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For Us, the Living: A Comedy of Customs Kindle Edition
From the author of Stranger in a Strange Land, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, and other masterpieces of science fiction, this never-before-published debut novel, written in 1939, introduces ideas and themes that would shape his career and define the genre that is synonymous with his name.
July 12, 1939: Perry Nelson is driving along the palisades when suddenly another vehicle swerves into his lane, a tire blows out, and his car careens over a bluff. The last thing he sees before his head connects with the boulders below is a girl in a green bathing suit, prancing along the shore. . . .
When he wakes, the girl in green is a woman dressed in furs and the sun-drenched shore has transformed into snowcapped mountains. The woman, Diana, rescues Perry from the bitter cold and takes him inside her home to rest and recuperate.
Later they debate the cause of the accident, for Diana is unfamiliar with the concept of a tire blowout and Perry cannot comprehend snowfall in mid-July. Then Diana shares with him a vital piece of information: The date is now January 7. The year . . . 2086.
When his shock subsides, Perry begins an exhaustive study of global evolution over the past 150 years. He learns, among other things, that a United Europe was formed and led by Edward, Duke of Windsor; former New York mayor LaGuardia served two terms as US president; the military draft was completely reconceived; banks became publicly owned and operated; and in the year 2003, two helicopters destroyed the island of Manhattan in a galvanizing act of war. This education in the ways of the modern world emboldens Perry to assimilate to life in the twenty-first century. It is an adjustment that will test his mental and emotional resolve. Yet it is precisely his knowledge of a bygone era that will serve Perry best, as the man from 1939 seems destined to lead his newfound peers even further into the future than they could have imagined . . .
Heinlein could not have known in 1939 how the world would change over the course of one and a half centuries, but we have our own true world history to compare with his brilliant imaginings, rendering For Us, The Living not merely a novel, but a time capsule view into our past, our present, and perhaps our future.
“A neat discovery for Heinlein and utopia fans.” —Booklist
Includes an introduction by Spider Robinson and an afterword by Professor Robert James of the Heinlein Society
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherScribner
- Publication dateJanuary 6, 2004
- File size1029 KB
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About the Author
Award-winning author Spider Robinson is renowned for his “Callahan’s Place” series of bestselling novels, the latest being Callahan’s Con (Tor). With his wife, Jeanne, he has written the Hugo- and Nebula-winning “Stardance” series, which Baen recently published complete in one volume for the first time. He has been a favorite with readers from his earliest stories, which won him the John Campbell Award for best new writer. Since then he has garnered many other awards for his amusing, Heinlein-inspired SF, with the current total at three Hugos and a Nebula Award. He is frequently a guest at SF conventions across the US and Canada. His last book for Baen was the The Lifehouse Trilogy.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter I
"Look out!" The cry broke involuntarily from Perry Nelson's lips as he twisted the steering wheel. But the driver of the green sedan either did not hear him or did not act. The next few seconds of action floated through his mind like slow motion. He saw the left front wheel of the green car float past his own, then the right wheel of his car crawled over the guard rail, his car slid after it and hung poised on the edge of the palisade. He stared over the hood and saw facing him the beach a hundred and thirty feet below. A blonde girl in a green bathing suit was catching a beach ball. She had jumped in the air to do it, both arms outstretched, one leg pointed. She was very graceful. Beyond her a wave broke on the sand. The crest hung and dripped whipped cream. He glanced back at the girl. She was still catching the beach ball. As she settled back on her feet, he drifted clear of the car and turned in the air away from her. Facing him were the rocks at the foot of the bluff. They approached as he watched them, separated and became individuals. One rock selected him and came straight toward him. It was a handsome rock, flat on one side and brilliant while in the sunshine. A sharp edge faced him and grew and grew and grew until it encompassed the whole world.
Perry got up, shook his head, and blinked his eyes. Then he recalled the last few seconds with startling clarity and threw up his hands in convulsive reflex. But the rock was not in front of his face. There was nothing in front of his face but whirling snow flakes. The beach was gone and the bluff and the rest of his world. Nothing but snow and wind surrounded him -- wind that cut through his light clothing. A gnawing pain in the midriff resolved into acute hunger. "Hell!" said Perry. Hell. Yes, hell it must be, cold instead of hot. He commenced to walk but his legs were weak under him and a giddiness assailed him. He staggered a few steps and fell on his face. He attempted to rise, but was too weak and decided to rest a moment. He lay still, trying not to think, but his confused brain still struggled with the problem. He was beginning to feel warmer when he found a solution. Of course! The girl in the green bathing suit caught him and threw him into the snow bank -- soft snow bank -- nice warm snow bank -- nice -- warm --
"Get up" the girl in the green bathing suit was shaking him. "Get up! Hear me? Get up!" What did she want -- to hell with games -- just because she wanted to play games was no reason to slap a fellow's face. He struggled to his knees, then fell heavily. The figure beside him slapped him again and nagged him until he rose to his knees, then steadied him and helped him to his feet. "Easy now. One arm over my shoulders. It's not far."
"I'm all right."
"Don't be a fool. Lean on me." He looked down at the face of his companion and tried to focus his eyes. It was the girl in the green bathing suit, but what in hell was she doing dressed up like Admiral Byrd? Complete to the parka. But his tired brain refused to worry and he focused all of his attention on putting one icy leaden foot in front of another.
"Mind the steps. Easy. Now hold still." The girl sang one clear note and a door opened in front of them. He stumbled inside and the door closed. She guided him to a couch, made him lie down, and slipped away. Presently she returned with a cup of liquid. "Here. Drink this." He reached for it, but his numbed fingers refused to grasp, and he spilled a little. She took the cup, lifted his head with her free arm, and held it to his lips. He drank slowly. It was warm and spicy. He fell asleep watching her anxious face.
He awoke slowly, becoming aware of a deep sense of comfort and well-being almost before he was aware of his own ego. He lay on his back on a cushion as soft as a feather bed. A light cover was over him and as he stretched he became aware that he was 'sleeping raw'. He opened his eyes. He was alone in a room of ample proportions possibly thirty feet long and oval in shape. Opposite him was a fireplace of quaint but pleasing pattern. It consisted of a vertical hyperboloid, like half a sugar loaf some ten feet high, which sprang out from the wall. In the base a mighty yawning mouth had been carved out, the floor of which was level and perhaps ten inches above the floor of the room. The roof of the mouth was another hyperboloid, hollow and eccentric to the first. On the floor of this gargantuan gape a coal fire crackled cheerfully and threw its reflections around the room. The room appeared almost bare of furniture except for the couch which ran two thirds of the way around the wall.
He turned his head at a slight noise and saw her coming in the door. She smiled and hurried to him. "Oh, so you are awake. How do you feel?" One hand sought his pulse.
"I feel grand."
"Hungry?"
"I could eat a horse."
She giggled. "Sorry -- no horses. I'll soon have something better for you. But you mustn't eat too much at first." She straightened up. "Let me get out of these furs." She walked away while fumbling with a zipper at her throat. The furs were all one garment which slipped off her shoulders and fell to the floor. Perry felt a shock like an icy shower and then a warm tingle. The fur coverall was her only garment and she emerged as naked as a dryad. But she took no note of it, simply picked up the coverall and glided to a cupboard, which opened as she approached, and hung it up. Then she proceeded to a section of the wall covered with a mural of Demeter holding a horn of plenty. It slid up, exposing an incomprehensible aggregation of valves, doors, and shiny gadgets. She kept very busy for some ten minutes, humming as she worked. Perry watched her in fascination. His amazement gave way to hearty appreciation for she was young, nubile, and in every way desirable. Her quick movements were graceful and in some way very cheerful and reassuring. Her humming stopped. "There!" she exclaimed, "All ready, if the invalid is ready to eat." She picked up a laden tray and walked toward the far end of the room. The mural slid back into place and the shiny gadgets were gone. She set the tray on the couch, then pulled a countersunk handle. The handle came out in her hand, dragging with it a shelf perhaps two feet wide and four long. She turned back towards Perry and called, "Come, eat while it's hot."
Perry started to get up, then stopped. She noticed his hesitation and a troubled look clouded her face. "What is the matter? Are you still too weak?"
"No."
"Sprain anything?"
"No."
"Then come, please. Whatever is the matter?"
"Well, I -- uh -- you -- see I -- " How the hell do you tell a pretty girl who is naked as a jaybird that you can't eat with her because you are naked too? Especially when she doesn't seem to know what modesty is?
She bent over him with obvious concern. Oh, the hell with it, said Perry to himself, and climbed out of bed. He swayed a little.
"Shall I help you?"
"No, thanks. I'm OK."
They sat down on opposite sides of the shelf table. She touched a button and a large section of the wall beside them slid up, exposing through glass a magnificent view. Across a canyon tall pines marched up a rugged mountainside. Up the canyon to the right some seven or eight hundred yards a waterfall hung a curtain of gauze in the breeze. Then Perry looked down -- down a direct drop from the window. Vertigo shook him and again he hung poised on the palisade and stared over the hood of his car at the beach. He heard himself cry out. In an instant her arms were about him, consoling him. He steadied himself. "I'm all right," he muttered, "But please close the shutters."
She neither argued nor answered, but closed them at once. "Now can you eat?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Then do so and we will talk later."
They ate in silence. He examined his food with interest. A clear soup; some jelly with a meaty flavor; a glass of milk; light rolls spread with sweet butter; and several kinds of fruit, oranges, sugar-sweet and large as grapefruit, with a skin that peeled easily like a tangerine, some yellow fruit that he did not recognize, and black-flecked bananas. The dishes were light as paper but covered with a hard shiny lacquer. The fork and spoon were of the same material. Finally he dropped the last piece of rind and ate the last crumb of roll. She had finished first and had been leaning on her elbows, watching him.
"Feel better?"
"Immensely."
She transferred the dishes to the tray, walked over to the fireplace, dumped the load on the fire, and returned the tray to its rack among the shiny gadgets. (Demeter swung obligingly out of the way.)
When she returned, she shoved the shelf-table back in its slot and extended a slender white tube.
"Smoke?"
"Thanks." It was about four inches long and looked like some Russian atrocity. Probably scented, he thought. He inhaled gingerly, then drew one to the bottom of his lungs. Honest Virginia tobacco. The only thing in the house that seemed absolutely homey and normal. She inhaled deeply and then spoke.
"Now then, who are you and how did you get onto this mountainside? And first, your name?"
"Perry. What's yours?"
"Perry? A nice name. Mine's Diana."
"Diana? I should think so. Perfect."
"I'm a little too cursive for Diana," -- she patted her thigh -- "but I'm glad you like it. Now how did you get lost out in that storm yesterday without proper clothes and no food?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No. You see, it was this way. I was driving down the palisade when a car tried to pass a truck on a hill coming towards me. I swung out to miss it and my right front wheel jumped the curb and over I went, car and all -- the last I remember was staring down at the beach as I fell -- until I woke up in the snow storm."
"That's all you remember?"
"Yes, and then you helping me, of course. Only I thought it was a girl in a green bathing suit."
"In a what?"
"In a green bathing suit."
"Oh." She thought for a moment. "What did you say made you go over the palisade?"
"I had a blowout, I guess, when my wheel hit the curb."
"What's a blowout?"
He stared at her. "I mean that my tire blew out -- when it struck the curb."
"But why would it blow out?"
"Listen -- do you drive a car?"
"Well -- no."
"Well, if a pneumatic rubber tire strikes a sharp edge when you are going pretty fast, it's likely to explode -- blowout. In that case anything can happen. In my case I went over the edge."
She looked frightened, and her eyes grew wide. Perry added, "Don't take it so hard. I'm not hurt."
"Perry, when did this happen?"
"Happen? Why, yester -- No, maybe -- "
"No, Perry, the date, the date!"
"July twelfth. That reminds me, does it often snow here -- "
"What year, Perry?"
"What year? Why, this year!"
"What year, Perry -- tell me the number."
"Don't you know? -- Nineteen-thirty-nine."
"Nineteen-thirty-nine -- " She repeated the words slowly.
"Nineteen-thirty-nine. But what the devil is wrong?"
She stood up and paced nervously back and forth, then stopped and faced him. "Perry, prepare yourself for a shock."
"OK, shoot."
"Perry, you told me that yesterday was July twelfth, nineteen-thirty-nine."
"Yes."
"Well, today is January seventh, twenty-eighty-six."
Copyright © 2004 by The Robert A. and Virginia Heinlein Trust
Product details
- ASIN : B000FC0X9Q
- Publisher : Scribner; Reprint edition (January 6, 2004)
- Publication date : January 6, 2004
- Language : English
- File size : 1029 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 352 pages
- Page numbers source ISBN : 0743491548
- Best Sellers Rank: #35,852 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #101 in Time Travel Science Fiction (Kindle Store)
- #138 in Time Travel Fiction
- #286 in Space Marine Science Fiction eBooks
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About the authors
Robert Heinlein was an American novelist and the grand master of science fiction in the twentieth century. Often called 'the dean of science fiction writers', he is one of the most popular, influential and controversial authors of 'hard science fiction'.
Over the course of his long career he won numerous awards and wrote 32 novels, 59 short stories and 16 collections, many of which have cemented their place in history as science fiction classics, including STARSHIP TROOPERS, THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS and the beloved STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND.
Robert James was born on Skull Island and raised in Freedonia. He played baseball with Gary Cooper, fell in love in Paris with a suspicious Swede, got a pet leopard with a penchant for love songs, raised children in Oz, grew old (slowly) in Shangri-La, was killed by biplanes on the top of the Empire State Building when he was out on a date, and was then brought back from the dead in Dr. Frankenstein’s lab, just in time to be chased by an angry mob.
Or so he likes to believe.
In a more fantastic reality, he was born and raised in Santa Ana, California in a blue-collar family. His father and mother, being typical Americans of their generation, believed in the movies in the same way they believed in reading, the Constitution, hard work, family, barbeque, and the greatness of the American Way. They also believed Richard Nixon, but they couldn’t get it all right, now could they?
Robert went to public schools at a time when they still worked reasonably well. He wasn’t the first person in his family to pursue higher education, but he was the first one who tried to make a career of it. Once he received his Ph.D. from UCLA, he came to the abrupt realization that he had to actually work for a paycheck instead of a report card.
He promptly became a teacher, and he’s never recovered from it. Neither have his students. Or his wallet.
Along with his beautiful wife, with whom he has raised six children – some of whom he actually helped make – he enjoys reading, music, talking, traveling, cooking, sleeping, and other nocturnal activities.
Somehow along the way, he has also managed to become a well-known authority on Robert A. Heinlein and other science fiction writers. He’s been called the “Indiana Jones” of Heinlein studies, having tracked down numerous artifacts from Heinlein’s life which had either been lost or never known. His most famous find was the last remaining copy of Heinlein’s first unpublished novel, which Scribners published in 2004, with an afterword by Robert James.
Put him in front of an audience and good things happen. Just ask any number of students, attendees at numerous conventions, and the Naval Academy at Annapolis, where he’s been a guest speaker. His students sometimes refer to him as the Voice of God, but he doesn’t claim more than his fair share of omnipotence.
Finally, he has enjoyed writing for friends, family, and students for many years, and is very pleased to have finally turned out a book series, which you should all be going to buy and read right now rather than wasting your time reading this author biography.
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It's a good book. I wouldn't say it's a good novel, in the normal sense, but I've certainly read many worse examples of this type of story. Where the typical first libertarian novel is based on an unsophisticated understanding of political theory and even weaker writing skills, _For Us, The Living_ presents mature and well-considered theory and top-notch writing.
What it lacks is a compelling story-- another point made well by Robinson. The book is 283 pages, of which 235 are the novel. About 41 pages of this comprise a single expository scene, a conversation among three characters in which Heinlein gives a history of the US from 1939 to 2085. Most of this history is only weakly relevant to the themes of the novel, though it's interesting in itself. There are numerous other lectures that also do little to advance the plot.
Now, Atlas Shrugged has far longer expository scenes, but then, my hardcover edition has 1,168 pages, each of which has about 2.25 times as many words on average as the pages of _For Us, The Living_. Rand's exposition is not out of place in its context, but Heinlein's is.
Of the actual story itself-- well, there isn't much. I count about 100 pages of text that directly or indirectly support the plot, but if the indirect support was boiled down, all of this would add up to only maybe 30 pages out of 235. Like I said, it isn't much.
Though there isn't a lot of plot, there's a good deal of specific political and economic advice in this book. Heinlein trots out an authority figure to speak approvingly of a law that requires a public referendum on declarations of war in the absence of foreign aggression, for example. Voting would be open only to those eligible for military service, and those who vote for war would be immediately inducted. An interesting idea, anyway. :-)
Heinlein even refers to a whole new Constitution for the United States of 2085, summarized by this passage:
"Every citizen is free to perform any act which does not hamper the equal freedom of another. No law shall forbid the performance of any act, which does not damage the physical or economic welfare of any other person. No act shall constitute a violation of a law valid under this provision unless there is such damage, or immediate present danger of such damage resulting from that act."
Though I think this proposal is not particularly well expressed, the notion behind it is good orthodox Libertarianism. There are some economic prescriptions that are neither Libertarian nor practical, but Heinlein obviously believed them necessary. Heinlein never did figure out the missing element of political theory needed to make Libertarianism practical, but then, the Libertarians never did either. (I have, but this is not that essay. :-)
It doesn't bother me that the economic conclusions in this book are wrong. Heinlein's economic theory appears to be based on an honest study of the conditions of 1939, it was intelligently and independently developed, and it is well presented here. It contains many elements of truth that are not typically presented even in economics classes. They probably shouldn't be presented in a novel, either, but we've already established that this isn't your usual novel. It stimulates thought, which is a good enough reason for me to enjoy it.
I doubt _For Us, The Living_ would have had a favorable effect on 1939 society if it had been published then. For one thing, society would have reacted badly to Heinlein's description of it:
"But most of all he came to despise the almost universal deceit, half lies and downright falsehood that had vitiated the life of 1939. He realized that it had been a land of hokum and cheat. The political speeches, the advertising slogans, the spitlicking, prostituted preachers, the billboards, the ballyhoo, the kept press, the pussy-footing professors, the incredible papier-mache idol of 'society', the yawping Neanderthal 100% Americanism, paving contracts, special concessions and other grafts, the purchased Senators and hired attorneys, the corrupt judges and cynical politicians, and over and through it all the poor desiccated spirit of the American peasant, the 'wise guy' whose motto was 'Cheat first, lest ye be cheated' and 'Never give a sucker a break.' ...The whole tribe, lying, lied to and lied about, who had been taught to admire success, even in a scoundrel, and despite failure, even in a hero."
I suppose Heinlein learned the Swiftian lesson one book too late-- it's much better to be critical of an obviously fictional population, far separated in time and space from his audience. On the other hand, I found it interesting to see Heinlein writing about his own people and not the Brobdingnagians; there was no need to try to figure out how much of the message was aimed specifically at the reader. (Of course, I don't face the worry that Heinlein might be talking about ME. :-)
Overall, I like this book. It may not have the usual virtues of a novel, but if you like Heinlein, future histories, or theories of politics, economics, or semantics, you might like it too. I'm happy it was found and published.
In some ways, this work is something like H.G. Wells When the Sleeper Wakes, with its major plot line of Perry, a normal 1939 engineer, reviving after a car accident in the year 2086. With this as a starting point, much of the book focuses on the changes and events that have occurred during the intervening years. Presented here is a fascinating set of prognostications, from a united Europe (quite different from today's attempt at unification), to an America that took a brief fling with a religious autocracy. Hitler's final fate, and the duration of WWII, is eerily foretold. Some of the foreseen advances in technology are startling: advanced cooking methods, personal air-cars, rolling roads, even a primitive form of the internet - some of which have actually come to pass, others seem just as far away as when this was written. A significant (and highly atypical) failure in prediction, though, is that by 2086, man had still not traveled to the moon.
It is very clear that this was some of Heinlein's earliest attempts at writing, as just about all the above is presented as expository blocks of dialog by one or another of those people who have undertaken the task of bringing Perry up to date, rather than being material presented as part of the story, a trick he later mastered possibly better than any other science fiction writer. For those who have read some of Heinlein's other works, though, this material, even though it interrupts the story and is presented in large, nearly indigestible blocks, is fascinating. Here we see that Heinlein, in 1938, had already laid out most of the significant events of what would become his 'Future History', and several stories he would later write were directly mined from this material, including Beyond this Horizon, "If This Goes On", "Coventry", and "The Roads Must Roll".
The story itself, which really only comprises about fifty pages of this work, deals with several items that would become the major subject material for many of his late-life works: the proper role of government versus private actions, economics, religion, what is love and jealousy, and alternative marriage forms. Perry falls in love with Diana, the person who first aided him, and runs afoul of the customs of the day when he takes a swing at one of Diane's former partners. His treatment for this infraction allows Heinlein to present many of his views on society and personal interactions. From this it can be seen that his focus on such material in books like Stranger in a Strange Land, Friday, and I Will Fear No Evil was not an aberration, but rather a continuation of thoughts and feelings he had always had, but couldn't publish during the forties and fifties due to various taboos. This was also probably at least one reason (besides its clumsy technique) why this book could not find a publisher in 1939, as its advocacy of free love and casual nudity would have certainly raised some hackles.
As would always be typical of Heinlein's work, he presents some ideas that will challenge your own assumptions of how things should and do work, most especially in this work with his presentation on economics, banking, and taxation. Some additional reading from other sources about these economic ideas is recommended, as I think such reading in conjunction with what is presented here will provide a clearer picture of just how the world works today and how things might be modified for the better.
As a novel, this book doesn't work very well, as it is essentially a short story bulked up with all of Heinlein's ideas about the future world. But those ideas scintillate and provide a great perspective from which to view all of his other work. Perhaps it is an irony that his first book should end up being his last published, but I for one am glad that I have had this opportunity to read this and see the genesis of so much that I greatly enjoyed.
--- Reviewed by Patrick Shepherd (hyperpat)
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This is the book to read when you've read everything else by and about Heinlein that you can find. For instance: In "Grumbles From the Grave" Heinlein tells the very nicely rounded story of writing and selling his first short story and how he's (understandably) proud of having sold everything he's ever written. However... It turns out that whilst this story is composed of mostly true elements that "For Us, the Living" was actually the first thing he wrote and he wasn't able to get it published - oh and that he did his level best to make sure it never came to light, even to the extent of burning his own copy of the manuscript.
Priceless stuff basically, inept, fascinating and a bit short on actual story... Don't miss out the introduction etc. with all the bits about how the book was finally published. Most importantly though it's stuffed full of the ideas a master novelist will return to over and over throughout his writing career. As you read it you'll be simultaneously smiling at the ideas and cringing at the mistakes, rolling roads is the idea and the two page footnote telling the backstory of a major character is the mistake that springs to mind. No, you didn't misread that, a two page footnote describing a character.
In-between the smiles and winces you will catch glimpes of why we've all read this author's work for so long.
You HAVE to read this book if you love Heinlein.
My only quibble is that I selected the supplier as it was British, but waited nearly a month for it to be delivered from America