Solaris by Stanislaw Lem (1961)
Harvest Book, Translated from the French by Kilmartin and Cox
204 pages
Reader Response by Matt H. [v 2.76] from Reading Odyssey
Rating: Has good points but not entirely recommended
Story Summary
Solaris is an enigmatic planet in a binary star system that has been studied extensively by scientists for over a century. The planet is covered by a vast ocean of mysterious “plasma.” Over the course of many scientific expeditions the ocean is found to have strange properties and formations that hint at the fact it could be alive and even intelligent. A research station has been constructed on the planet that hovers above the ocean for observation and experiment.
The story begins as psychologist Kris Kelvin arrives at the station to find it in terrible disarray. The two scientists there, Snow and Sartorius, are found to be under extreme mental stress and are behaving very strangely. A third has recently committed suicide. As the story unfolds, the three battle to maintain their sanity, and to formulate a plan of action as the ocean-entity manifests “psi-creatures”, physical apparitions, drawn from their minds and unconscious. In the case of Kelvin the mental stress is wrought by the apparition of a tragic past lover.
Critical Reader Response
Solaris is an interesting and original book, however as a novel, I don’t think it entirely succeeds. The balance between suggesting and explaining is askew, and I believe the book has other problems.
The first quarter of Solaris is very good as a novel and a story. It achieves a memorable portrayal of a sterile, claustrophobic, futility as well as hallucination, terror, doubting one’s sanity and lost love.
Unfortunately, the themes and scenes that were effective in the opening seem to be just repeated with minor variations subsequently. And the variations just do not make a compelling or very coherent story. The reader wonders, why must we have this scene again? How is it moving the story forward? Why is it necessary? I think partly it was the writer’s aim to portray frustrating indecision and stasis. Perhaps he did too good a job of it, because in the end any actual “action” is painfully slow in coming and when it comes, the reader’s ability to care may have been eroded.
Because of the narrative devices used, one can neatly divide the content into two parts – the story at hand, and the narrator’s account of scientific research on Solaris. There is nothing inherently wrong with this except that the two do not co-exist very well. The scientific accounts are detailed and lengthy. (The trope of finding a clue in a dusty, obscure book in the library is used over and over.) For this reader’s taste these passages were still interesting. There is a lot of soaring, colorful description that is well employed. However the passages are just too long and towards the end of the book, the reader wonders... How is the writer going to tie all this up, and relate it to the rest of the plot satisfyingly in the remaining 40 pages? – The answer is, he doesn’t!
Sympathy for the protagonist and his psychological trials was fraught with qualifications. He is a man of science, but he makes very unscientific decisions. He lies blandly to the apparition that he loves so much repeatedly. It would have been more intriguing to hear him attempt to explain things rationally to her.
Between the protagonist and his apparition, Leyna, there is a little too much weeping, pale faces, hair-stroking, clinging, promising, etc. In this reviewer’s opinion, the overall effect is unappealing and a little sappy.
Feminist critics I imagine have a field day with this novel. I will duly note that every novel is a product of its time, etc. However some things will certainly jangle current sensibilities without much deep probing. The character Lenya is the quintessential “dolly.” She is pretty and 19-years old, and seems pre-sexual. She is always wide eyed, spaced out and highly emotional. She reads cookbooks and clears the table while the men work on scientific problems. Yes, part of her mental capacity could be ascribed to the plot, but it was nevertheless the clear result of the author’s choosing. This is the object of the Kelvin’s great transcendental love... He is not admirable in that respect. And that love being a major part of the plot weakens the novel.
There are a few logical, structural and plot problems too. Some of these could be argued by critics with different tastes. The apparitions of the other two scientists (each one has his own "visitor") are never revealed, nor is the exact nature of the psychological torment they inflict. Can a book have three or four scenes with mysterious creatures screaming, running around, knocking over furniture all behind closed doors and never finally reveal any clue as to what they were? This seemed a flaw in the story. Another foible was the way in which a psychologist picks up a few advanced texts on neutrino physics and quickly formulates some original and critical equations from them, as Kelvin does. (I said, Hey, wait, he's not a physicist!) Overall the rest of the science presented is fairly believable. In addition, the reason for not leaving the station when faced with all this horror, suicide and insanity, though touched on, was not adequately re-enforced. Towards the very end other loose ends became apparent too. (We never hear Gibarian's recording, nor do we find out why the robots were removed though an explanation is promised.)
Perhaps judged as a collection of philosophical and creative musings Solaris can be assessed more kindly. There are many poetically and mysteriously expressed ideas contained within the science sections. Lem’s writing is skillful. He describes some fascinating phenomena with amazing detail as well as some vivid psychological situations. The type of being that the ocean is (or may be), is a highly original creation.
Ambiguity is of course an essential element of fiction, but for a novel reader I think there is a limit to how much “maybe this, maybe that” that one can stand --especially when there is no follow-up or definitive answer.
Perhaps the work might have benefited from some cuts, both in the repetitive scenes and in the science sections, or even divided into two books. A book only about the history of scientific research on Solaris could have been effective. Also effective could have been a shorter novella exploiting the Sci Fi horror atmosphere of the opening with greatly reduced science sections. As it stands, Solaris is a pretty rough read as a novel.
Last edited:
