The Man in the High Castle
By Philip K. Dick
EVersion 4.0 / See EOF for Notes
Tenth printing / September 1982
Copyright (c) 1962 by Philip K. Dick.
To my wife Anne, without whose silence
This book would never have been written.
The version of the I Ching or Book of Changes used and quoted in this novel is the Richard
Wilhelm translation rendered into English by Cary F. Baynes, published by Pantheon Books, Bollingen
Series XIX, 1950, by the Bollingen Foundation, Inc., New York.
The haiku on page 45 is by Yosa Buson, translated by Harold G. Henderson, from the
Anthology of Japanese Literature, Volume One, compiled and edited by Donald Keene, Grove
Press, 1955, New York.
The waka on page 128 is by Chiyo, translated by Daisetz T. Suzuki, from Zen and Japanese
Culture, by Daisetz T. Suzuki, published by Pantheon Books, Bollingen Series LXIV, 1959, by the
Bollingen Foundation, Inc., New York,
I have made much use of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, A History of Nazi Germany,
By William L. Shirer, Simon and Schuster, 1960, New York; Hitler, a Study in Tyranny, by Alan
Bullock, Harper, 1953, New York; The Goebbels Diaries, 1942-1943 , edited and translated by Louis
P. Lochner, Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1948, New York; The Tibetan Book of the Dead,
Compiled and edited by W. Y. Evans-Wentz, Oxford University Press, 1960, New York; The Foxes of
The Desert, by Paul Carell, E. P. Dutton & Company, Inc., 1961, New York. And I owe personal
Thanks to the eminent Western writer Will Cook for his help with material dealing with historic artifacts
And the U. S. Frontier Period.
For a week Mr. R. Childan had been anxiously watching the mail. But the valuable shipment from
The Rocky Mountain States had not arrived. As he opened up his store
on Friday morning and saw only
Letters on the floor by the mail slot he thought, I’m going to have an angry customer.
Pouring himself a cup of instant tea from the five-cent wall dispenser he got a broom and began
To sweep; soon he had the front of American Artistic Handcrafts Inc. ready for the day, all spick and
Span with the cash register full of change, a fresh vase of marigolds, and the radio playing background
Music. Outdoors along the sidewalk businessmen hurried toward their offices along Montgomery Street.
Far off, a cable car passed; Childan halted to watch it with pleasure. Women in their long colorful silk
Dresses. . . he watched them, too. Then the phone rang. He turned to answer it.
“Yes,” a familiar voice said to his answer. Childan’s heart sank. “This is Mr. Tagomi. Did my Civil
War recruiting poster arrive yet, sir? Please recall; you promised it sometime last week.” The fussy, brisk
Voice, barely polite, barely keeping the code. “Did I not give you a deposit, sir, Mr. Childan, with that
Stipulation? This is to be a gift, you see. I explained that. A client.”
“Extensive inquiries,” Childan began, “which I’ve had made at my own expense, Mr. Tagomi, sir,
Regarding the promised parcel, which you realize originates outside of this region and is therefore – “
But Tagomi broke in, “Then it has not arrived.”
“No, Mr. Tagomi, sir.”
An icy pause.
“I can wait no furthermore,” Tagomi said.
“No sir.” Childan gazed morosely through the store window at the warm bright day and the San
Francisco office buildings.
“A substitute, then. Your recommendation, Mr. Chil – dan?” Tagomi deliberately mispronounced
The name; insult within the code that made Childan’s ears burn.