Harry Harrison's 1960 novel Deathworld, the first part in an eponymous trilogy, is a pointed allegorical critique of humanity's adversarial relationship with nature. It takes place on an alien planet named Pyrrus, where humans have long been caught in an unrelenting arms race with the planet's indigenous life. Over the past three centuries, this race has made Pyrrus' human and nonhuman life forms alike uniquely lethal, but the human side has been gradually losing ground, proving the maxim that recklessly disrupting one's environment undermines one's own existence. The lessons for our world are hard to miss.
The story begins on a different planet called Cassylia, a gambling world where our protagonist, seasoned gambler Jason dinAlt, is currently to be found. A mysterious off-worlder named Kerk Pyrrus approaches Jason with a proposition: If Jason can turn 27 million credits into 3 billion, he gets to keep any winnings beyond that; but if he fails, he will be killed. The novel turns into a high-stakes thriller as Jason, under constant threat from both Kerk and a rapacious casino owner determined to prevent his success, eventually succeeds and he and Kerk flee Cassylia with the money.
As they speed away from Cassylia, Kerk–who we learn is a Pyrran ambassador to Cassylia–assumes his business with Jason is done. He plans to return to Pyrrus and use his share of the money to buy weapons for the ongoing Pyrran war against nature, and expects Jason to seek a life of leisure with his share. However, Jason insists on accompanying Kerk to Pyrrus, arguing that if Kerk needed such lethal goods once, he'll most likely need them again, and wouldn't it be better to have Jason on hand when he does? Kerk relents but guardedly adds, "I hope you will still be alive when we need you."
The remark is well warranted, for Pyrrus is a harsh and unforgiving world indeed. It has gravity nearly twice that of Earth, wildly fluctuating temperatures, a volatile climate, unceasing volcanic activity, and an axial tilt that causes drastic seasonal temperature changes and a constantly shifting icecap. The planet's flora and fauna seem to have evolved solely for the purpose of killing; they include everything from lizards that spit nerve poison, to grass blades tipped with hard, piercing hooks, to creatures capable of biting through metal. What's more, they seem to be growing increasingly lethal and hostile with each passing year.
Humans have evolved to meet the rising threat on Pyrrus. Pyrrans are built like wrestlers with superhuman reflexes and agility. Due to their high mortality rate, their maturation process has been greatly accelerated. The shockingly small fraction who make it to eight years old are considered adults. Survival has been prioritized over traditional education, and thus schooling consists of a mere six years devoted to practical skills essential for survival on Pyrrus. Historical knowledge holds little value in Pyrran society, reflecting a logic of the moment in which past and future are deemed unchangeable and uninteresting. Humor is a lost art, and peace is considered cowardly and defeatist.
Jason receives an injection to boost his metabolism so he can build muscle faster and better adapt to Pyrrus' gravity. He is kept indoors for his safety. He attends the same classes as Pyrrus' children, who deride him as a "soft off-worlder." Eventually, however, he hits his stride, graduating from student to one of the trainers. He also becomes something of a public intellectual and brings to Kerk's attention the fact that Pyrran humans are gradually losing their war against their environment. Kerk is persuaded by Jason's argument and helps him establish an office to further study the issue.
In the course of his investigation, Jason discovers and makes contact with another race of humans on Pyrrus called "grubbers," who are the antithesis of the humans he's dealt with thus far, living in harmony with nature rather than seeking to conquer it. The grubbers live an agrarian existence free from the terrors visited upon their "civilized" counterparts by Pyrrus' nonhuman life forms. (Their technology, though, isn't what one might expect in an agrarian society–it's an intriguing bricolage of old and new, not a mere throwback to the rustic simplicity of some previous era.) From their experience, Jason learns that the key to thriving on Pyrrus is working with nature, not trying to dominate it.
Much of the rest of the novel has an espionage feel as Jason skillfully navigates the tensions between the city dwellers and the grubbers in an effort to achieve peace between the two factions. Playing something of a double agent, he uses clever deceptions to infiltrate and gather crucial information from both sides, leading to a meticulously orchestrated standoff between the two. Everything culminates in a satisfying conclusion involving huge revelations about Pyrrus' longstanding conflicts and mysteries.
There's much of interest in Deathworld. Its depiction of Pyrrus' exotic alien ecology is imaginative and fascinating; the main characters are interesting and well developed; and the plot abounds with action, adventure and unexpected twists. The novel's exploration of human nature is equally compelling, as is its social and political commentary. And the book is wonderfully contrarian in its depiction of a future that embraces both old and new technologies, as opposed to one whose technology is either entirely futuristic or completely rooted in the past.
Another notable feature of Deathworld is the presence of psionic powers. Jason's success at gambling is explained by a unique ability of his to influence the outcomes of random events; and we learn that Pyrrus' native life forms are sensitive to the collective psychic energy and unconscious thoughts of the planet's human occupants. There's also a brief mention of psi research centers, indicating the existence of some sort of formalized scientific study or research related to psi powers. All of this makes Deathworld a product of its time, namely the post-war psi boom in science fiction, an era when the genre was more open to themes that are now mostly partitioned off into fantasy.
The novel's central message that our well-being as a species hinges on our ability to coexist harmoniously with nature is simple, yet poignant. It's also especially timely as modern examples like deforestation, overfishing and unchecked industrial pollution show how disrupting that harmony leads to our own undoing.
*******
If you enjoyed this review, you might find STELLA: The Mushroom Girl from Outer Space an engaging read.
