has sent a post-doc student, Hal back with an orchid seed and a couple of tulip bulbs. Frida, with the help of of Hal and his permanent suggestive flirting cultivated the tulips and they have some fascinating characteristics. The cultivate them in open fields, leaving me, with my background in bio-control in Australia GIBBERING in agony at the stupidity. But the inevitable bad stuff that happens from that is actually quite entertaining.

And, about those tulips Paul sent Frida; on pg 177 when she finally makes it to Flora, he said 'I suppose you had to destroy them' so he knew they were potentially dangerous. um. "Why did you send them then my dear fiancee..." is exactly what Freda does NOT ask. Or indeed anything else.

Freda is such a completely unbelievable attempt at characterisation that one just can't really relate to her as a character at all (are we even meant to? I doubt it) but even so I managed to be annoyed at how she turns into an unthinking pool of dependent lard as soon as she is reunited with her Fiancée (whom she has made perfectly clear was selected for intellectual reasons not emotional).

One page 187 all the suggestiveness finally culminates with Freida and a female orchid have sex, though she has already dreamed about having sex with a male orchid and yes, like the blurb on the back says she does get pregnant and give birth to a seed.
*sigh*
There is so much that COULD be great about this intelligent plant/ interplanetary ecology story. The biological science tend to get sidelined in SFF by the astrophysics and the maths and the engineering. If this book took itself even a tiny bit just a TINY TEENSY bit more seriously, it could have been magnificent. I was entirely uninterested in Freda and Hal flirting, I was there for the Botany and other ologies, of which there were not nearly enough.


So I guess, overall - I guess – Weirdly interesting? Great underlying concept? Botanically raunchy?
With enough double entendres, to keep an army of thirteen year olds giggling forever. Also, triple entendres, and 10 to the power of nth entendres firing like literary machine guns, plus the outright ridiculousness that is common in the book, it is not for everyone. Still fascinating.

[I.D. · Rating 2 out of 5]

The first 180 pages of this book are pretty boring more about administration, office politics and scientific methodology. But then it finally turns weird like the cover copy promises with plant sex, seed babies, and orchid seduction dreams. If only it was more of the latter...

[Nicole · Rating 1 out of 5]

If I could give this book a negative star I would. Some of the worst science, no understanding of basic evolutionary botany. I consider this one of the worst books I've ever read.

[Melissa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great book about a planet where the humans are the pollinators...like bees and flies on this planet.

[Erik Graff · Rating 2 out of 5]

One has to admire anyone who would essay to write an erotic novel about plants without the influence of psychotropics. In this case, however, and given the date of authorship, one suspects such aid.

[Belinda Jonak · Rating 3 out of 5]

Racy tongue in cheek story involving extreme reproductive strategies in alien plants.

[SciFiOne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cover author John Boyd. Grade B.

[Greg Curtis · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a truly weird book, exploring strange sexuality between a woman and a plant, and probably inspired by the sexual revolution of the 1970's. Its actually quite a fun read.

[Phil · Rating 3 out of 5]

Written in the 1960's the view of women here was a bit dated. But what a ride and what an ending. One that I did not foresee.