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By Patrick Clark

    Time Out of Joint is really one of Philip K. Dick’s minor novels. And yet it is very often linked in many people’s minds with Phil’s later and more sophisticated works such Martian Time-Slip, UBIK, and The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldrich. The reason this is so, I believe, is because in TOOJ Phil’s perennial issue, the true nature of reality, is given it’s most literal expression. Ragle Gumm lives in a world that is completely manufactured, created for no other purpose than to fool him. The town where he lives, his job, his family and neighbors, the newspapers and television programs, the very era are all fakes. While the novels of the Sixties are both better realized and in many ways the "reality breakdowns" are much more terrifying, this tale from the Eisenhower period beautifully captures the whole paranoid point-of-view that is practically a PKD trademark. Certainly Phil had explored the issue of "what is real" in earlier short stories and novels, especially Eye in the Sky. But in Eye in the Sky the bogus realities are accidental, the results of the characters’ proximity to the malfunctioning Bevatron. In TOOJ there is an actual conspiracy. Someone is doing it on purpose.

TOOJ arrived at the Scot Meredith Literary Agency on April 7, 1958 and was immediately offered to Ace Books. Ace had published all of Phil’s novels up to this point and the editor, Donald Wollheim, was a strong supporter of his work. But Ace passed on TOJ. According to Phil, Wollheim demanded an extensive rewrite, essentially wanting him to throw out the first 100 or so pages and developing the last portion into a standard Ace science fiction yarn. "He was incredibly threatened by that novel," Phil told Gregg Rickman. "He saw everything that he construed as science fiction as going down the tubes with what that novel did.... [H]e said the only thing salvageable was the last chapter, where there was the war on the moon. And I should build back from the last chapter." (Rickman 1989: 72) Wollheim had a different memory of the events.


"I accepted it. Wyn [Ace’s publisher A.A. Wyn] went through it but he didn’t dislike it. He didn’t like things like the ‘soft drink stand’ that disappears. He wanted to ask Dick to rewrite. He sent a list of suggestions to Meredith, but instead of sending it to Phil for revisions Lippincott called out of the blue and said they wanted to start up a science fiction line. So Meredith had this available and shipped it right off to Lippincott who printed it with no changes. So that’s how we lost Philip K. Dick." (Rickman 1989: 302)

Lippincott purchased TOOJ in July and published it, in hardcover, during the Spring of 1959. Phil was pleased to have a hardcover edition -- his first -- though the publisher had only paid him $750. There were two reviews, both in the science fiction press. Frederick Pohl, in the November 1959 issue of If, found it a "most uneven book" though possessing a "masterful opening." But he complained that the novel "doesn’t exactly end. It disintegrates." Still, he found that "Time Out of Joint is science fiction, all right, and fine of its kind in the first hundred-odd pages." (Pohl 1959: 98) P. Schuyler Miller, writing in the January 1960 issue of Analog, called it "good hard-shell science fiction" and "a grand job of writing." He summarized the plot as if "the entire cast of DeMille’s ‘Ten Commandments’ had been rehearsed to convince one insignificant extra that he is an Egyptian laborer." (Schuyler Miller 1960: 174) But such reviews seem to have had little effect especially as Lippincott marketed TOOJ as "a novel of menace" rather than as science fiction. Many American readers never saw the book until Belmont reprinted it in paperback in 1965.

It wasn’t just the public that forgot about TOJ. So, for the most part, did Phil. The first reference to TOOJ in The Selected Letters doesn’t appear until January 4, 1960, in a letter to Scott Meredith, where Phil refers to his book as "a psychological s-f book." (SL1: 54) He doesn’t speak of it again until September 8, 1970, in passing, in a letter to Sandra Miesel. (SL1: 285) It’s true we do not have all of Phil’s letters available at this time so it is possible that other, unpublished letters may show evidence that Phil had not completely forgotten his old novel. But there is no discussion of TOOJ in any of Phil’s interviews either. There is a slight reference in the Vertex interview in 1974 but only as an illustration of how poorly the s.f. field paid authors. (Cover: 37 ) There is no mention at all in the extensive Science Fiction Review interview of 1976 or in the interview, which appeared in Aquarian in 1978.

But Phil, as the Exegesis clearly demonstrates, had been thinking anew about TOJ, though the references are few. In a long paragraph, written in 1977, Phil realizes that TOOJ is a reversal of the 3-74 experience since it postulates "real" time as being in the future (1998) instead of the past (c. 70 AD) as he now holds. (Dick 1991: 168-69) Usually, though, TOOJ is clustered with other novels. In 1978 he writes, "EYE, JOINT, 3 STIGMATA, UBIK & MAZE are the same novel written over and over again." (Dick 1991: 177). These are private meditations. When Phil spoke with Charles Platt, circa March 1980, TOOJ is mentioned briefly in the course of a discussion of Phil’s drug use. However by September of 1981, speaking with Gregg Rickman, Phil has a new perspective on his old book. He calls it,

a pivotal book in terms of my career. It was my first hardcover sale, and it was the first novel I wrote in which the entire world is fake. You find yourself in it when you pick up the book and turn to page one. The world that you are reading about does not exist. And this was to be the premise of my entire corpus of writing really.... The phenomenal world is not the real world, it is something other than the real world. It is either semi-real, or some kind of forgery. (Rickman 1984: 138)

Critical appraisal of TOOJ has followed a similar trajectory. The cottage industry in academic circles explicating Phil’s works has essentially ignored this early book in favor of later, better known novels. It is always noted but seldom examined. Patricia Warrick’s full-length study, Mind In Motion: The Fiction of Philip K. Dick, spares but four paragraphs on TOOJ and Douglas Mackey’s survey of Phil’s novels gives it less than three pages. The many essays which have appeared are not much better. The forty articles from Science Fiction Studies collected in On Philip K. Dick, for example, treat TOOJ only in passing, if at all. Fortunately in the last couple of years studies by Umberto Rossi, Yves Potin, and Andrew P. Hoberek have redressed this scholarly indifference to some extent. More importantly, the individual readers, those who read Phil for personal pleasure and enlightenment, have embraced the tale of Ragle Gumm as a quintessential "phildickian" work. I want to suggest, somewhat tongue in cheek, that the reason it is so popular is at the same time the books biggest problem. I refer, of course, to the issue of the famous "disappearing soda stand."

Let’s revisit the scene. In Chapter Three Ragle Gumm is in the public park with Junie Black, reciting Goethe and plotting adultery. Annoyed and frustrated by Junie’s immaturity he goes down the hill to buy a beer at a soft-drink stand that he has seen in the distance.

The child ahead of him received its candy bar and raced off. Ragle laid down his fifty-cent piece on the counter.

"Got any beer?" he said. His voice sounded funny. Thin and remote. The counter man in white apron and cap stared at him, stared and did not move. Nothing happened. No sound, anywhere. Kids, cars, the wind; it all shut off.

The fifty-cent piece fell away, down through the wood, sinking. It vanished.

I’m dying, Ragle thought. Or something.

Fright seized him. He tried to speak, but his lips did not move for him. Caught up in the silence.

Not again, he thought.

Not again!

It’s happening to me again.

The soft-drink stand fell into bits. Molecules. He saw the molecules, colorless, without qualities, that made it up. Then he saw through, into the space beyond it, he saw the hill behind, the trees, the sky. He saw the soft-drink stand go out of existence, along with the counter man, the cash register, the big dispenser of orange drink, the taps for Coke and root beer, the ice chests of bottles, the hot dog broiler, the jars of mustard, the shelves of cones, the row of heavy round metal lids under which were the different ice creams.

In its place was a slip of paper. he reached out his hand and took hold of the slip of paper. On it was printing, block letters.


    This is probably the most famous scene in the entire Philip K. Dick oeuvre. It may be one of the most famous scenes in all of science fiction. I quote it here because everyone quotes it, beginning with the original Lippincott edition in which the last paragraphs are printed on the back of the dust jacket. The 1979 Dell paperback edition of TOOJ uses the scene as the cover illustration.* VALIS only knows how many unwary readers have been snared into the PKD universe upon reading this passage for the first time. Paul Williams relates that his friends convinced him that "something truly was missing from my life if I wasn’t reading Philip K. Dick. I think it was Bhob who sealed my fate, in some Lower East Side apartment, by reading me two pages from Time Out of Joint." (Williams: 14-15) I think we can safely guess which two pages they were.

The passage is riveting, a powerful and shocking rendition of the world going suddenly and inexplicably crazy. The very ordinariness of the source of the breakdown -- a soda stand -- makes it funny but also makes it so disquieting. It’s not as if an entire city has suddenly vanished, just an insignificant retail food outlet. But implicit in its disappearance is the unavoidable conclusion that something is very, very wrong. Those jars of mustard and tubs of ice cream are every bit as important to reality as the hills and the sky. And there is no avoiding the obvious LSD take on the missing soft-drink stand, especially to readers in the Sixties and Seventies. Phil addressed the matter himself in an interview with Charles Platt: "Far-fucking out, spacey, that’s an ‘acid experience.’ If I didn’t know better I’d say that this author has turned on many times, and his universe was coming unglued -- he’s obviously living in a false universe." (Platt: 168) In fact, TOOJ was written long before Phil dropped acid; it is purely a product of his extraordinary imagination. But in the course of the psychedelic revolution, the vanishing soft-drink stand must have struck many readers as, well, "cosmic."

So we are presented with a fabulously described reality breakdown. But no explanation follows. We know the slips of paper exist. Sammy finds a few independent of Ragle. Ragle shows his collection of slips to Vic.** The "Soft-Drink Stand" document has a tangible existence in the actual world. But what does it mean and how does it work? Phil doesn’t tell us. He tosses some ideas out by having Ragle quote the New Testament, "In the beginning was the word" but then has him switch to a line from Faust "In the beginning was the deed." Later, speaking with Vic, Ragle will consider Bishop Berkeley and speculate that "we live in words. Our reality, among words not things.... Word is more real than the object it represents." (Chapter 4) But this is no conclusion at all and the matter is essentially dropped for the rest of the book.

The mystery of the soft-drink stand has bothered readers from the beginning, starting with A.A. Wyn looking over the original draft submitted to Ace. It seems that no one ever asked Phil for an explanation in the numerous interviews he gave nor in any of the published letters we possess, which seems rather odd in retrospect. And so various readers have offered "solutions" trying to make sense of the situation. Stephen Wright suggests, "The slips of paper are needed to ‘cue’ people to the locations of imaginary structures or objects. That way, the construction of an entire, detailed town could be avoided." (Wright) A little thought on the matter, however, collapses this argument. For the slips to work in that fashion one would have to be close enough to read them. Ragle first sees the soft-drink stand from a distance. He’s too far away to see the slip of paper let alone read the "cue" it contains.

The objects represented on the slips make little sense. One of the slips of paper reads "BOWL OF FLOWERS" and another "DOOR." But there is no possible need to "pretend" to have a bowl of flowers. You can either set up the real thing or simply not bother to provide such a prop to begin with. And how hard can it be to put up a door? A third slip reads BRIDGE and what would happen if Ragle tried to walk across such a thing? Old Town is a highly detailed construct, not just a Potemkin Village of wooden fronts with no backs or interiors. For that matter Bill Black remarks in Chapter Fourteen that there are 1600 people in the town -- couldn’t one of them work as a counter man at an actual soft-drink stand?

In fact, the soda-stand is just one of the many problems in TOJ. For instance, if Ragle Gumm is the key to Earth’s defense against the rebellious Lunar colonists, why don’t they simply assassinate him? They are close enough and ruthless enough (they are, after all, dropping hydrogen bombs and assorted non-nuclear weapons on the Earth). If, for some reason the Lunatics wish to spare Ragle’s life, why do they use such inefficient means to try to snap him out of his delusional state? They hide old issues of Look magazine in the basement of some ruins and show him models of futuristic factory and military installations. Surely something more direct and more obvious, such as the issue of Time with Ragle as Man of the Year, would be a better strategy. Why doesn’t the Earth just nuke the Lunatics in the first place? Earth has space flight of its own; they fly to Venus where they maintain medical clinics. If Ragle is so crucial why is security so lax at the Old Town project? Every pilot who flies overhead seems to know Ragle is down there and the Keitelbeins have infiltrated the site to within a few doors of Ragle’s home. And how do the Keitelbeins manage to leave Old Town? How are they able to pass through the various security checkpoints, to arrive just in time to enlighten Ragle and provide him the means to escape to the Moon? The soft-drink stand is just one of the many unresolved issues but it is the most vital.***

At least with his later novels, Phil’s method of constructing a narrative was somewhat unusual. " A premise or idea, call it what you will, pops into my head for no reason, " he explained to Ray Browne in a letter dated March 21, 1969. "The premise lies there, sometimes untouched for weeks, or months -- or forever, as in some cases." But if that idea took root, and more details and questions grew, Phil would begin to write down his ideas. At some point even minor details would occur to him and he notes these down as well. Eventually , he continues, "I would have enough holographic notes, and I would begin typing the notes into sequence as the ideas occurred to me, not according to their dramatic order. " After the ideas had jelled, Phil would create a cast of characters and finally a plot. "The plot would come last," he told Browne. (SL1: 243-44)

We do not have Phil’s notes and outline for TOOJ so we cannot say for sure that this was the manner in which he constructed the book. But it is not unreasonable to think that something very much like this process was involved. If so, the vanishing soft-drink stand may have "popped" into his head long before he knew what he planned to do with the image.**** When the time came to explain the mechanism of its vanishing, Phil drew a blank.

By now it must be obvious that the title of this essay is facetious. There is no explanation for the vanishing soda-stand. Phil didn’t have one when he wrote the scene and he didn’t have one when the novel was finished. He threw in some talk from the Gospel of St. John, some vague suggestions from the English Idealists but this was just smoke and mirrors. The mystery of the soft-drink stand is dropped and never picked up again. It is quite simply an arresting image and that is all. How did Phil expect to get away with this? The answer, I believe, is that he didn’t really see it as a problem. But to explain that means we have to push our exploration further.

In 1957 Phil announced that he was giving up science fiction to concentrate on his mainstream novels. In truth, he had been working on both kinds of writing for some years already. Between 1955 and 1957 Phil wrote five full-length mainstream novels. None were accepted for publication. In 1958 he wrote two more with similar lack of success. But in 1958 Phil also returned, briefly, to science fiction. He wrote not only TOOJ but also two short stories (a form he had all but abandoned in 1955 and would not return to again until 1963), and four radio plays based on science fiction themes.

Why would Phil go back to the field he had only recently abandoned? Almost certainly it was for the money. A writer’s income is based on the manuscripts he sells and Phil hadn’t sold a novel since The Man Who Japed in 1955. Between 1957 and 1959 his income was coming from foreign sales of his previously written novels; a collection of early short stories, The Variable Man (1957); an Ace reissue of Solar Lottery (1959); the radio plays and the two new short stories. There could not have been a whole lot of money in all of this. Phil needed to sell a novel and he knew his science fiction always sold. Too, he just couldn’t let science fiction go completely. In a letter of June 6, 1957 to Anthony Boucher he admitted, "You know, your encouragement has got me thinking in terms of ONE MORE S.F. NOVEL, to end it all so to speak.... This shows how habit-forming the writing of s.f. has become for me; I can’t stop even after I’ve sworn an oath that I will." (SL1: 37)

So one reason the lack of an explanation for the soft-drink stand might not have concerned Phil overly much was that he was in a hurry. He had sent a long mainstream novel, Nicholas and the Higs off to Scot Meredith in January. In February he wrote the radio scripts. Since Meredith received TOOJ on April 7, Phil may have written it sometime in March.***** (Stathis: 258) At some time during all of this, Nicholas was returned with a request to drastically cut the length. Phil finished the revisions and sent it back to Meredith who received it on April 30. Within a week of that, Phil sent off the first of the new stories, "Explorers We" (received May 6), and then turned to still another mainstream novel, In Milton Lumky Territory. Whatever the exact chronology is, it’s plain that all through the first half of 1958 Phil was exceedingly busy thinking about, writing or revising three different novels.

Too, TOOJ was a science fiction novel. It could afford to have loose ends in a way that the mainstream novels could not. Cause and effect were somewhat elastic in a Fifties s.f. story, especially one that (despite Phil’s later protestations to the contrary) was certainly intended to be published by Ace. Phil must have known this. He must have known he had leeway not just with the soft-drink stand but with the other unresolved questions as well. And I think, most importantly, Phil knew that the vanishing soft-drink stand was a killer scene. It was indeed, "far-fucking out;" the sort of incident that would grab the reader and shake up his world. He was right. Without this scene TOOJ would lose much of its power. It doesn’t really matter that the vanishing soft-drink stand makes no real sense. What does matter is that in Time Out of Joint the reader shares with poor deluded Ragle Gumm a sudden, unforgettable moment of awe and dread and mystery. And the reader will take that moment out into his own, less-than-secure "real" world and wonder how "real" it is. It's a true phildickian lesson

If this were a sober, academic journal I'd just let the matter end here. But this is a zine and so I feel I have license to go off on a tangent. Like many people, I suspect, I want to know how the damn vanishing soft-drink stand works. I know there is no explanation, or at least that Phil didn't provide one but I think it's possible to pursue the matter even so.

Consider this possibility: the edition of TOOJ that we possess is not the complete novel. Phil wrote more but it wasn’t published. I want to point out right away that there is no evidence for any such supposition. This is sheer speculation and it’s presented here as a "what if?". Frederick Pohl said that TOOJ "doesn't exactly end. It disintegrates." He was being generous. TOOJ doesn't "end" at all; it just stops dead. Walter Keitelbein appears at the hatch of the spaceship and that's it. While many of Phil's novels finish in a fairly unsatisfactory fashion the ending of TOOJ is particularly abrupt. We don't have the manuscript or the outline and notes for TOOJ -- nothing of the sort is inventoried in the collection at UC-Fullerton -- and, again, there is no indication that Phil carried the novel any further than what we possess. But we do know that Nicholas and the Higs began as a very long manuscript, so long that his agent returned it to Phil for major editing. This happened while Phil was at work on TOJ. In the world of "what if" it is easy enough to imagine that Phil had produced an over-long TOJ. Then he received the manuscript of Nicholas and realized that another long book would probably not sell either and so lopped off the last few chapters, ending the book logically, though unsatisfactorily, with Walter Keitelbein at the hatch at the end of Chapter Fourteen.

Okay, given the possibility that TOOJ continues on, where would the plot have gone? There are hints in the earlier chapters that would at least allow us to construct a reasonable guess. Douglas Mackey approached a possibility in his book but drew back from exploring the ramifications. He wrote:

If 1959 is a fake, couldn’t 1998 be considered equally bogus? If our

present-day reality is a fiction, couldn’t the future be considered just

as much a fiction for the same reason? Dick’s 1998 is only one of an

infinity of possible alternative worlds. (Mackey: 29)

I suggest that 1998 is not a possible alternate world but is rather another deliberate fake world. Not only have Ragle and Vic and the majority of Old Town’s been fooled, but Bill Black and his minions have likewise been kept in the dark. Such a twist would be typical of Phil’s later novels. There are some clues which imply this in the form of our old friends the slips of paper. We all remember SOFT-DRINK STAND. But what about STATE LINE AGRICULTURAL INSPECTION STATION in Chapter Twelve? Or WESTERN DRUG AND PHARMACY in Chapter Thirteen? They both appear in the text in the same block letters as all the other items which Ragle sees as slips of paper. Neither of these morph into slips of paper, at least in the novel as we have it. But maybe it’s just a matter of time. The trouble with having a false reality consisting partially of real props and partially of slips of paper is there seems to be no reason to have anything real at all. Why couldn’t It all be on slips of paper? In that context DOOR or BOWL OF FLOWERS or BRIDGE make sense. One has to wonder if ONE HAPPY WORLD might be a slip of paper, too.

Phil could have solved the whole mystery if, instead of slips of paper, he had used some sort of telepathy machine which "broadcast" the proper cues. It would have spoiled the elegance of the concept to drag in some sci-fi gizmo, true, but it was going to be an Ace novel so it would not have been entirely unexpected. Yet Phil was at pains throughout the novel to conspicuously avoid such gimmicks. I believe it was Yves Potin who first observed that the 1998 future we see in TOOJ isn’t very futuristic at all. Everything in the book is standard 1950s technology, both in Old Town (where one would expect that) and in the "future" 1998 in the midst of an interplanetary war. The only exceptions are an unknown road surface on the way out of Old Town and, at the very end, the space ship. Would anyone really be surprised if at this point the "space ship" suddenly collapsed into a slip of paper?

Where might the plot of the "missing chapters" of TOOJ then go? Since this is all hypothetical, it could go anywhere. Reasonably, though, the rest of the plot would finally discover the actual world -- the one behind both Old Town and the ersatz 1998. And what "real world" would that be? Again, a clue in TOOJ that let’s us guess. Chapter Eleven contains a detailed, horrific vision of a post-nuclear holocaust world. Ragle sees

...dark weeds growing in the ruins of towns, corroded metal and

bones scattered across a plain of ash without contour. No life,

no sounds... [...] the sun not actually shining, the day not actually

warm at all but cold, gray and quietly raining, raining, raining, the

god-awful ash filtering down on everything. No grass except

charred stumps, broken off. Pools of contaminated water...

A bit later, as Mrs. Keitelbein reads from a government paper that "[m]issles wont stop coming over simply because nobody exists to fly them," Ragle suddenly realizes, "This is reality." The assumption in TOOJ is that Ragle’s morbid vision is a dim memory of the war with the lunar rebels pushing through his psychosis. Yet the level of destruction visualized here is far too extensive to reflect that conflict. This sort of horror is much closer to the total devastation of a total war such as we see in "The Second Variety." What Ragle might be remembering is the real war, the one that actually took place outside the carefully constructed false worlds of 1959 and 1998.

Why were these false worlds created and what part does Ragle Gumm have to play in them? And, finally, what are the slips of paper for and how do they work? We have no way of knowing. We’re way beyond anything Phil even wrote, after all. We’re all like Ragle Gumm, in this respect. Instead of slips of paper we have words written on the pages of a book; a book called Time Out of Joint by an author named Philip K. Dick. Phil lives in a world where Dwight Eisenhower is President of the United States and nuclear war might be just around the corner. It’s a world where the best we might hope for are a few clues about the reality in which we exist and, perhaps, about the future that is coming.


* "The cover for TIME OUT OF JOINT is stunning. I love that vast brooding somewhat whacked-out face hovering over the landscape like some kind of nutso deity." PKD to Lou Stathis, July 26, 1979

** This is in direct contrast to Vic’s vision on the bus, which only he sees. There, I think, Vic did not really see the straw men tied to planks in the hollow bus. I believe that he simply had an intuitive flash that Old Town was a fake. His mind was signaling him, in much the same way as the incident with the light cord, that something was wrong. The brainwashing broke down for an instant but not enough for him to regain his whole memory of the situation

*** Need more? Why was it necessary to brainwash virtually all of the town instead of just Ragle? Surely the other inhabitants are all loyal to the Earth government or they wouldn’t be there. Vic certainly supports the Earth’s cause. Ragle’s guess as to the location of the missile strikes are not very accurate anymore -- so why does the charade go on? Most annoying, how does Ragle guess where the attacks are going to be? He gets no input from any outside source nor reconnaissance reports or data of any kind from the earth military; he just goes through an elaborate ritual with his scanners and old contest entries and comes up with an answer. Is he a pre-cog or some kind?

**** This would be the exact opposite, so to speak, of the scene itself; the soft-drink stand doesn’t disappear -- it appears in Phil’s imagination! Molecule by molecule perhaps?

***** Or possibly he had been working on it since late 1957. Lou Stathis, in the Afterword to the Bluejay Books edition of TOOJ, wrote that Phil worked on the novel during the winter of 1957-58 but he cites no evidence for this statement.


Arthur Byron Cover, "Vertex Interviews Philip K. Dick" Vertex; Vol. 1, no. 6 (Feb. 1974): pp. 34-37, 96-98.

Daniel DePrez, "An Interview with Philip K. Dick" Science Fiction Review; No. 19 (August 1976): pp. 6-12

Philip K. Dick, The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick; Vol. 4; New York: Carol Publishing Group, 1991.

_____, In Pursuit of Valis; Selections from the Exegisis; Vovato, CA: Underwood-Miller, 1991.

_____, The Selected Letters of Philip K. Dick, 1938-1971; Grass Valley, CA: Underwood Books, 1996.

_____, Selected Literary and Philosophical Writings; New York: Pantheon Books; 1995.

_____, Time Out of Joint; Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1959.

Andrew P. Hoberek, "The ‘Work’ of Science Fiction: Philip K. Dick and Occupational Masculinity in the Post-World War II United States," Modern Fiction Studies; vo. 43, no. 2 (Summer 1997), pp. 374-404

Daniel J. H. Levack, PKD: A Philip K. Dick Bibliography. San Francisco: Underwood-Miller, 1981.

Douglas A. Mackey, Philip K. Dick; Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1988.

Willis E. McNelly and Sharon K. Perry, "The Manuscripts and Papers at Fullerton," On Philip K. Dick: 40 Articles from Science Fiction Studies; Terre Haute, IN: SF-TH Inc., 1992, pp. xvii - xxiv.

Charles Platt, Dream Makers; The Uncommon Men and Women Who Write Science Fiction; New York; Berkley Books, 1980

Fredrick Pohl, "Worlds of If," Worlds of If; Nov. 1959. p. 98.

Yves Potin, "Four Levels of Reality in Philip K. Dick’s Time Out of Joint" Extrapolation; vol. 39, no. 2 (Summer 1998): pp. 148-165

Gregg Rickman, Philip K. Dick: In His Own Words; Long Beach, CA: Fragments West; 1984..

_____, To the High Castle; Philip K. Dick: A Life 1928-1962. Long Beach, CA: Fragments West, 1989.

Umberto Rossi, "Just a Bunch of Words: The Image of the Secluded Family and the Problem of Logos in P.K. Dick’s Time Out of Joint," Extrapolation; vol. 37, no. 3 (Fall 1996): pp. 195-211.

P. Schuyler Miller, "The Reference Library" Analog; Jan. 1960, p. 174.

Lou Stathis, "Afterword" in Philip K. Dick, Time Out of Joint. New York: Blue Jay; 1984, pp. 256-263.

Phil Stephensen-Payne and Gordon Benson, Jr., Philip K. Dick: Metaphysical Conjurer; (4th revised edition) Leeds: Galactic Central, 1995.

Lawrence Sutin, Divine Invasion: A Life of Philip K. Dick. New York: Harmony House, 1989

Paul Williams, "Old (and New) Radio Shows: Philip K. Dick Society Newsletter; no. 22/23 (Dec. 1989) p. 16.

_____, Only Apparently Real; The World of Philip K. Dick. New York: Arbor House, 1986.

Stephen Wright, "E-mail message;" date unknown. See "Misc to be Organized" at

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