This was not the scifi book I was looking for.
Just a poor, suspense drama. Found the style quite difficult as well. Luckily, Bester is mostly scifi and will try reading The Demolished Man next. ( )

review of
Alfred Bester's Who He?
by tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE - November 2-4, 2019

I've read 7 Bester bks before this one but I haven't reviewed any of them b/c I read them before I started reviewing here at age 54. The ones I'd read previously were The Demolished Man (1953), Starburst (1941-1954), The Stars My Destination (1956), The Dark Side of Earth (1953-1959), The Computer Connection (1975), Golem100 (1980), & The Deceivers (1981). He shd probably be one of my favorite SF writers but, alas, I read them so long ago I don't remember them as much as I'd like. Who He? is a non-SF 'straight' novel of his from 1953. It appears that his straight novel writing was underappreciated much as Philip K. Dick's efforts in that direction were. Too bad, this was a great bk. Here's the 1st paragraph:

"Every morning I hate to be born, and every night I'm afraid to die. I live my life within these parentheses, and since I'm constantly walking a tightrope over hysteria, I'm perceptive to the dilemmas of other people as they cross their own chasms." - p 3

I like that as a beginning, it's a nice set-up, very evocative w/o nailing anything down. What might happen next? The unusual title is explained early on:

"The locale of this story is a show I never worked. It's a TV variety clam-bake called "Who He?" . . . one of those lunatic mish-mashes that started out as a panel quiz show and ended up as a musical." - p 5

When I think of 1950s SF I often remember a story about a man who invents the 'perfect' advertising jingle that people can't get out of their minds — the result being, of course, that he gets carted away in a strait-jacket b/c he's incapable of anything but having this jingle looping in his mind. In other words, SF tackled the newness of advertising as post-WWII pernicious mind-control being developed before the writers's very eyes. Bester's take on the competitiveness of TV is similarly analytical/critical. The main character develops a split-personality.

"Occasionally the conscious mind gave way, which is why Jake Lennox awoke on Christmas night in the role of another man. He was convinced that he was Mr. Clarence Fox from Philadelphia." - p 10

"Myself, I don't like Square parties; neither does my wife. Squares are all right, but there's an invisible barrier between us and them. For one thing, our tempos don't match. We can throw away a dozen gags while a square is beating a cliché to death, For another thing, Squares persist in thinking about the entertainment business the same way they did back in Victorian times. To them we're artificial, child-like and irresponsible. When Squares learn that I'm a writer, I can see that look pass over their faces . . . the look that says: He's lazy and hates to get up in the morning." - p 37

You know the saying: "Be there or be square" or shd I say: "Be there or I won't see you around"? Anyway, regarding Victorian entertainment: where does The Pearl fit in? Well, you've heard of the Hays Code, right? But have you heard of the Gabby Hayes Code?

"She was twenty-eight. Her father had been an old-line Socialist and had worked with Eugene Debs. He had come from a French Colonial family which had lived in Indo-China for generations and, I suspect, probably intermarried with natives." - pp 46-47

Now the above quote isn't even complete enuf to give the punchline to the otherwise incomprehensible nonsense of its preceding paragraph. Don't that just beat off?!

The TV show has been receiving threatening letters w/ ambiguously intended receipient(s):

"I promise
there will never be any
Happy New Year for you!
This is the last warning.
Be killing you New Years.

Guess Who" - p 64

Ya gotta watch out for those Canadian one-hit wonders. A police detective gets involved.

""She was lying," Fink explained. "You have to be good to make all of you lie at the same time. Part of you always gives the truth away. That finger gave her away. Dugan's down here." He picked up a long-handled shovel and began turning over coke in the wooden bunkers.

""Dugan's down here?"

""Uh-huh. Didn't you see his war picture? The wives hate to give up the pension when the husbands die, so sometimes they don't report the death. But they have to hide the body . . ." Fink shoveled vigorously, then grunted: "Look."

"A hand and arm were thrust out of the coke." - p 78

That seems realistic, just like a wife wd murder her husband if she can get more that way. Then there's addiction to poison, that, too, seems potentially realistic — arsenic has been used to treat blood cancer, mightn't a person become addicted?

""Here's the gimmick. You know about the dope habit. People start hitting heroin or cocaine and can't get off the hook. Well, the same thing happens with poison."

""I don't believe it."

""Some people acquire the poison habit. They eat arsenic for their health and—"

""Their health!"

""That's right. They take it in small doses so it isn't lethal and they build up a tolerance for it."

""Why?"

""They've got an idea it's good for them. For malaria. A tonic. An aphrodisiac. But dig this. Once they start they can't stop. It's habit forming like dope. They've got to keep on eating poison the rest of their lives."

""I'll be damned."

""And they thrive on it, Jake. That's the truth."" - p 80

But what happens during withdrawal? "The toxicophagi became dependent on the arsenic, and suffered ill consequences if they ceased using it. The symptoms of withdrawal included anxiety, indigestion, loss of appetite, vomiting, constipation and spasmodic pain." ( http://ultimatehistoryproject.com/arsenic-eaters.html ) As for thriving on it? Don't count on that: "Although arsenic eaters appeared to develop a certain tolerance for the poison, and many showed no signs of chronic poisoning, Tschudi pointed out that the number of deaths from abuse of arsenic was not trifling." (ibid) As for gag writers? Gag orders can be fatal to us. Imagine being a homonymphonemiac.

"Mason's three gag writers were seated on camp chairs in a tight circle bitching their competitors.

"Lennox greeted them perfunctorily. He had long ago given up all attempts to communicate with them. Gag writers are alien creatures and even a casual "Hello" can lead to complications. Their entire lives boil down to a single-minded search for jokes and it's impossible to conduct a coherent conversation with them." - p 104

Bester gives us a taste of all sorts of things 1953ish, including a variety of sexism that probably exists to this day but has had to disguise itself in some classes.

"Lennox searched her face, then nodded. He was beginning to learn how transparently honest she was. "All the same, I wish you'd quit the politics, Gabby. There must be other things for you to do."

"Her eyes flashed angrily. "What other things?"

""I don't know. Lady things. Take the long view. We've got a whole life to plan together. Go vote at the polls like an honest citizen and let it go at that. You and I are more important than—"

""Have you any idea of how offensive you're being?" Gabby interrupted.

""Offensive?"" - p 134

Nope, he doesn't. Our 'hero' can be a real jackbootass. & ya can't even blame it on the Rat Race.

"As a nobody on The Rock, Cooper had been living in happy obscurity, ignored by the poison eaters. Now he was spotlighted and they declared open season on him. The Ned Bacons cut him down to their size. The Mig Masons resented his claim on their exclusively owned limelight. The pretty girls took hold to climb over him to fresh heights. The pretty boys saw in him another celebrated name to drop and to bitch. The property owners marked him for future possession. And all this took place under the surface of the congratulations and compliments, like a poison ring inside a Borgia handclasp." - p 147

The Rock Race is pushy.

""I just been talking sense to your friend," Ween rumbled. "Only he can't count the fingers in front of his eyes."

""I'm in no position to sign with anybody," Cooper pleaded. "Don't be mad, Tooky. Let it go at that."

""I ain't mad, boy, but you need handling. It's handling that makes the difference between a property and a non-property."

""I don't want to be property. I don't want any part of this crazy hassle. Now leave me alone, will you Tooky? I'm wrung out."" - p 151

In 1995 I was playing an uncert at a Speak in Toronto & a guy approached me & told me that he cd arrange gigs for me, maybe at raves. He did warn, however, that he was a sadist. I declined his services.

A woman who has a grudge against Lennox claims that she knows who's out to get him.. but she's Knott telling: "At the side door she turned and screamed: "I know him and I ain't going to tell. Never. But I'll be up to the show Sunday, watching. And when Knott catches up with you . . . remember my ass!"" (p 189)

Is that part of having your life flashing before you? 1st someone's Knott-telling, then someone's Ruth-lessly fired:

""Yes, Mr. Audibon. What Bleutcher is that, please?"

""Tom Bleutcher of Mode Shoes. Brockton, Mass. Check the "Who He?" file." Audibon licked his lips. "Everybody on my team is expected to know the name and number of every player. This advice will be of value to you in your next job which will start at the end of the week."" - p 191

& how did character assassination work in the '50s?

"Honest John came to The Rock and studied the reports of his researchers who were mostly free-lance journal writers playing detective. He learned that so-and-so had once signed a petition. He ferreted out the fact that a certain man was known to have supported a particular drive; that this woman had lent her name to such-and-such a cause. Mr. Macro judged and accused, and such was the hysteria of the times that mere accusation was enough to make the world draw aside the hem of its garment in terror and hound the victim out of the business.

"Mr. Macro was a good man and a sincere man. Unfortunately he was also a Square. He believed he was doing his duty as a citizen. Actually, he was a child playing with a gun." - p 192

& how do you outfox a Square? In a roundabout way, of course.

""Peter and The Wolf. Written by a Russian composer named Tchaikovsky," Audibon explained patiently. "A musico-political joke."" - p 193

& if you believe that Tchaikovsky composed "Peter and the Wolf" then the joke's on you. OR imagine this as a sex description:

"The only way to describe that brawl is to name the records from the network sound library that a soundman would have to use to duplicate it. Spinning two turntables, he would blend 261B—APPLAUSE: 5TH CUT; BOOS AND SLIGHT HISSES, with 259A—RIOT CROWD EFFECTS: FRENCH CROWD, LARGE GROUP OF MEN, INCITED TO RIOT BY FRENCH COMMANDS. He might also hammer on the studio walls to get the desk-pounding effect." - p 215

Lennox, when intoxicated, has an extraordinary sense of humor for a sexist pig.

""What flavor would my hungry friend like in his toilet, Alfred?" he asked genially.

""Strawberry?" Alfred ventured.

""And strawberry it shall be."

"They plugged Audibon's toilet and filled it with strawberry gelatine. They filled the floor of his enclosed shower with lime gelatine. "The only specific for athlete's foot," Lennox insisted. They mixed a potpourri of gelatine and filled his inkstands, his Dresden china, the glasses in the bar, the hollow globe of his ceiling light, and last of all, the wash basin." - p 246

That'll teach 'im to conflate Prokofiev w/ Tchaikovsky. By the by, I tried that lime gelatine for athlete's foot & it worked wonders, my foot ran away faster than the rest of my body cd catch it so it really did become an athlete. Lennox's drunken spree is enuf to kill an elephant, even a pink elephant.

"There was an insidious brew called Fish-House Punch, composed of sugar, Jamaica rum and peach brandy in an enormous crystal bowl. Lennox had three glasses and was returning for a fourth when he saw the hostess unbutton her drop seat and bathe her bottom in the punch bowl." - p 252

& to think that was normal at parties in the '50s. At least it wasn't spiked w/ LSD or her cunt might've dilated. As it turned out, she was giving birth. & then she spanked the baby for getting into the booze. The nerve.

"Alongside him, No. 17 slept open-mouthed and filled the ward with the fetor of decay. No. 8 laughed in a baby voice. No. 20 scratched methodically with a monotonous rasp. No. 5 chanted: "The Lord is my hospital, I shall not want. He marries me to Green Packards. He leadeth me leadeth me leadeth me. . . ."" - p 294

Do younger readers know what a Packard is? Whether you do or not the rat race continues.

"Downstairs, he met Kay Hill, very slim and English in tweeds and a fisher scarf, dashing into Sabatini's for a drink. She dragged him with her. Lennox went back to the phone booth and tried for Gabby at Houseways, Inc. She was not there either. He returned to Kay at the bar.

""So they let you out of the hatch, darling," she said. "Happy, happy day. We'll pickle it."

""My God," Lennox said. Nothing's changed."" - p 300

&, so, we end our day w/ a Tequilla sunrise. ( )

Actually not science fiction at all, this psychological mystery by sf's uber-maestro set in the early years of television, in the pre-LA days when New York was the tele-electronic mecca, is wonderfully entertaining. Like most of Bester's work, it rushes forward at a breakneck pace, and if the finale is somewhat anticlimactic, well, you barely notice it in the frenzy and dazzle of the writing. Hard to find, but well worth it.