I recently re-read E. E. “Doc” Smith’s Skylark DuQuesne, the final story of Smith’s Skylark series. Smith, of course, is famous for the Lensman series, which is a bit annoying in places, but which is still full of all kinds of interesting ideas. This book is another matter. It’s just bad. Now poor writing may forgivable in “space opera,” and age may play a factor here too – the novel was serialised beginning in June 1965, when Smith was aged 75, and was published as a book in 1966 (Smith died during the serialisation). This novel has so many flaws, in fact, that I can only mention some of them.
To begin with, the sexual titillation for teenage boys is just over the top. Is there any reason why the characters need to be naked quite so often? Or for one of them to be a stripper? It’s a trifle creepy, to be frank.
The mathematics depicted in the book is also disappointing: “‘Hold it!’ Seaton snapped, half an hour later. ‘Back up – there! This integral here. Limits zero to pi over two. You’re limiting the thing to a large but definitely limited volume of your generalized N-dimensional space. I think it should be between zero and infinity—and while we’re at it let’s scrap half of the third determinant in that no-space-no-time complex. Let’s see what happens if we substitute the gamma function here and the chi there and the xi there and the omicron down there in the corner.’” (Chapter 24: DuQuesne and Sleemet)
Smith is describing simple high-school calculus (integrating a function on a single real variable). Even by the standards of the time (never mind the future!) there was a lot more mathematics out there. Robert Heinlein had no trouble getting that fact across in 1952 in The Rolling Stones / Space Family Stone: “Their father reached up to the spindles on the wall, took down a book spool, and inserted it into his study projector. He spun the selector, stopped with a page displayed on the wall screen. It was a condensed chart of the fields of mathematics invented thus far by the human mind. ‘Let’s see you find your way around that page.’ The twins blinked at it. In the upper left-hand corner of the chart they spotted the names of subjects they had studied; the rest of the array was unknown territory; in most cases they did not even recognize the names of the subjects.” (Chapter IV: Aspects of Domestic Engineering).
And hinting at new, future, mathematics is quite possible too. Isaac Asimov did it in 1942 in the first part of Foundation: “‘Good. Add to this the known probability of Imperial assassination, viceregal revolt, the contemporary recurrence of periods of economic depression, the declining rate of planetary explorations, the…’ He proceeded. As each item was mentioned, new symbols sprang to life at his touch, and melted into the basic function which expanded and changed. Gaal stopped him only once. ‘I don’t see the validity of that set-transformation.’ Seldon repeated it more slowly. Gaal said, ‘”But that is done by way of a forbidden sociooperation.’ ‘Good. You are quick, but not yet quick enough. It is not forbidden in this connection. Let me do it by expansions.’ The procedure was much longer and at its end, Gaal said, humbly, ‘Yes, I see now.’” (Chapter 4)
In contrast, Smith’s novel seems to have the goal of making his teenage readers feel good about what they know, rather than encouraging them to grow (and that applies to both intellectual and moral growth).
A PDP-8 computer of 1965
A related problem (common to Smith’s novels, and indeed to much early science fiction) is the failure to imagine how computers might be used. The novel assumes powerful computers (“brains”) which can both sense and influence the physical world. Yet manual information processing is still the order of the day: “Tammon was poring over a computed graph, measuring its various characteristics with vernier calipers, a filar microscope, and an integrating planimeter, when Mergon and Luloy came swinging hand in hand into his laboratory” (Chapter 9: Among the Jelmi)
Finally, the antagonist Marc DuQuesne (the name is a Genesis 4:15 reference, since the surname is pronounced duːˈkeɪn) is a rather unpleasant kind of Nietzschean Übermensch, and the protagonist (Richard Seaton) is not much better. Julian May, in her excellent Saga of Pliocene Exile (and even better Galactic Milieu Series) apparently based her character Marc Remillard in part on Smith’s Marc DuQuesne. But Marc Remillard repents of his crimes, and atones for them, and is actually interesting to read about. Smith’s novel finishes with DuQuesne as arrogant, as unrepentant, and as banal as ever.
Goodreads rates Smith’s novel 3.8, and some old-school science fiction fans still seem to enjoy it. It was even nominated for the Hugo Award for Best Novel, back in 1966, although it can hardly be compared to the other nominees – Dune and This Immortal (tied winners), The Squares of the City, and The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress (which was re-nominated, and won, in 1967). I give Smith’s novel just one star – but if you are nevertheless intrigued, it is now public domain in Canada and is online there.