Customer Reviews

The Postman

5 star:		(76)
4 star:		(48)
3 star:		(23)
2 star:		(12)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

In David Brin's postapocalyptic novel, The Postman, the civilized world has been destroyed by a brief nuclear war and the ensuing nuclear winter, diseases, and barbarism. Set in what used to be Oregon, remnants of civilization exist in small independent towns inhabited by survivors and their offspring eking out a living through agriculture and trades.

Gordon Krantz is a lone wanderer, surviving by moving from village to village as a storyteller and minstrel. He finds a dead postal worker's skeleton in the woods and co-opts his clothing to stay warm. With the bag of postage, he hits upon a scam of representing himself as a postal inspector of the "Restored United States," sent to establish post offices in each town and re-establish mail service. He is surprisingly embraced everywhere he travels because of people's thirst for community and communication... and hope. He unwittingly becomes a victim of his own scam and is reluctantly thrust into a leadership role in reuniting Oregon, and by implication the rest of the nation in the future. Along the way, he discovers the way each town coped with the aftermath of the war, makes various friendships, falls in love, and leads the war against the rogue survivalists from the south.

I quite enjoyed this novel and found it uplifting in the message of a regular man who had greatness thrust upon him and came to realize that he had to take responsibility. The movie, starring Kevin Costner, is also good but diverges a good bit from the book, especially in the second half. As is often the case, the book is better.

At one point in David Brin's "The Postman," the narrator intones: "Gordon's appointed postmasters would continue lying without knowing it, using the tale of a restored nation to bind the land together, until the fable wasn't needed anymore. Or until, by believing it, people made it come true." There is more than a touch of William James here, of making it so by believing in it, of the "Will to Believe." Certainly, Kevin Costner's movie version demanded a heavy dose of the willing suspension of disbelief from us when an army of postmen rode to the rescue under a restored "Old Glory," forming an unwitting parody of "cavalry to the rescue" scene in old westerns, as well as of an earlier Costner epic ... the mounted ride-by presented as holy defiance in both The Postman and Dances With Wolves.

Because Brin was crafting a book, and not painting visual symbols, his demands seem more reasonable. Despite some stretches, and unlike other reviewers, I did not see the mano-a-mano at the end as "deus ex machina," but instead a reasonable question -- are we as capable of creating one kind of "superman" as that other, most feared? The fight woven into the endstory is, after all, symbolic of a struggle between Titans (an image and a term Brin consciously employs): competing world views. If we are prepared by science fiction to accept the evil member of the "superman" twins, why not also the good? Is science fiction so jaded, or will it accept the myth of the good in people as quickly as the myth of evil?

By using the Postman as the handy symbol for "swell the music, pass around the Kleenex" scenes, Costner buries the underlying irony. The Postman as epic hero.... Brin demands that we attempt, and then understand that it is, faith in such simple images of normalcy, justice and peace that make it so. As his apocolyptic tale has it: "More people died due to the breakdown and lawlessness -- the shatt! ered web of commerce and mutual assistance -- than from all the bombs and germs, or even from the three-year dusk." It is belief that must re-weave the web, not brute power.

Brin's demand, the demand he lays equally at the feet of the idealist, the pragmatist and the intellectual, is more fundamental than the "willing suspension of disbelief" with which we watch TV reruns. We do not allow the show to end, but make it real by our belief that it is. This demand is at the core of a basic rift in philosophies of law which both book and movie drive home. To Costner's credit in an otherwise overwrought and manipulative movie, he did not lose sight of that demand.

The Holness and survivalists, in both Brin's work and Costner's, are embodiments of a conception of law as a one-sided exertion of power. Brin comes close to quoting the power-oriented political philosophy of Thomas Hobbes' classic "Leviathan" when he describes the life of women in the new order as "poor, painful and short." Against this philosophy is one that grounds law and orderliness in the notion of the reciprocal nature of the relationship between people and law, the governed and the governing. Against the power-oriented visions of law and government, Brin has set a view, well expounded in jurisprudential works by the late Lon Fuller, who saw law as an enterprise with an internal morality demanding commitment from both the government and the governed to do things well and right if it is ever to succeed. Law as more than Fascist "Law and Order," imposed from without, law as good order springing from the better side of people.

By the story medium he chose, we should assume that Brin is, after all, making a point in political philosophy. We slip further and further away from our own responsibility for our government and our laws, a responsibility which the Postman shortsightedly fails to recognize as his own when he whines about wanting someone [else] to take responsibilit! y to set things right. The further we slip, the more we silently accept the message of the Nathan Holn and his survivalist gangs. We become mere followers in a world where only a few are willing to take responsibility ... and seeing the free reign they are given, abuse it.

Unfortunately, there is in Brin's tale more than a suggestion that "extraordinary individuals" are still required, and that it is acceptable for those individuals to use the "noble lie." In this one particular, Costner surpasses Brin at least once, when the movie's Abbey admits that she knew that the Postman was not really a messenger from the restored government -- a passing moment of recognition by the "little people" that they are participating in the forging of myth into reality. In Brin's book, only the leaders, the cognoscienti, appear to be smart enough and dedicated enough to acknowledge the Big Lie yet adhere to it as a Noble Necessity.

The fundamental message, still, is a simple one, and one that America sorely needs to grasp as one of the central demands of a free and open society. We are responsible for our government and our laws. It is only by accepting responsibility that we can keep alive our part in our government and our fate. There is no Sugarloaf Mountain on which we can hide for long, and the other alternative is passive and slave-like acceptance.

I really enjoyed the first half of this book. The wandering postman poser bringing hope to every town he visits. I enjoy the post apocalyptic genre, and felt the story was proceeding enjoyably without many post-ap cliches. I really liked the hope springing eternal aspect to it.

Unfortunately the second half of the book devolved into something that could only be saved by deus ex machina - which is exactly what happened. The characters stopped acting like believable people. Critical events happened that were difficult to believe and never explained (the Scout's plan "somehow" was uncovered). Characters were being killed off almost as though the author were afraid that the story wasn't having any emotional impact for the last many pages so maybe if someone we had been introduced to died...

I was very disappointed by the end of the book. If it had left the standard "good guy vs. bad guy climax" out, the whole story would have been better for it. If you really want to enjoy the book, just stop at the second interlude.

I love end-of-the-world fiction. My picks for the best of the genre include "The Stand," "On the Beach," "The Day of the Triffids" and "Lucifer's Hammer." Unfortunately, "The Postman" just isn't up to the standards set by these works. For one thing, the narrative ark takes some twists and turns into some unusal, but not at all together satisfying directions. For another, several key moments in the plot are based on non-too-plausible scenes of the hero overhearing conversations of his adversaries. Some of the action scenes are not terribly believable, and the ending of the book reads like a cliched Western. Nevertheless, Brin does pack his novel with a number of interersting ideas and notions that at least make it worth reading for those with an interest in this particular genre.

Brin's tale of a loner's midlife journey in a world devastated by warfare, climate change, and disease is exactly what genre-bound science fiction readers expect. The protagonist, Gordon, is an intellectual male whose resourcefulness has helped him adapt to a world whose institutions have collapsed and whose people live in tiny, scrabbling communities. He traverses the (former) Northwestern United States in vague search of something hope for - but accidentally, by way of a postman's uniform he finds in a moment of desperation, brings hope to everyone he encounters. Ultimately he must reconcile himself to the world as it has become and decide what is truly worth fighting for.

"The Postman" fancies itself an ideological novel, and Brin lays it on thick. Gordon's search for meaning is unceasing, and unceasingly discussed. While his crusade is at first sympathetic, it quickly wears thin under the novel's weight as, instead of developing Gordon's character, Brin attributes his every decision to the increasingly desctructive cause.

More than just lazily written, "The Postman" can be frustratingly immature. The protagonist's - and the book's - tone toward technology is plausible for the young college student Gordon once was, but inappropriate for a middle-aged man whose life and country have been destroyed by a machine society. Brin's version of feminism seems designed to win bonus points with female fans, but its heavy-handedness and condescension are no less alienating than outright sexism. These flaws, combined with Brin's broad-stroked, barely-serviceable prose, undermine any serious reader's enjoyment.

But "The Postman" is appealing nonetheless. It's easy to get into, and the action sequences are freqent and page-turning. The plot meanders pleasantly, making the book seem longer and meatier than it actually is, and although the ending is both sudden and predictable, it's not unsatisfying. And ultimately, Brin offers what many sci-fi readers are looking for: a world in which things are different, a new set of rules and a history that comments on our own. This is not great literature, but it's a fairly good book.

There just aren't enough epic novels of post-apocalyptic survival. I have enjoyed every one that I've read, and I keep trying to find more to read and enjoy. Now, that is not to say that all of them were good. Many of them were completely ridiculous and repellant. David Brin's "The Postman," however, manages to be not only enjoyable, but also good.

On his way across the fractured, war-wracked Northwest, world-weary Gordon is shot at, robbed, and generally kicked around. That's the nature of life in post-WWIII Oregon. As the story begins, Gordon has been working as an itinerant entertainer, reciting Shakespear for a bowl of soup and a place to sleep. When he stumbles across an old US Postal Serviceman's uniform, though, he decides to try a new scam. The idea of the United States' continued existence, however, is something of a free radical, inspiring anger and defiance against local warlords. Gordon becomes an important, if unwilling, figurehead in the locals' struggle for autonomy and a return to real civilized life.

Brin's book is a good read. The story's characters are few, but generally interesting and believable. Several of his sub-plots are iffy, especially his third act treatment of male-female relations. The book was written in the 80's, and his prediction of world events in the 1990s is also so wrong as to detract somewhat from the story (at least in my reading.) Still, it's satisfying, overall, and has both a sense of humor and a moral, not to mention laser satellites and artificial intelligences. For sci-fi fans, this is a fine choice.

A few years back I got interested in seeing how many books out there were written about life after either a nuclear war or massive epidemic that wipes out a lot of the earths population. There are many, to say the least.

Most are purely trashy adventure novels full of tough ex military types killing each other and nearly non existant plot lines. The Postman, on the other hand, is one of the few that I personally thought had an element of realism and an interesting plot. Earth Abides would probably be another.

A word of caution - if you liked the Costner movie 'the postman' and haven't read the book don't expect many simularities - other than some very general ones. Costner apparently thought that his ideas were more 'filmable' or whatever, but it ruined a great story (which I personally think would have made an excellent movie unchanged from how it was written by Brin). The character Gordon is completely different from book to movie, and this may throw you off if you are expecting the warrior minstrel from the movie in the book.

4 out of 5 because I didn't like the ending (the part about the females).

I have to go against the overwhelming tide of opinion that holds this novel to be an excellent work. The first half of the novel isn't bad as we accompany the protaganist and his effort to survive in post-apopcalyptic America. The character isn't heroic. Instead he's a survivor. And then we get started with the postman charade. At first it has potential - the reestablishing of communications to rebuild civilization. The lowly mailman suddenly stepping into a position as savior or at least rebuilder. The mundane civil servant now is heroic. Very intruiging. But then David Brin - ex-NASA scientist - has to bring in technology. Suddenly we have genetically engineered super-soldiers and something called neo-hippie technology. In one quick turn we are in some kind of world involving ressurrected 1960's philosophy! The book wanders around, looking for some kind of philosophical grounding. Why? Isn't it enough to have a story about the rebuilding of the country? Or did David Brin become bored with such an Earthy story and feel the need to go into space - so to speak. No I believe this book suffers from a lack of focus. A good idea, but not carried out completely.

"The Postman" is set in the 21st century. A war has brought about the collapse of civilization. America, once a great nation, no longer exists. All that is left are ruined cities, scattered tribes and lawlessness. It has been like this for sixteen years.

The hero is 34 year-old Gordon Krantz. He is travelling across the country, looking for something. Some sign of revival, someone who is "taking responsibility". After being robbed by bandits, Gordon is left with almost nothing. It looks as if he will either starve or freeze to death. Then, by an amazing stoke of luck, he finds the body of a postman. He puts on the uniform, and from that point, even though he doesn't know it, he has a new purpose.

He visits different tribes claiming to be a representative of the new government, the Restored United States. Gordon is really acting out an elaborate scam so he can get food and help. But Gordon is also giving people hope. Gordon becomes totally involved in his role, so that he almost believes in the lie himself. He even delivers mail to people as he travels.

"The Postman" has a "Mad Max" feel to it. There isn't as much action however, it's more of an intellectual story. This is the only novel I've read by David Brin. Even though we're told it's wrong to lie, Gordon's deception is the catylist for America's revival. The return of technology, a new beginning.

Everyone needs something to believe in. It's what keeps us going when times are hard. This is the message I believe Brin is trying to get across.

"You know why we just did that, don't you?" the reductive shell of a female character knowingly asked Gordon. She had long hair, and the diminished subservient personality of an aged male-virgin's fantasy. Her fearful, yet seductive stare betrayed an author's utter lack of contact with real women. She continued, "So, both of us understand why that just happened?"

Gordon nodded, and returned his focus to the ambiguous task at hand. "Well I don't!" cried the reader, panicked. But the chapter had already changed, and like the anthropomorphized weather, the mysterious dialogue was unyielding.

***

Several unspecified units of time later, the reader scrambled to find purchase on a new plot line. Gordon scraped the depths of his jaded mind to find obscure, archaic, quasi-metaphorical words to replace the simplest of adjectives. The tone was bombastic and stiff. An impentetrable fog of passive voice and rampant - Gordon chuckled as he acknowledged that some might even say reckless - thesaurus usage.

"For God's sakes, man! I prayed that you would return safely!" Gordon announced, with the boisterous formalized fervor of an Austonian aristocrat. Although there had been no context, it surfaced over the next few lines that he was speaking to a character previously unmentioned. Had the reader encountered this character before? Flipping back through the last few pages of italicized monologue proved inconclusive. He could not be sure. The character had spawned like a specter from the abyss of a sudden and unceremonious chapter break. This would be all the explanation given. A new chapter began, and the character vanished.

***

The reader despaired at the unsettling crumbling of a once coherent and optimistic plot, abandoned so many pages ago. Had the brilliant first third of the book been a dream? He could barely remember. Characters and locations now flitted in and out of the universe like confused curse words in a reader's mind. Bitter tears spewed forth, languishing in the protagonist's hypocrisy and wasted potential as the very genre itself shifted violently. Gordon's obsessively-repeated mantra breached again, this time taking on a new, universal meaning: "Who will take responsibility now?" Exhausted and exasperated, the reader bid Gordon farewell. Although the meeting had not been wholly unpleasant, they did not meet again.