A.E. van Vogt The Blal (1965)
Having just done the calculations, I realise there are now only five novels by A.E. van Vogt which I am yet to read, which is pretty weird considering how many times I've struggled through one and consequently ended up telling myself it will be the last. On the other hand, it seems there are still a fair few of his short story collections I haven't tackled, which is probably only because I never see them in any of the usual second hand stores. I'd say that I'm maybe not so keen on his short fiction, but it's obviously bollocks because I keep reading it, and for all those incomprehensible brain scramblers I've had to wade through, the good stuff always makes it feel as though the tears and headaches and double vision have been worth it. Of course, one problem with the short story collections is that they tend to feature a lot of the same material, but then seeing as half of his novels were short stories welded together, I don't suppose I have much grounds for complaint.
Of this bunch, I'd already read five of the eight, some in short form, some human centipeded into larger novels, some both, but van Vogt can be absurdly dense and difficult to retain so second or third readings are often rewarding, not to mention surprising when a particular story turns out to be nothing like how you remember it. I'm sure War of Nerves did something completely different the last couple of times I read it.
Enchanted Village and Vault of the Beast render this collection approximately essential, in the event of you not already having either in seven other van Vogt collections. If The Blal falls short of qualifying as the absolutely definitive selection, it's decent and there's nothing bad here. Also, Final Command is interesting for its arguably bearing a closer resemblance to certain themes which inform Blade Runner to a more pronounced extent than anything from the Philip K. Dick novel of which Ridley Scott apparently managed thirty pages, which would be the second occasion of Mr. Hovis advert filming something which just happened to seem a teensy bit reminiscent of a particular van Vogt short story.
Having just done the calculations, I realise there are now only five novels by A.E. van Vogt which I am yet to read, which is pretty weird considering how many times I've struggled through one and consequently ended up telling myself it will be the last. On the other hand, it seems there are still a fair few of his short story collections I haven't tackled, which is probably only because I never see them in any of the usual second hand stores. I'd say that I'm maybe not so keen on his short fiction, but it's obviously bollocks because I keep reading it, and for all those incomprehensible brain scramblers I've had to wade through, the good stuff always makes it feel as though the tears and headaches and double vision have been worth it. Of course, one problem with the short story collections is that they tend to feature a lot of the same material, but then seeing as half of his novels were short stories welded together, I don't suppose I have much grounds for complaint.
Of this bunch, I'd already read five of the eight, some in short form, some human centipeded into larger novels, some both, but van Vogt can be absurdly dense and difficult to retain so second or third readings are often rewarding, not to mention surprising when a particular story turns out to be nothing like how you remember it. I'm sure War of Nerves did something completely different the last couple of times I read it.
Enchanted Village and Vault of the Beast render this collection approximately essential, in the event of you not already having either in seven other van Vogt collections. If The Blal falls short of qualifying as the absolutely definitive selection, it's decent and there's nothing bad here. Also, Final Command is interesting for its arguably bearing a closer resemblance to certain themes which inform Blade Runner to a more pronounced extent than anything from the Philip K. Dick novel of which Ridley Scott apparently managed thirty pages, which would be the second occasion of Mr. Hovis advert filming something which just happened to seem a teensy bit reminiscent of a particular van Vogt short story.
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