The government in question

I would like to see -- just once - a science fiction movie in which the designated agents of the US government don't act like a pack of gun-happy, testosterone-crazed morons.

After I wrote that last week, I started thinking. Was I being fair? Was it true? Do science fiction movies actually portray the US government in such a negative light?

Well, two movies I’d recently seen certainly did: Starman and The Day the Earth Stood Still. And then we have Alien/Aliens; the government in question may not be specifically identified with the United States, but it’s close—and whoever they are, they’re the bad guys.

On the other hand, the US military in Independence Day is definitely testosterone-crazed and gun happy, but in that movie it’s a good thing.

(A digression: I turned to the internet to refresh my memory with the titles of other science fiction movies. Wikipedia proved a great resource; one article has all the science movies since forever, by year. It’s an endless, fascinating list, what with Santa Clause Conquers the Martians (1964) and Beware! The Blob (1972). Then there were all those great movies that I hadn’t thought about in a while: Silent Running, Twelve Monkeys, The Fifth Element (an all-time favorite). Our Netflix queue is about to get a serious makeover.)

At any rate, returning to our topic—

Perhaps I was too harsh. After all, when you are watching a movie, you know it’s a movie. An alien spaceship has landed in Central Park, 18-wheelers are dissolving in front of your eyes, and none of it is going to affect you at all.

But what if it was real? What if you were in charge of the defense of your country and a spaceship lands? What do you know about it? Nothing, probably, except that the owners of the spaceship have vastly superior technology than you do. Are they friendly? You don’t know. Maybe striking at them immediately is your one chance to save your country, your species, your planet, etc., etc.

We know that neither Keanu Reeves nor Jeff Bridges is really going to hurt us. But reality doesn’t come equipped with alien movie stars.

I think what bothered me more than the violent response – in Starman and The Day the Earth Stood Still – is the lack of reasoned discussion. It was as if government officials were, as a group, incapable of hearing an opposing point of view, incapable of questioning their own judgment. That’s the worst place to be, as even we moviegoers have, in the recent past, every reason to know.

I'll continue thinking about this topic, and I'm certainly going to be more aware, as I watch any sci-fi film from now on, of its point of view re the government and the military. We shall see . . .

Starbuck and Cylons

As usual - what with having the cheapest cable TV package possible, the one they don't tell you about and you have to ask for specifically - we didn't see this series when it started its run on the Sci-fi channel, in 2003. So we've been renting one season after another from Netflix.

(I'm talking about the 're-imagined' Battlestar Galactica, by the way - not the original 1978 TV series, which I can vaguely remember watching on an old black and white set.)

Reviewers on amazon seem to be split about the re-imagined 'Battlestar'. A minority are outraged that the original series - apparently bright and positive and full of manly men and good morals - was tampered with to make the much darker and difficult 2003 version. The majority love the new stuff, and consider the older version to be, you know, so last century.

Apparently one of the causes of outrage was changing our rules-breaking, kickass hero Starbuck - into a woman. I have to question if the people complaining about this have actually seen the new series, since Katee Sackhoff - who plays Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace - is the compleat rules-breaking, kickass heroine. She is of course an attractive woman, but I love that they don't try to make her gussied-up and pretty like a fashion model.

So I'm going with the majority on this one. I wonder if seeing the series in compressed time - sometimes two or three episodes a night, with no commercial breaks - might have a different impact on viewers than the original idea of once a week. At any rate, I've been hooked from the first 5 minutes.

We have Edward James Olmos and Mary McDonnell - two actors of a certain age, both of them wonderful - playing Commander Adama of the Galactica and the President of the Colonies, respectively (the 40 or so people ahead of McDonnell's character in the line of succession all having been killed in the main Cylon attack). We have Michael Hogan as Saul Tigh (the eXO with a drinking problem and a wife with a very interesting history). And we have a group of younger characters, including the rather remarkable Cylon 'Six.'

One of the great additions to the re-imagined series is the idea that some Cylons are 'skin-jobs' - that is, they look and can act exactly like humans. This leads to consequences, which are just now - in the last weeks of the last season of the series - being played out.

Now if I can only figure out how to get a hold of the final episodes . . .

Star Rangers

I've been watching Battlestar Galactica -- via Netflix -- and we've just gotten to the point where our heroes have found Earth. Or at least what they think is Earth - I have my doubts about its actual identity. Anyway, the planet they were so desperately searching for is a blasted, post-nuclear wasteland.

They are all very sad about this. But the series isn't over yet.

Star Rangers (aka 'The Last Planet') by Andre Norton is another story about finding a long-forgotten Earth. In this case, however, the weary crew of a spaceship -- the spaceship being a poorly-maintained relic of a dying galactic civilization -- crash lands on the planet by accident, and for most of the book neither they nor the reader knows that this accidental discovery is the original home of the species.

(There are some nice hints along the way. The green of the vegetation here seems somehow the best and the purest green, unlike the blue-greens or the yellow-greens of other planets they've known.)

The moment in which they find out where they really are ("Terra of Sol - man's beginning!") is a moment of sheer wonder and science fiction glory. Earth had been abandoned by (most of) its people, who left to find the stars. The crew members have a vague memory of this abandonment - it has been a story handed down over the long generations - and now they see the ancient 'Hall of Leave-Taking' for themselves. Kartr - our protagonist - thinks to himself:

"There --why, right there had sat the commanders, and behind them crews and colonists! And so they must have gathered, shipful after shipful for years - maybe centuries. Gathered, spoke together for the last time, received their last orders and instructions - then went out to the field and the waiting ships and blasted off into the unknown - never to return."

Wow. Of course, my personal fantasy at the time (early 1960s!) was to leave Earth myself, permanently. ASAP. So, together with a strong theme element of telepathy (very cool) the book was this adolescent's dream.

I will mention one slightly iffy plot point; shortly after our hero crew crashes on the planet they discover another spaceship has crashed there a few months before. Then, about the time they realize what planet this is, another spaceship lands (and is soon destroyed.) Although the various passengers on these ships are necessary to the story, it does seem a little funny that - after Earth has been (nearly) deserted for millenia - it is suddenly beseiged with crashing spaceships.

Did you notice the 'nearly' deserted bit? Yes, there are still people on the planet. They have retreated to a pre-technological society, and the author describes them somewhat like pre-colonial tribes of native Americans. She does not condescend to them however, and one of our heroes remarks that the people who did not leave Earth - and who have lived there ever since - simply made the choice that seemed best to them at the time.

And indeed, it is the choice that our heroes make as well. Rather than attempt to live in one of the old cities, with some technological comforts, Kartr and his crew decide to strike out and live off the land as newcomers. The end of the old galactic civilization is the beginning, for them, of something new.

Stargate

No, it's not that Stargate - not the movie, or the TV series, which have now evolved into the Stargate franchise.

(Not that I'm opposed to franchises on principle. I'm really looking forward to the new Star Trek movie, and Star Trek, my friends, is the Borg queen of all franchises.)

Anyway. This Stargate is a 1976 novel by Stephen Robinett, who has published a few other novels, and a book of short stories - Projections - which I used to own and can no longer find. It's probably around the house somewhere.

Ironically, the novel involves a large ring which can teleport things, and I have to wonder if Robinett ever considered suing the movie people for stealing his idea, but--in truth--other than 'ring' and 'teleportation' the stories are nothing alike.

Stargate is 'near' science fiction; that is, it is set on Earth, with people who have lives a lot like yours or mine. There are cars. Lawyers. Old folks' homes. On the other hand, there is some advanced technology, notably the Jensen ring, which is basically a transporter. Cool. You walk into the ring in New York, and walk out in San Francisco.

The plot of the story involves our hero - a young engineer - building a huge Jensen ring in space, in order - no, no, not in order for humans to visit the stars - in order to . . . wait for it . . . mine other planets for metals.

Yeah, I know. Still, this is one of the novels I turn to when I want to read something fun and relaxing. The style is very breezy, written in a self-deprecating first-person by Bobby, our young engineer hero. The other characters, including Dolores, his lawyer girlfriend, and the 70-something 'old guy' who Bobby turns to for help - are well-drawn, and everybody banters alot. You know how I love banter.

It's a relatively short book, funny, and has a happy ending. Now if only transporters were real.

The unusual suspects

Ah, yes – and now, by popular demand . . .

I’ve been asked to make a list of sci-fi novels that aren’t on the usual lists. You know the usual lists – the 20 best sci-fi novels of all time, etc., etc. Usually headed by Dune or the Foundation series.

(I have nothing against either of those books, by the way. Dune is great, and the Foundation series – although it reads a little dated, to me – is obviously one of the classics.)

But we need another list, a list of the less obvious suspects. I was originally challenged to come up with twenty. Twenty turns out to be beyond me, a least for the moment. Let’s start with five:

The Last Planet, by Andre Norton. This was originally titled Star Rangers. It was one of the very first sci-fi novels that I read, and I can still feel the sense of wonder. It’s oriented towards younger readers, I suppose. I don’t care. Ideas/themes: telepathy and mental powers, aliens, post-technological civilizations, return to a lost Earth.

This isn’t the novel that started me on sci-fi, but it’s probably the novel that got me permanently hooked.

The Uplift War, by David Brin. OK, this one is better known, and more recent, and might even have ended up on a list or two. The best, most complex, most entertaining talking-animals story ever. Ideas/themes: Evolution of species to sentience, aliens, star wars, information technology.

Brin has a knack – and as a writer, let me tell you, it’s a definite talent – for names. Fiben. The Gubru. And my favorite: Uthacalthing.

Captives of the Flame, by Samuel R. Delany. This is another older book (first published in 1963), and introduced me – as a very young reader – to sci-fi novels as prose. Strange, beautiful, and a little sad. Themes – OK, this one I’m going to have to re-read first. But I do remember one thing; a corrupt government starts a war against something they don’t understand, and when there is really no need for a fight.

The Female Man, by Joanna Russ. Full-on, in your face, sci-fi meets 70s feminism. Need I say more? Over the top but highly entertaining. Yes, it’s dated, but who cares?

Planet of the Apes, by Pierre Boulle. I have a distinct memory of reading this book. I am something like 12 years old. It is the middle of the night and I cannot stop reading until I’ve finished it. At the end, astonished, I burst into tears.

And no, the final scene – in the book – has nothing to do with the Statue of Liberty.

I’ll keep thinking about this, and add to my list. I’m already thinking of two that I missed – Timescape, by Gregory Benford; and Stargate, by Stephen Robinett. Stay tuned!

Tripoint

I've always been a fan of 'hard' science fiction; this means different things, I suppose, to different people. To me it means an emphasis not necessarily on a currently realistic scenario--because let's face it, we aren't getting those Star Trek transporters any time soon--but on the set-up and development of a story in a society with an advanced technology.

And once you've set up the rules, you have to follow them. Gregory Benford's Ocean of Night series comes to mind, here. And not in a good way. His set-up in the first books of the series is fabulous, but by the end (Sailing Bright Eternity) Benford and his characters have wandered off into the 'esty' (S-T, the space-time continuum) where, as far as I could tell, anything can happen.

And when anything can happen, nothing is all that interesting.

But back to Cherryh-- One of her many strengths is that she sets up the rules of a society and its technology and then sticks to them. Her hard science novels--I'm thinking of Cyteen and Regenesis of course; also Downbelow Station, Tripoint, Merchanter's Luck, Rimrunners, Finity's End and the Pride of Chanur series--have a common underpinning of faster-than-light space travel. Faster-than-light involves 'jumps' (Cherryh's version of making time through hyperspace). Jumps aren't fun for humans, who need to be tranked down for the experience.

A new human culture has evolved--or the old culture has split into three: we have planet-dwelling humans, station-dwelling humans, and ship-dwelling humans. They don't necessarily think the same way or have the same goals.

And my favorite bit--ship dwelling humans can't imagine wanting to live on--of all things--a planet. Where there's . . . . dirt. Eeeuuww.

Now add strong characterizations--definitely another Cherryh strength--and you have a recipe for a good sci-fi novel. In Tripoint--my favorite, along with Rimrunner--we have an in-depth exploration of life aboard an FTL ship. I love the combinations here. Not only astronavigation--but also details of making sandwiches in a ship's galley. Not only Planck's equation--but the wonder of a ship-bound human seeing a real tree in a station greenhouse.

"If a leaf's fallen," the guide told them, "you can keep it."

The details are all there, and all true, along with the difficulties of a hot-headed young man--kidnapped!-- starting life over with his father and half-brother. Neither of whom he trusts worth a damn. It's a fantastic read. It ought to have been a blockbuster of a best-seller.

Regenesis

I would say that Regenesis is not so much a sequel to Cyteen as a continuation. Maybe that's splitting hairs. But it takes up within about a month of when Cyteen leaves off, which engenders a slightly odd feeling in its readers, many of whom have been waiting two decades to read the thing. We're twenty years older, but Ari Emory is still eighteen.

What Cherryh seems to be most interested in is relationships. She has developed a fully-realized society - Cyteen, with born-humans and azi - and she takes a detailed look at the lives of a large handful of its inhabitants.

Ari's relationship with Florian and Catlin. Ari with Jordan. Ari with Yanni.

Justin with Grant. Justin with Ari--who admits, in a nice bit of low-key dialogue, that's she's been in love with him, like, forever.

Ari and Justin and Yanni with Giraud and Denys Nye, both now deceased.

Finally-- Justin with Jordan, who are more or less son and father; the evolution of this relationship constitutes a major thrust of the book. Cherryh has written before about a father and son--in Tripoint; and about a mother and a son--both in Tripoint and Finity's End. The author's family relationships are always fraught, and occasionally you want to take one of these characters and whap him upside the head, but it's grown-up stuff and all part of the fun.

I did miss--unavoidably--one of the charms of the first book, which was the description of Florian and Catlin growing up. And in fact, if I was to bemoan anything about the sequel, it's that--although Catlin is always around in the background--we hear very little specifically about her.

On the other hand, the character of Jordan Warrick--newly back from Planys; brilliant, drunk, and fighting mad--provides several great scenes, and a fair amount of humor.

The genius of Regenesis--as with the original novel--is that Cyteen is a real place. That's no small accomplishment. I don't remember any other future society that established itself so firmly in the imagination. Cyteen exists--now let's go see what's happening down in Reseune and Novgorod.

And let's hope that Cherryh has at least one more visit to the planet left in her.