BOOK REVIEW AND RECOMMENDATION: ROADSIDE PICNIC BY ARKADY AND BORIS STRUGATSKY

Today I have a book review and recommendation to share with you: Roadside Picnic, a science fiction novel by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. In addition, I'll share two summer outfit proposals, one very suitable for daytime and other perfect for those warm summer nights. So, let's get started. The novel I'm going to write about today falls into the domain of science fiction. I've published my review on goodreads a few days ago. For readers of my blog, I'll try to do better than that and write a bit more. If reading isn't your thing, no problem. You can just check out the outfits and skip the book talk. I've read this book online for free as it is in the free domain (here is a great side to side English to Russian translation of Roadside Picnic). This was my second book by Arkady and Boris, my first one was the Inhabited Island (sometimes translated as Prisoners of Power) and I liked that one as well. I recommend you to read both of these books if you like dystopian literature and books that make you think. Brothers Strugatsky aren't known as hard SF writers, their works are more about social issues then about space, science or future adventures. In other words, Strugatsky brothers wrote about the conflict between the social organism and the individual soul. According to their own words, the secret of Strugatsky's brothers is that they wrote about the adventures of the soul, not the body. 

ROADSIDE PICNIC, A NOVEL BY ARKADY AND BORIS STRUGATSKY

This novel opens with a quote that I believe to be meaningful for the understand of the book itself. It is a quote by R.P. Warren and it states: "You have to make the good out of the bad because that is what you have to make it out of." Now, this is a quote that can be interpreted in a variety of way, just like the novel itself. Besides the positivism of the message there is also this bleak suggestions that 'bad' is all there is, that this world is a bad place. It might also be an invitation to understand that things are not necessarily black and white.  Following this quote, what the reader immediately reads is an interview with a scientist. This interview sets the tone for the novel and introduces us to the main events important for the understanding of the novel. This third person double narrator (scientist and journalist) perhaps serves as a objective narrator of sorts. The scientist in question seems to take an interesting  stance. He doesn't really reveal that much to the reporter. Another thing that this interview does for the reader is introducing  and defying the term stalker. 

     "But  surely  you  have  been  carefully  following  the  international
research in the Visitation Zones?"
     "Yes. Once in a while I read the Reports. "
     "You   mean   the   Reports   of   the   International   Institute   of
Extraterrestrial Cultures?"
     "Yes."
     "And what,  in  your opinion, has been the  most important discovery in
these thirty years?"
     "The fact of the Visitation itself."
     "I beg your pardon?"
     "The fact of the Visitation itself is  the most important discovery not
only of the past thirty years but of the entire history of mankind. It's not
so  important to  know just who  these visitors were. It's not important  to
know where they came from,  why  they  came, why  they spent so  little time
here,  or  where  they disappeared  to since.  The  important  thing is that
humanity now knows for sure: we are not alone in  the universe. I  fear that
the Institute of Extraterrestrial Cultures will never be fortunate enough to
make a more fundamental discovery."
     "This is very fascinating, Dr Pilman, but  actually I was thinking more
of advances and discoveries of a technological nature.  Discoveries that our
earth  scientists and engineers could use.  After  all,  many very important
scientists have proposed  that the discoveries made in the Visitation  Zones
are capable of changing the entire course of our history."
     "Well,  I don't subscribe  to that  point of view. And as for  specific
discoveries--that's not my field."
     "Yet for  the past two years you've been Canadian  consultant to the UN
Commission on Problems of the Visitation."
     "Yes.  But I  have  nothing  to do  with the  study of extraterrestrial
cultures. On the commission my colleagues and I represent the inter national
scientific community  when questions  come up  on implementing UN  decisions
regarding the internationalization of the Zones.  Roughly  speaking, we make
sure  that  the  extraterrestrial marvels found  in the Zones come into  the
hands of the International Institute."
     "Is there anyone else after these treasures?"
     "Yes."
     "You probably mean stalkers!"
     "I don't know what they are."
     "That's what we in Harmont call the thieves who risk their lives in the
Zone to grab everything they can lay their hands on. It's become a whole new
profession."
     "I understand. No, that's not within our competence."
     "I should think  not. That's police business. But I would be interested
in knowing just what does fall within your competence, Dr. Pilman."
     "There is a steady leak of materials from the Visitation Zones into the
hands  of irresponsible persons and  organizations. We deal with the results
of these leaks."
     "Could you be a little more specific, doctor?"
     "Can't  we talk about the arts instead? Wouldn't the  listeners care to
know my opinion of the incomparable Godi Muller?"

                                             excerpt from the novel Roadside Picnic

WHAT KIND OF NOVEL IS IT? POST ALIEN VISITATION BUT WITH A TWIST

Roadside Picnic is a beautifully depressive and wonderfully atmospheric science fiction novel about life on Earth after an alien 'Visitation' that leaves humans with more questions than answers. The novel takes place after the alien visitation event and slowly introduced its readers to the event as well as its consequences while at the same time following the first person narrative of its principal protagonist Red. The novel opens with an interview with one of the scientist and quickly switches to Red who is a 'stalker' by profession, i.e., a person who steals alien artifacts and sells them. Red is a rehabilitated stalker now, doing his 'stalking' legally while working for an Institute (some kind of government supervised body) and taking scientist in the zone (as the dangerous area where the aliens landed is known). There are several such zones on the Earth but most of the novel focuses on the one Red lives next to in a town somewhere in Canada.  The novel's plot starts to unravel after the interview because what follows is a first person narrator by Redrick Schuuhard, age 23 (as we are told). That's the first section of the novel. 

 BACHELOR,  LABORATORY  ASSISTANT AT THE HARMONT BRANCH OF THE INTERNATIONAL
INSTITUTE FOR EXTRATERRESTRIAL CULTURES

     The  night before,  he  and I  were in  the repository--it was  already
evening, all I had to do was throw  off my lab suit and I could head for the
Borscht to put a drop or two of the  stiff stuff  into my system. I was just
standing there, holding up the wall, my work  all done and a cigarette in my
hand. I was  dying  for a smoke--it was  two hours since I'd had one, and he
was still puttering around with his stuff. He had loaded, locked, and sealed
one safe  and  was  loading up the other one--taking  the empties  from  the
transporter, examining  each one  from every angle (and they're heavy little
bastards, by the way, fifteen pounds each), and carefully replacing them  on
the shelf.
     He  had been  struggling with those empties forever, and the  way I see
it,  without any benefit to humanity or himself. In  his shoes, I would have
said  screw it long  ago and gone to work on  something  else  for the  same
money.  Of course, on the other hand, if you think about it, an empty really
is something mysterious and  maybe even incomprehensible. I've handled quite
a few of them, but  I'm still surprised every  time I see  one. They're just
two  copper disks the size of a saucer, -about a quarter  inch thick, with a
space of a foot and a half between
     There's nothing else. I mean absolutely  nothing, just empty space. You
can stick your hand in them, or even your  head, if you're so knocked out by
the whole thing-just  emptiness and more emptiness,  thin  air. And for  all
that,  of  course, there is  some force  between them,  as I understand  it,
because you can't press them together,  and no one's been able to pull  them
apart, either.
     No, friends,  it's  hard  to describe them to  someone who  hasn't seen
them. They're too simple, especially when you look close and finally believe
your eyes. It's like trying  to describe  a  glass to someone:  you  end  up
wriggling your fingers and  cursing in frustration. OK, let's say you've got
it, and those  of  you who haven't get  hold  of a copy of  the  institute's
Reports--every issue has an article or. the empties with photos.
     Kirill had  been beating his brains out over the  empties  for almost a
year.  I'd been  with him from the start, but I still wasn't quite sure what
it was he wanted to learn from them, and, to tell the truth, I wasn't trying
very hard to find out.  Let him figure it out for  himself  first,  and then
maybe  I'd have a listen.  For now,  I understood only one thing:  he had to
figure out, at any cost, what made  one  of those empties  tick--eat through
one with acid, squash it  under a press, or  melt it in an oven. And then he
would  understand everything  and  be hailed  and honored, and world science
would shiver with ecstasy. For now, as I saw it, he had a long way to go. He
hadn't gotten  anywhere  yet,  and he was worn out. He  was sort of gray and
silent, and his eyes looked like a  sick dog's-they even watered. If it  had
been  anyone else, I would have  gotten him roaring drunk and taken him over
to some hard-working girl to unwind. And in the morning I'd have boozed  him
up again and taken him to another broad, and in a week he would have been as
good as new--bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Only that wasn't the medicine for
Kirill. There was no point in even suggesting it--he wasn't the type.
     So there we were  in the repository. I was watching him and seeing what
had  happened to him, how his eyes were sunken, and  I  felt sorrier for him
than  I ever  had for anyone. And  that's when I decided. I  didn't  exactly
decide, it was like somebody opened my mouth and made me talk.
     "Listen," I said. "Kirill."
     And he stood there with his  last empty  on the scales, looking like he
was ready to climb into it.
     "Listen," I said, "Kirill! What if you had a full empty, huh?"
     "A full empty?" He looked puzzled.
     "Yeah.  Your hydromagnetic trap, whatchamacallit . . . Object 77b. It's
got some sort of blue stuff inside."
     I could see  that  it was beginning to  penetrate. He looked up at  me,
squinted, and a glimmer of reason, as he  loved to call it, appeared  behind
the dog tears.
     "Hold on," he said. "Full? Just like this, but full?"
     "Yes, that's what I'm saying."
     "Where?"
     My Kirill was cured. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
     "Let's go have a smoke."

THE NARRATION MOVES PRETTY QUICKLY IN THIS ONE
Once Rednick aka Red takes over narration, things move pretty quick. He introduces us to Kirill, a scientist he is working with. Kirill immediately agrees to following him into the Zone (an alien visitation zone where dangerous things happen). 

 He  stuffed  the empty into the  safe,  slammed the door, and locked it
with three  and a half turns, and we went back into the lab. Ernest pays 400
in  cash for an  empty empty, and I could  have bled him  dry, the  son of a
bitch, for a full one, but  believe it or not, I didn't even think about it,
because  Kirill  came back to life before my eyes and bounded down the steps
four at a time, not even letting  me  finish my smoke. In short,  I told him
everything: what  it was like, and where it was, and  the best way to get at
it. He pulled out a map,  found the garage, put his finger on it, and stared
at me. Of course, he immediately figured it out about me--what was there not
to understand?
     "You dog, you," he said and smiled. "Well, let's go for it. First thing
in the morning. I'll order  the passes and the boot for nine  and  we'll set
off at ten and hope for the best. All right?"
     "All right," I said. "Who'll be the third?"
     "What do we need a third for?"
     "Oh no," I said.  "This  is no  picnic  with ladies.  What if something
happens to you? It's in the Zone," I said. "We have to follow regulations."
     He gave a short laugh and shrugged.
     "As you wish. You know better."

REDNICK AKA RED- THE PROTAGONIST ND THE NARRATOR OF THE NOVEL 

Most of the novel follows the first person narrative of Red, a tough guy who risks his life going into the zone to collect valuable alien artifacts. Red is no angel, he drinks heavily, has a hot temper, a tendency for violence and can't seem to stop breaking the law. At one point the narrative switches to Richard, who is a friend of Red, but the switch is done in a natural way. The ending chapter is again narrated by Red.

DESCRIPTIVE, DARK AND ATMOSPHERIC WRITING  
The writing is very convincing, descriptive, up to the point and consistent throughout the novel. The whole novel is well thought through and executed. The narrative moves pretty quickly but the reader doesn't get confused. Strugatsky brothers do a fantastic job of developing Red character in a realistic and logical way. A reader really feels like he is inside of Red's head. Moreover, the dialogues feel realistic and consistent with the other characters' traits. 

THE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE ZONE ARE ABSOLUTELY CHILLING

The descriptions of the zone were absolutely perfect. The writers captured the feelings of 'otherworldly' so brilliantly I got chills while I was reading the parts of the books that happen in the zone. Moreover, I enjoyed the way the whole alien concept was developed, including descriptions of the initial visit and the horrible consequences it had for the people who happen to be there (Plague District, the Blind District etc). I feel that part especially was quite realistic. Imagine what kind of a shock would a contact with an alien civilization be for all of us. This novel explores the aftermath of not just such a visit but the collective burden of not even knowing what the 'Visitation' was for. The aliens came and left, nobody knows why or whether there was some intent behind their visit.

     The houses in the  Plague Quarter were chipped and dead. How ever,  the
windows weren't broken.  Only they  were so dirty that they looked blind. At
night,  when  you crawl  past, you can  see  the glow  inside,  like alcohol
burning  with blue tongues.  That's  the  witches'  jelly  breathing in  the
cellars.  just  a  quick  glance  gives  you  the  impression  that  it's  a
neighborhood like any other, the houses are like any others, only in need of
repair, but there's nothing  particularly strange  about  them. Except  that
there  are no people around. That brick  house, by the way, was the  home of
our math teacher. We  used to  call  him  The Comma. He  was a  bore  and  a
failure. His second  wife had  left him just before the Visitation, and  his
daughter had a  cataract on one eye, and  we used  to tease her  to tears, I
remember. When the panic began he and all his neighbors ran to the bridge in
their underwear, three miles nonstop. Then he was sick with the plague for a
long time. He lost all his skin and his nails. Almost everyone who had lived
in the  neighborhood was hit, that's why we call it the Plague Quarter. Some
died,  mostly the old people, and  not too many of  them. I,  for one, think
that  they  died  from  fright and not from the  plague.  It was terrifying.
Everyone  who lived  here  got sick. And  people in three neighborhoods went
blind.  Now we call those areas: First Blind Quarter,  Second  Blind, and so
on. They didn't go completely blind, but got sort of night blindness. By the
way,  they said  that  it wasn't any explosion that caused  it, even  though
there were plenty  of explosions; they said they  were blinded from  a  loud
noise. They said it got so loud that they immediately lost their vision. The
doctors told them that that was impossible and they should try to  remember.
But  they  insisted that it was a powerful thunderbolt that blinded them. By
the way, no one else heard the thunder at all.

     I started undressing slowly. I  took off my watch, and  saw that we had

spent five hours  in the Zone.  My God! Five  hours. I shuddered. God, there
really is no time in the Zone. Five hours. But if you think about it, what's
five hours to a stalker? A snap. How about twelve? Or how about two days? If
you don't  manage in one night,  you spend the  whole day face down  on  the
ground.  And you don't even pray, but mutter deliriously, and you don't know
if you're dead or alive. And then you finish up  the second night and get to
the  patrol  point with your swag. The guards  are there  with their machine
guns. And those bastards, those toads really hate you.  There's no great joy
in arresting you, they're  terrified that you're contaminated. All they want
to do is bump you  off  and they've got all the aces-go prove that you  were
killed  illegally. So  that  means you bury your face in the dirt again  and
pray until dawn and until dark again. And the swag lies next  to you and you
don't know whether it's just lying there or slowly killing you. Or you could
end up like Knuckles Itzak, who got stuck at  dawn  in an open space. He got
off  the  track and ended  up between  two  ditches. He couldn't go right or
left. They shot at him for two hours, but couldn't hit him. For two hours he
made believe he was dead.  Thank God, they finally  believed  it and left. I
saw him after that. I couldn't even recognize  him. He was  a broken man, no
longer human.
     I wiped my tears  and turned on the water. I showered  for a long lime.
First hot, then cold, then hot again.  I used up a whole bar of soap. Then I
got bored. I  turned off the shower.

EXPLORATION OF CONFLICT BETWEEN THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE SOCIETY 

This novel explores many interesting themes and is in no way limited to the extraterrestrial question and philosophizing about what an alien visit might mean. This novel is also about daily struggles and question of morality. Red works and lives in a dark place. His life is stressful, death and violence are a big part of it. Red both hates the Zone and feels drawn by what it promises. He fears it but he also has nowhere else to turn. Roadside Picnic is a novel about isolation, about feeling trapped in a place of corruption where being a criminal doesn't seem so bad. If you have a look at it, most people in this book, that is, the stalkers are criminals. Stalkers steal alien artifacts so they can sell them on black market.  That doesn't make them the nice guys. However, what other options are left to stalkers? You can't say they are exactly adventures. People looking for adventure come and go once they see how dangerous the Zones are. Stalkers are mostly locals. They cannot escape that place they live by, not once the anti -migrant laws are made. They are forced to either conform to the rules or to become criminals. To conform isn't a moral choice either. Red realizes not only the danger of zone early on- his understanding of Zone that's why he keeps staying alive- but also the impact the dangerous artifacts could have. Red is clearly worried when some shady guys want the dangerous stuff that can kill men. But isn't the government also a shady guy? One of the issues is that the government isn't someone interested in the safety of people, that government isn't someone you can trust- I guess that is a very Soviet feeling but it can be applied to modern times as well. If the government itself is corrupt, then is criminal really a criminal? Red risks his life for others, he just doesn't seem like a bad person despite his many questionable actions. 

THE MEANING OF THE TITLE ROADSIDE PICNIC
The title 'Roadside Picnic' only becomes clear towards the end of the book when two characters engage in a deeper discussion, one of them (the scientist) explaining that the 'Visitation' of aliens was a sort of picnic for the aliens. “A picnic. Picture a forest, a country road, a meadow. Cars drive off the country road into the meadow, a group of young people get out carrying bottles, baskets of food, transistor radios, and cameras. They light fires, pitch tents, turn on the music. In the morning they leave. The animals, birds, and insects that watched in horror through the long night creep out from their hiding places. And what do they see? Old spark plugs and old filters strewn around... Rags, burnt-out bulbs, and a monkey wrench left behind... And of course, the usual mess—apple cores, candy wrappers, charred remains of the campfire, cans, bottles, somebody’s handkerchief, somebody’s penknife, torn newspapers, coins, faded flowers picked in another meadow.”

The aliens didn't mean to connect with the people, they didn't even notice the human race, they stopped on Earth and moved on, leaving their trash behind, the same way humans have a picnic somewhere in wilderness where they leave animals bewildered. The other guy seems to think this is too pessimistic a rendering and too destructive for a human ego. That is certainly true but it doesn't make it less realistic. In fact, the pessimistic views of this book seem very realistic to me. There is a grim reality in this book. I felt a subtle melancholy and tragedy hidden between its pages. The tragedy and burden of every day living and of not being able to escape the vicious circle of violence. The writing of this book is quite economic but very powerful nevertheless. Indeed, somehow this novel manages to develop its characters, tell a story and convey perfectly the feeling and the atmosphere despite being quite short. Roadside Picnic proves that quality of words is more important than quantity. 

A MASTERPIECE OF SCIENCE FICTION 

Once I started reading this book, I couldn't stop. The story captured my heart and held my attention. Roadside Picnic is the kind of fiction that makes you think. The best kind of fiction. A masterpiece of science fiction. To conclude, I definitely recommend reading this one!

As always, thank you reading and visiting. Have a lovely day!