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“A giant…One of the country’s most popular and prolific authors.” —Los Angeles Times
“One of the greats of twentieth century American fantasy.” —Newsday
“There is no simpler, yet deeper, stylist than Bradbury. Out of the plainest of words he creates images and moods that readers seem to carry with them forever.” —San Francisco Chronicle
“A wonderful storyteller….Nearly everything he has written is sheer poetry.” —St. Louis Post-Dispatch
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In a career spanning more than seventy years, Ray Bradbury, who died on June 5, 2011 at the age of 91, inspired generations of readers to dream, think, and create. A prolific author of hundreds of short stories and close to fifty books, as well as numerous poems, essays, operas, plays, teleplays, and screenplays, Bradbury was one of the most celebrated writers of our time. His groundbreaking works include Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Dandelion Wine, and Something Wicked This Way Comes. He wrote the screen play for John Huston's classic film adaptation of Moby Dick, and was nominated for an Academy Award. He adapted sixty-five of his stories for television's The Ray Bradbury Theater, and won an Emmy for his teleplay of The Halloween Tree. He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2004 National Medal of Arts, and the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, among many honors.
Throughout his life, Bradbury liked to recount the story of meeting a carnival magician, Mr. Electrico, in 1932. At the end of his performance Electrico reached out to the twelve-year-old Bradbury, touched the boy with his sword, and commanded, "Live forever!" Bradbury later said, "I decided that was the greatest idea I had ever heard. I started writing every day. I never stopped."
Once read, his words are never forgotten. His best-known and most beloved books -- The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Fahrenheit 451, and Something Wicked This Way Comes -- are masterworks that readers carry with them over a lifetime. His timeless, constant appeal to audiences young and old has proven him to be one of the truly classic authors of the 20th Century -- and the 21st.
Ray Bradbury's work has been included in several Best American Short Story collections. He has been awarded the O. Henry Memorial Award, the Benjamin Franklin Award, the World Fantasy Award for Lifetime Achievement, the Grand Master Award from the Science Fiction Writers of America, and the PEN Center USA West Lifetime Achievement Award, among others. In recognition of his stature in the world of literature and the impact he has had on so many for so many years, Bradbury was awarded the National Book Foundation's 2000 Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters and the National Medal of Arts in 2004.
On the occasion of his 80th birthday in August 2000, Bradbury said, "The great fun in my life has been getting up every morning and rushing to the typewriter because some new idea has hit me. The feeling I have every day is very much the same as it was when I was twelve. In any event, here I am, eighty years old, feeling no different, full of a great sense of joy, and glad for the long life that has been allowed me. I have good plans for the next ten or twenty years, and I hope you'll come along."
"I spent three years standing on a street corner, selling newspapers, making ten dollars a week. I did that job every day for three hours and the rest of the time I wrote because I was in love with writing. The answer to all writing, to any career for that matter, is love."
"I have been inspired by libraries and the magic they contain and the people that they represent."
"I hate all politics. I don't like either political party. One should not belong to them -- one should be an individual, standing in the middle. Anyone that belongs to a party stops thinking."
January 1999: Rocket Summer
One minute it was Ohio winter, with doors closed, windows locked, the panes blind with frost, icicles fringing every roof, children skiing on slopes, housewives lumbering like great black bears in their furs along the icy streets.
And then a long wave of warmth crossed the small town. A flooding sea of hot air; it seemed as if someone had left a bakery door open. The heat pulsed among the cottages and bushes and children. The icicles dropped, shattering, to melt. The doors flew open. The windows flew up. The children worked off their wool clothes. The housewives shed their bear disguises. The snow dissolved and showed last summer's ancient green lawns.
Rocket summer. The words passed among the people in the open, airing houses. Rocket summer. The warm desert air changing the frost patterns on the windows, erasing the art work. The skis and sleds suddenly useless. The snow, falling from the cold sky upon the town, turned to a hot rain before it touched the ground.
Rocket summer. People leaned from their dripping porches and watched the reddening sky.
The rocket lay on the launching field, blowing out pink clouds of fire and oven heat. The rocket stood in the cold winter morning, making summer with every breath of its mighty exhausts. The rocket made climates, and summer lay for a brief moment upon the land. . . .
February 1999: Ylla
They had a house of crystal pillars on the planet Mars by the edge of an empty sea, and every morning you could see Mrs. K eating the golden fruits that grew from the crystal walls, or cleaning the house with handfuls of magnetic dust which, taking all dirt with it, blew away on the hot wind. Afternoons, when the fossil sea was warm and motionless, and the wine trees stood stiff in the yard, and the little distant Martian bone town was all enclosed, and no one drifted out their doors, you could see Mr. K himself in his room, reading from a metal book with raised hieroglyphs over which he brushed his hand, as one might play a harp. And from the book, as his fingers stroked, a voice sang, a soft ancient voice, which told tales of when the sea was red steam on the shore and ancient men had carried clouds of metal insects and electric spiders into battle.
Mr. and Mrs. K had lived by the dead sea for twenty years, and their ancestors had lived in the same house, which turned and followed the sun, flower-like, for ten centuries.
Mr. and Mrs. K were not old. They had the fair, brownish skin of the true Martian, the yellow coin eyes, the soft musical voices. Once they had liked painting pictures with chemical fire, swimming in the canals in the seasons when the wine trees filled them with green liquors, and talking into the dawn together by the blue phosphorous portraits in the speaking room.
They were not happy now.
This morning Mrs. K stood between the pillars, listening to the desert sands heat, melt into yellow wax, and seemingly run on the horizon.
Something was going to happen.
She waited.
She watched the blue sky of Mars as if it might at any moment grip in on itself, contract, and expel a shining miracle down upon the sand.
Nothing happened.
Tired of waiting, she walked through the misting pillars. A gentle rain sprang from the fluted pillar tops, cooling the scorched air, falling gently on her. On hot days it was like walking in a creek. The floors of the house glittered with cool streams. In the distance she heard her husband playing his book steadily, his fingers never tired of the old songs. Quietly she wished he might one day again spend as much time holding and touching her like a little harp as he did his incredible books.
But no. She shook her head, an imperceptible, forgiving shrug. Her eyelids closed softly down upon her golden eyes. Marriage made people old and familiar, while still young.
She lay back in a chair that moved to take her shape even as she moved. She closed her eyes tightly and nervously.
The dream occurred.
Her brown fingers trembled, came up, grasped at the air. A moment later she sat up, startled, gasping.
She glanced about swiftly, as if expecting someone there before her. She seemed disappointed; the space between the pillars was empty.
Her husband appeared in a triangular door. "Did you call?" he asked irritably.
"No!" she cried.
"I thought I heard you cry out."
"Did I? I was almost asleep and had a dream!"
"In the daytime? You don't often do that."
She sat as if struck in the face by the dream. "How strange, how very strange," she murmured. "The dream."
"Oh?" He evidently wished to return to his book.
"I dreamed about a man."
"A man?"
"A tall man, six feet one inch tall."
"How absurd; a giant, a misshapen giant."
"Somehow"—she tried the words—"he looked all right. In spite of being tall. And he had—oh, I know you'll think it silly—he had blue eyes!"
"Blue eyes! Gods!" cried Mr. K. "What'll you dream next? I suppose he had black hair?"
"How did you guess?" She was excited.
"I picked the most unlikely color," he replied coldly.
"Well, black it was!" she cried. "And he had a very white skin; oh, he was most unusual! He was dressed in a strange uniform and he came down out of the sky and spoke pleasantly to me." She smiled.
"Out of the sky; what nonsense!"
"He came in a metal thing that glittered in the sun," she remembered. She closed her eyes to shape it again. "I dreamed there was the sky and something sparkled like a coin thrown into the air, and suddenly it grew large and fell down softly to land, a long silver craft, round and alien. And a door opened in the side of the silver object and this tall man stepped out."
"If you worked harder you wouldn't have these silly dreams."
"I rather enjoyed it," she replied, lying back. "I never suspected myself of such an imagination. Black hair, blue eyes, and white skin! What a strange man, and yet—quite handsome."
"Wishful thinking."
"You're unkind. I didn't think him up on purpose; he just came in my mind while I drowsed. It wasn't like a dream. It was so unexpected and different. He looked at me and he said, 'I've come from the third planet in my ship. My name is Nathaniel York——' "
"A stupid name; it's no name at all," objected the husband.
"Of course it's stupid, because it's a dream," she explained softly. "And he said, 'This is the first trip across space. There are only two of us in our ship, myself and my friend Bert.' "
"Another stupid name."
"And he said, 'We're from a city on Earth; that's the name of our planet,' " continued Mrs. K. "That's what he said. 'Earth' was the name he spoke. And he used another language. Somehow I understood him. With my mind. Telepathy, I suppose."
Mr. K turned away. She stopped him with a word. "Yll?" she called quietly. "Do you ever wonder if—well, if there are people living on the third planet?"
"The third planet is incapable of supporting life," stated the husband patiently. "Our scientists have said there's far too much oxygen in their atmosphere."
"But wouldn't it be fascinating if there were people? And they traveled through space in some sort of ship?"
"Really, Ylla, you know how I hate this emotional wailing. Let's get on with our work."
It was late in the day when she began singing the song as she moved among the whispering pillars of rain. She sang it over and over again.
"What's that song?" snapped her husband at last, walking in to sit at the fire table.
"I don't know." She looked up, surprised at herself. She put her hand to her mouth, unbelieving. The sun was setting. The house was closing itself in, like a giant flower, with the passing of light. A wind blew among the pillars; the fire table
bubbled its fierce pool of silver lava. The wind stirred her russet hair, crooning softly in her ears. She stood silently looking out into the great sallow distances of sea bottom, as if recalling something, her yellow eyes soft and moist. " 'Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine,' " she sang, softly, quietly, slowly. " 'Or leave a kiss within the cup, and I'll not ask for wine.' " She hummed now, moving her hands in the wind ever so lightly, her eyes shut. She finished the song.
It was very beautiful.
"Never heard that song before. Did you compose it?" he inquired, his eyes sharp.
"No. Yes. No, I don't know, really!" She hesitated wildly. "I don't even know what the words are; they're another language!"
"What language?"
She dropped portions of meat numbly into the simmering lava. "I don't know." She drew the meat forth a moment later, cooked, served on a plate for him. "It's just a crazy thing I made up, I guess. I don't know why."
He said nothing. He watched her drown meats in the hissing fire pool. The sun was gone. Slowly, slowly the night came in to fill the room, swallowing the pillars and both of them, like a dark wine poured to the ceiling. Only the silver lava's glow lit their faces.
She hummed the strange song again.
Instantly he leaped from his chair and stalked angrily from the room.
Later, in isolation, he finished supper.
When he arose he stretched, glanced at her, and suggested, yawning, "Let's take the flame birds to town tonight to see an entertainment."
"You don't mean it?" she said. "Are you feeling well?"
"What's so strange about that?"
"But we haven't gone for an entertainment in six months!"
"I think it's a good idea."
"Suddenly you're so solicitous," she said.
"Don't talk that way," he replied peevishly. "Do you or do you not want to go?"
She looked out at the pale desert. The twin white moons were rising. Cool water ran softly about her toes. She began to tremble just the least bit. She wanted very much to sit quietly here, soundless, not moving until this thing occurred, this thing expected all day, this thing that could not occur but might. A drift of song brushed through her mind.
"I——"
"Do you good," he urged. "Come along now."
"I'm tired," she said. "Some other night."
"Here's your scarf." He handed her a phial. "We haven't gone anywhere in months."
"Except you, twice a week to Xi City." She wouldn't look at him.
"Business," he said.
"Oh?" She whispered to herself.
From the phial a liquid poured, turned to blue mist, settled about her neck, quivering.
The flame birds waited, like a bed of coals, glowing on the cool smooth sands. The white canopy ballooned on the night wind, flapping softly, tied by a thousand green ribbons to the birds.
Ylla laid herself back in the canopy and, at a word from her husband, the birds leaped, burning, toward the dark sky. The ribbons tautened, the canopy lifted. The sand slid whining under; the blue hills drifted by, drifted by, leaving their home behind, the raining pillars, the caged flowers, the singing books, the whispering floor creeks. She did not look at her husband. She heard him crying out to the birds as they rose higher, like ten thousand hot sparkles, so many red-yellow fireworks in the heavens, tugging the canopy like a flower petal, burning through the wind.
She didn't watch the dead, ancient bone-chess cities slide under, or the old canals filled with emptiness and dreams. Past dry rivers and dry lakes they flew, like a shadow of the moon, like a torch burning.
She watched only the sky.
The husband spoke.
She watched the sky.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"What?"
He exhaled. "You might pay attention."
"I was thinking."
"I never thought you were a nature lover, but you're certainly interested in the sky tonight," he said.
"It's very beautiful."
"I was figuring," said the husband slowly. "I thought I'd call Hulle tonight. I'd like to talk to him about us spending some time, oh, only a week or so, in the Blue Mountains. It's just an idea——"
"The Blue Mountains!" She held to the canopy rim with one hand, turning swiftly toward him.
"Oh, it's just a suggestion."
"When do you want to go?" she asked, trembling.
"I thought we might leave tomorrow morning. You know, an early start and all that," he said very casually.
"But we never go this early in the year!"
"Just this once, I thought——" He smiled. "Do us good to get away. Some peace and quiet. You know. You haven't anything else planned? We'll go, won't we?"
She took a breath, waited, and then replied, "No."
"What?" His cry startled the birds. The canopy jerked.
"No," she said firmly. "It's settled. I won't go."
He looked at her. They did not speak after that. She turned away.
The birds flew on, ten thousand firebrands down the wind.
In the dawn the sun, through the crystal pillars, melted the fog that supported Ylla as she slept. All night she had hung above the floor, buoyed by the soft carpeting of mist that poured from the walls when she lay down to rest. All night she had slept on this silent river, like a boat upon a soundless tide. Now the fog burned away, the mist level lowered until she was deposited upon the shore of wakening.
She opened her eyes.
Her husband stood over her. He looked as if he had stood there for hours, watching. She did not know why, but she could not look him in the face.
"You've been dreaming again!" he said. "You spoke out and kept me awake. I really think you should see a doctor."
"I'll be all right."
"You talked a lot in your sleep!"
"Did I?" She started up.
Dawn was cold in the room. A gray light filled her as she lay there.
"What was your dream?"
She had to think a moment to remember. "The ship. It came from the sky again, landed, and the tall man stepped out and talked to me, telling me little jokes, laughing, and it was pleasant."
Mr. K touched a pillar. Founts of warm water leaped up, steaming; the chill vanished from the room. Mr. K's face was impassive.
"And then," she said, "this man, who said his strange name was Nathaniel York, told me I was beautiful and—and kissed me."
"Ha!" cried the husband, turning violently away, his jaw working.
this book was truly an amazing read. i've read sci-fi before but never like this. I read it 3 years ago and to this day it is one of the best books i have ever read. The way Bradbury can compile short stories in this book and somehow relate every story to one another and give them common features is simply incredible. He even borrows from E.A Poe in one of my favorite stories. this is a must read.
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
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Posted May 17, 2008
We had to read this book for school, and it just wasn't MY cup of tea. Maybe its meant for someone else, but truthfully i just wanted to shut the book and throw it out the window.
2 out of 11 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.The Martian Chronicles
Ray Bradbury’s recent passing created an opportunity to reread some of his stories and novels. No, I don’t like all that Bradbury wrote, but his whimsical, lyrical style always attracted me. He could create a world of “Firemen” in Fahrenheit 451 or the mysterious characters of “The Illustrated Man” and leave me entranced.
The Martian Chronicles was no exception!
First Impressions:
The book itself is a loosely-knit series of short stories, one leading to the next, in date order in the writer’s 21st century future. Here we have Earth that is looking towards Mars as a haven from the brewing atomic wars and rumors of such. What impressed me was the stylized characters and fleshed-out civilizations and how both Martian and Earthman deal with each other, as well as their own jealousies and prejudices.
Stories!
I won’t bore the reader with a mini-review of each tale, but the few that I really liked involved some of the crazy characters – one an off-kilter man, Spender, part of a crew from the Fourth Expedition, who didn’t want to see Mars commercialized as he looked upon the dead Martian civilization (destroyed by Man’s diseases – holy War of the Worlds!) and decides to kill off his own men and keep the planet pristine! That plan does not go over well with Captain Wilder. The darkness of the story and its clear criticism of colonialism were enticing to me.
The other story I really liked involved the last colonists on Mars (the rest being called back to Earth because of atomic war) who missed the last rocket, and gets lonely. Far off, he hears a phone ring. He finally finds who rang it, hoping for some female company, but the guy isn’t so lonely that he does not have standards!
Finally, the tale of a Martian and an Earth worker, both going to a party driving in their respective vehicles and meet each other on a lonely road – 10,000 years apart! Crazy.
Bottom Line: Most of the stories flow well one to the other. Ray does reflect some of the 1940s’ style prejudices of the time which may put off modern readers, but if you read Ray’s poetic style in its historic context, you too will see that a lot of his criticism and satire is still quite relevant.
Highly recommended!
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted September 3, 2011
I do like this book, but I wasn't blown away, though. I don't know whether to call this book a short story collection or novel, so I'll just refer to it as book. The first two or four stories were the best part for me, they got me hooked, then the middle was kind of blah, but the end redeemed it, actually, the last story itself redeemed the middle, the closing lines of it were just beautiful. I would probably, if I were able, review this with 3.8 and not a four. Some of the stories I thought were just plain...lame...I don't remember what it was called, I think it was Usher II, it was about a man who recreated the house of Usher from the Edgar Allen Poe book on Mars. What I don't like about this story is that, not only is it a little to weird for me, but it introduces and entirely new detail to the book, it talks about censorship of literature back on Earth. They had never talked about that in the book before, and now right in the middle it pops up. But I don't want to give anyone the impression that I don't like the book, I do. It speaks about the human nature greatly and it highlights things about humans that are less than savory.
3.8/5
1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.My quickie review of Ray Bradbury's The Martian Chronicles:
The book reads like a group of short stories but all put together makes one big story.
Storyline: In the future, people go to Mars to make it a new "Earth" since they've done a great job destroying Earth. Martians get sick with human diseases and die. We ruin Mars just like we ruined Earth. A war breaks out on Earth. . .
I enjoyed this book but it has a lot of warnings for us.
Warning 1: Don't destroy our Earth, it's the only one we have.
Warning 2: Stop the racism and prejudices.
Warning 3: Don't be so afraid of the unknown.
Martian Chronicles was a short read that could be seen as depressing sci-fi. I read it in high school but definitely have a better understanding of the novel now, as an adult.
Thanks to Sarah Says Read for reading it with me! (I know, Sarah, it took me forever to get this post up since we read it a while ago!)
Have you read The Martian Chronicles?
Thanks for reading,
Rebecca @ Love at First Book
Anonymous
Posted July 24, 2012
We are very happy with this transaction. It was shipped immediately and the book was exactly as it had been described. We would definitely purchase again. thank you.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.RandomCatastrophe
Posted September 3, 2010
Introduction- The story is about Earth going through a nuclear war and everyone one that can tries to travel to mars to escape the madness.
Description and summary of main points-In the story three Earth men travel to the red planet in search of life and to repopulate. Threw many events and problems, they work threw them.
Evaluation-Ray Bradbury focuses on other characters instead of just the main ones. He changes off story line and shows the other events that occur and actually turn out fantastic!
Conclusion-The Martian Chronicles is a very well written book. I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys science fiction novels.
Your final review-Great book, everyone should try to read it.
Universal
Posted April 9, 2010
"The Martian Chronicles" is the best science fiction book I've ever read. Bradbury did an excellent job depicting what could happen to planet Earth, and how we would handle it. This book opens up the imagination, and shapes it in a different way.
When mankind decides to send rockets over to Mars, the first few times do not end well. The Martians end up killing all of humans in the rockets that were sent. Then, however, after the Martians are killed off from Chicken Pox, the humans decide colonize Mars and plant trees, because their own world is struggling in chaos.
Olan5
Posted February 13, 2010
Ray Bradbury is a poet at heart and is a great writer. Many of his writings are foundations in our literature and culture. 'Martian Chronicles' makes a person think a lot while entertaining greatly. Everyone should read it. 'Martian Chronicles' is still extremely relavent today and will be tomorrow.
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Posted October 16, 2009
I Also Recommend:
First of all, I love Bradbury's concept of combining short stories to form a novel. Each story can stand alone, yet the cumulative result is an outstanding and creative work about the nature of man and Bradbury's unrepressed imagination. Many people travel to Mars to escape man's overconsumption and evil nature, especially in regards to atomic war. But Man brings the same destructive nature and fears to Mars that he tried to leave behind on Earth. Obviously, I enjoyed some of the stories more than others, and individuals can form their own opinions about each story; even so, I recommend this to all who enjoy sci-fi and admire original work from a very talented writer.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.This book is mainly about mans civilization finally reaching out of our little earth bound bubble. Its pretty easy to get lost while reading it because it jumps around from different perspectives of different acounts n stories that are happening around each other. its like reading the minds of various characters about the space race to get out into mars and to get adjusted to this new way of living and how to get ther and when theyr ther what then?? its pretty sci fi but in a very believable way like the warmth of people is not left out of this you still feel very much as if this were happening in the now. Great book. gets u thinking i suggest u read it n find out for yourself!! Ray bradbury said everything he ever did was because of love n that was always a huge motivator.. you learn to see the different types of love in his novels...great author too..
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Posted April 14, 2009
Ray Bradbury's "The Martian Chronicles" is an awe-inspiring story of human exploration on Mars. Earth is at a point where nuclear war is about to erupt and everyone knows it. With war on everyone's minds people are seeking refuge. Therefore, ships are sent to Mars in order to explore the planet and see if it has the capacity to support human life. After many fatal trials at the hands of Martians, they are largely depleted by disease and human's move in.
When Mrs. Brunkhorst first handed me this book I was not expecting much. However, as I began to read I was entranced by the non-stop, mind-bottling adventure conveyed through my imagination. This book allows the reader to use their imagination in order to create images and scenarios as they would see them in real life. The story also conveys many deeper meanings. A major example is human relations. The story describes a world at the doorstep of war and everyone is thinking of themselves. This translates into human presence on Mars and the destruction of the Martians and their way of life. This scenario makes me consider how people treat each other in our society be that of violence and war. Many people jump straight to violence instead of voicing their opinions, which makes things even worse. By pointing fingers at one another, people display violence as the quick fix to every issue.
Another example of the deeper understandings in this story is that of selfishness. Through the actions of the humans in the story, the Martian civilization is almost wiped out because of human selfishness. The characters had no concern for who the Martians were or what they were like. All they wanted was a getaway from the troubles of earth and in the end, it would cost them.
This story will open your eyes and deepen your comprehension of the actions of others and your own. Bradbury captures the imagination and takes it through a step-by-step thrill ride of the consequences of human actions. Though they are unrealistic, it is helpful to relate these problems to those of everyday life. I encourage people to read this book and have an open mind so that you may also realize that to every action there is a consequence.
0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted January 11, 2009
When I read the Martian Chronicles I thought it was an amazing book filled with many stories that I loved. The one that I loved the most was The Usher 2: I thought it was the best out of all of the other stories in the book because of the story itself and how it was played out as well as how I liked the characters in it (Pike being my favorite) I had also liked the way the references to edgar allen poe and the way that Mr.Stendahl had condemned the people who had lived on earth for destroying his favorite authors books and all of the others in the horror and science fiction genre. I would recommend it to anyone who likes fictional stories or anyone who likes stories like this that show what could happen to us. I think this book would be good for any high school or college student.
0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted September 30, 2007
This book is terrible. Fahreinheit 451 was ok, but this book sucks. Telepathic martians that die of chicken pox. What kind of garbage is that
0 out of 6 people found this review helpful.
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Posted November 7, 2007
The Martian Chronicles is a fictional novel by Ray Bradbury. The book is set on the Fifth planet of Mars. You could call this novel a science fiction book since it occurs in space. This is a very interesting book. As you read it, all you will want to know is what is going to happen next. It was a well written novel using tremendous vocabulary and using many specific details. I found this book to be such a fine novel because of the way Ray Bradbury described Mars and its Creatures. I really felt like I was on the planet! The setting of this novel is the planet mars. The time period of this novel is set in the 1960¿s. It is also set on the red planet Mars. Through out the book NASA is trying to send people to Mars. They try many times, but after every expedition the people that land end up going insane or end up being murdered by the Martians. Since the book changes stories so frequently, there is never one main character. There is how ever one main goal. NASA wanting to set up civilization on Mars, expect everything always goes wrong. For example, on the second expedition, the crew is murdered by a martin psychologist who thinks the crew is a group of insane martins. This also happens on the third expedition. On this expedition the crew finds members of their family that have died in the past. The family members end up being Martins and killing them. Ray Bradbury does a fanomial job writing The Martin Chronicles. The book is a collection of short stories woven together to make a great novel. I love this idea and it made the story more enjoyable. This book is written in the third-person point of view with Bradbury narrating. If you like science fiction books then you should defiantly read The Martin Chronicles. It will keep you on the edge of your seat until you finally turn that last page.
0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted July 24, 2007
I don't normally like science fiction, so I really didn't want to read this book but I had to for school. However, after the first chapter, I completely changed my mind. This book has some parts that you have to look closely at to pick up on, if that makes sense. Characters from the beginning come back at then end, only the author doesn't point out that it's the same people. You should try to read this book in a relatively short time span because if you read it little by little, you will probably not make some of the connections. I highly recommend this book. It is surprisingly good (and easy to summarize for school as well!)
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted April 27, 2007
read this book. do it. The story was so pointless I wanted to cry in the middle of it. The main storyline is how humans will move to Mars, kill off the martians who were already living there, and then dominate the planet. After this tragic climax of a story, the author then finishes it off by having all the stupid humans from Mars move back to Earth in time to be demolished by the nuclear war that we were having back on Earth. Killing everybody. Fun huh? let me answer for you....yes
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted March 7, 2007
This book is great. I read the first chapter through, and I was hooked. The Martian Chronicles was the one book that got me hooked on reading. You should read this book, its constantly changing stories and plotlines will make you laugh at one instant, and cry at the next. This is a book that should not be missed.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Anonymous
Posted January 26, 2007
This is a great book about people from America who go to Mars to escape earth on the edge of its destruction. Each chapter will hook you quickly and you will hate to put down this great book. The first sentence in chapter 15, June 2003: Way in the Middle of the Air, the first sentence begins with:'Did you hear about it?' When I read that sentence, I was on the edge of my seat waiting to hear what happened. You never know if the earth settlers will come across some ancient Martian temple ruins, ancient Martian literature, or even Martian paintings. This book is unique and unlike any other I have read because its chapters are all short stories about humans from earth and their experiences on Mars. Even with the unusual chapteres, the book still runs fairly smooth. There are some downsides though, the book can sometimes get confusing and leave you hanging. In the 2nd chapter, the book states that Ylla hears her husband fire two shots in the distance, but you are never really sure that he shot at Nathaniel York, a man from the first American expedition, or just an animal. This is a great book that I recommend to anyone ages middle school and up.
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Posted July 18, 2006
Ray definately is a talented writter. When I began reading the first chapter I was inthralled. However, no sooner I fell in love with a character and he died. the book was comprised of mostly short chapters in which a new character was introduced and then died. Because the main character changed so often there was absolutely no emotional conection. It was a horrible waste of time.
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