The Ambiguous Arthur C. Clarke

Arthur C. Clarke has always been something of an enigma to me. You can’t pidgin hole his writing the way you can  most of his contemporaries. Alfred Bester wrote about the struggle between emotion and logic. William Tenn incorporated sarcastic humor as a means to comment on social issues. Frederik Pohl and Poul Andersen both laced their prose with political, and social commentary. The list goes on and on. Clarke just wrote entertaining novels. Sure, he used the mysterious, omnipotent alien entity in the 2001 series and in Childhood’s End. However, he didn’t seem to be sending a “message” to his readers. It was used as a tool to develop the plot, and that is what I really love about Clarke. He weaves a story simply to entertain his reader.

Clarke was a scientist and inventor. He had a firm grasp of technology. Therefore, you would think he would BS with the best about how a light speed engine might work. He didn’t do that. If the story called for a craft with star drive, he simply said it had a star drive and left it to the readers imagination. I noticed this in Childhood’s End, not the first time I read it; it was years later. I would have sworn he described how the engine warped space and allowed the ship to move at tremendous speeds. Not at all, he just wrote so well that I subconsciously added the details without realizing it. However, probable technology was a different matter. We are all familiar with HAL, most famous computer in history. Clarke knew we were on the edge of a major breakthrough in digital electronics and extrapolated on what was possible. HAL is the most realistic representation of artificial intelligence up to that time, and perhaps an early warning of the singularity.

Plot and character are central to all writing. Arthur Clarke was a master at both. Where some writers tend to develop plot in fits and starts, he was smooth at building to the climax, which creates a page turner. His protagonist are not always likeable; they are usually interesting, and the bad guys are never truly evil, just misguided and often empathetic.

The only fault I ever found with Clarke is not explaining the controlling entity in 2001 or Childhood’s End. I wouldn’t really call it a fault, maybe a minor irritant. We never really know the who, what, when and where and that has bothered me for decades. Maybe that was his little joke on us. I don’t know.

If I had to pick one word to describe Arthur Clarke it would be ambiguous. I have already described his abstract writing and will end this with a note on his private ambiguity. He was once asked if he was gay. He responded, “No, mildly cheerful”.

 

 

Life as I know it

      Life can be a real pain sometimes. Job, family, and the miscellaneous other commitments and responsibilities we all share make leisure reading, mixed with a little escapist daydreaming, difficult to say the least. Not that I’m a Walter Mitty type. Most of the time I live in the real world, I love my wife and kids, and life in general is good. It’s just that on occasion I need to live in another reality so this one doesn’t drive me insane. Well, maybe I do have a little of old Walter in me. Maybe we all do. Whether it’s reading Mark Twain’s Life on the Mississippi and imagining you’re strolling along the deck of a river boat or reading Walden and discussing the meaning of life with Thoreau, it’s all the same . My preferred vehicle is science fiction. Which brings me to the reason I haven’t posted in over six months.

      It’s hard to find decent reads in the scifi genre these days. I mean, most of the stuff I find is filled with amoral, unimaginative cartoon like characters, gratuitous violence, and  a jaundice view of humans. I miss the stories that leave me feeling good when I closed the cover on the last page; that gave me a sense of hope we could, one day, live with each other in an eclectic culture (Yeah, Yeah Kum ba yah). Unfortunately, that sort of writing seems to be out of vogue. However, like the old gold prospector, I occasionally find a nugget.

     A couple of weeks ago I was browsing the stacks at a local used bookstore when I noticed a tattered hardcover with an intriguing title. I picked it up and recognized the author as one of  the well known writers from the Golden Age, Poul Andersen.  The book was Starfarers, published in 1998, just four years before his death. I have read several short stories by Anderson, and found his style of prose very entertaining. So, I decided the price of two bucks was a value and brought it home. I googled the  title, read a few reviews and found the old adage about opinions being like rectums to be very true. That is why I won’t try to dissect the plot, and mention his characterization flaws and all that other rubbish  amateur reviews like to harp on. I’ll just say thank you to Mr. Anderson, where ever he is,  for giving  me a few hours of  adventure in my alternate reality.

Q->

Theodore Sturgeon was an odd man. But then, all writers are odd, if not completely loony. Ernest Hemingway ended his life by sucking on a shotgun, and Hunter S. Thompson did the same thing. I intend no disrespect. In fact, I have a great deal of admiration for Sturgeon’s writing ability. He not only wrote great science fiction, he did mystery, nonfiction, and poetry successfully. He just had some quirky characteristics, like Q->. He said this symbol means, “ask the next question.”  OK, but why not just ask the next question? Why take a simple idea and create a pictograph to represent it. Maybe it was the times. He did come up with this in the 60’s when the peace sign was popular. And that cross looking thing with the loop at the top, I still don’t know what the hell that one means. I’ve often wondered if Prince got the idea for his “symbol” phase from Theodore Sturgeon. They look kind of similar.

The point is: I’m an American, and you know what they say about us. We only speak one language, and that one not too well. Sturgeon was an American and he should have understood our mutual short coming.

Based on everything I’ve read about Theodore Sturgeon, he had a great sense of humor. So, I’m sure, wherever in the universe he is, he’s looking down with a big grin, giving me the uplifted middle finger symbol.

The “War Effect” and Cyril M Kornbluth

A while back Charlie Jane Anders at io9 did a piece on how serving in the military influenced science fiction writers. She did a good job. However, since my interest is in the golden age writers, I thought a world war two veteran would be a good subject to analyse.

Most science fiction writers of the post world war era served in one capacity or another; some in civilian jobs, and a very few in combat. This latter esoteric group contains an author I have always admired for his unique style. He not only served in combat,  he was decorated for bravery.

Cyril M Kornbluth received a Bronze star and at the same time a chronic heart condition during the Battle of the Bulge. Fred Pohl, Kornbluth’s friend and writing partner says Cyril wouldn’t talk about his experience as a heavy machine gunner. Evidently his commanding officer was impressed enough with Cyril’s action during the battle to nominate him for the fifth highest combat decoration the United States awards her service personal. Undoubtedly, the experience traumatize Kornbluth. I am quite sure he saw his share of dead and mutilated men,  men cracking under the strain of combat, and all the other madness that occurs in war . Rather than portraying men that couldn’t “take it” as cowards, he exhibits compassion for them in his writing.  He probably knew it could  just as easily have been him.

One of his post war stories, The Quaker Cannon,  has as it’s protagonist an officer captured and tortured twice; both times he breaks and reveals what he knows to the enemy. This soldier is treated with a great deal of empathy by the author, revealing an understanding for those that could not hold up under strain. In fact, this character receives the Distinguished Service Cross. Perhaps giving this character a decoration higher than the one he received shows more than empathetic understanding. Perhaps he is expressing the “why me?” so many men that survive war ask.

Another of Kornbluth’s stories that allows us to gain some insight into the influence his war experience  had  on his writing is The Silly Season. The title refers to a term used in journalism for a period, usually in summer, when decent news stories are in short supply, and not quite news worthy stuff gets printed. This story’s main character is a journalist investigating unusual happening in the Midwest that begin during the “silly season” of late summer.  A few pages in Kornbluth introduces a secondary character that was once a rising star in journalism. Blinded while serving as a combat correspondent, he returns to his hometown and resumes a “normal”  life. He is the one that breaks the story of the strange occurrences, and ultimately is the only one that understands what is actually happening. It seems obvious that Cyril Kornbluth is encouraging men, wounded so severely, to live a productive life.

Combat changes values and perspectives. Some men become hard and cynical accepting death as inevitable. Others see death and destruction as happening to those around them but not to themselves. This is done as a means of managing the constant threat of sudden oblivion and keeping ones sanity in an insane situation. A few can’t develop a coping mechanism at all and loose their ability to reason.  All are permanently scarred either physically or mentally; some just hide it better than others.

Cyril M. Kornbluth died suddenly at the age of 35. Whether his heart condition was cause by exposure during Hitler’s last gasp or just aggravated by it we’ll never known. The point is he died a young man. If he had taken better care of himself or not shoveled the snow from his driveway that morning maybe he would have lived another 40 or 50 years…or maybe not. One thing is for certain the world of science fiction in particular, and the world in general would be a much richer place if he were around….. even a little longer.

The Greatest Science Fiction Writer You Never Heard Of

The July 1949 issue of Astounding Science Fiction introduced James H. Schmitz as a new author. It also introduced the world to his genius as a writer.  Agent of  Vega  is one of the best novelettes of the period. Crafted in a way that few of his contemporaries could have equaled. This “Space Opera” is unique and very original.

Schmitz creates a universe where humans and other sentient beings live and work together in a harmonious  and cooperative society. They have formed special operatives to keep criminals at bay. These “agents” are recruited from member worlds of the Vegan confederacy. Most are human or human descended species with allied aliens.  The plot twists and turns are intricate; yet, Schmitz does an excellent job of explaining what is happening, and so, the story flows smoothly.

Agent of Vega is the first of four stories based on the Vega confederacy. In my opinion it is the best of the group.

James H. Schmitz, the man, is something of an enigma. Born in Germany to American parents. The family left shortly before the Nazi’s embarked on world conquest in 1938, and returned to America. James served the US military in the Pacific theater. He seems to have written Greenface(Unknown Worlds 1943), his first published work, during this period. It was another six years before Agent of Vega would see print.  During this early period Schmitz apparently didn’t have that “passion” to write most authors have. Whether it was a fear of not being able to make a living as a writer or difficulty finding his muse is something we will never know. The success of Agent of Vega must have been what he needed because he became a productive writer shortly after its publication.

Schmitz died at the relatively young age of 70, from complications related to emphysema. He left behind a collection of work any author would be proud of. I just can’t understand why he never got the respect he deserved.