Written during what I like to call the “macho science fiction” period, Clarke’s classic novel suffers from the same issues as many of his contemporaries, i.e., stilted 1950s-era dialogue and female characters who, when they do appear, are flat stereotypes who are ultimately inconsequential. But we can forgive those failings because this is a seminal “first contact” novel, one that spawned a sub-genre.

Aliens suddenly arrive at Earth just as we are ramping up the space race, aliens that are clearly so much more advanced technologically and so much more powerful than we are, that the human race basically lays down all our weapons and calls it a day. Thus, the aliens — or the Overlords, as we call them — usher in a golden age of peace and prosperity (and some boredom) for all mankind. No one wants for anything, and there is no war, so maybe it doesn’t matter that original art and music and scientific innovation have also largely disappeared. Still the unspoken question is: What do the aliens really want? What are their ultimate goals for mankind? The outcome is surprising and crosses into uncertain moral territory. This is a compelling early work of science fiction that all fans of the genre should read.

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Not a book to read when at home with a fever… very wierd dreams resulted. It had some interesting ideas but I don’t think I’d go back and read it again.