By Philip K. Dick
Originally published in 1969
Plot Summary: Glen Runciter is dead. Or is everybody else? Someone died in an explosion orchestrated by Runciter’s business competitors. And, indeed, it’s the kingly Runciter whose funeral is scheduled in Des Moines. But in the meantime, his mourning employees are receiving bewildering — and sometimes scatological — messages from their boss. And the world around them is warping in ways that suggest that their own time is running out. Or already has. Philip K. Dick’s searing metaphysical comedy of death and salvation the latter available in a convenient aerosol spray is tour de force of paranoiac menace and unfettered slapstick, in which the departed give business advice, shop for their next incarnation, and run the continual risk of dying yet again.
Another Philip K. Dick classic I need to read. I’ve been reading a lot of Dick lately, and it’s been enormously enjoyable. His short stories are basically excellent Twilight Zone-like mind fucks, and his novels are brilliant essays on reality — what is and what isn’t reality — and so much more. This book seems to fall into that vein, and I’ve got to put it on my Amazon Wish List soon. I already have something like 5 movies based on his works on my wish list, as well as several other books of his. For decades, Charles Bukowski has been my favorite poet and writer out there. I’m beginning to think that while Buk will always remain my favorite poet, Dick is slowly supplanting him as my favorite fiction writer. Ooooh, major mind fuck!