Thursday, 31 May 2012 03:16 pm
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deckardcanineBad news: I barely slept last night. Between the weather and an overactive mind, I couldn't get comfortable.
Good news (for me): My office has been closed all day due to a water main break. I can access email from home, but the only assignment under discussion yet requires hardcopy. This'll make rest easier.
And why was my mind overactive? I'd just charged to the end of Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land. As I predicted, despite more than 1.5 times the length of Dragonflight, it took about a third less time to read. It's much more distinctive and never boring.
Heinlein doesn't specify a year, but judging from a few hints, the story takes place no later than 2000. I won't fault a man in 1961 for imagining we'd have flying cars and manned flights to Mars by now, or even that we'd meet Martians. But his era is no excuse for using "orbit" as a synonym for "midair." Sci-fi giants like Asimov and Clarke would never make elementary flubs like that. Probably just as well that Heinlein doesn't spend much time on technology.
Indeed, his focus is on social sciences if any. The "future" innovation that intrigues me most is the organization of Fair Witnesses, people who are trained to observe events closely yet aloofly, remember them well, and give perfectly objective testimonies when asked. I found myself wishing for such a group, yet I doubt they'd win the broad trust to be called on often enough to justify their profession. There's also a scam religion called the Fosterites, endorsing Vegas-style hedonism in the name of the Lord. As far as I can tell, Heinlein invented them to demonstrate the danger of our legal definitions and protections of "churches."
My favorite character is the one in whose head we spend the most time, tho he's not the most central: Jubal Harshaw. An aged yet active and adept renaissance man, he leads a rare lifestyle and exhibits seemingly contrary passions and behaviors without sounding insane or unbelievable. Few characters in any medium have struck me as so developed.
By contrast, the titular stranger, while certainly interesting, is largely defined by the accident of his birth and upbringing. The central what-if is that Valentine Michael Smith, the infant son of two brilliant, wealthy scientists, gets raised to adulthood by Martians, whom the readers never really "meet," and then taken to Earth. What follows is not just massive culture clash but a delightful dilemma of how to handle the situation legally. Is he the rightful owner of Mars by a loophole, even if he begs to differ? Does he get Earth citizenship? Or does the Federation (of which the U.S. is but a piece) have no obligation to grant him basic human rights?
From the start, I found the Man from Mars endearing if not cute in his deferential innocence. Then he effortlessly made objects, including live human bodies, blink out of existence with his mind. This was just the tip of the iceberg. His powers don't quite match Dr. Manhattan, but any X-Man should envy him. And he's just a little kid by Martian standards.
Yeah, I'd say Heinlein's Mars is a Mary Suetopia; i.e., an obnoxious wish fulfillment culture. This became evident from Mike's complete lack of angst on the prospect of his or others' death, despite compassion for the grass that gets stepped on. But unlike the Martians from Out of the Silent Planet, they have a good reason: Their disembodied spirits hang around happily. (Personally, I despise the idea of bodies as prisons for the soul; if anything, ghosts should feel disabled, maybe even with... phantom... body syndrome.)
Just about anything we do, Martians do better, typically in defiance of our knowledge of physics. The idea of a completely superior individual, culture, or species has seldom sat well with me. Mercifully, apart from our abundant water supply, there is one thing they might envy in us: sexual dimorphism. Their intercourse isn't half as fun or romantic. So of course Smith becomes a superb lothario. (Pretty daring book for 1961, eh? Read on.)
After a few breakthroughs in human understanding, Smith creepily gains the confidence to remake human civilization in Mars's image. He starts a "religion," for want of a better presentation, proving that everyone has the same latent powers; you just have to think like a Martian, which apparently requires knowledge of their language (just one for the planet). That's right: Someone who just moved to Earth knows how to live on it better than any lifelong denizen. Of course, Heinlein doesn't bother to teach us any Martian aside from the now-famous "grok"; the rest supposedly defies transliteration. I guess he invented "grok" so he wouldn't have to use longer words like "understand" and "perceive" as often as Smith requires. And a second new word would risk the pressure to pull a Tolkien and waste time on a lexicon.
The Martian-Terran cult attracts members of various mainstream religions who think it's sufficiently compatible. A few surprise peeks into a corner of the afterlife indicate they're right. But this business is handled semi-comically and, by my reckoning, inconsistently. The cult is way too permissive for almost any culture in history, favoring respectful cannibalism, polyamory, rampant nudity, pure communism (not government-controlled), and an end to prisons. They also fully tolerate unendorsed but questionable actions like sexists selling their baby daughter to make room for a boy on the way. If the Smith followers weren't so happy and kind most of the time, I'd call them savages. I don't know if Heinlein tapped into the seeds of the hippie movement or possibly watered them (I've opted not to read other reviews before mine), but it worries me that someone might think the cult made good role models without realizing that only the superpowers and other aspects of undisclosed Martian discipline make the utopia possible.
It gets scarier when you consider the effect on identities. When Smith remembers Mars, he never thinks of individual Martians. When a few women gain the ability to change appearance at will, they look almost alike. And when native English speakers adopt Smith's awkward turns of phrase ("Waiting is," period?), small wonder a visitor thinks they're brainwashed.
I learned back in college that Heinlein wrote from lots of viewpoints not his own. I hope he was no Mike, or even Jubal, really. But if not, we have to wonder why he wrote this story. It strays far from the messages it makes early on. If I just want creative fare without regard for a moral, I'd prefer something that doesn't disturb me to the extent of Brave New World. At least it doesn't come as close to Childhood's End as I feared after a while.
My next choice to read is my birthday present, A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin. I can tell already that it's less original, but it's bound to go fast.
Good news (for me): My office has been closed all day due to a water main break. I can access email from home, but the only assignment under discussion yet requires hardcopy. This'll make rest easier.
And why was my mind overactive? I'd just charged to the end of Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land. As I predicted, despite more than 1.5 times the length of Dragonflight, it took about a third less time to read. It's much more distinctive and never boring.
Heinlein doesn't specify a year, but judging from a few hints, the story takes place no later than 2000. I won't fault a man in 1961 for imagining we'd have flying cars and manned flights to Mars by now, or even that we'd meet Martians. But his era is no excuse for using "orbit" as a synonym for "midair." Sci-fi giants like Asimov and Clarke would never make elementary flubs like that. Probably just as well that Heinlein doesn't spend much time on technology.
Indeed, his focus is on social sciences if any. The "future" innovation that intrigues me most is the organization of Fair Witnesses, people who are trained to observe events closely yet aloofly, remember them well, and give perfectly objective testimonies when asked. I found myself wishing for such a group, yet I doubt they'd win the broad trust to be called on often enough to justify their profession. There's also a scam religion called the Fosterites, endorsing Vegas-style hedonism in the name of the Lord. As far as I can tell, Heinlein invented them to demonstrate the danger of our legal definitions and protections of "churches."
My favorite character is the one in whose head we spend the most time, tho he's not the most central: Jubal Harshaw. An aged yet active and adept renaissance man, he leads a rare lifestyle and exhibits seemingly contrary passions and behaviors without sounding insane or unbelievable. Few characters in any medium have struck me as so developed.
By contrast, the titular stranger, while certainly interesting, is largely defined by the accident of his birth and upbringing. The central what-if is that Valentine Michael Smith, the infant son of two brilliant, wealthy scientists, gets raised to adulthood by Martians, whom the readers never really "meet," and then taken to Earth. What follows is not just massive culture clash but a delightful dilemma of how to handle the situation legally. Is he the rightful owner of Mars by a loophole, even if he begs to differ? Does he get Earth citizenship? Or does the Federation (of which the U.S. is but a piece) have no obligation to grant him basic human rights?
From the start, I found the Man from Mars endearing if not cute in his deferential innocence. Then he effortlessly made objects, including live human bodies, blink out of existence with his mind. This was just the tip of the iceberg. His powers don't quite match Dr. Manhattan, but any X-Man should envy him. And he's just a little kid by Martian standards.
Yeah, I'd say Heinlein's Mars is a Mary Suetopia; i.e., an obnoxious wish fulfillment culture. This became evident from Mike's complete lack of angst on the prospect of his or others' death, despite compassion for the grass that gets stepped on. But unlike the Martians from Out of the Silent Planet, they have a good reason: Their disembodied spirits hang around happily. (Personally, I despise the idea of bodies as prisons for the soul; if anything, ghosts should feel disabled, maybe even with... phantom... body syndrome.)
Just about anything we do, Martians do better, typically in defiance of our knowledge of physics. The idea of a completely superior individual, culture, or species has seldom sat well with me. Mercifully, apart from our abundant water supply, there is one thing they might envy in us: sexual dimorphism. Their intercourse isn't half as fun or romantic. So of course Smith becomes a superb lothario. (Pretty daring book for 1961, eh? Read on.)
After a few breakthroughs in human understanding, Smith creepily gains the confidence to remake human civilization in Mars's image. He starts a "religion," for want of a better presentation, proving that everyone has the same latent powers; you just have to think like a Martian, which apparently requires knowledge of their language (just one for the planet). That's right: Someone who just moved to Earth knows how to live on it better than any lifelong denizen. Of course, Heinlein doesn't bother to teach us any Martian aside from the now-famous "grok"; the rest supposedly defies transliteration. I guess he invented "grok" so he wouldn't have to use longer words like "understand" and "perceive" as often as Smith requires. And a second new word would risk the pressure to pull a Tolkien and waste time on a lexicon.
The Martian-Terran cult attracts members of various mainstream religions who think it's sufficiently compatible. A few surprise peeks into a corner of the afterlife indicate they're right. But this business is handled semi-comically and, by my reckoning, inconsistently. The cult is way too permissive for almost any culture in history, favoring respectful cannibalism, polyamory, rampant nudity, pure communism (not government-controlled), and an end to prisons. They also fully tolerate unendorsed but questionable actions like sexists selling their baby daughter to make room for a boy on the way. If the Smith followers weren't so happy and kind most of the time, I'd call them savages. I don't know if Heinlein tapped into the seeds of the hippie movement or possibly watered them (I've opted not to read other reviews before mine), but it worries me that someone might think the cult made good role models without realizing that only the superpowers and other aspects of undisclosed Martian discipline make the utopia possible.
It gets scarier when you consider the effect on identities. When Smith remembers Mars, he never thinks of individual Martians. When a few women gain the ability to change appearance at will, they look almost alike. And when native English speakers adopt Smith's awkward turns of phrase ("Waiting is," period?), small wonder a visitor thinks they're brainwashed.
I learned back in college that Heinlein wrote from lots of viewpoints not his own. I hope he was no Mike, or even Jubal, really. But if not, we have to wonder why he wrote this story. It strays far from the messages it makes early on. If I just want creative fare without regard for a moral, I'd prefer something that doesn't disturb me to the extent of Brave New World. At least it doesn't come as close to Childhood's End as I feared after a while.
My next choice to read is my birthday present, A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin. I can tell already that it's less original, but it's bound to go fast.