First things first: no, the author isn’t the Guardians of the Galaxy director. This is James E. Gunn, born nearly a half-century earlier. This book is what they used to call a philosophical novel, before such things fell out of favor. It’s sci-fi, but the sci-fi is really an excuse to examine complex issues concerning the human condition.

The first section deals with a company called Hedonics, Inc., a business which promises to make people happy, or give them their money back. A hardboiled businessman thinks he sees through this obvious scam. But after awhile, he starts to find that maybe it isn’t just a scam after all.

In part two, Hedonics has basically taken over the world, to the point where there are professional “hedonists,” who are essentially doctors assigned to make sure that their charges are in a state of happiness. This section follows one such hedonist, whose name we learn very late in the section, is Morgan. Morgan gradually uncovers… let’s say… issues within the structure of the government-sponsored philosophy of absolute happiness.

The third section deals with a Venus-born man returning to Earth to warn of what appears to be an impending alien attack. What he finds on returning to Earth is that it has been nearly entirely taken over by machines, whose prime directive is ensuring that humans are happy at all times. And being machines, they followed this logic to its inevitable conclusion.

This all probably sounds pretty straightforward as a plot. And in some ways it is, but the real meat of this book isn’t the plot, except maybe in the first section. The Joy Makers isn’t plot-driven or character-driven. It’s question-driven, and the question is, “What does it mean to be happy?”

It seems simple on the face of it. I’m sitting here in my comfy office chair, in my air-conditioned house, sipping a nice flavored water. I am happy.

Ah, but am I really? Am I maximizing my joy? Do I have absolutely no anxieties or possible wants? Could I, somehow, increase my Benthamite utility?

Of course, I could be happier! My desires could be satisfied more completely, my wants and fears removed. But then… what would it mean to do that? What would the complete absence of anything remotely displeasurable even look like?

Such are the questions The Joy Makers grapples with over and over; each section exploring different aspects of what it is to be happy, each chapter with a quote from some famous philosopher on the concept of happiness.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the modern world provides a great deal of luxury and convenience. We enjoy amenities undreamt for nearly all of recorded history. Is it possible to imagine a future in which people remain forever in a gauzy, comfortable state of pleasurable suspended animation while robots mine the planet for resources? Gunn was imagining it in the 1960s, and it sure looks even more plausible now.

And would this really be happiness? Or merely a flawed simulacrum thereof?  And how would we know?

The Joy Makers addresses all these questions. While a few aspects here and there serve to date it, the core theme of the book is strikingly relevant to the present day; probably much more so than when it was written.

Of course, the issue with many philosophical novels is that the actual plot may get short shrift, and that kind of happens here. For example, both section two and three feature this pattern of events:

1. Male protagonist meets attractive female
2. After some confusion, male and female realize they are allies
3. Male and female seek shelter together, fall asleep
4. When male wakes up, female is gone.
5. Male thinks female has probably abandoned him, doesn’t wait for her return
6. This creates problems for both down the line.

Maybe this was some sort of artistic choice, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like the same story beats were just being recycled. And maybe it annoyed me more than it should, but I hate when characters in a story don’t wait for someone they supposedly like to explain their motivations. (Actually, I hate when people do that in real life, too.)

So, sure, there are a few times when the story gets bogged down a little. But it’s so interesting I could mostly look past it. The themes in this book are so relevant that I could forgive any flaws. Everyone should read it, simply for the questions it raises.

RJ Llewellyn recommended this book to me years ago, and I picked up a copy at the time, but didn’t get around to reading it until this past month. I wish I hadn’t waited so long. This book raises ideas that stick with you long after you finish reading.