Van Vogt's Supermind, or, It's Funny How Things Go

I don’t remember when I did it, but at some point in my childhood I gave Dad a book by A.E. van Vogt with a fuzzy green shape on the cover. For years I thought it was called The Green Brain and I carried an inexplicable pride in having given it to him. Mum had probably chosen it and she definitely paid for it, but it was my gift to Dad. He had five van Vogt novels, including that one, and somehow that name became a magnet to me so that when I had disposable income and easy access to second-hand bookstores I began building up my collection of his works. I’ve probably read more books by him than any other SF author, possibly any author, even P.K. Dick who I consider my favourite. Until last week, however, I hadn’t read The Green Brain.

Actually, I still haven’t since there is no A.E. van Vogt novel of that name. The real title is Supermind and it explores a galaxy where humans are a low-level species under the protection of the vastly superior Great Galactics, and under threat from the Dreeghs, a race of “space vampires” who can only survive a mysterious illness by draining the blood and life energy of others.

In typical van Vogt fashion the novel is a “fix-up” where he patched three shorter works together into one. The seams are distinct but he “fixed” it so they seem like logical progressions of one narrative. It would be interesting to read the originals to see how much he had to fix/change. There are some clashes, the first and third parts feature the Great Galactics while the second part declares that they don’t exist per se but are a freaks of the moment, but there are ways to forgive that and move on with the story.

I’d be overstating it if I called van Vogt a great writer, but he never fails to draw me in. The stories are simple, the characters forever trapped in the 1950s despite their futuristic settings, and the ideas can be a tad whacky, but he pulls them all together into a readable and fun package.

I doubt my dad, who loves the hard SF of Asimov and Clarke, was that into it – he did just give me all five of his van Vogt books – but somehow, this book, or its cover, combined with the childish joy of having given it to him myself, led me to read many books by someone I may not otherwise have read at all. Then I would never have travelled on the Space Beagle, visited the Weapon Shops, or marvelled at the many possibilities of the Reflected Men. And if I hadn’t read those books, what other authors might I have not read? Somewhere out there is a reflected version of me who never read any SF, and that is not the best possible me, of that I am sure.

Keep dreaming!