These two chapters hit hard. If Part 3’s first chapter was about arriving somewhere new and interesting, chapters 2 and 3 are about learning just how dangerous that place really is. People die. Rydra makes a discovery about the Butcher. And she finds out what Babel-17 can really do to human beings, including herself.
New York has left the Milky Way behind. The spindizzies are failing one by one. And on a planet in the Greater Magellanic Cloud, Mayor Amalfi is about to go head-to-head with the most notorious criminal city in Okie history. This is the finale.
This is the chapter where everything gets personal. Not in an action movie way. In a quiet, bourbon-soaked, morally confusing hotel room kind of way.
Part 3 opens and everything is different. New location. New people. New danger. Rydra and what’s left of her crew wake up on a strange ship, and the rules have changed completely.
Amalfi is turning a dead rock into a weapon. Hern VI is a planetoid, small and ugly, and his people are bolting spindizzy engines all over it. The work is brutal. Every driver has to be placed at exact compass points, locked to the center of gravity, balanced against every other machine. And there still aren’t enough to make the thing fully steerable. When this rock finally flies, it will be clumsy and wild. But it will fly.
This chapter starts with the androids’ vote and ends with Rick dialing Rachael Rosen from a dark hovercar. In between, he buys a goat, has a real moment with his wife, gets a call from his boss, and talks to God. It’s a lot for one chapter.
Chapter 5 is short. But it ends Part 2 with a bang, literally, and leaves us hanging in the worst possible way.
In Part 5, we saw the jungle of Okie cities gathering near a red dwarf star, desperate for work. An Acolyte entrepreneur showed up offering terrible wages, things got violent, and Lieutenant Lerner’s cops accidentally blew up a bystander city. Amalfi watched it all and decided it was time to visit Buda-Pesht, the King’s city, in person. He brought Hazleton and Dee along. And now things get political.
The three surviving androids are finally in one place. Roy and Irmgard Baty have arrived at the decaying apartment building where Pris has been hiding. And J. R. Isidore, the lonely chickenhead who has been looking after Pris, is standing right there listening to everything.
This is the big chapter. Chapter 4 of Part 2 is where everything blows up. Sometimes literally. It’s a dinner party that starts awkward, gets personal, and ends in blood. Let’s go.
Three hundred flying cities are parked around a dying red dwarf star. Most of them can barely keep their lights on. Welcome to the Okie jungle. Think of it as a hobo camp in space, except the hobos are entire cities, and the camp rules are written by whoever has the most power to burn.
John Isidore flies home from work carrying a bag of black-market groceries: bean curd, ripe peaches, stinky soft cheese. And under the seat, a bottle of Chablis wine he’s been keeping in a bank safety deposit box for years. He was saving it for this. For the day a girl finally appeared. That day is today.
Two chapters in one post today because they flow together perfectly. Chapter 2 gets Rydra to the Alliance War Yards. Chapter 3 is a tour of weapons that would make any Bond villain jealous. And through it all, the mystery gets thicker.
The chapter is called “Murphy,” and if you know Murphy’s Law, you already know how this is going to go. Everything that can go wrong does go wrong. And then it gets worse.
This is the chapter that breaks Rick Deckard. Not physically. Not even professionally. Something worse. It breaks the wall between him and the things he kills.
Part 2 of Babel-17 starts and the title is “Ver Dorco.” We don’t know what that means yet. But we do get an epigraph from Rydra’s own poetry about words being all her hands have ever seen. Nice touch, Delany.
This is the big one. Chapter 4 of Earthman, Come Home is called “He,” and it’s the longest chapter in the entire novel. “He” is a planet, not a person. And what happens on that planet is one of the most ambitious things Amalfi and New York City have ever attempted. They move a whole world.
This chapter is tense from the first line to the last. And it ends with one of those quiet, devastating moments that Philip K. Dick does better than almost anyone.
Part One of Babel-17 ends not with an explosion or a battle, but with a quiet conversation at dawn. And honestly, it is one of the most tender scenes in the book.
Last time, New York landed on Utopia and Hazleton went missing with a local girl. Now things get worse. The city has to deal with a golden-armored space dictator, and then fly into the emptiest stretch of space anyone has ever seen.
Rick Deckard lands on the roof of the Mission Street Hall of Justice. It’s a fancy building, baroque spires, modern design, the works. There’s just one problem. He has never seen this building before in his life.
Three chapters this time, because Delany keeps them short and punchy here. Chapter IV is barely two pages. But those two pages are some of the strangest writing in the book so far.
We are now in the third novel of Cities in Flight, and this is the big one. “Earthman, Come Home” is the longest book in the collection, and it shifts focus to the character who matters most in this universe: Mayor John Amalfi of New York City. Not New York on Earth. New York flying through space, powered by spindizzy engines, looking for work among the stars.
This chapter is one of my favorites in the whole book. Rick Deckard walks into the War Memorial Opera House, sits down in a dress circle seat, and listens to Mozart’s The Magic Flute. And for a few minutes, he just enjoys the music. He’s a bounty hunter on a kill list, but right now he’s an audience member, and the singing is beautiful.
So the last two chapters gave us Rydra Wong, famous poet and linguist, getting pulled into a military code-cracking mission. She figured out that Babel-17 is connected to upcoming attacks. And now she needs a ship and a crew. By morning.
This is it. The final part of A Life for the Stars. Chris deFord has gone from a farm boy snatched off Earth to someone who actually understands how Okie cities work. And now, in these last three chapters, everything comes together.
Chapter 8 is the one where the talking stops and the killing starts. Rick Deckard has spent the last few chapters traveling, testing, arguing. Now he has to actually shoot someone. And it almost goes very wrong.
Chapter 2 doesn’t start with a spaceship. It starts with a phone call in the middle of the night. Rydra is scared. And when Rydra Wong is scared, she calls the one person who’s known her since she was a broken twelve-year-old: Dr. Markus T’mwarba.
Chris tried to be a hero and it kind of blew up in his face. Then the city left that storm-planet behind, flew back into space, and things got philosophical real fast.
We’re back with John Isidore, and this chapter is one of those scenes where you don’t know if you should laugh or feel terrible. So you do both.
Part One of Babel-17 is called “Rydra Wong.” And it opens with a poem. Delany puts an epigraph at the start, a piece from Rydra’s own poetry collection “Prism and Lens.” It describes a port city at night. Hustlers, sailors, shadows, ambiguity. It’s beautiful and gritty at the same time. And it sets the mood perfectly for what comes next.
Chris deFord just arrived aboard New York City. The real one. Flying through space. And now the city wants to know: what is he good for?
John Isidore hears a TV playing somewhere below him in the building. That’s it. That’s all it takes. He grabs a cube of margarine and goes downstairs to meet whoever is there.
We’re now in the second novel of Cities in Flight, and the story jumps forward by centuries. The spindizzies exist. The anti-aging drugs exist. And whole cities are ripping themselves off the ground and flying into space to find work among the stars. They call these migrant cities “Okies,” and the Earth they leave behind is broke, used up, and slowly emptying out.
Chapter 5 is where Rick Deckard sits across from Rachael Rosen, shines a light into her eye, and starts asking questions designed to make her feel things. And the whole chapter reads like a poker game where both sides are cheating.
What if a language could change the way you think? Not like learning French makes you say “ooh la la” more often. I mean actually rewire your brain. Make you see reality differently. Make you smarter. Or more dangerous.
This is where everything pays off. All the political scheming, the impossible engineering on Jupiter, the secret drug research in the Bronx. In this final section of They Shall Have Stars, the two storylines crash into each other and we learn what Senator Wagoner was really doing all along.
Before Rick can go hunt androids, his boss sends him on a field trip. To Seattle. To prove that his testing equipment actually works.
Things are picking up speed now. Both storylines in “They Shall Have Stars” start moving fast in chapters 5 through 8. The drug research in New York gets tangled up with love and spies. And out on Jupiter, the Bridge crew is cracking under the weight of that giant planet staring down at them. Let’s get into it.
Rick Deckard is late to work. But before he even makes it to the office, he stops in front of a pet shop and stares at an ostrich. A real one. The only ostrich on the entire West Coast. Thirty thousand dollars.
In Part 1, we met our three storylines: Colonel Paige Russell poking around a secretive drug company, the Bridge crew building an impossible structure on Jupiter, and Senator Wagoner playing a quiet political chess game. Now all three threads get more interesting. And more uncomfortable.
Chapter 1 gave us Rick Deckard and his cranky morning. Chapter 2 flips the camera entirely. We meet John Isidore, and honestly, he might be the most important character in this whole book.
They Shall Have Stars opens not with rockets or alien planets. It opens with two tired men talking by a fireplace in Washington. And the shadows on the walls are making them nervous.
Chapter 1 opens with a married couple fighting. Not about money. Not about the kids. About which emotion to feel today.
So I just finished reading Cities in Flight by James Blish, and I have thoughts. A lot of thoughts. Enough that I’m going to retell this whole thing as a blog series.
I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. Take one of my favorite sci-fi books and go through it chapter by chapter. Share my thoughts, break it down, and maybe convince a few people to pick it up.
We made it. Eight chapters, one introduction, and a whole lot of Gack being confused, angry, and stubborn. The retelling of “The Kid from Hell” is done.
Chapter 8 is short. Maybe the shortest chapter in the book. And it hits the hardest.
Gack pushes through the last thickets and steps out onto a road. It’s raining. Not a light drizzle, a downpour. There’s a stench coming from a ditch where something that used to be a person is rotting in clayey slime. A burnt-out tank sits half-sunk in a quagmire, its flamethrower barrel pointed uselessly at the clouds.
This is it. Chapter 7 is where everything breaks and everything begins. If you’ve been following Gack’s story, you know this has been building. The kid from another planet, the child soldier who worshipped his duke and his generals, finally gets hit with the full truth. And what he does with it is the entire point of this novella.
Chapter 6 opens with Gack inspecting a mortar position that Dramba just finished digging. Two hours and ten minutes. Perfectly smooth walls, regulation slope, tamped-down floor, beam-covered dugouts. Gack is proud. His Highness’s Engineer’s Academy would approve.
Chapter 5 is where Gack hits a wall. Several walls, actually. Some invisible, some emotional, and one that nearly breaks him.
Chapter 4 switches to third person and takes us outside, into the open. Gack and Dramba are walking along a deserted road on Earth’s plains. The sun is up, grasshoppers are screaming, and the road stretches from one horizon to the other in a perfectly straight line.
Chapter 3 is told entirely from Gack’s perspective, and it’s honestly hilarious and sad at the same time. The guy has been on Earth for five days and he’s completely overwhelmed.
So here’s what happened. Gack wakes up completely naked on a hospital bed. Two men are sitting next to him. One is a rosy-faced doctor beaming at him like a saint from an old icon. The other is a skinny, tanned guy with grey hair and a straw sticking out of his mouth. He says nothing. Just watches.
Chapter 1 hits you like a punch. No slow setup, no worldbuilding lectures. You are dropped straight into mud, smoke, and a young soldier named Gack who has zero patience for the mess he just walked into.
If you grew up in the USSR or any post-Soviet country, you know Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. They were THE science fiction writers. Not just popular, but genuinely brilliant. Think of them as the Soviet version of Arthur C. Clarke meets Philip K. Dick. They wrote dozens of novels and short stories, and most of them still hold up today.
We made it. Fourteen posts, eleven chapters, one afterword, and a whole lot of cognac and cigarettes later, here are my thoughts on Definitely Maybe as a whole.
If you thought the novel itself was intense, wait until you read what was happening behind the scenes. The afterword and translator’s note turn Definitely Maybe from a great sci-fi story into something much more personal and much more real.
This is it. The last chapter. And the Strugatsky brothers end their novel exactly the way they should: with fire, cognac, and a question that has no answer.
Chapter 10 is the one that broke me a little. Everything has been building toward this, and now the pressure finally cracks Malianov open.
Chapter 9 is where people start making their choices. And most of them choose to quit.
Let’s start with the thing that should terrify everyone. That telegram Irina got? “DMITRI BAD HURRY TO MAKE IT IN TIME.” It was signed by Snegovoi. But Snegovoi was already dead when it was sent. Nobody went to a telegraph office and typed it out. The machine just printed it. By itself.
Chapter 8 is the heart of the entire book. This is where everything changes. And it starts with two men drinking tea in a quiet apartment.
Chapter 7 is where the talking starts for real. Everyone is gathered at Malianov’s place, and they’re waiting for Vecherovsky like students waiting for the professor to arrive and explain the exam.
If Weingarten’s story was disturbing, Gubar’s is something else entirely. Chapter 6 is funny, terrifying, and sad all at the same time. The Strugatsky brothers were really showing off here.
Chapter 5 is where this book goes from “something strange is happening” to “okay, what on earth is going on.” Buckle up.
Chapter 4 is where Malianov finally talks to someone with a clear head. And honestly, after the chaos of the last few chapters, it’s a relief.
This is Part 4 of my chapter-by-chapter retelling of Definitely Maybe by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (ISBN 978-1-61219-282-6). Start from the introduction if you’re new to this series.
This is Part 3 of my chapter-by-chapter retelling of Definitely Maybe by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (ISBN 978-1-61219-282-6). If you’re just joining, start with the introduction.
This is Part 2 of my chapter-by-chapter retelling of Definitely Maybe by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (ISBN 978-1-61219-282-6). If you’re just joining, check out the introduction post first.
So I picked up this book called Definitely Maybe by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, and I want to walk you through it chapter by chapter. Think of this as me retelling the story to a friend over coffee. No spoiler-free zone here. We’re going all in.
So that was Gateway.
31 chapters. One man sitting on a couch talking to a machine about why he can not be happy. And somehow it is one of the best science fiction novels ever written.
This is it. Thirty-one chapters. Hundreds of pages. Years of therapy. And now we are here, at the end.
Rob Broadhead is still in the chair. Sigfrid is still across from him. The same room. The same machine. The same conversation they have been having since page one. Except this time, there is nowhere left to hide.
This is the chapter. The one the entire book has been building toward. Thirty chapters of therapy sessions, of Rob dodging and lying and breaking down, of Sigfrid patiently waiting. All of it was leading here.
This is it. The chapter everything has been building toward. Twenty-eight chapters of dodging, deflecting, joking, and screaming. Twenty-eight chapters of Sigfrid waiting. And now Rob finally arrives at the place he has been running from since the first page.
This is the chapter where Gateway stops being a psychological novel and becomes a horror story. Not the monster kind. The physics kind. The kind where the universe itself is trying to kill you, and there is no door to run through, no weapon to grab, no hack to deploy.
This chapter is short. Really short. Just a therapy session. One of the last ones before everything goes sideways.
But do not let the length fool you. What happens here matters. Because this is the last time Rob successfully runs from the truth. After this, there is nowhere left to hide.
The mission is getting real. What was just a name on a board and a number on a contract is now becoming an actual plan with actual ships and actual people who might actually die. And right when Rob thought he had the emotional landscape of his life figured out, Klara walks back into it.
Rob is broke. Again. Still. Always. And this time the hole he is sitting in feels deeper than before.
This chapter is about what happens when the universe hands you just enough to survive, but not enough to escape. And about the choices people make when the only options left are bad ones.
Rob is alone in space. A One-class ship. Just him and the Heechee controls and fifty-five days of silence.
If the last chapter was about emotional nakedness, this one is about physical and psychological isolation pushed to the breaking point. Pohl gives us everything here. Space adventure, discovery, disaster, rescue, and then the most disturbing therapy session in the entire book.
This chapter is short. Maybe the shortest in the book. But it hits like a truck.
We are back in the therapy room with Sigfrid. No space missions. No Gateway drama. No alien ships. Just Rob sitting in a chair, trying very hard not to say the thing he knows he needs to say.
This is the chapter where Rob Broadhead hits rock bottom. And rock bottom on Gateway is a very long way down.
This chapter is a therapy session. Just one. No missions, no Gateway politics, no Heechee technology. Just Rob and Sigfrid in a room. And it is one of the most disturbing chapters in the book.
This is the longest chapter in the book so far. And it covers everything. Love. Fighting. Death. Science. Hope. Pohl packs more into this single chapter than some authors put into entire novels.
Remember S. Ya. Lavorovna? The AI specialist from a few chapters back? The woman who understands how Sigfrid works from the inside?
They are back. Forty-six days in a tiny Heechee ship, cramped and scared and hoping for something, and they are back with nothing. No discovery. No bonus. No glory. Just a docking clamp and a medical team and the smell of a ship that has been lived in too long by too many people.
This chapter is short. Maybe the shortest therapy chapter so far. But short does not mean small. Sometimes the shortest sessions are the ones that crack things open.
Forty-six days.
That is how long Rob and his crew have been sitting inside a Heechee ship. Forty-six days of eating paste, sharing a tiny space with four other people, using a toilet with no privacy, breathing recycled air, and waiting. Just waiting for the ship to arrive wherever the pre-programmed course takes them.
Short chapter. Maybe the shortest in the book so far. But the amount of power that shifts in these few pages is wild.
Rob finally did it. He is in space. After all the waiting, the fear, the parties, the frozen paralysis, he is actually sitting inside a Heechee ship heading somewhere unknown.
You walk into your therapist’s office and everything has changed. The mat is gone. The mobiles are gone. The fake Hawaiian surf is gone. Instead there is a couch. A traditional, old-school psychoanalyst’s couch. And your therapist, who used to be a voice and some abstract shapes, is now a dummy sitting in a chair wearing dark glasses.
This is a long chapter. It is also the chapter where everything changes. Rob has been frozen since he arrived on Gateway. Trained but not launching. Afraid but not leaving. Just existing in the most expensive waiting room in the solar system.
Rob walks into therapy like a man who has not slept in three days. He is exhausted. He is angry. And he has decided, before the session even starts, that he is not going to cooperate.
This is a big chapter. A lot happens. And by the end of it, nothing happens at all. That is the whole point.
This chapter is short and it hurts in a quiet way.
We are back in the present with Rob and Sigfrid. No Gateway flashbacks this time. Just a rich man sitting in a therapist’s office, listing all the expensive things he buys. And somehow, every item on the list makes him sound more empty.
Chapter 8 is long. It is also one of the best chapters so far. After the emotional wreckage of Chapter 7’s therapy session, we are back on Gateway. And now Rob starts learning what it actually means to be a prospector.
After the Blue Hell party and the casino shock of Chapter 6, Pohl drops us right back on the therapy couch. And this time, Sigfrid goes deep. Really deep. This is the chapter where Rob’s armor starts to crack in places he did not even know existed.
After the intense therapy session of Chapter 5, Pohl switches gears completely. Chapter 6 is big, packed, and full of world-building. This is where we really get to see Gateway as a place where people live, work, gamble, and try not to die.
This chapter is short. Really short. But it packs a punch.
We are back in the therapy room with Rob and Sigfrid von Shrink. And this time, Sigfrid is not messing around.
After two therapy chapters and one backstory chapter, we finally get to see Gateway itself. And it does not disappoint.
This chapter is short. But it hits hard.
We are back in therapy with Sigfrid von Shrink, the AI psychiatrist. And this time, Sigfrid is not letting Rob dodge the hard questions.
Chapter 2 takes us back. Way back. Before the money, before Gateway, before the guilt. This is where we learn where Rob came from. And it is not pretty.
The very first line of Gateway tells you everything you need to know about the main character.
“My name is Robinette Broadhead, in spite of which I am male.”
I just finished reading Gateway by Frederik Pohl and I need to talk about it.
This book won the Hugo, the Nebula, and the John W. Campbell Award when it came out in 1977. And honestly, after reading it, I get why. It hit different from most sci-fi I have read.