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Club Notice - 01/26/01 -- Vol. 19, No. 30
Table of Contents
Chair/Librarian: Mark Leeper, 732-817-5619, mleeper@lucent.com Factotum: Evelyn Leeper, 732-332-6218, eleeper@lucent.com Distinguished Heinlein Apologist: Rob Mitchell, robmitchell@lucent.com HO Chair Emeritus: John Jetzt, jetzt@lucent.com HO Librarian Emeritus: Nick Sauer, njs@lucent.com Back issues at http://www.geocities.com/evelynleeper. All material copyright by author unless otherwise noted.
Every once in a while I read an article that questions some very basic assumptions that I have been harboring. One such article was by Phillip Longman in the December 25 issue of U.S. NEWS AND WORLD REPORT. (A copy can be found at http://www.usnews.com/usnews/issue/001225/change.htm). The assumption I have made is that technology and progress are increasing in speed. We are getting past the knee of the curve and change will be a part of life that will be almost unslowable. Longman thinks that really the greatest progress of this century was made in the first half and that progress is indeed slowing down. He looks at the example of the benign couple of Ozzie and Harriet Nelson from a 1950s sitcom and asks would they feel more out of place moved fifty years into their past or fifty years into their future?
The Nelsons, he points out, "had indoor plumbing, electric lights, a car, television, telephone, refrigerator, blender, vacuum cleaner, and probably an automatic laundry washer and dryer." These are all products of the first half of this century. These are all things that they would do without were they moved back to 1900. If they were moved instead to the year 2000 they would find life a lot like the one they had left. It would take them a few minutes to get used to push buttons on a phone, but they could drive our cars and use most of our appliances. Things have been refined in the second half of the century, but they have not really changed all that much. At least that is his argument.
In fact, Longman is probably right, though his arguments are faulty. Disorientation is not a proper measure. One can always move fifty years into the future and just not make use of the latest inventions. Members of my wife's family are extremely change-adverse and live a life that essentially they could have lived fifty years ago. Virtually nobody is forced to use the Internet, but it has brought some major changes. Ozzie and Harriet in the 21st century would not know how to make use of the Internet, but they could quickly learn what it was and that it was out there. It is true that if they were moved back in time fifty years there is a lot they would miss, but there is a lot we would miss also going instead from 2000 to 1950. Not the least of which would be some antibiotics and polio vaccine. Comparing disorientation going forward and backward is comparing apples and oranges.
But Longman's errors are correctable without negating his point. I have to believe that it would be a much worse punishment to force the Nelsons to live in 1900 than to force me to live in 1950. This would put them on the nasty side of the post-W.W.I influenza epidemic. Medicine was much improved in the first half of this century and much more slowly advanced in the second half. As Longman points out, life expectancies were much extended. The extension of life in the second half of the century has come much slower.
There are a lot of places where we have lost the technological ability or "recipe" to do what we once could. Much of the reason for that is economic. If New York City did not have a subway system to this point, it would probably never get one of the current complexity and capacity. We proved we could go to the moon in the 1960s, but then we lost the ability. If we had to put a man on the moon as soon as possible, it is not at all clear we could do it with even ten years' notice. The economic cost, I have been told, would be far greater. We probably would not have the resolve to expend the resources necessary. We may well be a civilization that has hit its prime and is now falling backward. As a third example Longman points out that the fastest one can cross the Atlantic has just gotten a lot slower with the death of the commercial supersonic transport.
Next week/A> I will return to this rather sobering concept with a look
at the implications. [-mrl]
2000: Some Thoughts on a Year of Reading:
(book reviews by Evelyn C. Leeper):
I haven't done much reviewing of individual books this year, so
this is in the way of compensating by hitting some of the
highlights (and perhaps lowlights) of what I've read. Most are not
books first published in 2000 (they go back over 2000 years, in
fact). And to your great relief, I'm not covering all 157 books I
read (split fairly evenly among science fiction, other fiction, and
non-fiction).
The most interesting science book I read was a 2000 book: Matt
Ridley's "Genome." Each of the 23 chapters covers a gene on a
different chromosome, but Ridley talks a variety of approaches:
sometimes historical, sometimes medical, sometimes chemical.
An unclassifiable book is Roger Bruns's "Almost History," which
consist of speeches never given, paths never taken, and other
ahistorical wanderings. For example, there is Eisenhower's (real)
speech to be given if D-Day failed, but there is also some rather
pointless speculation about whether or not Mrs. O'Leary's cow
started the Great Chicago Fire. Interesting, if a mixed bag.
Simon Schama's "History of Britain" is clearly history, and only
suffers by comparison to the television series, which is basically
an illustrated audio abridgement. Schama writes with a lot of wit
and humor, and this comes through far better when you *hear* the
words spoken.
I had read Jorge Luis Borges's "Selected Fictions" last year; this
year I continued with his "Selected Non-Fictions." Some of the
articles I had seen before, but many were new to me, particularly
Borges's book and film reviews. I also went on a John Sutherland
binge, reading "Henry V, War Criminal?," "Where Was Rebecca Shot?,"
and "Who Betrays Elizabeth Bennett?" The first was co-authored
with someone else who wasn't nearly as good at analyzing the
literary puzzles and questions as Sutherland. The one problem, of
course, is that unless you've read the work being dissected in an
essay, you won't appreciate the analysis, but Sutherland sticks
pretty much to the canon. ("Where Was Rebecca Shot?" does move
into more modern works.)
I re-read Helene Hanff's "Q's Legacy." (I tend to re-read her
books a lot.)
Borges is one of my two favorite fantastic authors; the other is
Olaf Stapledon, and so I read Robert Crossley's biography of him,
"Olaf Stapledon: Speaking to the Future," as well as "Talking
Across the World," the collection of letters written between
Stapledon in England and France and his cousin Agnes (who later
became his wife) in Australia throughout World War I. Stapledon
served as an ambulance driver at the front, and his letters do
convey some of the horror of that war, and serve as a good way to
understand his biography as well.
Other books of a biographical nature included Homer H. Hickham,
Jr's "Rocket Boys" (made into the movie "October Sky"). One thing
that struck me was how the events in the movie that seemed most
unlikely were real, and also to see what changes were made. (One
obvious one was changing his father's name--it's confusing in films
for two characters to have the same name.) I recommend both the
book and the movie.
Clara Solomon's "Civil War Diary" interested me because it is the
only such diary I know of written by a Jew. And speaking of Jews,
Fred A. Bernstein's "Jewish Mothers' Hall of Fame" is of interest
here because one of the mothers interviewed was Rosalyn Yalow's
mother (or Ben Yalow's grandmother).
Segueing into fandom, Camille Bacon-Smith's "Science Fiction
Culture" is a definite Hugo contender (it was first published in
2000) and well worth reading. It also mentions Ben.
Drifting into another aspect of science fiction, I also really
recommend Tom Weaver's "Return of the B Science Fiction and Horror
Heroes." This is an omnibus trade paperback reprint of the
McFarland Press two-volume hardback, and at $35 (versus somewhere
around $120 for the hardback), it's a great buy. Weaver
interviewed dozens of actors, actresses, and crew from 1950s
science fiction and horror movies, and some of the stories they
tell are hysterical. (For example, the man who played Blonde Boy
in "Teenage Caveman" also played the bear and another character as
well in the same movie, but his best story is about the bear's
death scene.)
Harry M. Benshoff may go a little overboard in "Monsters in the
Closet," seeing every use of the words "gay" and "queer" in 1930s
films as indicative of some underlying homosexual subtext, but I
have to say that after reading it, you will never look at these
films the same way again. Oddly enough, as Benshoff moved forward
in time to more obvious references in films, the book became less
interesting.
As always, I read some Shakespeare. There was "Titus Andronicus"
(before seeing "Titus") and "King Edward III" (after it was decided
he wrote it--not one of his better efforts. I also highly
recommend "Titus," which I had thought was a 1999 film, but Roger
Ebert's mention of it on his 2000 list makes me wonder if I should
try nominating it for a Hugo again. I also re-read Euripides's
"Electra" after seeing the movie on cable. Arnold Wesker's "Birth
of Shylock & The Death of Zero Mostel" would have been more
meaningful if I had seen or read Wesker's play "Shylock" (which
folded on Broadway after its star, Zero Mostel, died on opening
night). Re-writing "The Merchant of Venice" was not original (so
to speak) with Wesker, though--George Granville did it three
hundred years ago with "The Jew of Venice," which steals lines
shamelessly from Shakespeare.
It was the year of the series. I read books two through four of
the "Harry Potter" series, and enjoyed them. I read S. M.
Stirling's "Nantucket" series ("Across the Sea of Time," "Against
the Tide of Years," and "On the Oceans of Eternity") and found that
one can have too much of a good thing. I also read Eric Flint's
"1632" and found myself in the midst of "Duelling Time Travelers"-
-a seeming argument about whether Nantucket Yankees or West
Virginia coal miners were better prepared to have their entire
community flung back in time. (Jerry Sohl had already been there,
done that, and been forgotten before either of them.) As part of
my "I shall read no trilogy before its time" policy, I read the
last two Stirling books back-to-back, and had the worst of both
worlds: I had difficulty remembering the details of the first book
after a year, and tired of the third before I finished it.
Another trilogy was Philip Pullman "His Dark Materials" ("The
Golden Compass," "The Subtle Knife," and "The Amber Spyglass").
Again I read all three together, and again, it grew somewhat
wearisome towards the end. However, I have to say that I am
astonished by the notion that an author actually sold a young adult
trilogy based on apparently Gnostic theology, and promoting a very
negative image of God and organized religion. ("Harry Potter"
pretty much side-steps the whole issue of religion.)
And speaking of negative images of God, James Morrow has finished
his triptych with "The Eternal Footman." Unfortunately, it's not
quite up to "Towing Jehovah" or "Blameless in Abaddon." (And he
puts the toll booths on the Tappan Zee Bridge at the wrong end.)
Actually, there seems to be arising trend to get details wrong.
Robert Charles Wilson, in one of the stories in "Perseids and Other
Stories," completely misstates what I think is supposed to be
Goldbach's Conjecture ("Every even number greater than 2 is the sum
of two primes.") as "Two primes always add up to an even number."
(Hint: If one of the primes is 2, and the other not, they don't.
Otherwise, you're adding two odd or two even numbers, so of course
the sum is even.) And James Stevens-Arce's "Soulsaver" says the
low thirties Centigrade are the high nineties to low hundreds
Fahrenheit. (The last could, I suppose, be written off as the
ignorance of the first-person narrator.)
In spite of its gaffe, I recommend the Wilson collection, which
contains three never-before-published stories--think Hugo.
"Soulsaver" is set in Puerto Rico a hundred years in the future, at
which time a Christian dictatorship has taken over the United
States. It's difficult to tell whether it's Protestant, Catholic,
or what. In Puerto Rico, at least, there is still confession et
al, but the general trappings seem more Protestant-based, there is
a minor character named "Father Luther," there are women priests,
and so on. The first three-quarters or so are really good, but
then it descends into a stock series of revelations, and yet
another gaffe, harder to explain away, involving time and timing.
Speaking of Puerto Rico, I enjoyed all of Rosario Ferre's "House on
the Lagoon," a multi-generational story starting around the turn of
the century (1900, that is). I read the English translation (by
Ferre herself), while I gave my father the Spanish version. (For
both these recommendations, I suppose I should mention that my
father is from Puerto Rico, so I have a particular interest in the
island.)
As a nod to the end of the century, I read several books written a
while ago, but set in 2000. The most well-known was probably
Edward Bellamy's "Looking Backward: 2000-1887" (written in 1888),
but the most interesting was John Jacob Astor's "A Journey in Other
Worlds" (written in 1894). Involving anti-gravity and a voyage to
other planets, it reads more like a Jules Verne adventure novel
than a realistic look at what the future might be. It is out of
print but available on-line, complete with the nifty illustrations.
I read the various Hugo nominees, and my choice was Neal
Stephenson's "Cryptonomicon." I'm not going to argue as to whether
it is science fiction, but just say that to me it was.
I re-read Arturo Perez-Reverte's "Club Dumas" after seeing the
movie "The Ninth Gate." Though the movie was based on the book,
the entire Dumas plot was removed, rather necessitating the title
change. I recommend them both, though the character Johnny Depp
plays in the movie is a rather bizarre interpretation of a rare
book dealer. (I don't know of any book dealers who would examine a
valuable 16th century book while drinking whiskey and *smoking*!)
Mike Ashley has edited a whole series of mystery anthologies set in
the past (including "Shakespearean Detectives" and "Classical
Whodunnits"). The latest I have read is "Historical Detectives,"
which is a good sampling of authors and eras.
William Sleator's "Rewind" seemed very much a children's (or young
adult) version of the ever-popular "Replay" by Ken Grimwood.
("Replay" also seemed to have inspired the movie "Groundhog Day" a
few years ago.)
Joe Haldeman's "The Coming" is proof that you don't need to write a
doorstop. At 216 pages, it conveys a feeling for the time and
place of the story, creates characters, tells a story, and ends.
The style is quite interesting, and possibly one reason why
Haldeman wanted to keep it short: there are no abrupt scene
changes. That is to say, if he is writing about character A and
wants to have the next scene be about character B, he ends the
scene with the two characters interacting, or at least intersecting
in some way. It's easier to express this cinematically: the story
is shot in a single take. (There are time lapses allowed, however,
but only within a single chapter and with a single character.)
And in short fiction, seek out Ted Chiang's "Seventy-Two Letters"
in the anthology "Vansihing Acts" (edited by Ellen Datlow). (Has
Chiang ever written a bad story, or even one that was just okay?)
If you liked James Alan Gardner's "Three Hearings on the Existence
of Snakes in the Human Bloodstream" or Richard Garfinkle's
"Celestial Matters," you'll probably like this one. It's not just
an alternate history, but a science fiction story set in that
world. [-ecl]
Stay clear of anyone who refers to God more than
once an hour.
-- Roger Rosenblatt