I initially gave this three stars but as I wrote my review I moved it down - it's 2.5, really.

Taken in historical context I think the book is pretty interesting. It would have been an experience to read it at the time it was written. However, based on where Scifi/Fantasy is now and our current sociopolitical climate, it was just ok.

I believe I understand Bradbury’s overall message and goal for the book but in my opinion it was a bit overreaching. His attempt to encompass the entirety of human experience regarding Mars exploration and colonization was just too much. The stories tumble around like clothes in a dryer; each making a point or two but without a cohesive structure. The book was effective at points but not the achievement I had expected.

What disappointed me most about the novel was the very poor characterization of women. Of course, this must be considered in the cultural climate existing when the book was written, nonetheless, women could have received better treatment. Bradbury choose to include minorities in what he intended to be a favorable light – whether he is succeeded is debatable – why not women? We do see some sympathetic female characters in the stories Ylla, The Off Season and The Million-Year Picnic but Genevieve Selsor in The Silent Towns is just embarrassing.

Overall, I see the merit of the work due to its ideas and believe it was a step forward in speculative fiction in its time, but otherwise it was just ok. I will note that I did really enjoy Usher II. It made the book worth reading for me.

A well-written series of thought experiments more than a collection of short stories, but how fascinating some of them are. Bradbury's musings on colonisation, culture, consciousness and civilisation are stimulating, even when the stories themselves are not particularly enchanting.

What a marvellous book. As I mentioned in a comment when I started reading it, I have read this before, I'm guesstimating mid/late 70s, and also (for some reason) have a fond remembrance of the 1980 Rock Hudson TV series. Well as a book it certainly lived up to my expectations.
I don't normally say much about the contents or stories of books I review as I leave that up to the back cover or others to read themselves, but I will say this about The Martian Chronicles (or Silver Locusts); it is a wonderful 1940s and 50s social commentary and as such it is like looking back into history (given the dates of when the book is set, most of it is now set in the past anyway). The racial bigotry that existed during the time comes across very clearly in the book, as well as how Bradbury viewed mans ability for self destruction and disregard of the environment. All things that are still unfortunately very visible in todays world.
Overall I thoroughly enjoyed the book and can see me reading it again (sooner than 40 years time I'm thinking). I've now read 2 Bradbury books in the last 6 months and know why as a teenager I read an awful lot more, I think as well as my challenges that should also be a focus of my reading.
I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys SF, it is not "hard" or military or opera or any of the other genres, it's just a very good book, well written, enjoy !

UPDATE

This recent study published in Science*, gives some reason to the imagined Dead Sea of Mars, by Ray Bradbury.

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(NASA scientists have determined that a primitive ocean on Mars held more water than Earth's Arctic Ocean and that the Red Planet has lost 87 percent of that water to space. NASA/GSFC)

Prologue

Back in the late nineties I was a member of The Planetary Society. I used to receive, at home, their magazine. I always took notice of that name: Ray Bradbury, among the long list of other famous names as board of directors and Advisory Council members: Carl Sagan (co -founder), Bruce Murray, David Brin, Arthur Clarke …. Maybe I knew one day I would read the Martian Chronicles.

And now I had the chance. For some time I still held in my mind the names of the missions (to Mars) and the photos of TPS magazines: Pathfinder and Sojourner roving through the Mars dust and rocks …and then I’ve started reading this idealization of a planet.


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Bradbury told this story once. He was in San Diego, back in 2001, at Point Loma Nazarene University. He was lecturing about the “hygiene of writing”. He told the students: Christopher Isherwood told him: Aldous Huxley wanted to meet with him; they met and Huxley told Bradbury “you are a poet”. Bradbury got delighted.

In an interview he explained how, when he was 29 years old, he went to New York: a journey of 4 days and nights by Greyhound, to get his short stories published. The Martian Chronicles were a collection of separate short stories, but they got together in a tapestry that is the present book (first published in 1950).

The Martian Chronicles

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The book is a collection of short stories that cover the period of about 60 years of Mars colonization by men, starting in 1999.

A place with Blue Mountains, golden fruits and houses with crystal columns. People (Martians) with gold yellow eyes and brown skin, capable of telepathy (of understanding other languages) who read on metallic books with salient hieroglyphs. That’s truly poetic. Planet Mars has a Dead Sea and violet water canals…and twin white Moons. Children play with golden spiders.

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Poetic as well the conversation between Lady Ttt and Mr Iiii and Mr Aaa….on planet Tyrr. From their planet they see Earth as green. But not so poetic for commander Williams, and his men, who conclude later on that he’s been visiting a madhouse and that Martians think “we’re crazy”. This was a story of hallucinations.

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In another story there’s a character who would like to organize Mars in a way it would resemble Earth. He, himself and fellow men conclude there’s a collective hypnosis: a woman thinking she’s still living on planet earth; a crew member thinks he meets his brother; and Marylyn. In the end 16 men are dead.

Yes, planet Mars harbors a dead civilization. Hathaway, a geologist, concludes: “by the look of their cities it was a beautiful, gracious and philosophical people”. Martians fuse Art and life: not like Americans.

When Benjamin Driscoll arrived to Mars there were no trees. He wanted to see a green Mars; the air-like-the-Andes was not satisfactory.

By year 2002, 90,000 people arrived. Rockets arrived like grasshoppers. Someone says: I must forget earth; I have a lot of fun with the weather here: day hot as hell, and the night cold.

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Martians look like blue spheres. Stone is having a conversation with a priest. Stone had been saved in an avalanche of stones, by the blue lights. The priest says: that proves they have a soul: there’s compassion: they’re not animals. “What kind of Christ they adore?”.

A Martian explains: “it’s been 10,000 years… we have abandoned our bodies…we live in happiness, we live in the grace of God…we once were humans, with bodies like you…we live in the mountains and the wind…we have abandoned material life”.


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(…)

And yet in Red City the Martians killed a man.

November 2005 news: there’s war on earth. "We need to get back. It’s still our homeland".

Sam got a territory from the Martians the size of half of Mars. He receives a message from Earth: the Australian continent exploded, London and LA were bombed.

Hathaway, a former State governor, says Earth science went ahead of us: wars killed Earth. The governor wants to start a new life on Mars. Hathaway and family are fishing in the Mars canals; and the kids want so badly to see a Martian. Father tells them to look at the image reflected on the waters. Martians are earthlings.

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The Bradbury chronicles tell little about Martians, but a lot about humans.


*https://astrobiology.nasa.gov/article...

Great interview by Sam Weller
Ray Bradbury, The Art of Fiction No. 203
in:
https://www.theparisreview.org/interv...
https://www.google.pt/amp/s/amp.thegu...

The Martian Chronicles is a book in a class all by itself. It is a work of visionary science fiction, a Winesbergian short story cycle, and a mythopoeic masterpiece. Ray Bradbury has created and peopled a Martian landscape that neither NASA nor the most brilliant science fiction writers of the future will ever supplant. Mars, to me, will always be Bradbury’s Mars.

This unique book is a collection of short stories connected by a series of vignettes which link the stories, advance the plot, and set the mood. The first two establish a balance that is carefully and seemingly effortlessly maintained throughout the book. “Rocket Summer” and “The Summer Night” depict Earth and Mars respectively. The people of Earth are beginning the next chapter in the history of their species as they set off to explore and colonize a new world, while the people of Mars are at the end of their story.

As with so much science fiction, The Martian Chronicles says more about humans than aliens. The people who leave Earth to start new lives on Mars are trying to escape from “politics, the atom bomb, war, pressure groups, prejudice, laws” (132). This is the true subject of the book. The Martians mainly serve as a counterpoint. A notable pattern is that the few humans who are sympathetic to the Martians and their way of life represent the best of our species and our civilization, while the rest represent us at our violent and ignorant worst.


The Only Hot Dog Stand on Mars

The story of the fourth expedition to Mars, “—And the Moon Be Still as Bright,” establishes the theme of the book by presenting the two attitudes people take toward Mars. Spender feels reverence for the “dead, dreaming world” (49). He wants his crew mates to be quiet and respectful, but instead they get loud and drunk. He is especially ashamed of Biggs, a vulgar man who wantonly throws his empty wine bottles in the Martian canal, mocks the dead city, and then throws up all over the mosaics of the cobbled street.

Another crewman, Sam Parkill, is just as bad as Biggs. He shoots out the crystal windows of the beautiful Martian city for target practice. Later, in “The Off Season,” he will use fragments of broken glass to adorn the hot dog stand he builds on Mars.

Spender predicted as much. In a conversation with Captain Wilder he laments the way people destroy cultures they don’t understand. He tells the captain that the only reason no one ever built a hot dog stand at the Egyptian temple of Karnak is that the location would not have made it profitable. Parkhill would later decide that a hot dog stand on Mars would be very profitable.


Dark They Were . . .

The evils of colonialism and the evils of racism often go hand in hand. In speaking to the captain of the destruction humans will do to the remains of the Martian civilization, Spender references Cortez and his conquest of Mexico.

He also tells the story of visiting Mexico with his family when he was a boy. Just as he was ashamed of his crew mates for their crass behavior, so was he was ashamed of his father, mother, and sister in Mexico. His father acted “loud and big” (65). His mother disliked the people’s dark skin. And his sister would not talk to anyone.

Bradbury’s Martians are also brown-skinned and it is no coincidence that among those who are sympathetic to the Martians are people of color:

In “—And the Moon Be Still as Bright,” Cheroke, who is part Native American, is able to relate to the Martians. “If there’s a Martian around,” says Cheroke, “I’m all for him” (59).

In “Night Meeting,” Tomás Gomez, whose name and complexion suggest his Mexican ancestry, meets a Martian, and instead of seeking dominance over the native, he seeks understanding.

Bradbury makes a subtle statement against racism with these characters, but he also makes more direct statements. In “The Off Season,” when Parkhill encounters a Martian and threatens to give him “the disease,” it’s impossible not to think of the Native Americans who were given smallpox-infected blankets.

In “Way in the Middle of the Air,” the black residents of the Jim Crow south pool their resources to buy rockets so they can finally be free from racism. A Klansman watches the exodus helplessly, clinging to his illusion of racial superiority.


. . . and Golden Eyed

My favorite story in the volume is “Ylla.” This is the story of the first expedition to Mars, but the beauty of the story is in its depiction of the Martian way of life before the arrival of humans.

The Martian people have brown skin and golden eyes. They are telepathic. Sometimes they wear masks of different colors, masks with different expressions. Their planet is a desert with dead empty seas and ancient cities that look like bone. Their civilization has been dying for a long time, but it is dying naturally and the Martian people live serenely among the ruins of their former glory.

Ylla and her husband live in a house of crystal pillars and crystal walls. Mist rains down from the pillars to cool the hot Martian day. Golden fruits grow from the crystal walls. Ylla harvests the fruits. Cool streams wind through the house. Ylla cleans the house with magnetic dust and cooks meat in silver lava on a fire table. She sleeps on a bed of fog that melts as the sun rises.

Her husband, Yll, reads a book of ancient times. He reads of battles where men fought using “metal insects and electric spiders” (2). He passes his hand over the hieroglyphs and the metal book sings its tales. When the first Earth men arrive, he greets them wearing an expressionless silver mask and wielding a weapon that shoots “golden bees” (11).

Insect imagery is used elsewhere in The Martian Chronicles. In “The Earth Men,” children play with golden spider toys. The woman who greets the Earth Men is described as “quick as an insect” with a voice that was “metallic and sharp” (18). And the Martian Tomás Gomez meets in “Night Meeting” rides “a machine like a jade-green insect, a praying mantis” with “six legs” and “multifaceted eyes” (81).

Bradbury’s Mars is wonderfully strange and beautiful. I want to read the same ten thousand year old book of Martian philosophy that Spender finds in the moonlit ruins. I want to decipher the black and gold hieroglyphs hand-painted on the thin silver pages. I want to swim in the canals after the wine trees have filled them with green wine. I want to fly through the blue Martian sky, cradled in a white canopy with green ribbons, borne aloft by a flame bird. I want to see the blue-sailed sand ships and the two Martian moons shining on white towers that look like chess pieces.

(My copy of The Martian Chronicles is the Grand Master Edition with Michael Whelan’s cover art. Whelan’s painting wraps around the paperback, depicting a red Mars with bright blue canals and a bright blue sky overheard. The moons are barely visible. Two Martians with bronze skin and golden hair sit by a canal overlooking a bone-white city. One removes his mask and looks up at the sky where a comet, or perhaps a rocket from Earth, descends into the mountains. The artwork enhances the text and complements the image of Mars that exists in my imagination.)


Smart Houses, Dumb People

The Martian civilization had been dying for thousands of years, a death with dignity. Earth civilization, in contrast, was committing violent suicide.

So many of the people who want to go to Mars are trying to escape something. The taxpayer, in the story of the same name, wants to escape the prospect of war. The black people in “Way in the Middle of the Air,” want to escape prejudice. Stendahl, in “Usher II,” wants to escape, or if not escape, get revenge against, the political correctness that led first to censorship and finally to book burning.

But there was no escape. The book burners came to Mars. Prejudice came too, although the victims of it were Martians. And the war that the colonists hoped to escape was so devastating that the explosions could be seen from Mars.

When I first read this book, the dates of the stories were still far enough in the future to seem futuristic. And the technology in “There Will Come Soft Rains” was still science fiction. It’s almost amusing to think that most of the technology that powers the house in that story already exists.

I say it’s almost amusing because there’s nothing amusing about this story and there’s nothing amusing about Bradbury’s predictions coming true, for he predicts, not only smart houses, but also a war that decimates Earth. “There Will Come Soft Rains” is a powerful cautionary tale and I believe it is all the more powerful now that its futuristic house is science fact rather than science fiction. It is a reminder of what can happen when progress in science and technology outpaces moral progress.

In his praise of the Martian civilization, Spender tells Captain Wilder: “They knew how to live with nature and get along with nature. They didn’t try too hard to be all men and no animal” (66). This can be seen in Ylla’s house. Fruit grows from the crystal walls. A stream trickles through the rooms. A fine mist rains down from the pillars. And the house itself turns, “flower-like” (2) to face the sun. In contrast, the human house is automated by technology. “Somewhere in the walls, relays clicked, memory tapes glided under electric eyes” (167). The two houses symbolize two different approaches to living in the world. One is natural. The other is artificial.

The house in “There Will Come Soft Rains” is a travesty of human desires. It does everything for its occupants. It cooks their meals, cleans their messes, and amuses their children. It reminds them of their appointments in the morning and reads them poetry at night. But it does all this for people who no longer exist, people who were so advanced technologically that they could build houses to meet all their needs but were so morally backwards that they destroyed themselves through war.


The Last Woman on Mars

This is a novel of dreams, nostalgia, and loneliness. It begins with Ylla’s dream of the first Earth man. The dream is strange but pleasant. Especially pleasant because Ylla is lonely. She’s a married woman, but her husband has grown distant. He rarely takes her to entertainments anymore. He reads his books. She tends her house. Everything is lovely, but loveliness is no substitute for love.

Only one other story features a woman character: Genevieve from “The Silent Towns.” She may be the last woman on Mars. Walter may be the last man. Everyone else returned to Earth when the war started. Walter was lonely even before everyone left for earth and now he is lonelier still, so when he finds Genevieve he is elated. But not for long.

Genevieve is crass and obnoxious. When Walter first sees her, she is in a beauty salon eating a box of cream chocolates. When he prepares a romantic dinner with her, she complains about the filet mignon and wants to watch a Clark Gable film over and over again. While Walter was left behind accidentally, Genevieve stayed behind on purpose so she could gorge herself on candy and perfume and movies. Genevieve is a caricature of what the American consumer has become and she makes a striking contrast to the sensitive and elegant Ylla.

Bradbury’s trademark nostalgia is featured in “The Third Expedition” where the astronauts land on Mars, but find themselves in what appears to be a small town in Ohio. It’s the kind of small town that feels familiar to the men, whether they come from Grinnell, Iowa or Green Bluff, Illinois. The houses and furniture and music remind them all of their childhood homes.

In “The Long Years,” another man left behind on Mars after the other colonists returned to Earth must find a way to bear his profound loneliness. Hathaway was another member of the fourth expedition. He settled on Mars with his wife and children. When his old friend Captain Wilder arrives on Mars, the secret of how Hathaway coped with twenty years of loneliness is revealed.

But the most moving tale of loneliness is about a Martian. This poor soul is alone. For all he knows, he could be the last Martian on Mars. Like everyone else, he needs love and home and family. So he takes on the appearance of an old couple’s deceased son. LaFarge knows that the being he is calling his son cannot really be his son and he muses about the Martian’s predicament.

“Who is this, he thought, in need of love as much as we? Who is he and what is he that, out of loneliness, he comes into the alien camp and assumes the voice and face of memory and stands among us, accepted and happy at last” (124)?

“The Martian” also reinforces Bradbury’s message about racism. Despite all the differences between humans and Martians, we are more alike than different. We all need love.


A Dead, Dreaming World

Whatever the Martians had, it was beautiful. We know it was beautiful because even half dead it’s still beautiful.

Where once there had been festivals with slim boats and canals of lavender wine, where once, four thousand years ago, there had been carnival lights and fire flowers and love-making, there was now a desert with the ruins of ancient towers that shine like silver under the light of two moons. There were now sand ships that sailed the empty Martian seas, their blue sails “like blue ghosts, like blue smoke” (136).

But the beauty of the Martian civilization is not only aesthetic. It is spiritual and philosophical as well. As Spender eulogizes the dead civilization of Mars, he also criticizes the civilization of Earth. On Mars, art wasn’t separate from everyday life. Religion wasn’t separate from science. Spender laments how humans have segregated art from life and replaced religion with the theories of Darwin, Huxley, and Freud.

Spender’s critique is Bradbury’s critique. It is both a lamentation and an invitation. Bradbury laments what human greed has done to the Earth, to civilization, and to the hearts and souls of men and women. He laments the subordination of art and religion to a science and technology which purport to make our lives better but leave us emptier than ever. He laments the war that will destroy us all because of the hate we bear toward one another. But he also invites us to change our direction and change our fate.

The Martian civilization that Spender so admires also faced a crisis. “Man had become too much man and not enough animal on Mars too” (67). But the Martians found a solution. They learned to love life for life’s sake. And so can we. Bradbury offers hope for the human race in the final story, “The Million-Year Picnic.”


The Martian Chronicles is a beautiful book. Its message is gentle but powerful. And it’s the most literary and philosophical of all the Bradbury novels and stories I’ve read. My appreciation for it has grown with every rereading.

Bradbury’s writing style is often called ‘lyrical’ and nowhere is that adjective more appropriate than here. But more than his lyricism, it is his storytelling that I love. He’s like an oral storyteller. When I read Bradbury, all I hear is Bradbury’s voice, not the voice of his creations, but his voice, the storyteller’s voice. That’s where the beauty is ~ in his storytelling. The poetic descriptions, the metaphors, the mellifluous sentences, are music to my ears, but the stories are what touch my heart.

The Martian Chronicles may well be the best-known science fiction book ever published; it's certainly among the top handful at any rate, and with over 10,000 reviews posted here there's almost certainly nothing original left to say. It's survived the passing of most its assumptions about Mars, a boring television series, more than three-quarters of a century of progress and regression and change in the world... and it's still going strong. I read my father's 1951 paperback copy back in July of 1969 when, along with the rest of the world, I was fascinated by the television coverage of the Apollo 11 landing. It's a fix-up novel, more of a story collection really, and over the years I've noticed that the contents were changed and revised occasionally with new editions. It's a study of Man's future from January of 1999 to October of 2026. It's not a hard-science book despite the packaging, but rather more of a fantasy examination of humanity's condition and topics like race and gender relations and war and family. The appeal and approach are timeless despite some aging in some areas and perceptions: remember most of the stories were written in the 1940s. The writing is lyrical and poetic yet clear and mostly brilliant: remember many of the stories originally appeared in pulp magazines with titles like Planet Stories and Thrilling Wonder Stories. I recently revisited Fahrenheit 451 and enjoyed it very much, so I decided it was time to listen to this one and enjoyed it just as much. There Will Come Soft Rains, The Million Year Picnic.... still magic!

I found this Maudlin and Melancholia. I can very well see this is a beloved classic.

I will have to admit that I got this confused. I thought this would be part of the John Carter of Mars, but that, I now realize, was written by Edgar Rice Burroughs and not Ray Bradbury. I kept expecting it to tie into that story and of course, it never did.

I did feel like this was never going to end. It felt very long. It is a collection of short stories on the colonization of Mars. Each story is about different people and situations. The tone reminded me of an episode of the Twilight Zone or something. Everything just felt like a downer. Maybe I'm in the wrong place for this, but it was not my favorite read of the year by any means. I'm glad I read it and I did enjoy the language and Ray's ability to set a mood and a tone. He asks the reader to really consider and ponder pieces of life. I see how much people love this and I am a huge fantasy fan. Still, I feel a little disappointed in this story. It's very well written and there are fine moments in this. I think I'm a little to down for this right now. I just wanted something to give hope and pick up and it didn't really happen for me.

I'm glad it means so much to so many people. I'm glad I read this an I will read more Ray Bradbury. I just didn't really get this story though, I have to admit.

"Fahrenheit 451" es uno de mis libros favoritos de todos los tiempos, tanto es así que forma parte de ese selecto grupo de historias que he releído y, seguramente, siga teniendo relecturas en el futuro. Por esto, Ray Bradbury siempre ha sido uno de los autores que más me interesaba seguir conociendo. Aunque toda su obra me llamaba increíblemente la atención, me daba miedo no encontrar lo mismo que encontré en "Fahrenheit 451". Tardar tanto en leer "Crónicas marcianas" ha sido claramente un error, porque me ha fascinado.

A través de diferentes relatos, pero que siguen una línea argumental, descubriremos que la Tierra está mandando expediciones a Marte con la intención de colonizar el planeta. Agotados los recursos y la vida en la Tierra a causa del mal uso del planeta y del ego humano que solo provoca guerras, se lanzan a la "conquista" del planeta de al lado. Es curioso como una obra que habla de como la Tierra invade Marte, puede provocarte tantas emociones diferentes que pasan de la risa a la tensión, a la pena o al horror. Solo un maesto de la talla de Bradbury es capaz de hacerlo.

Hay relatos tan magistrales que al acabarlos me quedaba con la boca abierta. Especialmente destacables son "Usher II", "El marciano" y "Aunque siga brillando la luna", aunque todos me han encantado, incluso los que eran muy breves. Dan pie a la reflexión, algunos con un toque más tétrico, otros con más tristeza o humor, pero siempre con el potente mensaje de fondo. La crítica que hace Bradbury a la naturaleza del ser humano es brutal. Como este toma lo que quiere destrozando todo lo que está a su paso, creyendo que tiene un derecho casi divino para hacerlo. Es una de las críticas que más me gusta encontrar en los libros, y cuando están tan bien argumentadas como en este, me conquista completamente.

Además, me asombra la facilidad que tenía este señor para crear dilemas enormes y profundos, pero que sean super fáciles de leer. Su lenguaje siempre es bonito y sencillo, nunca está recargado, ni tiene exceso de floritura. Me flipan este tipo de autores que con poquito te agarran bien y no te sueltan, saben tocar donde hay que tocar, sin necesidad de adornos. "Crónicas marcianas" consigue hacernos sentir muchas sensaciones, a través de relatos, que en algunas ocasiones no duran más de dos páginas. Por supuesto hay otros más largos, pero en cualquier caso, no sobra ni una palabra.

Me flipa que vuelva a hablar de las censura a los libros y como los gobiernos autoritarios siempre tratan de atacar en primer instancia a la cultura como gran base del conocimiento, tratando así de evitar el libre pensamiento en las personas. Se ve que cuando se trata de Bradbury es un tema recurrente. Una de las cosas que más me impacta siempre de la ciencia ficción es que lo que cuenta es terriblemente familiar y extrapolable a la realidad que vivimos. En definitiva, es un libro perfecto, que te absorve desde las primeras páginas y que, a través de ellas, se va transformando poco a poco en algo totalmente diferente y sorprendente. ¡Sobervio!

Never look a gift horse in the mouth.

Mr. and Mrs. LaFarge are an aging couple recently living on Mars, looking to escape from Earth and its painful memories. But one rainy night, their long lost son Tom mysteriously arrives at their porch, like nothing has ever happened.

Oh man this sure was EXCELLENT! Positively the best short story in the entire collection, and I can def see why the novel carries the name of the story. This was exquisitely written, gripping, emotional, devastating, and leaving ample food for thought. My fav writing I've ever read by Bradbury so far. Hands down. Highly Recommendable.



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n  PERSONAL NOTEn:
[1950] [13p] [Sci-Fi] [4.5] [Recommendable]
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????????  The Martian Chronicles. <--

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A caballo regalado, no le mires el diente.

El Sr. y la Sra. LaFarge son una anciana pareja que recientemente vive en Marte, buscando escapar de la Tierra y sus dolorosos recuerdos. Pero una noche lluviosa, su hace mucho tiempo perdido hijo Tom llega misteriosamente a su porche, como si nada hubiera pasado.

Hombre, ¡esto sí que fue EXCELENTE! Definitivamente el mejor cuento de toda la colección, y definitivamente puedo ver por qué la novela lleva el nombre de la historia. Esto fue maravillosamente escrito, atrapante, emotivo, devastador, y dejando mucho para pensar. Mi escrito favorito de Bradburyque he leído hasta ahora. Sin dudas. Altamente Recomendable.



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n  NOTA PERSONALn:
[1950] [13p] [Ciencia Ficción] [4.5] [Recomendable]
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I'm sorry I read this book. It was like watching a 60s Star Trek re-run. Pompous and cheesy fiction. And what little science was offered was wrong.

At the time it may have seemed a monumental achievement, but in retrospect, I can see it was garbage. It wasn't science fiction; it was fantasy. Bradbury didn't even get the physics of Mars' moons right, and he should have. No, the science was secondary to him using his stories as a pulpit to preach against the mores and morals of his day.

I remember those days--the 50s and 60s--when I'd read folks like Bradbury telling us everything human and American was stupid, dirty and ugly. And I agreed with them. I felt so sophisticated because I thought I was free of the petty middle-class morality and ideas of my parents. I was wrong. I'd just been brain-washed by the petty, snobbish morality and ideas of Bradbury's ilk. When I finally learned to think for myself, of course, I discovered that some of my parents ideas were right, and some of Bradbury's, and some I got from other places. But I had to work a lot of things out for myself.

If you're under thirty years old (an arbitrary number) don't despise us older folks who thought twaddle like this was good SF literature. It was all we had. (In comparison Asimov and Heinlein look better now.) And it did start us on the road to better stories and better ideas.

Estupendo.

Es la segunda obra de Bradbury que leo y no me deja de fascinar el inevitable cuestionamiento del comportamiento humano, a veces muy sutil, a veces bastante clara, pero siempre con la misma conclusión de inverosimilitud en algunas cosas que el hombre hace o piensa. Además, me sigue pareciendo una prosa encantadora, la de este autor. Los relatos me parecieron muy interesantes. Interesantes de verdad.

Como un extra diré que, a pesar del alto precio que pagué por este raro ejemplar (aunque en una edición barata que no debió costarme lo que me costó, pero bueno, era el último, no había tiempo para dudas), no me arrepentiría en absoluto de obtener un libro de este autor. El prólogo de Jorge Luis Borges fue otro buen aliciente para no pensármelo ni siquiera una vez. Ojalá pudiera encontrar una edición mejor, pero en los tiempos que corren...

The Martian Chronicles is a connected collection of awe- and fear-inspired stories about Martian and human existence.

Wonder glazes the sky with sparks and lines of light, while dread permeates as an undercurrent.

There is a touch of racism in one story. Seriously, what’s up with all the watermelon references? The story tries to be progressive but uses racist stereotypes to get the message across. If you manage to ignore that and see it as a “product of its time,” then you will find a rather marvelous collection of short stories.

Other than that blip, this is beautiful.