2040 A.D.

THE FIRST To AWAKEN--Granville Hicks with Richard M. Bennett--Modern Age ($2.50).

In the wave of socialist, reformist thinking that swept the western U.S. farm country and the Knights of Labor after the Civil War, two notable fantasies of the future were written. Caesar's Column, by that stanch Populist orator and Baconian, Ignatius Donnelly, depicted the late 20th Century as an extravaganza of what is now called Fascism, only in ancient stage Roman costume. Looking Backward, by Edward Bellamy, gave readers in 1888 a more plausible picture of a future State Socialism which in technological details at least radio, television, movies was remarkably prophetic.

Since then no first-class U. S. work in this field had appeared to vie with H. G. Wells's Anticipations or The Sleeper Awakes. But this week one did. The First to Awaken is Granville Hicks's first considerable work of fiction. It would seem to indicate that when Writer Hicks resigned from the Communist Party last autumn he began to live again. Nicely, almost winningly written, in a sort of First Reader style, and full of sunny, skillful little pen drawings by Collaborator Richard Bennett, the book should fascinate those readers who would just as soon skip the next 100 years if the next 100 years are going to be anything like 1940.

Mr. Hicks's hero is one George Swain, a decent, middle-aged fellow of the small town of Braxton, N.H., who submits to a great doctor's experiment in "suspending animation'' for a century. Anesthetized in 1940, he wakes up in 2040 --the first, as he later learns, of eight similar sleepers (the doctor hoped at least one would get through). A research scientist assigned to study his reactions encourages him to write a book about his discovery of the world of 2040, for the guidance of the seven other antiques when they wake up. It is, of course, quite a beautiful world--though enough human traits are still in evidence to keep it from being completely Utopian.

Among George Swain's experiences:

ANDOffered a box of cigarets, he notes that they are not named but numbered. Number 3 is good, but he learns to prefer type 2.

He rides in what seems to be a glass automobile, learns that almost nobody owns one, everybody drives community cars.

ANDAt an airport he sees a "gymbal plane," sphere-shaped, rocket-propelled, shooting off on a 3 hr. 20 min. trip to San Francisco.

In Manhattan, which resembles a Bel Geddes dream, a quiet moving chair conveys him from place to place.

He learns that all useful citizens get free housing, food and clothing, as in 1940 they got free water.

ANDDisturbed by the fact that his sensational awakening has brought no reporters, he is told that public interest in private lives has abated.

He hears records of "some very spirited revolutionary songs from the '50s and '60s."

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