I reviewed this classic SF tale on this blog over eight
years ago, but as it has recently been the book of the month for the Classic
Science Fiction discussion group ( https://groups.io/g/ClassicScienceFiction/topics
) it is worth reviewing in the light of points raised in that discussion.
First, extracts from my review from 2010:
This novel, first
published in 1965, was one of my favourites from the period and I still have my
well-worn 1967 paperback. It's several decades since I last read it so I
thought I'd see how it stood up today.
I've already posted
one review of a novel by this author (A
Trace of Memory, reviewed 15 December 2007) which I started as follows:
"Keith Laumer
(1925-1993) was a prolific American SF author who specialised in fast-paced
adventure stories (of which the Bolo series, concerning intelligent tanks, is
best known) and comic satire, notably in the Retief books about an interstellar
diplomat. A Trace of Memory,
published in 1963, is a stand-alone novel in the former category."
A Plague of Demons falls
into the same category, being a short (170 page) and exciting adventure
thriller. It is set on a near-future Earth and features a government agent,
John Bravais, who is tasked with investigating the mysterious disappearance of
large numbers of soldiers involved in the formalised battles then being used to
settle disputes. He observes a dog-like alien - one of the demons of the title
- decoying soldiers away from a battle and attacking them. He is able to kill
one of these extremely tough creatures and take back evidence of its alien
origin. His task then becomes the investigation of what is going on, and to
assist him he is given a new programme of internal biomechanical enhancements
which greatly increase his strength, endurance and survivability. The demons
are quickly on his trail, assisted by their ability to manipulate people's
minds so they can appear to be ordinary humans, and what follows is a running
battle which ends up off the Earth as Bravais desperately tries to fulfil his
mission against heavy odds. I can't say more without spoiling the surprises for
any new readers, but I will say that this is the book whose popularity inspired
the Bolo series.
The story is told in
the first person with the laconic hard-boiled style of a Mickey Spillane
thriller, including one-liner gems such as: "I was as weak as a diplomatic
protest". There is also something of the flavour of Eric Frank Russell's
novel Wasp, reviewed here on 26
August 2007. The introduction in particular reminded me of the start of a James
Bond movie - I could visualise the film scenes as I read. In fact, the whole
book would make a good film, with little need to change anything. Inevitably,
the complex plotting and character development which feature in most modern
novels are notable for their absence, but in this kind of story they would only
slow the pace.
Some of the issues raised in the discussion group have wider
implications for the way in which we read and appreciate SF – especially the
classic variety – so are worth exploring.
One complaint is that the story is set in a future (date
unspecified) in which the general technology level seems not very different
from ours, but there are some improbably advanced exceptions (e.g. medical
science, recovery speed from operations etc). This surely should not be a
surprise, something like it happens in reality. If it were possible to bring SF
fans from 1965 into the present day, they would be astonished: blown away by
the amazing capabilities of gadgets like smartphones, but appalled by the number
of expected developments which have not
happened. Where is the free nuclear fusion power? Why haven't the computerised production
machines freed people to work only part time? Where are the permanent bases on
the Moon and Mars, or the manned explorations of the outer regions of the Solar
System? Why are we still lumbering
around in subsonic passengers jets when in 1965 the Mach 2 Concorde was on the
drawing board – surely we should be using hypersonic planes by now? Where are the
very high speed maglev trains intended to revolutionise ground transport? Why aren't flying cars or strap-on jetpacks
not routine forms of transport? Even worse, travel on our urban roads is often
slower than in their time due to the traffic densities.
Progress is always uneven, and can happen in unexpected
areas, while expected developments often fail to happen at all and most things
only evolve very slowly. And the further you are down the socio-economic scale,
the more slowly your life changes.
Which raises the wider issue of what we are prepared to
believe (or not) in SF. Some suspension of disbelief is almost always required
(with the exception of Mundane SF, in which anything beyond known science is
banned), but we are notably inconsistent in what we are prepared to accept, and
what we are not. Logically, developments which are contrary to some fundamental
laws of science as we understand them should be the hardest to accept: that
would obviously include faster-than-light spacecraft (that's most of SF wiped
out in one blow); time travel; and anti-gravity. It also includes "psi
powers" beyond human capabilities (goodbye superheroes!). Next would come
capabilities which are not contrary to scientific laws, but which we really
can't see any way of achieving for now (that's most of the rest of SF gone,
particularly anything with an AI capable of exceeding the capabilities of the
human brain in all respects). Finally come things which we can't do now but can
see a path to doing in the future (that's the Mundane stuff, like setting up a
base on Mars). In practice, though, people sometimes seem more ready to accept
"impossible" things in a story rather than those which are merely
improbable.
So, to return to A
Plague of Demons. It includes alien empires with FTL spacecraft, and an
anti-gravity harness (not alien; made on Earth). But what has caused more
comment (apart from the medical capabilities mentioned above) are issues like
the ability of Bravais, trapped in his massive battle tank, to regain
consciousness, make mental contact with the aliens and even control some of
them. (For the record, the consciousness bit is explained earlier in the story,
the result of hypnotic mental training to split off a personality fraction so
that Bravais can see the Demons for what they are, while the mental contact is
initiated by the aliens – it is their method of command and control – but it
turns out to be a two-way system that Bravais can utilise.)
What it comes down to, in my view, is that if you are really
enjoying a story you will be prepared to suspend disbelief as far as necessary
and to swallow almost anything the author gives you. If you don't like it, then
it's not difficult to pick lots of holes in it, because most SF relies on the suspension of disbelief to
work at all.
All in all, I see nothing here which is out of line for this
type of fiction written at this time, and no reason to change my previous
verdict:
I can well understand
why I liked this book so much and can warmly recommend it to readers who enjoy
the style and pace of these 1960s SF thrillers. It's such great fun, with an
added dash of nostalgia!