A review by zachbrumaire
Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick

perhaps one of PKD's better, more cogent explorations of blurred reality, the observer effect, reality rewriting drugs, memory, scripture. extremely racist, misogynistic, self-conscious, dissatisfied--Jason Taverner and PKD's brooding narration are oh so rebellious and oh so white. there's a nocturn-Seusssean quality to the worlds Dick conjures in his books and in this one in particular, and though even his friendliest demons are never quite tame much less their tyrranic architeture hospital, the velvet nights against cut-out coin operated streetlights install a strange nostolgic yearning to have gone walking it's bleak streets my operating system can't quit shake.

and all PKD's creatures are demons, flitting about in their quibbs and shuttles against heavens, staring into each other compressed naked in the tight clasped marginalia illuminated by psychophossperesence, all their eyes droopy with thoughts of long lost paradise much-grieved with the special sting that comes with being based in hypothesis.