SciFi Resurrection III: Some Conclusions
This is the third essay on my recent explorations into science fiction both on film and on page. The film adaptations have, in my opinion, been found wanting. There has always been something lacking from the screen that I seem to remember was fulfilled when I first consumed the classic science fiction of my youth. Truthfully, I look at my collection of anime and don’t have the same fascination for it as I once did either. It could be explained away as sequel fatigue or I’ve expanded beyond these commercialized pop artists and their incredibly predictable plot lines. Perhaps its wisdom and a more discerning pallet that demands nuanced and refined prose. Perhaps its old age and cynicism cackling at the fantastical ruminations of soon to be middle aged hacks churning out pulp for a primarily male audience yearning to substitute a little fantastical for spirit crushing tedium.
Of course you can’t judge something from a single example and that was not the case here. I’ve actually purchased and read four or five authors trying to find something else that could hold my attention. What I found common amongst all the books I read, even the ones I enjoyed, was dialog and characters that seemed rather two dimensional. There is an abundance of heroines, usually with large breasts, tight buns, and negotiable morals along with the sergeant rock types, both gay and straight, and a veritable cornucopia of science and tech geeks. The conversation and interplay between these characters was ALWAYS stilted and contrived as if the dialog was inserted to give the larger scene focus and color. One book, Step up! was probably the worst of the lot. It’s about a young, hot, brilliant female engineer stuck in some backwater fixing fork trucks that signs on board an interstellar space craft at the local deep space harbor for adventure and treasure. Through a variety of twists, turns and catastrophic events, our young hottie ends up the Captain of a vessel the size of an aircraft carrier. It was absolute bullshit. The pseudo sex and relationships, the ridiculous reactions to predictable encounters and crisis and the idiotic way this kid was accepted as having the maturity and skill needed to command a vessel after about a year was, was oh soooo Starwars? Why did I finish reading it is a fair question. I always give the author the benefit of the doubt and this one did have some cool stuff moving around in the background but never developed it farther than as a backdrop to our heroine’s conflicting versions of herself and her situation. Most of the stuff I read had these elements, another series featured the recalcitrant male bad boy, and while it was entertaining, it was hardly satisfying. What is it that I’m in quest of? The mythical middle-aged fountain of youth? Enough of that.
There is another book worth mentioning. It probably belongs in the previous essay about Robert Stross but due to peculiarities of the writing process (I didn’t want to write any more), I didn’t include it. There is also the fact that I really didn’t like it. The Atrocity Archives: A Laundry Files Novel was another of the choices I made and should have been warned off by the title. There is a certain place in literature that holds no interest for me. There is in the pages of the most infamous of these authors a reflection of the evil that lies in the heart of darkness. The human race moves along into the future both technically and philosophically always so sure that their own generation is beyond the atrocities and barbarity of the previous only to discover the grisly facts still amongst us. Giving that darkness a form but always obscuring the features was the specialty of H. P Lovecraft. There are some places that the soldier, the doctor and the journalist must go in the real world that cannot have ascribed causality in the form of a malevolent evil from a parallel universe. But it is so tempting and convenient. Mr. Stross followed a mystery plot line that leads to one of these places that was described in such a fashion that it screwed me up. Its happened to many readers that they’ll consume in a time and place that becomes synonymous with each other. That is, whenever the memory of what you were doing in real life is triggered, the storyline comes to mind and whenever the book comes to mind, where and what you were doing comes to mind. Each flavors the other in your memories. In my own case it was central Illinois just after the tornados of Thanksgiving last year and I was reading this story of malevolent beings that possessed people and consumed the energies of an entire universe. Nope, the story made me feel even more hopeless than the environment I was working in; very cold, very dark and something living there that liked it that way. Not a place I wish to visit let alone relish.
I have returned to my previous tastes for history and have found a seriously detailed history of the Spanish Empire that rambles on for two volumes and 1300 pages. I’ve also discovered why there’s nothing on television. It’s all on Netflicks. Decisions, decisions.
Of course you can’t judge something from a single example and that was not the case here. I’ve actually purchased and read four or five authors trying to find something else that could hold my attention. What I found common amongst all the books I read, even the ones I enjoyed, was dialog and characters that seemed rather two dimensional. There is an abundance of heroines, usually with large breasts, tight buns, and negotiable morals along with the sergeant rock types, both gay and straight, and a veritable cornucopia of science and tech geeks. The conversation and interplay between these characters was ALWAYS stilted and contrived as if the dialog was inserted to give the larger scene focus and color. One book, Step up! was probably the worst of the lot. It’s about a young, hot, brilliant female engineer stuck in some backwater fixing fork trucks that signs on board an interstellar space craft at the local deep space harbor for adventure and treasure. Through a variety of twists, turns and catastrophic events, our young hottie ends up the Captain of a vessel the size of an aircraft carrier. It was absolute bullshit. The pseudo sex and relationships, the ridiculous reactions to predictable encounters and crisis and the idiotic way this kid was accepted as having the maturity and skill needed to command a vessel after about a year was, was oh soooo Starwars? Why did I finish reading it is a fair question. I always give the author the benefit of the doubt and this one did have some cool stuff moving around in the background but never developed it farther than as a backdrop to our heroine’s conflicting versions of herself and her situation. Most of the stuff I read had these elements, another series featured the recalcitrant male bad boy, and while it was entertaining, it was hardly satisfying. What is it that I’m in quest of? The mythical middle-aged fountain of youth? Enough of that.
There is another book worth mentioning. It probably belongs in the previous essay about Robert Stross but due to peculiarities of the writing process (I didn’t want to write any more), I didn’t include it. There is also the fact that I really didn’t like it. The Atrocity Archives: A Laundry Files Novel was another of the choices I made and should have been warned off by the title. There is a certain place in literature that holds no interest for me. There is in the pages of the most infamous of these authors a reflection of the evil that lies in the heart of darkness. The human race moves along into the future both technically and philosophically always so sure that their own generation is beyond the atrocities and barbarity of the previous only to discover the grisly facts still amongst us. Giving that darkness a form but always obscuring the features was the specialty of H. P Lovecraft. There are some places that the soldier, the doctor and the journalist must go in the real world that cannot have ascribed causality in the form of a malevolent evil from a parallel universe. But it is so tempting and convenient. Mr. Stross followed a mystery plot line that leads to one of these places that was described in such a fashion that it screwed me up. Its happened to many readers that they’ll consume in a time and place that becomes synonymous with each other. That is, whenever the memory of what you were doing in real life is triggered, the storyline comes to mind and whenever the book comes to mind, where and what you were doing comes to mind. Each flavors the other in your memories. In my own case it was central Illinois just after the tornados of Thanksgiving last year and I was reading this story of malevolent beings that possessed people and consumed the energies of an entire universe. Nope, the story made me feel even more hopeless than the environment I was working in; very cold, very dark and something living there that liked it that way. Not a place I wish to visit let alone relish.
I have returned to my previous tastes for history and have found a seriously detailed history of the Spanish Empire that rambles on for two volumes and 1300 pages. I’ve also discovered why there’s nothing on television. It’s all on Netflicks. Decisions, decisions.