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Seconds
What would you give up for a second chance?
Antiochus Wilson is completely and utterly bored with his life, until he receives the call that changes everything. When the voice on the other end of the line promises him excitement, wealth, and happiness, he is more than a little intrigued.
Arriving at a hastily scrawled address, Wilson discovers a mysterious and exclusive organization that offers its clients whole new lives . . . for a price. The organization arranges for a client's demise or disappearance and outfits each with a new body in which to begin again. But there's no turning back, and no room for second-guessing. When Wilson begins to question his new circumstances and pushes some very well-established boundaries a bit too far for the organization's comfort, his second chance may just be his last.
Antiochus Wilson is completely and utterly bored with his life, until he receives the call that changes everything. When the voice on the other end of the line promises him excitement, wealth, and happiness, he is more than a little intrigued.
Arriving at a hastily scrawled address, Wilson discovers a mysterious and exclusive organization that offers its clients whole new lives . . . for a price. The organization arranges for a client's demise or disappearance and outfits each with a new body in which to begin again. But there's no turning back, and no room for second-guessing. When Wilson begins to question his new circumstances and pushes some very well-established boundaries a bit too far for the organization's comfort, his second chance may just be his last.
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First published January 1, 1963
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February 2, 2024
(Here's the cover of the 1965 Four Square Books mass-market edition)
July 9, 2024
Seconds (1962) is a pseudo-science fiction novel that, for this reader, seems in some respects to echo Heinlein’s 1961 novel I Will Fear No Evil in that both novels posit the ultra-wealthy escaping death (I Will Fear No Evil) or boredom and aging (Seconds) by the advent of plastic surgery. Seconds also became a motion picture starring Rock Hudson.
Seconds is a sparsely written novel with few characters and little in the way of descriptions. Wilson is a successful banker and family man, who is offered a chance by an acquaintance to leave his boring drab existence and wife and start something new with a new face and new body. He has no idea how it works or much about the secret organization that masterminds this – after all, what is the first rule of Fight Club – you never talk about it. He is whisked through offices and other buildings in back ways in a sort of cloak and dagger manner and offered a chance to go through with the program. He awakes on a plane to Los Angeles with a new face and a new identity (an artist, of course), a servant in a new home to guide him through his new life, and people who appear to recognize him in his new face, greeting him like a new friend.
The question then becomes what it will take for Wilson to adjust to his new life and whether he will blow this new chance at a new paradise or make it work. You wonder why he could not just continue with his old succcessful life and what his uncouth need is to learn all the details about who he is now, how this works, and what became of his old life.
It is a perfectly-structured meditation on the meaning of life and what it means to be in heaven, hell, or purgatory. It is also a question of what makes an individual and what makes someone who is hell-bent on just going along with the program and whatever the puppetmasters want you to do.
After all, what would you do if given another chance at life? Would you be more successful, happier, more content? Or would ennui still eat at you and strip the flesh off your rotting bones?
Seconds is a sparsely written novel with few characters and little in the way of descriptions. Wilson is a successful banker and family man, who is offered a chance by an acquaintance to leave his boring drab existence and wife and start something new with a new face and new body. He has no idea how it works or much about the secret organization that masterminds this – after all, what is the first rule of Fight Club – you never talk about it. He is whisked through offices and other buildings in back ways in a sort of cloak and dagger manner and offered a chance to go through with the program. He awakes on a plane to Los Angeles with a new face and a new identity (an artist, of course), a servant in a new home to guide him through his new life, and people who appear to recognize him in his new face, greeting him like a new friend.
The question then becomes what it will take for Wilson to adjust to his new life and whether he will blow this new chance at a new paradise or make it work. You wonder why he could not just continue with his old succcessful life and what his uncouth need is to learn all the details about who he is now, how this works, and what became of his old life.
It is a perfectly-structured meditation on the meaning of life and what it means to be in heaven, hell, or purgatory. It is also a question of what makes an individual and what makes someone who is hell-bent on just going along with the program and whatever the puppetmasters want you to do.
After all, what would you do if given another chance at life? Would you be more successful, happier, more content? Or would ennui still eat at you and strip the flesh off your rotting bones?
November 23, 2017
Intriguing and suspenseful, with an atmosphere of dread that never lets up. The main character's odyssey reads like a bad fever dream. Great stuff.
January 2, 2009
I saw the great John Frankenheimer movie of this novel in the
1960s and then went out and got the book. It is an excellent
thriller about a middle-aged man who gets to be "reborn" as
someone who looks like Rock Hudson and who is an artist in
Malibu with no obligations to nobody. Perfect? Well...
Tonight I saw the movie again...
1960s and then went out and got the book. It is an excellent
thriller about a middle-aged man who gets to be "reborn" as
someone who looks like Rock Hudson and who is an artist in
Malibu with no obligations to nobody. Perfect? Well...
Tonight I saw the movie again...
May 10, 2020
In 1964, David Ely produced a novel of existential despair that also manages to be a satire on the consumer-targeted managerial capitalism that was at the core of the American dream before the dissent of the mid-1960s took hold.
Almost ten years earlier (1955 (novel) and 1956 (film)), in 'The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit', the demands of corporate life were presented as sets of conflict between personal expression, family duty and corporate compliance and resolved in favour of the 'natural' confluence of the last two.
Critique was never far below the surface. J K Galbraith's 'The Affluent Society' did so in grand policy terms but many men chafed under obligations that seemed to be as collectively imposed as anything that the Soviets may have offered even if none dared say it in those terms.
It is quite important to the story in 'Seconds' that 'Wilson' (the protagonist) has raised a family and is alienated from it as it is alienated from him. The sacrifices of work and loss of free expression (there is to be irony in the new social role assigned to him by the corporation) have turned to dust.
'Wilson' thinks he wants freedom but he what he really wanted was the belonging and meaning promised at the beginning of his life. Family and corporate duty are no longer aligned - in fact, everything has turned to dust.
The novel is a morality tale. It is about what happens when a new capitalist enterprise offers the opportunity to escape obligation and how the 'contract' proves to be one with the devil as a new obligation emerges to a different 'Stepford' type of pseudo-individualist conformity.
It is quite slow-moving and Ely is not a lively writer. At first, this troubled me. I was going to mark it down but, as it progressed, I realised that the style fitted with an atmosphere of greyness and mounting despair as the protagonist gets sucked into this paranoid fantasy.
In 1966, it was made into a film (of course, this is no guarantee of literary quality, often the reverse) which tells us something about the mood of the time. Another capitalist enterprise (the cinema industry) was already feeling the shift of mood that was to become the 'sixties'.
This is certainly not a happy book. There is no visceral or cosmic horror. It is psychological horror, a fantasy at core (no such corporation as the one described could exist and survive in the real world) but it feels real at times. It is on the very edge of the territory staked out by Ligotti.
There is one note of realism, a core element in the story. The corporation is running to stand still and is in financial difficulty because it has sold something it cannot deliver. It is a peculiar form of Ponzi scheme. It is also consciously set up to be a fulfilment of uncertain wishes.
Capitalism is, in fact, depicted as rational in its determination to continue with its misjudgements. It is a machine that eats people. In opening up a market for a packaged 'freedom', the corporation enslaves and much much worse in order to meet its entrepreneurial mission and survive.
A very dark book - not perhaps a masterpiece of world literature but well worth reading (if you are not already depressed). It is an insight into the frustrations emerging in the early 1960s as post-war conformity started to move the war generation towards their inevitable mid-life crisis.
For those who want a solid and moving audio version of the book, I can recommend the reading of Edward French which starts (in six separate chapters) at https://youtu.be/Ymt3DDzgA10 His YouTube Channel, incidentally, is an excellent source for readings of weird and horror fiction.
December 1, 2013
I thought it was very well written! Great storyline, and almost believable, like The Matrix for 1960s. Excellent.
June 19, 2015
The Basis Of A Classic Movie
This novel became the basis of one of Rock Hudson's best movies. A middle age banker is given a second chance at life by a mysterious organization.
This novel became the basis of one of Rock Hudson's best movies. A middle age banker is given a second chance at life by a mysterious organization.
April 13, 2018
This dark, comedic suspense thriller was chosen as the final part in John Frankenheimer's "Paranoia" trilogy of movies. Imagine a cross-over episode of The Beverly Hillbillies, The Man from U. N. C. L. E. and The Prisoner with Laugh-In montages. Imagine Milburn Drysdale walking into the Tailor/Dry Cleaners that is a front for U. N. C. L. E. HQ and being treated like Patrick MacGoohan's character in The Prisoner and later being invited to the "Parties" on Laugh-In.
The book is what you get if Kurt Vonnegut, Ian Fleming and Philip K. Dick smoked pot and dropped LSD hits at the same party and went off to discuss literature together. There are three kinds of weird: weird, really weird and Seconds.
https://youtu.be/2K1Mpo8O4rQ
I wonder if this movie inspired Sam Peckinpah's vision for his movie of Robert Ludlum's The Osterman Weekend...
The book is what you get if Kurt Vonnegut, Ian Fleming and Philip K. Dick smoked pot and dropped LSD hits at the same party and went off to discuss literature together. There are three kinds of weird: weird, really weird and Seconds.
https://youtu.be/2K1Mpo8O4rQ
I wonder if this movie inspired Sam Peckinpah's vision for his movie of Robert Ludlum's The Osterman Weekend...
March 24, 2015
A very solid read, extremely well written and deftly executed. I'm perplexed by the low aggregate rating.
I have seen the movie a few times (before having read the book) and it is also very good. There did seem (to me) a feeling of the film version being a bit dated, very California 60s.
Somehow this was not as prominent (at least not to me) in the novel. Though I knew where things were headed, the author was expert at creating an atmosphere of anxious menace and doom.
I have seen the movie a few times (before having read the book) and it is also very good. There did seem (to me) a feeling of the film version being a bit dated, very California 60s.
Somehow this was not as prominent (at least not to me) in the novel. Though I knew where things were headed, the author was expert at creating an atmosphere of anxious menace and doom.
May 1, 2025
A measurement of intervals of time: one sixtieth of a minute
A second helping of food at a meal
Inferior goods
As a verb: agreeing with something or someone
All of these meanings have resonance with the storyline of “Seconds”. However, for me, this story was less about ‘seconds’ and more about ‘firsts’ — to wit, can you be a second if you were really never a first?
A very successful long-married middle aged banker is finding himself bored with his life and his marriage when he gets a phone call from his old Harvard roommate Charlie (whom he thought had died the previous year in a quite bizarre ‘fall’ into an active volcano). Charlie explains to his friend, thereafter referred to as Mr. Wilson, that his demise had been expertly engineered to look like a tragic accident by a secret organization that, for a steep fee, was able miraculously to grant qualifying candidates a chance at a completely new life — one unencumbered by all former responsibilities of family and profession. A second chance to make those unrealized dreams come true — a rebirth, but one in which the ‘newborn’ skips past all the struggles, dips and challenges of growing up, and is instead ‘born’ anew with an already actualized identity, a new surgically reconstructed countenance, and a ‘past’ with all the requisite phony certificates to authenticate the second life. So a stand-in for the first iteration of Wilson is staged to present as tragically deceased from a sudden heart attack in a midtown hotel, while the second iteration of Wilson in hiding undergoes some months of grueling surgery and physical training to ultimately land in a cushy and enviable setup on the beaches of Malibu, in a fabulous home with a full time servant, along with an art studio fitted out by the company in order that the second Wilson can realize his dream of living the life of the wildly successful ‘painter’, one with a plethora of glowing (and completely counterfeit) reviews of his many art exhibits. The only problem is that Wilson, who apparently hadn’t held a paintbrush since maybe 6th grade, was an inept artist without any more idea of how to construct a life for himself as a second on his own terms than he did when he was a first.
A non-entity doesn’t suddenly morph into an entity, or add nothing to nothing and you still wind up with … nothing.
Artiste Wilson becomes more and more discombobulated by his new life, by the realization that he is being watched (the butler is a company spy), by his neighbors who all seem to be ‘rebirthers’ and quite desperate in their libertine pursuits, and by the realization that he was hardly a blip on the radar screen of his former family’s lives — not thought of with fondness, or disdain even — just not thought of at all. So it’s no surprise that Wilson winds up back at the secret company compound, waiting his turn to become one of the cadaver stand-in for new recruit rebirthers. There, as an agitated Wilson is finally realizing he’s not getting a third chance at existence, one has to ask: was Wilson ever really alive?
It’s a well-written albeit fantastic story with a Swiss cheese degree of plot holes, but I think especially in the context of the ‘60s (when the book was written), it does reflect the zeitgeist of challenging cultural norms & expectations and questioning prevailing cultural values. But for me the most interesting part of the book was when Wilson visited his daughter & wife, and realized he had been dead to them well before the company faked his death in that hotel room.
A second helping of food at a meal
Inferior goods
As a verb: agreeing with something or someone
All of these meanings have resonance with the storyline of “Seconds”. However, for me, this story was less about ‘seconds’ and more about ‘firsts’ — to wit, can you be a second if you were really never a first?
A very successful long-married middle aged banker is finding himself bored with his life and his marriage when he gets a phone call from his old Harvard roommate Charlie (whom he thought had died the previous year in a quite bizarre ‘fall’ into an active volcano). Charlie explains to his friend, thereafter referred to as Mr. Wilson, that his demise had been expertly engineered to look like a tragic accident by a secret organization that, for a steep fee, was able miraculously to grant qualifying candidates a chance at a completely new life — one unencumbered by all former responsibilities of family and profession. A second chance to make those unrealized dreams come true — a rebirth, but one in which the ‘newborn’ skips past all the struggles, dips and challenges of growing up, and is instead ‘born’ anew with an already actualized identity, a new surgically reconstructed countenance, and a ‘past’ with all the requisite phony certificates to authenticate the second life. So a stand-in for the first iteration of Wilson is staged to present as tragically deceased from a sudden heart attack in a midtown hotel, while the second iteration of Wilson in hiding undergoes some months of grueling surgery and physical training to ultimately land in a cushy and enviable setup on the beaches of Malibu, in a fabulous home with a full time servant, along with an art studio fitted out by the company in order that the second Wilson can realize his dream of living the life of the wildly successful ‘painter’, one with a plethora of glowing (and completely counterfeit) reviews of his many art exhibits. The only problem is that Wilson, who apparently hadn’t held a paintbrush since maybe 6th grade, was an inept artist without any more idea of how to construct a life for himself as a second on his own terms than he did when he was a first.
A non-entity doesn’t suddenly morph into an entity, or add nothing to nothing and you still wind up with … nothing.
Artiste Wilson becomes more and more discombobulated by his new life, by the realization that he is being watched (the butler is a company spy), by his neighbors who all seem to be ‘rebirthers’ and quite desperate in their libertine pursuits, and by the realization that he was hardly a blip on the radar screen of his former family’s lives — not thought of with fondness, or disdain even — just not thought of at all. So it’s no surprise that Wilson winds up back at the secret company compound, waiting his turn to become one of the cadaver stand-in for new recruit rebirthers. There, as an agitated Wilson is finally realizing he’s not getting a third chance at existence, one has to ask: was Wilson ever really alive?
It’s a well-written albeit fantastic story with a Swiss cheese degree of plot holes, but I think especially in the context of the ‘60s (when the book was written), it does reflect the zeitgeist of challenging cultural norms & expectations and questioning prevailing cultural values. But for me the most interesting part of the book was when Wilson visited his daughter & wife, and realized he had been dead to them well before the company faked his death in that hotel room.
May 3, 2025
A measurement of intervals of time: one sixtieth of a minute
A second helping of food at a meal
Inferior goods
As a verb: agreeing with something or someone
All of these meanings have resonance with the storyline of “Seconds”. However, for me, this story was less about ‘seconds’ and more about ‘firsts’ — to wit, can you be a second if you were really never a first?
A very successful long-married middle aged banker is finding himself bored with his life and his marriage when he gets a phone call from his old Harvard roommate Charlie (whom he thought had died the previous year in a quite bizarre ‘fall’ into an active volcano). Charlie explains to his friend, thereafter referred to as Mr. Wilson, that his demise had been expertly engineered to look like a tragic accident by a secret organization that, for a steep fee, was able miraculously to grant qualifying candidates a chance at a completely new life — one unencumbered by all former responsibilities of family and profession. A second chance to make those unrealized dreams come true — a rebirth, but one in which the ‘newborn’ skips past all the struggles, dips and challenges of growing up, and is instead ‘born’ anew with an already actualized identity, a new surgically reconstructed countenance, and a ‘past’ with all the requisite phony certificates to authenticate the second life. So a stand-in for the first iteration of Wilson is staged to present as tragically deceased from a sudden heart attack in a midtown hotel, while the second iteration of Wilson in hiding undergoes some months of grueling surgery and physical training to ultimately land in a cushy and enviable setup on the beaches of Malibu, in a fabulous home with a full time servant, along with an art studio fitted out by the company in order that the second Wilson can realize his dream of living the life of the wildly successful ‘painter’, one with a plethora of glowing (and completely counterfeit) reviews of his many art exhibits. The only problem is that Wilson, who apparently hadn’t held a paintbrush since maybe 6th grade, was an inept artist without any more idea of how to construct a life for himself as a second on his own terms than he did when he was a first.
A non-entity doesn’t suddenly morph into an entity, or add nothing to nothing and you still wind up with … nothing.
Artiste Wilson becomes more and more discombobulated by his new life, by the realization that he is being watched (the butler is a company spy), by his neighbors who all seem to be ‘rebirthers’ and quite desperate in their libertine pursuits, and by the realization that he was hardly a blip on the radar screen of his former family’s lives — not thought of with fondness, or disdain even — just not thought of at all. So it’s no surprise that Wilson winds up back at the secret company compound, waiting his turn to become one of the cadaver stand-in for new recruit rebirthers. There, as an agitated Wilson is finally realizing he’s not getting a third chance at existence, one has to ask: was Wilson ever really alive?
It’s a well-written albeit fantastic story with a Swiss cheese degree of plot holes, but I think especially in the context of the ‘60s (when the book was written), it does reflect the zeitgeist of challenging cultural norms & expectations and questioning prevailing cultural values. But for me the most interesting part of the book was when Wilson visited his daughter & wife, and realized he had been dead to them well before the company faked his death in that hotel room.
A second helping of food at a meal
Inferior goods
As a verb: agreeing with something or someone
All of these meanings have resonance with the storyline of “Seconds”. However, for me, this story was less about ‘seconds’ and more about ‘firsts’ — to wit, can you be a second if you were really never a first?
A very successful long-married middle aged banker is finding himself bored with his life and his marriage when he gets a phone call from his old Harvard roommate Charlie (whom he thought had died the previous year in a quite bizarre ‘fall’ into an active volcano). Charlie explains to his friend, thereafter referred to as Mr. Wilson, that his demise had been expertly engineered to look like a tragic accident by a secret organization that, for a steep fee, was able miraculously to grant qualifying candidates a chance at a completely new life — one unencumbered by all former responsibilities of family and profession. A second chance to make those unrealized dreams come true — a rebirth, but one in which the ‘newborn’ skips past all the struggles, dips and challenges of growing up, and is instead ‘born’ anew with an already actualized identity, a new surgically reconstructed countenance, and a ‘past’ with all the requisite phony certificates to authenticate the second life. So a stand-in for the first iteration of Wilson is staged to present as tragically deceased from a sudden heart attack in a midtown hotel, while the second iteration of Wilson in hiding undergoes some months of grueling surgery and physical training to ultimately land in a cushy and enviable setup on the beaches of Malibu, in a fabulous home with a full time servant, along with an art studio fitted out by the company in order that the second Wilson can realize his dream of living the life of the wildly successful ‘painter’, one with a plethora of glowing (and completely counterfeit) reviews of his many art exhibits. The only problem is that Wilson, who apparently hadn’t held a paintbrush since maybe 6th grade, was an inept artist without any more idea of how to construct a life for himself as a second on his own terms than he did when he was a first.
A non-entity doesn’t suddenly morph into an entity, or add nothing to nothing and you still wind up with … nothing.
Artiste Wilson becomes more and more discombobulated by his new life, by the realization that he is being watched (the butler is a company spy), by his neighbors who all seem to be ‘rebirthers’ and quite desperate in their libertine pursuits, and by the realization that he was hardly a blip on the radar screen of his former family’s lives — not thought of with fondness, or disdain even — just not thought of at all. So it’s no surprise that Wilson winds up back at the secret company compound, waiting his turn to become one of the cadaver stand-in for new recruit rebirthers. There, as an agitated Wilson is finally realizing he’s not getting a third chance at existence, one has to ask: was Wilson ever really alive?
It’s a well-written albeit fantastic story with a Swiss cheese degree of plot holes, but I think especially in the context of the ‘60s (when the book was written), it does reflect the zeitgeist of challenging cultural norms & expectations and questioning prevailing cultural values. But for me the most interesting part of the book was when Wilson visited his daughter & wife, and realized he had been dead to them well before the company faked his death in that hotel room.
October 6, 2025
Now to re-watch the film!
June 19, 2013
Originally released in 1963, and made into a movie starring Rock Hudson in 1966, David Ely’s short science fiction book has been rereleased in 2013, and feels destined to be remade into a scifi summer blockbuster. While at times the novel feels very dated, there are many themes in the book that resonate with today’s reader and everything going on in the world.
Antiochus Wilson has the classic sixties life: a decent job which he has done well in and climbed the ranks, making a decent wage; at home he has a wonderful and dutiful wife; a daughter who has grown up and is living elsewhere now; but he is bored with his life. He has a couple of hobbies, like painting sometimes in the garage, or taking his boat out, but otherwise he’s just fed-up with everything. So when he gets the address and note that will change his life, he jumps at the opportunity.
Skipping out of work on lunch, he heads to the clandestine address on the other side of town. He finds himself in a strange warehouse where a stranger tells him to put on overalls and dirty himself up a bit. Then they head to another destination incognito and so starts the first minute of his new life. Antiochus “Tony” Wilson is being given a second, new life. Agreeing on an expensive package, he is killed off; a perfect cadaver left in his place, while he undergoes reconstructive surgery and comes out a new, handsomer man. A new life is created for him: a successful artist, with a new home in California. He is famous, people love him, especially the young models who post nude for him. What could be better?
Except Antiochus Wilson, for some reason, can’t let go of his past; can’t let go of his wife, or his daughter whom he rarely saw.
Seconds, in some ways, feels like a modern James Bond movie, where women play minor secondary characters, serving the men, yet everything else feels current and meaningful. The book plays around with the concept of identity and who one really is, and the true power of family. The company that gives these men second, new lives was conceived as a brilliant breakthrough that every man would want, but that seems not to be the case.
Originally written on February 20, 2013 ©Alex C. Telander.
For more reviews, check out the BookBanter site.
Antiochus Wilson has the classic sixties life: a decent job which he has done well in and climbed the ranks, making a decent wage; at home he has a wonderful and dutiful wife; a daughter who has grown up and is living elsewhere now; but he is bored with his life. He has a couple of hobbies, like painting sometimes in the garage, or taking his boat out, but otherwise he’s just fed-up with everything. So when he gets the address and note that will change his life, he jumps at the opportunity.
Skipping out of work on lunch, he heads to the clandestine address on the other side of town. He finds himself in a strange warehouse where a stranger tells him to put on overalls and dirty himself up a bit. Then they head to another destination incognito and so starts the first minute of his new life. Antiochus “Tony” Wilson is being given a second, new life. Agreeing on an expensive package, he is killed off; a perfect cadaver left in his place, while he undergoes reconstructive surgery and comes out a new, handsomer man. A new life is created for him: a successful artist, with a new home in California. He is famous, people love him, especially the young models who post nude for him. What could be better?
Except Antiochus Wilson, for some reason, can’t let go of his past; can’t let go of his wife, or his daughter whom he rarely saw.
Seconds, in some ways, feels like a modern James Bond movie, where women play minor secondary characters, serving the men, yet everything else feels current and meaningful. The book plays around with the concept of identity and who one really is, and the true power of family. The company that gives these men second, new lives was conceived as a brilliant breakthrough that every man would want, but that seems not to be the case.
Originally written on February 20, 2013 ©Alex C. Telander.
For more reviews, check out the BookBanter site.
October 8, 2016
There's an old proverb: The grass is always greener on the other side (of the fence).
It is usually meant in an ironic way, meaning that the grass is not actually greener on the other side at all; it merely appears so from our fixed position.
This is essentially what the novel seems to ask: What if we could go over that fence, with the "small" provision, that once we have grossed it we could never turn back?
It also proposes an answer . . . and the answer, as may be expected, is far from a pleasant one.
All in all, a well-written and fantastic novel (and perhaps an even better film), which made me contemplate upon my own desires of wanting to be someone that perhaps I am not at all so suited to be.
It is usually meant in an ironic way, meaning that the grass is not actually greener on the other side at all; it merely appears so from our fixed position.
This is essentially what the novel seems to ask: What if we could go over that fence, with the "small" provision, that once we have grossed it we could never turn back?
It also proposes an answer . . . and the answer, as may be expected, is far from a pleasant one.
All in all, a well-written and fantastic novel (and perhaps an even better film), which made me contemplate upon my own desires of wanting to be someone that perhaps I am not at all so suited to be.
February 24, 2023
Mad Men meets The Prisoner
I read this because I wanted more of the subtle menace of the excellent John Frankenheimer film version, starring Rock Hudson in a career-defining role. I was not disappointed. The dialogue might seem a little stilted, but this perfectly captures the promise and disillusionment of the 1960s, and of middle class American life in general. A paranoid classic.
I liked the finale of the Mad Men TV very much, but SECONDS would have worked too!
I read this because I wanted more of the subtle menace of the excellent John Frankenheimer film version, starring Rock Hudson in a career-defining role. I was not disappointed. The dialogue might seem a little stilted, but this perfectly captures the promise and disillusionment of the 1960s, and of middle class American life in general. A paranoid classic.
I liked the finale of the Mad Men TV very much, but SECONDS would have worked too!
August 23, 2016
Always wanted to read this because I loved the movie. I was not disappointed. The only thing that was a letdown was the ending. I thought the movie, with Rock Hudson as the "reborn" man, had a more terrifying climax. In that sense, it was an improvement over the novel's ending. All things considered, though, I recommend this story highly. It will haunt you.
June 25, 2023
This is one of my all time favourite films so I thought I would try the novel on kindle. It was interesting, quite similar to the film but also enjoyable. The cover wasn't the film tie in version here but a godawful matrix 'inspired' effort.
November 29, 2023
Exceptional, a new favourite.
A strong storyline that accomplishes a rare synchrony of deep meaning and superficial gratification. The writing style is sharp, precise and never convoluted or pretentious unlike most literary works these days.
A strong storyline that accomplishes a rare synchrony of deep meaning and superficial gratification. The writing style is sharp, precise and never convoluted or pretentious unlike most literary works these days.
January 10, 2008
Chilling book that makes real the saying, "Be careful what you wish for ..."
It's short and to the point. Is also a great film.
It's short and to the point. Is also a great film.
June 23, 2021
I just can't anymore.
DNF at page 101 because I am finding it just too much of a trial to read. Apparently it is a cult classic novel, I guess that in the early 1960's it would have been a really exciting, sci-fi, thriller-ish adventure. I might even have enjoyed it if I encountered it in the 70's or 80's but here and now it is dull to boring, predictable and so inherently unlikely that I can't read more than half a page at a time.
I am halfway through this book and the ending is so completely predictable (at least in broad terms), that I am not even going to bother reading the last few pages. The process of getting there is so very detached from any event or emotion, other than a slight creepiness, that the reading is not worthwhile. The process of reading is so utterly boring that I can't bear it.
Well written, with Wilson as a protagonist who would probably be good in film but is fairly pointless in prose, I respect that this book might have been innovative in it's time. Calling it sci-fi, is, I think, a little misleading. Sure that level of plastic surgery and forensic organisation would have been a bit ahead of the times, but I do still think it is more thriller than sci-fi.
Also, the initial flaw that I could just not get past from the beginning and which coloured the rest of the reading for me: Would anyone, ever, go ahead with something so dramatic and so expensive without having any idea what the process or the results would be; where they were going or what they would be doing? If Wilson were a criminal who had to do it to escape the gallows, ok, I could buy that. But the way it is laid out.... ok, I get that was meant to be part of the creepiness, but lets face it, it is just ridiculous.
I could cope with the ridiculous, I have before, but add in complete emotional detachment, no actual events or storyline and you lost me. It could have been a bit interesting if Wilson actually tried to make it as an artist, but no. The model was just there for yet another highly silly sex scene (yes, I know, the 60's got it) and the conclusion to this 'second life' was entirely predictable.
DNF at page 101 because I am finding it just too much of a trial to read. Apparently it is a cult classic novel, I guess that in the early 1960's it would have been a really exciting, sci-fi, thriller-ish adventure. I might even have enjoyed it if I encountered it in the 70's or 80's but here and now it is dull to boring, predictable and so inherently unlikely that I can't read more than half a page at a time.
I am halfway through this book and the ending is so completely predictable (at least in broad terms), that I am not even going to bother reading the last few pages. The process of getting there is so very detached from any event or emotion, other than a slight creepiness, that the reading is not worthwhile. The process of reading is so utterly boring that I can't bear it.
Well written, with Wilson as a protagonist who would probably be good in film but is fairly pointless in prose, I respect that this book might have been innovative in it's time. Calling it sci-fi, is, I think, a little misleading. Sure that level of plastic surgery and forensic organisation would have been a bit ahead of the times, but I do still think it is more thriller than sci-fi.
Also, the initial flaw that I could just not get past from the beginning and which coloured the rest of the reading for me: Would anyone, ever, go ahead with something so dramatic and so expensive without having any idea what the process or the results would be; where they were going or what they would be doing? If Wilson were a criminal who had to do it to escape the gallows, ok, I could buy that. But the way it is laid out.... ok, I get that was meant to be part of the creepiness, but lets face it, it is just ridiculous.
I could cope with the ridiculous, I have before, but add in complete emotional detachment, no actual events or storyline and you lost me. It could have been a bit interesting if Wilson actually tried to make it as an artist, but no. The model was just there for yet another highly silly sex scene (yes, I know, the 60's got it) and the conclusion to this 'second life' was entirely predictable.
October 25, 2020
“Look at it this way. You’re living a dream. All those longings you had back in the old days—well, they’ve come true now. You’ve got what almost every middle-aged man in America would like to have. Freedom. Real freedom. You can do any damned thing you want to. You’ve got financial security, you’ve got no responsibilities, and you’ve got no reason at all to feel guilty about what you’ve done. The company’s taken care of everything. Right?”
Terrifying.
A middle aged man in a dead end boring life takes a chance and ends up with a company that'll fake his death, give him plastic surgery, and set him up with a new identity where he can live out his dreams of youth, or will he?
Is it really a second chance if it's all been planned out for you in advance? Can you turn your back on your wife and daughter and pretend they don't exist?
Made into a fantastic film in 1966.
Terrifying.
A middle aged man in a dead end boring life takes a chance and ends up with a company that'll fake his death, give him plastic surgery, and set him up with a new identity where he can live out his dreams of youth, or will he?
Is it really a second chance if it's all been planned out for you in advance? Can you turn your back on your wife and daughter and pretend they don't exist?
Made into a fantastic film in 1966.
October 20, 2022
A dark, satirical, thought provoking read. Had me hooked from start to end. Not quite as powerful as such classics as 1984 and Farenheit 451 but definitely worth a read in my opinion. Keen to watch the movie.
August 13, 2020
4.5 stars - Review forthcoming
October 19, 2023
#RetopiaSpirit 8/12
February 20, 2020
This is so good, better than I thought it would be. Basis of the fine Rock Hudson film.
August 31, 2015
Es war ein seltsames Lesen.
Nennen wir den Protagonisten "Wilson" - denn so heißt er etwas später.
Doch bon Vorne.
Wilson wird von einem Freund angerufen, der erst einige zuvor gestorben ist.
Dieser Freund erzählt ihm, dass er nicht wirklich tot sei, sondern es nur vortäuschte.
Blieb aber über vieles andere eher kryptisch.
Eines Tages erhielt Wilson einen Zettel mit einer Adresse. Er folgt den Anweisungen, ohne wirklich zu wissen was los ist.
Er gelangt über mehrere Etappen in "die Firma", dort wird er reingelgt, bezirst, und vor vollendete Tatsachen gestellt.
Er erwacht mit einem neuen Gesicht und neuer Identität. Doch Wilson, der eigentlich Bankier ist und eine Frau und eine Tochter hatte, war plötzlich Maler und inmitten Kaliforniens einquartiert.
Das alles hatte seinen Preis.
Das Buch ist aus dem Jahr 1963 und ziemlich fortschrittlich. All diese Schönheitsoperationen und dem Ideal der modernen Welt.
Ein wenig seltsam, skurril und doch recht interessant. Aber Wilson selbst, der nur irgendwie dort landete, war mir etwas komisch.
Auf der einen Seite weist das Buch interessante Aspekte auf und es liest sich recht schnell, doch andererseits war es auch echt verstörend.
Nennen wir den Protagonisten "Wilson" - denn so heißt er etwas später.
Doch bon Vorne.
Wilson wird von einem Freund angerufen, der erst einige zuvor gestorben ist.
Dieser Freund erzählt ihm, dass er nicht wirklich tot sei, sondern es nur vortäuschte.
Blieb aber über vieles andere eher kryptisch.
Eines Tages erhielt Wilson einen Zettel mit einer Adresse. Er folgt den Anweisungen, ohne wirklich zu wissen was los ist.
Er gelangt über mehrere Etappen in "die Firma", dort wird er reingelgt, bezirst, und vor vollendete Tatsachen gestellt.
Er erwacht mit einem neuen Gesicht und neuer Identität. Doch Wilson, der eigentlich Bankier ist und eine Frau und eine Tochter hatte, war plötzlich Maler und inmitten Kaliforniens einquartiert.
Das alles hatte seinen Preis.
Das Buch ist aus dem Jahr 1963 und ziemlich fortschrittlich. All diese Schönheitsoperationen und dem Ideal der modernen Welt.
Ein wenig seltsam, skurril und doch recht interessant. Aber Wilson selbst, der nur irgendwie dort landete, war mir etwas komisch.
Auf der einen Seite weist das Buch interessante Aspekte auf und es liest sich recht schnell, doch andererseits war es auch echt verstörend.
February 21, 2024
There’s undoubtedly something here, but I don’t think it quite hits as hard as it should. Maybe if I weren’t already familiar with European existentialist literature I’d find this more gripping. As it stands, this feels a little undercooked, like a short story stretched out to barely novel length. The main idea here - identity and one’s sense of self, and how that relates to modernity and capitalism - is interesting, but this is caught between being a straight thriller novel and being something more philosophical. Personally I would have preferred the Robin Cook thriller approach since the novel always seems about to veer that way.
November 14, 2024
M’ha agradat l’idea inicial, però desprès m’he encallat en el ritme i el camí, i m’he ensopit.
Desprès del llibre, hem vist el film (1966)
Els grans noms (director, música, títols) feien presagiar una pel·lícula superior, però ens ha decebut.
Filmada a base d’excentricitats (bruscos moviments de càmera, primers plans exagerats, distorsions, etc...), l’únic que ens ha provocat és mareig.
Respecte la novel·la, afegeix seqüencies desastroses, com la del raïm.
Només vam gaudir dels actors, encapçalats per Rock Hudson.
Desprès del llibre, hem vist el film (1966)
Els grans noms (director, música, títols) feien presagiar una pel·lícula superior, però ens ha decebut.
Filmada a base d’excentricitats (bruscos moviments de càmera, primers plans exagerats, distorsions, etc...), l’únic que ens ha provocat és mareig.
Respecte la novel·la, afegeix seqüencies desastroses, com la del raïm.
Només vam gaudir dels actors, encapçalats per Rock Hudson.
October 14, 2015
A bizarre story over the change of identity with unexpected final
March 14, 2021
Ik denk dat we dit tegenwoordig grounded SF zouden noemen. Het verhaal speelt zich niet in de toekomst af, maar in het heden (nou ja 1963 mijn geboortejaar) en het schets een wat grimmige uitkomst van een idee dat in werkelijkheid uitgevoerd of bijna uitgevoerd zou kunnen worden. Een bank manager met voldoende middelen meet zich na 25 jaar meelopen in het stramien een nieuw leven aan via een schimmige organisatie die zowel het afwikkelen van het oude leven door een aannemelijk overlijden als het opzetten van de nieuwe identiteit, inclusief een nieuwe sociale kring, op zich neemt, door middel van vergevorderde chirurgie.
Natuurlijk gaat dat mis. Goed mis, zozeer zelfs dat je een hekel krijgt aan de protagonist. Dat zal ook wel de bedoeling geweest zijn van David Ely, want hij wenst overduidelijk een punt te maken met dit verhaal. Je kunt een mens niet veranderen door hem plotseling in het paradijs te plaatsen vanuit zijn zelfgeschapen hel. En ook van het paradijs wordt in no time een nieuwe hel gemaakt. Ironisch genoeg zorgt het egoistische overlijden van degenen die willen ontsnappen, voor het terugwinnen van de vrijheid van degenen die onwetend achterblijven.
Prachtig materiaal dat niet in Dark Mirror zou misstaan. Goed geschreven ook, eigenlijk niet eens erg gedateerd. Het had zich ook makkelijk in 2021 kunnen afspelen, met iets meer digitale mogelijkheden voor de hoofdpersoon om zich in de nesten te werken. Maar als je in het verhaal zit dan denk je daar eigenlijk niet meer aan, alhoewel dat voor mij makkelijker is omdat ik mij nog een tijd zonder hi-tech en internet weet te herinneren.
De organisatie die deze identiteitwissels als service aanbied is minder goed doordacht en dat doet voor mij dan wel weer wat af aan het verhaal. Ik snap dat David Ely niet zo geïnteresseerd is in het hoe van de zaak, maar dan had hij wat minder tekst aan uitleg moeten wijden. De wijze waarop de organisatie volgens Ely opereert roept namelijk automatisch meer vragen op een meer uitleg maakt het eerder onwaarschijnlijker dan plausibeler. Laten we zeggen dat ik het anders had aangepakt of geenzins had uitgewijd, maar de organisatie simpelweg almachtig en gezichtsloos had gemaakt.
Dit is een verhaal dat mij nog steeds aan het denken zet. Ik vermoed dat ik het nooit gelezen had, anders had ik mij de seksuele passages zeker herinnerd. Dit moet voor 1963 behoorlijk op of over het randje van de betamelijkheid geweest zijn. In het voordeel van David Ely spreekt dat de vrouwen in zijn verhaal geen ledepoppen zijn, maar zelfstandig denkende, voelende en pro-actieve wezens. Al ontkomen we ook nu weer niet aan een aantal stereotypische karakterisaties.
Wat ik jammer vind is dat er redelijk weinig over David Ely op het internet te vinden is. Google plakt zelf plaatjes van jonge mannen op een naam die toch duidelijk behoort tot een man van 93, want deze old-timer schijnt nog te leven, al schrijft hij al meer dan 25 jaar niet meer. Hmm nu bedenk ik mij dat dit wel een extra ironische keer van zaken is :).
Ik ga op zoek naar de rest van zijn werk, waarvan ik vermoed dat die vast nog wel ergens in een bananen doos in de opslag te vinden zijn. Voor nu zou het wel leuk zijn als ik ook nog ergens een gezicht bij de schrijver weet te vinden die ik hier in goodreads kan plakken. Als was het maar om David Ely dan wel zijn oude identiteit terug te geven. Het boekje gaat alsnog richting mini-bieb, want ik heb mij inmiddels voorgenomen dat ik alles terug in de roulatie ga brengen wat ik ooit verzameld heb. En hopen dat iemand er nog blij mee te maken valt. Misschien zelfs dat iemand mijn goodreads recensie leest terwijl hij of zij het boekje leest dat uit mijn bibliotheek gekomen is.
Natuurlijk gaat dat mis. Goed mis, zozeer zelfs dat je een hekel krijgt aan de protagonist. Dat zal ook wel de bedoeling geweest zijn van David Ely, want hij wenst overduidelijk een punt te maken met dit verhaal. Je kunt een mens niet veranderen door hem plotseling in het paradijs te plaatsen vanuit zijn zelfgeschapen hel. En ook van het paradijs wordt in no time een nieuwe hel gemaakt. Ironisch genoeg zorgt het egoistische overlijden van degenen die willen ontsnappen, voor het terugwinnen van de vrijheid van degenen die onwetend achterblijven.
Prachtig materiaal dat niet in Dark Mirror zou misstaan. Goed geschreven ook, eigenlijk niet eens erg gedateerd. Het had zich ook makkelijk in 2021 kunnen afspelen, met iets meer digitale mogelijkheden voor de hoofdpersoon om zich in de nesten te werken. Maar als je in het verhaal zit dan denk je daar eigenlijk niet meer aan, alhoewel dat voor mij makkelijker is omdat ik mij nog een tijd zonder hi-tech en internet weet te herinneren.
De organisatie die deze identiteitwissels als service aanbied is minder goed doordacht en dat doet voor mij dan wel weer wat af aan het verhaal. Ik snap dat David Ely niet zo geïnteresseerd is in het hoe van de zaak, maar dan had hij wat minder tekst aan uitleg moeten wijden. De wijze waarop de organisatie volgens Ely opereert roept namelijk automatisch meer vragen op een meer uitleg maakt het eerder onwaarschijnlijker dan plausibeler. Laten we zeggen dat ik het anders had aangepakt of geenzins had uitgewijd, maar de organisatie simpelweg almachtig en gezichtsloos had gemaakt.
Dit is een verhaal dat mij nog steeds aan het denken zet. Ik vermoed dat ik het nooit gelezen had, anders had ik mij de seksuele passages zeker herinnerd. Dit moet voor 1963 behoorlijk op of over het randje van de betamelijkheid geweest zijn. In het voordeel van David Ely spreekt dat de vrouwen in zijn verhaal geen ledepoppen zijn, maar zelfstandig denkende, voelende en pro-actieve wezens. Al ontkomen we ook nu weer niet aan een aantal stereotypische karakterisaties.
Wat ik jammer vind is dat er redelijk weinig over David Ely op het internet te vinden is. Google plakt zelf plaatjes van jonge mannen op een naam die toch duidelijk behoort tot een man van 93, want deze old-timer schijnt nog te leven, al schrijft hij al meer dan 25 jaar niet meer. Hmm nu bedenk ik mij dat dit wel een extra ironische keer van zaken is :).
Ik ga op zoek naar de rest van zijn werk, waarvan ik vermoed dat die vast nog wel ergens in een bananen doos in de opslag te vinden zijn. Voor nu zou het wel leuk zijn als ik ook nog ergens een gezicht bij de schrijver weet te vinden die ik hier in goodreads kan plakken. Als was het maar om David Ely dan wel zijn oude identiteit terug te geven. Het boekje gaat alsnog richting mini-bieb, want ik heb mij inmiddels voorgenomen dat ik alles terug in de roulatie ga brengen wat ik ooit verzameld heb. En hopen dat iemand er nog blij mee te maken valt. Misschien zelfs dat iemand mijn goodreads recensie leest terwijl hij of zij het boekje leest dat uit mijn bibliotheek gekomen is.
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