The sixth and last of the original Lensman series has all the hallmarks of a Doc Smith story: complex interstellar politics, a cosmic struggle of good and evil, perfect but one-dimensional heroes, intrigue and espionage, mind games, and hard speculative science. But it has some fundamental differences that make it stand out.
First of all, though Smith still is not a master wordsmith, his writing has matured and advanced by miles since he wrote "Triplanetary" in 1934. Most noticeable is his language, which is less geared towards kids, and his dialogue doesn't sound like it was written for a 1930s gangster film. At the very least, it seems he invested in a thesaurus, as he throws in a fair share of grandiloquent words.
The second difference is that we no longer are only following the adventures of Kim Kinnison, the star of the previous three novels. Here we have more of an ensemble cast, where other Lensmen, including Kim's wife Clarissa, have a lot to do. And as the title suggests, we are introduced to Kinnison's children, a boy and two sets of twin girls, who are all products of a grand scheme of eugenics by formless cosmic beings to develop a race of superheroes. These children were born with mental powers of a Second-Stage Lensman, which normally requires many years of training, and are set up to be the first Third-Stage Lensmen.
Reading this final book compelled me to think about the series as a whole, and even about Doc Smith's overall philosophy in his two famous space operas. Dick Seaton, from the Skylark series, and the Lensmen are genocidal heroes. Faced with cultures so completely dedicated to evil, only complete extermination is a viable option. You can't reason with or rehabilitate cancer. Every last cell needs to be cut out or everything dies. As Smith's writing grew more nuanced over his career, he did a better job of portraying the tradegy of evil. Those who live to destroy are themselves destroyed. They are either eaten from within by unhappiness, killed by their own treacherous kind in the clamor for power, or face the consequences of those who deny them the satisfaction of enslavement and killing. For Smith, when you serve death, you receive only death, an unbreakable and universal law.
Therefore, the law applies to even the good guys. Early in this novel, the dragon-like Lensman Worsel discovers a remnant cell of Overlords who have been engaging in piracy and torture of innocent space travelers. Driven by hate and vengeance, Worsel and his crew kill every last Overlord except for the leader, who is strung up on a rack and himself tortured gleefully. This blurring of the line between good and evil is reinforced by the consequences of the protagonists' actions. Each time they develop a new, ultra powerful weapon to wipe out the bad guys, this technology then becomes usurped and mastered by the other side, or rendered neutral. As this book rightly points out, "What science invents, science can circumvent". Thus, even the Lens becomes almost obsolete as the new standards for warfare escalate to unfathomable proportions, meaning the heroes are constantly threatened with the very same means of annihilation that they created. We also see this same idea explored in the Skylark series.
All the more poignantly, Smith typically denies us any catharsis through violence. You never get a "You killed my father--prepare to die" moment, no emotional crescendo of a Luke Skywalker vs. a Darth Vader. Face-to-face battles are rare, and when they do happen, they are usually silent mind struggles that end in a whimper as the defeated mind is extinguished. Most of the time, the violence is on such all massive scale that it is impersonal. We don't get to see a villain's comeuppance in a way that gives us any satisfaction. They are just among the countless casualties as their whole world is crushed between two other planets or vaporized by a massive beam of energy from a sun. And just when you think the story has reached its climax, it twists and turns into another climax, with even bigger stakes and bigger guns. This novel continues that theme of the endless cycle of war, and confronts the audience with their own expectations of thrilling kills that pay off with a neatly wrapped-up finale.
This book showcases another groundbreaking characteristic of the series with a veracity never before seen. Women and men are treated as equally capable of effective action. Sure, Clarissa and each of her daughters are the products of a selective breeding program, but they don't just rely on their superpowers, and are given more attention as fully fleshed out characters than Kinnison, making their heroism even more believable and doubling our investment in their success. We are reminded that sometimes they act immature, or are vain, but they earned all of their abilities, have sacrificed normal youth for a higher cause greater than themselves, and can be just as deadly as any soldier.
On the negative side, Smith really tried to tie up all the loose ends created by his overly convoluted contortions to turn previously unrelated books into a series, but it only meant throwing twists into previously established lore, much of which was unnecessary and made things even more confusing and far-fetched. He does all this while trying to introduce us to not one, not two, but FIVE new protagonists. Needless to say, it's all too much, especially if you don't already know the previously established characters and lore. There is absolutely no way anyone who hasn't read the previous books would know what is going on here. I didn't--and I HAD read the whole series.
What also makes the story so confusing is that Smith tries to make it somewhat of a mystery. All the good guys are on separate missions to try to root out an ultimate mastermind with an unknown identity. But Smith sucks at writing mysteries. Clues and answers just suddenly appear out of nowhere. There will be all kinds of investigation going on, and then somebody will say, "You know who is suspicious? Bob." And then all of the good guys respond, "Bob! Yes, of course! We knew it all along!" The perplexed reader, at this point, is flipping through pages trying to figure out how they previously missed who Bob was. But Bob didn't exist as even a passing reference for six books!
Also, though I applaud the improvement in his writing style, Smith was clearly too much the aspie engineer to competently write characters. He may be an expert in physics and chemistry, but he just doesn't understand how PEOPLE work. And sometimes it comes across as downright creepy. For example, he seems to fall in love with his own fantasy heroines, and wants so badly to show off how beautiful they are to his readers. Yet, he thinks the only way to get this across is by having other characters tell the reader, and the only human characters in the story are family. Therefore, he has brothers and sisters being very inappropriate with each other, and all the children of the Lens seem to have the outright hots for their mother. The son is constantly caressing his mother Clarissa by the waist, lifting her off the ground, kissing her full on the mouth, and calling her gorgeous. Smith never really shows any other aspect of their relationship, no motherly affection or care for her children, no hint of their struggles as a family with incredible responsibilities. So, Clarissa and her son are written more like lovers than anything. In another scene, Clarissa is conducting an investigation in the nude--standard practice, of course--and her daughter Kay gawks at her and says, "All kidding aside, mums, but you're a mighty smart-looking hunk of woman."
Jesus, Doc, we get it! Clarissa's a milf! Now will you get back to the rayguns and aliens, already?
I don't think Smith meant to inject incestuous tendencies into his family of superheroes. Rather, like Stephen King, Greg Bear, Richard Laymon, and other writers who fall on the spectrum, he just didn't have any self-awareness at all when it came to how his own preoccupations translated to the page. He's like the crusty genius who starts clipping his fungal toenail claws at an executive board meeting or who sniffs the hair of his boss's daughter at the company picnic. I suspect, after he retired from food engineering, his wife just tucked him away in his workshop to tinker with his tools and write his outer space stories whenever she invited company over or had Tupperware parties.
Overall, "Lensman" is far from my favorite science fiction series, and I certainly have had my ups and downs with it. But now that I've read all the core stories, I must say that I am immensely impressed with how groundbreaking, how ambitious, and how poignant this series really is. I would not say this is one of the best of the original six books, and it is not one that really stands very well on its own, because so much world-building has taken place in the previous novels that is required to keep the reader oriented. And as I said, Smith's imagination is far more expansive than his awkward writing skills. But for those who have enjoyed any of the other entries, this one sure ends things with a great big exclamation point, and if you're like me, this book may even force you to think more carefully about the series as a whole and reread the whole thing again through this new "lens".
SCORE: 3 children of the Lens out of 5
WORD OF THE DAY: Internecine