The Martian Chronicles

“‘The third planet is incapable of supporting life.’”

At first glance this is a comedic line though one that darkens with the knowledge of the end of the novel. The second reading sees it as an indictment against humanity whose fractious ways lead to the annihilation of life on Earth, particularly when spoken by a Martian, a species with prophetic ability.

“The little town was full of people drifting in and out of doors, saying hello to one another, wearing golden masks and blue masks and crimson masks for pleasant variety, masks with silver lips and bronze eyebrows, masks that smiled, masks that frowned, according to the owner’s dispositions.”

A key part of Martian culture is depicted in the masks they wear, which leaves them unknowable even to each other. The masks also alienate the human perspective and come to stand for the inscrutability of the vanished species. Humanity will never know them for what they are.

“To get away from wars and censorship and statism and conscription and government control of this and that, of art and science!”

Pritchard, in appealing his case to the guards at the rocket pad, provides an early framing of what the settlers of Mars are escaping. It is an essentially nonconformist attitude, and Mars will come to symbolize escape from the petty persecutions of an overbearing society.

“The mayor made a little sad speech, his face sometimes looking like the mayor, sometimes looking like something else.”

Even after the humans are killed, the Martians continue the masquerade of keeping human forms. They are already infected by humanity and are losing control of their ability to differentiate themselves. The first clear vision of what will plague later Martians trying to hide within human society.

“It was like walking in a pile of autumn leaves.”

This is a precursor to the horrifying imagery that Bradbury will later use in “The Musicians.” Autumn leaves evoke a sense of nostalgia, for youthful trips through liminal stretches, for the vanished times that are later filled with fear and caution. It is this same nostalgia that Bradbury uses to hide the sinister destination of the boys in “The Musicians.”

“‘And somehow the mountains will never sound right to us; we’ll give them new names, but the old names are there, somewhere in time, and the mountains were shaped and seen under those names. […] No matter how we touch Mars, we’ll never touch it.’”

Spender’s insight into human nature gives him the air of prophecy. Both of his pessimistic statements turn out to be true, allowing Spender’s invectives against the destructiveness in human nature to echo throughout the work.

“They quit trying too hard to destroy everything, to humble everything. They blended religion and art and science because, at base, science is no more than an investigation of a miracle we can never explain, and art is an interpretation of that miracle.”

Spender suggests that the human problem is a refusal to adopt a holistic model of life. The Martians lived in harmony with each other and their environment, and therefore there was no conflict. It is an idealistic vision, particularly as Martians did have conflict, and shows the Martians being used as symbols, rather than thought of as individuals.

“That had been thirty days ago, and he had never glanced back. For looking back would have been sickening to the heart.”

This is an illustration of the determination required of every settler. The hyperbolic claim that Driscoll hadn’t turned around in a month is typical of folk tales and myth, lending a mythological air to one of the founding legends of Mars.

“And from the rockets ran men with hammers in their hands to beat the strange world into a shape that was familiar to the eye, to bludgeon away all the strangeness…”

The fervor and violence of the settlers is personified in these men hurriedly erecting structures on the frontier. Bradbury implies that the mistake of nostalgia and backwards looking has been made right from the start. Beating the world into a familiar shape, rather than allowing it its own shape is the path to destruction.

“‘Well, that’s Mars. Enjoy it. Don’t ask it to be nothing else but what it is .”

Pops, the service station owner, suggests at the attitude the settlers should take toward their new planet. Bradbury seems to agree; however, he places this advice in mouths of characters who are not listened to, or have no wider effect, emphasizing the tragedy of a known truth unheeded.

“‘I can see through you!’ […] ‘And I you!’”

Gomez and Muhe exchange these telling remarks as they meet in the night. While both are transparent due to the time differential, this can be read in a figurative manner, as Bradbury’s suggestion in how race relations should be handled, with a compassionate opening of self to the other, and an open sharing of cultures. The human method on Mars is quite different. 

“…while Europe and Asia and South America and Australia and the islands watched the Roman candles leave them behind. The rest of the world was buried in thoughts of war.”

The coming war consumes the attentions of the world though the Americans are still launching waves of migrants into space. This speaks to an American exceptionalism, but also allows for Bradbury to explore a single culture taking over Mars, rather than many. There is nostalgia in the mention of Roman candles, but it also evokes the great imperialist machines of the Roman empire.

“Swinging their grocery bags full of clean watery green onions and odorous liverwurst and red catsup and white bread, they would dare each other past the limits set by stern mothers.”

Bradbury evokes feelings of slight revulsion in the meals of the boys to prepare the reader for the revulsion to come. The boys are ugly consumers here, and care little for rules or the opinions of others.

“Ribs, like spider legs, plangent as a dull harp, and then the black flakes of mortality blowing all about them in their scuffling dance; the boys pushed and heaved and fell in the leaves, in the death that had turned the dead to flakes and dryness, into a game played by boys whose stomachs gurgled with orange pop.”

In one long sentence, Bradbury intertwines images of death and desolation with nostalgia and youthful glee to emulate the heady mix of joy and indifference the boys embody.

“‘Them that has helps them that hasn’t! And that way they all get free!’”

Again, Bradbury depicts visions of how a successful community operates as being practiced by the non-dominant culture. Human closeness and compassion are stressed throughout The Martian Chronicles, but it is only displayed by those oppressed by the dominant white culture, never by those who are squarely within the power structure.

“…they came with stars and badges and rules and regulations, bringing some of the red tape that had crawled across Earth like an alien weed, and letting it grow on Mars wherever it could take root.”

The censorious Earth authorities, those which most settlers were trying to escape, establish themselves on Mars with this intriguing image. The notion of a failed planting stands for the human efforts of colonization, and the apex of its controlling culture attempting to complete the process. It is a flawed process however, as it simply tries to import Earth onto Mars.

“‘Every man, they said, must face reality. Must face the Here and Now!’”

The totalizing oppression of vision enforced by the Earth authorities. They cannot stand imaginative creations, as they exist in a real uncontrolled by the authorities. Rather than choosing to educate people, however, it moves to destroy, creating only acrimony and vengeance.

“...the dried-apricot people, the mummy people, came at last to Mars…”

This is a marker of the victory of the Earth authorities. The planet has now been sanitized and tamed enough to make it safe for retirees.

“He was melting wax shaping to their minds.”

This is the death knell of Martian Tom, revealing the true harm humans have done to Mars by trying to enforce their vison of Earth upon its surface.

“‘I know, we came up here to get away from things—politics, the atom bomb, war, pressure groups, prejudice, laws—I know. But it’s still home there.’”

All the reasons that people left Earth for Mars remain on Earth, but here the Proprietor stresses the fundamental importance to the settlers. It is not their liberty, or their pursuits of it, it is the pull of human connection and belonging. Human connections make society, not enforced values.

“‘I’ll report to the Rocket Corporation. They’ll give me protection!’”

Sam Parkhill displays the confidence and privilege of those within the power structure. Despite his murderous practices towards the Martians, he is sure he will be afforded the protection he believes he deserves.

“He moved quietly down through a series of ruins. ‘Made in New York,’ he read from a piece of metal as he passed. ‘And all these things from Earth will be gone long before the old Martian towns.’”

Hathaway, one of the last surviving humans on Mars, observes the remnants of the transitory human empire on Mars. They are significant of their culture, in that they are imported and transient, wasting away long before the harmonious constructions of the Martians will leave the landscape.

“The house was an altar with ten thousand attendants, big, small, servicing, attending, in choirs. But the gods had gone away, and the ritual of religion continued senselessly, uselessly.”

Bradbury casts the army of cleaning mice as religious adherents to question the continued rituals humans undertake, suggesting that if they do not perpetuate life, if they are not considered and meaningful, they are of little use. This is further complicated if all these rituals and observances are done in the service of absent entities.