I’ve been a fan of reading science fiction since I was in grade school when I found a copy of Robert Heinlein’s Have Space Suit, Will Travel at the Belmont library. Some time after that I stumbled upon various Arthur C. Clarke novels and soon found him to be my favorite. And when CBS had Clarke join Walter Cronkite and Wally Schirra on set for live coverage of Apollo flights, including the moon landing, my liking of his approach to science and fiction grew.
Of course, just about the time of all those amazing Apollo flights, Gene Roddenberry cranked out a couple of seasons of Star Trek -- complete in front of plywood sets -- and my affection for science fiction was set for life. Kirk, Spock, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, and Checkov became heroes of mine.
But something has changed in science fiction over the last ten to twenty years that leaves me pretty disappointed.
The thing I liked best about Clarke was that his fiction was really based on science. Distances, orbits, and complications of space travel were key components to his stories that then added human elements that made for truly engaging reading. When 2001: A Space Odyssey was made into a movie my senior year in high school, I can remember walking home from the DaBel theater really pumped, while my girlfriend was totally confused by the whole affair. I didn’t quite understand everything Stanley Kubrick and Clarke tried to do in the movie, but it somehow made some kind of mystical sense that really got my blood pumping. I still like the idea that when the good spaceship Discovery moved through space, long exterior shots were completely silent. These days when I see space movies, vehicles out there make huge rocket noise -- when in fact there is not sound in airless space.
I was pleased, too, to see new Star Trek series make it to television. When we were first married, Cindy Lou and I often spent two hours a weeknight with dinner in front of the tv together: the first hour watching Little House on the Prairie, the second watching reruns of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I liked Voyager well enough, and Deep Space Nine, but I think Enterprise became my favorite Trek spin-off for the same reasons I ended up liking Arthur C. Clarke so much: it seemed plausible and, well, hopeful.
What disappoints me so much today is the extreme violence included in science fiction. Enterprise, with Captain Archer at the helm, was about the first human folks setting out for space with the help of cautious space-savvy Vulcans along in a supervisory role. Sure, there were firefights, but the episodes I liked best were about Earth-folk making contact with other civilizations. It was the problem-solving humanity of the crew that enticed me to watch to see how all would turn out.
A few years ago, cable television created a Syfy channel. Great, I thought. A whole network devoted to my favorite type of fiction. But after only a few seasons, it became obvious that what Syfy thought was science fiction, I thought was horror. Tonight’s prime time presentation is from a series called Defiance with an episode paraphrased as ‘Down in the ground where dead men go.’
Sorry, zombie shit isn’t what I call science fiction.
And as much as I liked this summer’s newest Star Trek movie, Into Darkness, it revolves way too much around huge blow-em-up events for my taste. Gene Roddenberry’s original idea of humanity discovering others in space has been reduced to the basic elements of Hollywood blockbuster destruction movies. And what was released last week that qualifies as science fiction? Will Smith’s After Earth and Brad Pitt’s World War Z. Do you see the pattern?
I am drawn to this topic today because of a preview I saw at Into Darkness of the upcoming holiday release of Ender’s Game, a novel written by Orson Scott Card. In my search for good science fiction years ago, I bought a copy of Ender’s Game on a recommendation. I tried to read it, but gave up after just a couple of chapters because I just couldn’t get into it. With the movie coming out, though, I thought I’d give it one more try.
This time I couldn’t put it down. And last night I started book two of the series, Speaker for the Dead.
True, there’s plenty of death and destruction in Ender’s Game, but it is an engaging story of kids put in unnatural situations where they bond and become able to accomplish things the adult world could not. Sounds like Stephen King, now that I think about it. And Jaden Smith in After Earth. And heroic kids in Hunger Games.
I’ve got copies of Isaac Asimov and Ursula Le Guin on my sci fi shelf. I’m liable to try them next to see how I do. If the truth be told, I’m not a very good reader. If the story doesn’t grab me quick, I have a tendency to put it down and watch baseball or Rachel Maddow instead. They keep my interest better.
I’ll miss the late Arthur C. Clarke’s unwritten stories of we Terrans trying to make sense of our finding probes sent by civilizations light years away trying to make contact with whomever they find.
I wonder what will happen when some consciousness in some distant star system locates our Voyager 1 or Voyager 2 drifting in space, complete with explanatory plaques? I hope my great great great grandkids then will know how to be friendly -- and human.
Today’s elder idea: Years ago while teaching, I can remember talking to students about a short story I loved and most of them were bored with. I invited them to pick it up again when they were older for another try. So it was with me and Ender’s Game. I’m glad I listened to my own advice.
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