Rucker's campaign to bring us all to his concept of `God', `the Infinite' or `the White Light'has achieved an almost painful sameness. As with other mystics, he wants us to learn how to shed our dull Earthbound bodies. Other of his books have pursued this theme with more or less success. This time, Rucker uses a fresh approach in tracing possible paths technology might takes from the material to the spiritual over the next few thousand years. Following Kurt Vonnegut's lead with Kilgore Trout in BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS, Rucker inserts himself into the story as an interrogator and scribe for his main character.
Combining his day job as a Professor of Mathematics with his sideline as diviner of possible futures, Rucker uses an avatar named Frank Shook. Shook, who has learned to contact aliens, is taken for joyrides aboard their craft. Other abductees have claimed to be transported to other worlds, suffering various physical indignities. Shook's hosts turn him into a time tourist in helping him realize enlightenment. Shook's task requires bringing Rucker's writing talents [sic] to create the book we're reading. The future won't occur if this book isn't written.
Rucker's academic credentials are displayed well as he takes us along humanity's timeline. He's able to forecast where today's knowledge and technologies are likely to take us over the ensuing few thousand years. While highly speculative, the technological forecast has a solid base. Biological, technical and ethical [but not moral] issues combine to ease the human species from its corporeal self to ultimately achieve a union with a deity; `God'. With a capital `G', of course. The use of the Christian deity is disappointing. There are so many more, and more interesting, spirits that might be invoked. Baiame, agent of creation with the Australian Aborigines, has a sense of humour. He also has longer tenure, predating the Christian deity by forty thousand years. Amaterasu from Japan has grace and charm. A female Creator, she suits those demanding today's political correctness.
The book reeks of Rucker's personal crises. Booze, sex, drugs and other value issues permeate the story. With many hints through the narrative, Rucker finally blurts it out near the conclusion: "I wished to remain sober." If Rucker's having a drinking problem, strife with his spouse, or failing finances, he should put these issues in a diary and publish it. If readers care, they'll buy and read about it. The rest of us can spend our money on something pertinent. While the ultimate future offers his 'god' as some kind of solution, he agonizes over the immediacy of today. What solutions does this god provide? Are they valid for the rest of us, or only for Rucker? He seems to cry out for answers to life's challenges, but seems to be asking the wrong questions. The only thing honest about all this is he's open about his distress.
In writing this book, Rucker's writing style has sunk to a new low. The competition for which character, Rucker or Shook, is the more shallow is too close to call. He flirts with other writers' gimmicks shamelessly. We can't call his writing sophomoric, his word plays would be scorned by any freshman. The use of the Devil's Postpile [or Monument, depending on your authority] from Close Encounters of the Third Kind isn't plagiarism. It's simply pitiful. His bravery in forecasting potential paths of technology doesn't make up for the inadequacy of how he presents the case. In the last analysis, it is Kurt Vonnegut jr's opinion of his own creation, Kilgore Trout. `He's a fountain of wonderful ideas. If he could only write!' [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]