334: A Novel

Thomas M. Disch’s 1974 novel, a mix of science fiction and Zola-like social realism, eyeballs 334 East 11th Street, New York City, home to a teeming mass of miserable, poverty-stricken occupants of a 21st century multistory apartment beehive. - Thomas Hobbs's philosophy of life as nasty, brutish, and short on a continual supply of amphetamines. Sorry to report, much of Disch's disturbing futuristic world has become harsh reality for huge chunks of our current-day population.Forty-eight chapters, five long and forty-three short, feature interlinking snapshosts of a dozen or so men and women bound by their common plight of sordidness and desperation. To share a glimpse of what a reader is in for, below are commentary on two of the chapters: first, a longer one, a tale about college student Birdie Ludd in battle with the forces of darkness; and the second, a shorter tale, a vivid sketch of an outing at a most unusual art exhibit:THE DEATH OF SOCRATESDegrading Education, One: Birdie Ludd has finally made it out of high school (P.S. 141) into one of New York City’s colleges only to sit in class listening to a professor on a TV yack nonstop about the life of Dante and how nearly everyone according to the Italian author’s Inferno will be tormented in hell, most certainly all the Jews. When a Jewish girl in the class says that doesn’t seem fair, the professor’s assistant simply replies there will be a test on the covered material. As Birdie is quick to recognize, none of what he is being force fed has any relevance to his everyday life and since teaching is done by television, there is absolutely no possibility of dialogue or a lively interchange of ideas; rather, he is required to simply swallow and regurgitate what he is given.Degrading Education, Two: Summoned to the front office, a Mr. Mack informs Birdie his score on the mandatory state test of “twenty-seven” was a mistake and Birdie is now being reclassified as a “twenty-four,” which means he will not be allowed to father any children. Poor Birdie! He complains it isn’t his fault his father has diabetes. But we learn there are more factors to consider, things like Birdie lacking any exceptional service for the country or the economy. Additionally, we read how Birdie losses points because of his father’s unemployment pattern but gains a few points “by being a Negro.” Goodness, sound like Disch’s futuristic world has the deck stacked against blacks. What else is new? Perhaps not so coincidentally, Philip K. Dick's novel Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said, also published in the 1970s, maps out genetic engineering geared to eliminate the US black population.Degrading Education, Three: Birdie pens an essay for class entitled Problems of Creativeness, that ends “Another criteria of Creativeness was made by Socrates, so cruelly put to death by his own people, and I quote, “To know nothing is the first condition of all knowledge.” From the wisdom of that great Greek Philosopher may we not draw our own conclusions concerning these problems. Creativeness is the ability to see relationships where none exist.” Read carefully, this essay reveals a highly imaginative, creative, intelligent mind buried under bad English and disastrous inner city public education. Thus the title of Disch’s tale, The Death of Socrates, bestows a double meaning. As they say, a mind is a terrible thing to waste – and observing the social forces crushing Birdie Lund’s brilliant mind makes for one sad, profound story.Crowd on the Anthill: Although Birdie is squashed and squeezed by cramped urban seediness, our young man has the capacity to perceive beauty radiating, glowing on the inside, even in dumb vending machines and blind, downtrodden faces. And, as to be expected, he has to continually fight through mass media and pop culture saturation – singing the words of commercials and viewing the movement of autos and ships as if moments from movies and television shows.Extreme Military Service: One of the saddest endings I’ve ever encountered: Highly intellectual, sensitive, aesthetically attuned Birdie Lund feels trapped no matter which way he turns. As a last resort, he sees but one option open to him. Here are Disch’s concluding words: “The same afternoon, without even bothering to get drunk, he went to Times Square and enlisted in the U.S. Marines to go and defend democracy in Burma. Eight other guys were sworn in at the same time. They raised their right arms and took one step forward and rattled off the Pledge of Allegiance or whatever. Then the sergeant came up and slipped the black Marine Crops mask over Birdie’s sullen face. His new ID number was stenciled across the forehead in big white letters: USMC 100-7011-D07. And that was it, they were gorillas.”A & P (2021)Lottie is at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, at an exhibit were there are rows and stacks and pyramids of cans, boxes, meats, dairy, candy, cigarettes, bread, fruits, vegetables – all with individual brand names. Juan is so delighted just to be with her here at the museum. For Lottie, this is a time of perfection, one she wishes she could hold forever: “The real magic, which couldn’t be laid hold of, was simply that Juan was happy and interested and willing to spend perhaps the whole day with her. The trouble was that when you tried this hard to stop the flow it ran through your fingers and you were left squeezing air.”Juan picks up a carrot that has the look and feel of being real but, of course, as part of the art exhibit, the carrot is not real. Visitors were given instructions as they entered the exhibit on what they would see and how to appreciate the art. The food and containers and cans are all fake, no matter how “real” they look – the Met’s tape said so, thus it must be true. But Juan insists, at the top of his lungs, that the carrot is real. One of the guards strides toward Juan and both he and Lottie are thrown out.We can all recognize how this unusual art exhibit takes Andy Warhol’s Brillo Boxes and Campbell Soup Cans and expands the concept quantitatively. Arthur C. Danto has written extensively on how Warhol’s creations herald in the “death of art” in the sense that objects of art are no longer separate from everyday objects, no longer special pieces like landscape oil paintings or marble sculptures; rather, the art world defines what is and what is not art. Traveling uptown from his downtown cockroach infested 334 mega-apartment, Juan doesn’t buy into the art world’s artificial distinction. Damn, it’s a carrot! A subtle Thomas M. Disch comment on the would-be state of the visual arts in the years following Warhol and the “death of art.”Again, these are but two of forty-eight chapters. I hope I have whetted your appetite to sample more of Disch's novel. Special thanks to Goodreads friend Manny Rayner for alerting me to this forgotten classic.

What a time to be reading these stories! Written in the early and mid-1970’s, the collected stories novel “334” takes place in an impoverished and overpopulated apartment building at 334 East 11th Street in NYC. Reading the stories in 2023 is eye-opening, what Disch gets right, and what he misses.The five opening stories have fully drawn characters in completely unimaginable situations. In “The Death of Socrates,” young Birdy works to improve his Regents score so that he can get government permission to have a child with Milly. In “Bodies,” Ab Holt sells bodies from the hospital morgue to a necrophiliac brothel to make extra money, but has to back out of one deal. In “Everyday Life in the Later Roman Empire,” a common drug allows Alexa to live both in the present and in a parallel shadow world of 334 AD Rome, where she can both “dream responsibly” and try to get her 21st century son Tancred into a good high school. In “Emancipation,” Boz and Milly have a good enough Regents score to have government approved children but the surprising process is grueling. In “Angouleme,” the least sci-fi-based and dystopian story, and the only story that takes place largely outside the 334 building, a group of teenagers (including Tancred and the fabulously named Little Mister Kissy Lips) plan a “Crime and Punishment” or a Leopold and Loeb-style murder.The last third of the book is labelled “334.” It describes fragments of life among many of the previously mentioned characters in the giant building, where elevators don’t work, many have borrowed children so that they can maintain the required number of residents to keep their apartments, television seems to be mostly ads, approved “temps” take up life on the stairs, and everyone has a side hustle. Much of the action is unhinged but it generally ignites and coalesces at the end.In “The Death of Socrates” story, Birdy writes an essay to improve his Regents score. The essay ends with the statement “Creativeness is the ability to see relationships where none exist.” This is Disch’s strong point, creating images and making connections that are not obvious but resonate and create a vividly unexpected world. The relationships in “334” exist both between the characters and the wild situations in which they live.In the final “334” section, the genius child-bearing Shrimp (who is Boz’s brother) says that “a building is like…. It’s a symbol of the life you lead inside it.” Disch does a great job of making the building at 334 a metaphor, drawing connections between the struggling residents and the shabby building.But written in 1972, Disch does not anticipate the internet or cell phones. People are constantly walking (since the elevators haven’t worked for years) down 18 flights of stairs to get their mail and visiting offices and trying to contact people in unknown locations. In 2026, NYC is outrageously expensive and masses of people live on the government dole with a few rich people in good jobs. But otherwise, the novel “334” mostly depicts the emotional lives of people struggling in the near future dystopia. It’s also much queerer than I might have guessed from the online summaries. Disch himself was gay and isn’t afraid to depict his queer and trans brothers and sisters in “334.”It's a fun read, probably not essential, but interesting in the way that so much 1970’s sci-fi and experimental literature is interesting.

Amazing book. Must read.

Disch takes us through the lives of several people living at 334 11th Street, an apartment complex contolled by MODICOM; a modern day welfare system of social case workers.The time frame jumps between 2020 and 2026, and especially in Part III the time frames jump from chapter to chapter, even with the same characters. It got a little frustrating when something would happen to one of them, and suddenly you are back in a time frame with this same character that you read about already, 50 pages ago. Some of Disch's characters are fully formed and multi-dimensional, but unfortunatly those are not the ones we get to see the most of.Mainly, the story follows the Hansen's and the people they know and come in contact with in 334. Despite not being the best story Disch has written, the prose and poetry of his writing is still very much present, and at only 250 pages this is still a good addition to your reading pile.

Tom Disch books are getting difficult to find, and I'm not sure why. So it's very helpful that these ebooks are available. The two stars are not for content, this is Mr. Disch's masterpiece. But the format of the book leaves something to be desired--specifically, it does not have a working table of contents. There is a page with the chapters on it but they are not interactive. Thus the only way to navigate the book is to turn one page at a time. This is a ridiculous issue to have in an ebook sold by Amazon.

It was just as described.