New Statesman has a wonderful article in which Neil Gaiman and Kazuo Ishiguro interview each other about genre fiction versus literary fiction. It’s a long article but well worth reading. You can find it here. 🙂
I, Steampunk
I don’t generally like to just post photos of myself on the internet without some reason, and up till now I have avoided posting photos of me on this blog altogether, but I figured I would share this image because it’s fun. I took an existing photo of someone dressed in steampunk fashion and pasted my own head (from a family photo taken twenty years ago) on it, which amuses my greatly. I chose this particular steampunk figure because of the mechanical right hand, which is the hand that I am actually missing, so it fit. I use the head shot from this image (with a different background color) for my io9 avatar and elsewhere on the interwebz. I hope you enjoy it because I’m not likely to post any more photos of myself for awhile. 🙂
My Dream Cast – ‘Hyperion’
Alright, so I just recently reread one of my favorite sci-fi novels, Dan Simmons’s Hyperion. There have been rumors of a film or TV series based on this book floating around for years, with SyFy supposedly planning to film it at one point, but that never materialized. It’s too bad, because this whole book series is just aching for a cinematic adaptation of some sort, especially the first book. As with the Dune film, if I were making this, I have some pretty specific people in mind for the key roles. Although most of these actors where not who I initially pictured, I have come to see them as the best choices if the film were to start shooting today. So let’s begin with . . .
The Consul (Hugh Laurie)
He’s the informal leader of the Shrike pilgrims and the last character to tell his tale, which involves a huge secret with respect to the Ousters which is vastly important in the scheme of the entire series. He’s a man with a lot of weight on his shoulders and as such he is bound to look haunted and haggard. Who better to portray him than Hugh Laurie, who may be the most haunted-looking man in Hollywood? Laurie, who is best known for playing Dr. House in the eponymous series, can grow his hair out a bit and put on about fifteen or twenty pounds and I doubt anyone would be more suitable to play this key role. And with Laurie set to appear in the upcoming Tomorrowland, I’m guessing he will have a built-in science fiction fan base very soon.
Fedmahn Kassad (Naveen Andrews)
Colonel Fedmahn Kassad is a member of FORCE and is definitely a badass. Middle Easterners don’t often get a positive portrayal in American media, let alone in science fiction, so Kassad is an interesting anomaly. One of the few actors I could think of who could fill those shoes is Naveen Andrews, who is actually of Indian descent rather than Palestinian like Kassad, but he’s probably the closest we are going to get out of Hollywood, because there are just not a lot of choices here. Nevertheless, I am confident that Naveen Andrews would do an amazing job as the clever and tough-as-nails soldier who vows to take on the Shrike single-handedly.
Lenar Hoyt (David Tennant)
This was actually one of the toughest choices for me. Who is fit to play a man who starts out as a humble, long-suffering servant of God and ultimately becomes one of the major villains of the later books in the series? There were several worthy candidates, but ultimately I had to go with Tennant, who sci-fi geeks will immediately recognize as the Tenth Doctor from long-running British science fiction series Doctor Who. I don’t know why but I just have a feeling that Tennant would knock this one out of the park. And let’s face it: you know you want to see Tennant play a pope, which, if the whole book series was filmed, you would eventually get to see.
Martin Silenus (Harvey Fierstein)
I have read Hyperion twice now, and each time I had either a vague picture in my head of most characters or had different people in mind each time. But one character has always been clear in my head as to who should portray him and always will be, no matter how many times I read it. That character is the poet Martin Silenus, and in my mind only one person can ever play him: Harvey Fierstein. Silenus is a rotund little satyr of a man (no, really–at one point he literally has himself surgically remade into a satyr), a snide, vulgar-tongued hedonist through-and-through, but also, as befitting a poet, a man capable of great insight and beauty. Simmons also describes him as having a deep and distinctive voice, which is what initially made me picture Fierstein, and the more I thought about it, the more perfect this particular actor felt to me, to the point where now it would seem a great travesty if he wasn’t cast as Martin Silenus!
Brawne Lamia (Gina Carano)
Brawne originates from the high-gravity world of Lusus, and Lusians tend to be muscular and powerful thanks to the additional g-forces they are subjected to. Meanwhile, Carano originates from the high-badassity world of mixed martial arts, but she has also done some acting, most notably in Fast & Furious 6. I have no doubt that she has what it takes to play Brawne, a private detective who gets in over her head when she takes on a case that turns out to have strong connections to the TechnoCore, a bunch of super-advanced AIs, some of whom would like to help humanity become extinct.
Sol Weintraub (John Landis)
Okay, Landis is primarily a director, but he has done some acting as well, including in such genre classics as Death Race 2000, Darkman, Spider-Man 2 and (a cameo appearance in) Stephen King’s The Stand television miniseries. He’s smart, he’s Jewish, he’s the right age and most importantly, he looks exactly the way I picture the scholar from Barnard’s World in my head. Can’t you just see him cradling baby Rachel in his arms like in the illustration above? I know I can!
Het Masteen (Ian Anthony Dale)
Simmons describes the Templars of God’s Grove as being extremely tall and thin and having Asian features. At six feet tall, I’d say Dale is immanently qualified. If they need additional height for him, there are plenty of camera and CG tricks for that. Het Masteen is captain of the Yggdrasil, one of only four treeships (which are made from actual gigantic trees!) in the Hyperion universe. He is quiet, stoical and mysterious, and he’s the only one of the seven pilgrims who doesn’t get to tell his story in the novel; for spoilery reasons I will not go into the reason why here. Anyway, Dale has done a few films, but he is mostly a well-established presence on television.
Paul Duré (Jeff Bridges)
Father Paul Duré is not a Shrike pilgrim, but he is the subject of Lenar Hoyt’s tale and a fascinating character. At the time Paul Duré is on Hyperion, he is a representative of a Catholic Church which is almost extinct, but he will play an important part in its eventual resurrection (almost literally) thanks to his discovery of the cruciform, a cross-shaped parasite that integrates with its host’s body and brings them back to life whenever they are killed, though every time they come back they are a little less human than before. And that’s not the cruciform’s only downside. Duré, who is essentially an exile on Hyperion, is a fairly tormented fellow to start with, but things only get worse for him. Much worse, in fact. In the second book, Simmons describes Duré as an older man who is tall and thin but who conveys power. I’ll be damned if that doesn’t describe Bridges. Well okay, maybe he’s not so thin anymore, but if he was offered the right role . . .
Meina Gladstone (Sigourney Weaver)
Meina Gladstone is CEO of the Hegemony, making her the most politically powerful person in the Hyperion universe. Although she doesn’t play as large a part in the first book as she does in later ones, it would be essential to cast the right actress early on. Gladstone is described as an attractive older woman with short-cropped gray hair. Because of the hair, one may be tempted to go with, say, Jamie Lee Curtis or Judi Dench for this role, but I had someone else in mind while reading the book. Gladstone is a shrewd, tough-as-nails politician. Weaver has practically built her career on playing shrewd and tough-as-nails women like Dian Fossey from Gorillas in the Mist, Dr. Augustine from Avatar and, of course, Ellen Ripley from the Aliens franchise. Maybe it’s a bit of typecasting on my part, but I can’t help it: in my imagination Meina Gladstone has the face and voice of Sigourney Weaver.
Moneta (Unknown)
Moneta is the mysterious woman who appears to Kassad while he is engaged in virtual combat practice and becomes his lover within that virtual domain. She is a woman of aggressive passion and sensuality. Okay, there’s no one in that picture, I know. Originally I did have someone here–Emilia Clarke–but there’s a very important reason why it can’t be her (or really anyone) that isn’t revealed until the second novel, The Fall of Hyperion. So basically, my idea is that, if the film is to stay true to the books, they pretty much have to avoid showing Moneta’s face at all.
Johnny Keats (Daniel Radcliffe)
Daniel Radcliffe may seem like an odd choice to play Romantic poet John Keats (or rather an AI-created facsimile of him called a cybrid), but hear me out. First off, Keats was English, and so is Radcliffe. That’s a small thing, I know, but consider that the real Keats was a really short man: exactly five feet in height. Now, Radcliffe isn’t that short, but at only 5’6″ he is one of the shorter actors working right now. And have you seen him in Horns? If you haven’t, you should watch it immediately. Seriously, go watch it right now, it’s a great film. The rest of this article isn’t going anywhere.
Rachel Weintraub [age 26] (Natalie Portman)
The daughter of Sol Weintraub is an important character in Hyperion, even though she appears mostly as an infant. It is because of her that Sol ultimately becomes one of the Shrike pilgrims. She is a young archeologist studying the Time Tombs when she is struck by the bizarre illness that causes her to begin aging backwards, and Sol and his wife are stuck with the heartbreaking task of watching their only child regress through her youth and childhood years, unable to remember what happened the day before every time she wakes from sleep. Although Rachel’s face was initially pretty vague in my mind, I later came to see her as a bright and attractive young lady of Jewish heritage with dark hair and dark eyes: in other words, someone exactly like Natalie Portman.
Rachel Weintraub [teen] (Mackenzie Foy)
When casting a younger version of a character, I would try my best to get someone who is not only talented but also looks like the older version of the same character. I know people can change a lot once they go through puberty, but few things irk me more than seeing a film or TV show where a child or teen version of an adult character clearly looks nothing like their older self. It takes me right out of the story. Which reminds me: hey casting directors, you really need to do a better job of casting older and younger versions of characters, and even characters who are blood-related. Anyway, Mackenzie Foy. Most people probably know her best as little Renesmee from Twilight: Breaking Dawn Pt. 2, but we won’t talk about that. Besides, nothing that was bad about that film was Foy’s fault. And, with the help of some colored contact lenses, she could certainly pass for a younger version of Natalie Portman.
Melio Arundez (Diego Boneta)
Melio Arundez is Rachel Weintraub’s co-worker and eventual lover. I have never had a particularly clear image of him in my head save that he is handsome and has a short, well-trimmed beard. I chose Diego Boneta mainly for his outstanding performance in the musical Rock of Ages. It’s not a particularly good film, but it has a certain over-the-top spirit and joyfulness which makes it fun to watch anyway, and it has an incredible cast, including this young man who plays one of the leads.
Merin Aspic (Jack Quaid)
One thing I considered when thinking about who could play Merin Aspic, the Consul’s grandfather (whose story is told to the other Shrike pilgrims by the Consul) is, what kind of guy would a wide-eyed native girl from an out-of-the-way, sparsely populated tropical world fall for? The answer: probably a guy like Jack Quaid. He has that broad, open face that seems to project qualities like honesty, sincerity and trustworthiness. Plus, being the offspring of Dennis Quaid, he has more than a touch of that same goofy charm that his dad made famous in films like Great Balls of Fire!, Postcards from the Edge and Everybody’s All-American.
Siri [young] (Saoirse Ronan)
For Siri, the native girl from the planet Maui-Covenant who falls for FORCE:space recruit Merin Aspic, I can think of few actresses who could sell that part like Saoirse Ronan. She is absolutely one of my favorite young actresses working right now, and I can only foresee great things ahead for her. Hanna is now one of my favorite films, and that is based in part on the strength of her performance. Before that she was utterly fantastic as 13-year-old Briony in the film Atonement, and as Lina Mayfleet in City of Ember.
Siri [middle age] (Helen Hunt)
An interesting aspect of the Consul’s grandparents’ story is watching them become estranged due to the effects of time dilation. When Merin and Siri meet, he is 19 and she is 16–he is a full three years older than her and a little wiser. But while Merin is off in space for mere months, every time he returns to Maui-Covenant Siri has aged years, and her frustration with his naivety becomes more and more palpable. Again, I tried to come up with someone who could believably pass for an older version of Saoirse Ronan as well as someone who could convey the complex emotions the older Siri experiences in the conflict between her love for Merin and her hatred of what he stands for. For my money, Helen Hunt is pretty much the perfect choice.
Siri [old] (Vanessa Redgrave)
Two words: Vanessa. Redgrave. That is all.
Sad King Billy (John C. Reilly)
Sad King Billy is a strange character. He is part of Martin Silenus’s story, and as a man who holds himself partly responsible for the slaughter of an entire city at the hands of the Shrike, he is a haunted and pathetic figure. Reilly is a versatile actor who has played a variety of different roles, many of which he has been nominated for, but to my knowledge he has never won any of these awards. That’s a damned shame. But Sad King Billy is exactly the kind of supporting role that, in the right hands, could be transcendent, even Oscar-worthy.
Dan Simmons’ ‘Hyperion’ – A Review
This is the first book in a science fiction tetralogy called The Hyperion Cantos by the versatile and consistently readable Dan Simmons. I won’t even try to beat around the bush here to pad out this review: The Hyperion Cantos is one of my all-time favorite sci-fi series, so I recognize that there is simply no way I can be impartial about this. But I’ll do my best.
As the first book in a series, it is hard to imagine a better example than this one. Simmons took a fascinating premise–a story of several travelers on a pilgrimage to meet a powerful and mysterious monster–and created a work of timeless beauty and originality that stands as a testament to what the sci-fi genre, in the hands of a true master, can be. The characters are memorable, the story is epic and the pacing is pitch perfect. If you are a fan of science fiction at all and space opera specifically, you simply must read this novel. I guarantee you won’t regret it.
The novel follows seven pilgrims in the distant future who are, each for their own reasons, on a quest to meet the murderous creature called the Shrike, a being who has come to be worshiped as a god by many in this universe and who can seemingly control time. It is an homage of sorts to The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, as, during their voyage, each of the pilgrims tells their own story on why they are going to see the Shrike (knowing full well the whole time that the Shrike will almost certainly murder them). And as each of their stories is laid out, we slowly begin to see the big picture unfold before us and realize that the stakes here are much, much higher than the lives of these seven individuals.
There is Father Lenar Hoyt, a drug-addicted priest from the nearly extinct Catholic religion, whose missionary predecessor may just have discovered the key to eternal life, or something close to it. There is Colonel Fedmahn Kassad, a brilliant soldier of the galactic military group FORCE, whose love for a mysterious woman could change the entire course of human history. There is Martin Silenus, a decadent poet whose epic poem the Hyperion Cantos is intimately tied up with the Shrike’s existence. There is Het Masteen, a member of a religious order devoted to nature, whose spaceship is carved from a single gigantic tree. There is Professor Sol Weintraub, a Jewish scholar whose daughter had an accident at the very destination the pilgrims are traveling to which causes her to age backwards. There is Brawne Lamia, a female private detective hired to solve a mystery that the most powerful AIs in the known universe want to keep buried. And there is the Consul, a man who holds the secrets of the Ousters, the biggest military threat to the Hegemony of Man.
Of course, none of that is likely to mean much to you until you actually read the story. And read it you should, as well as the rest of the series. But we’ll get to those in time. Right now it is enough to say that this should be required reading for sci-fi fans, particularly those who are less interested in the mechanics of gee whiz futuristic technology than in the development of human civilization and the evolution of humanity across hundreds of diverse worlds. Simmons deftly explores the nature of religions, whether ancient or new, and how both humans and intelligent machines deal with the question of God in a civilization no longer bound by the old rules or the old geography. He also addresses the inevitable conflict between those factions of society who seek to hold on to the old ways and those who are interested in forcing technological progress no matter the cost. In fact, I would say if there is an overriding theme in this book (and the series as a whole), it is the true price of abiding ignorance. There are no obvious heroes or villains here, merely humans dealing with their lives as best they can. Even the horrific Shrike–and he is horrific–may be an agent of the greater good in the end, for all that is known about him.
Hyperion was first published in 1990 (winning both the Hugo and the Locus Award that year); it’s hard to believe this novel is a quarter of a century old at this point. Like Frank Herbert’s Dune or Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series, this is book that only seems to become more relevant with age and, like the Shrike, ultimately may be timeless. If you’ve never read anything by Dan Simmons, this is a great place to start. It will stick with you long after you have closed the back cover and set it aside. Simmons knows how to write characters that resonate with purpose, intensity and humanity. He also understands what makes great sci-fi great: that it’s not just about bad-ass spaceships (though there are plenty of those here) or exotic alien worlds (ditto). It’s about asking the tough questions concerning human destiny. Where will we wind up in the future, and why? Are we, like the old adage says, really doomed to repeat our greatest mistakes again and again? Can we learn to get along despite all our differences? Maybe, but can we do it before we destroy ourselves? For Simmons, the answer is both troubling and hopeful.
Grade: A+
Two Month Hiatus…Done
So, as of today I haven’t posted anything here for exactly two months. The reason is, I got pretty burned out on blogging for awhile and needed a rest from it. But now I’m back and ready to get back on it. Coming up: a review of Dan Simmons’ Hyperion, another taste of my novel in progress AL+ER, and perhaps even a short story that tells the origin of a well-known villain from a famous children’s book that I wrote largely over the hiatus. And, of course, artwork and other stuff I happen to like that I’ve discovered in my travels across the web. Glad to be back, guys!
Justin Cronin’s ‘The Passage’ – A Review
Let me say up front that I tend to dislike horror stories where the antagonists are just masses of soulless interchangeable monsters: zombies, giant ants, swarms of mutated bees, you get the idea. There are exceptions to this rule, but they are exceedingly rare. James Cameron’s Aliens is a grand example of how such monsters can be interesting in their own right. The xenomorphs were well-designed and unique enough to be memorable, and anyway the film was built on the legacy of a single xenomorph from the earlier Alien film. I also generally dislike stories where the monster is just some variant of a conventional monster that’s been explored a million times . . . like vampires. Well, Justin Cronin’s The Passage, the first book in an eponymous trilogy, ticks off all of those boxes, so I was skeptical about reading it, but the hype claimed it was very different from all of those others, and to a point it is, though perhaps not to the extent that it could’ve been.
When reviewing a book, I generally start with its overriding flaws first, and so I shall. The biggest problem with The Passage is that the vampires are not that memorable either as a species or as individuals, which is somewhat mitigated by their status as a hive mind, because even a hive-mind can have a personality or voice, and this one does, but that only works if that personality is a compelling one, and unfortunately, the motivating force behind the smokes (as the main group of protagonists in the book call them) isn’t that interesting. The concept of vampirism being more pathological than supernatural is interesting in itself, of course. Though not a new idea, Cronin does give us a fairly fresh take on it by adding the hive-mind twist, and by putting them in a post-apocalyptic setting (even if they caused the apocalypse in the first place).
But the thing is, the best monsters–whether individuals or hive-minds–have something that makes them fascinating, some fundamentally human trait or motivation that raises them above a mere force of nature. My general rule-of-thumb for monsters is, if I can’t relate to them on any level, then they aren’t good villains, and they probably aren’t even particularly good monsters. When a monster is completely void of humanity, then they are little more than allegory, an idea, and not a real character. That can work if it is an underlying theme of the story, but here it isn’t. Hell, Jaws had more personality than these guys! Which leads to another problem: the original twelve human experiments that become the leaders of their own vampire tribes were all criminals of one sort or another, most of them murderers and violent sex offenders spared from execution by participating in the government program that ultimately turns them into the Twelve (this is established early in the book, so I’m not giving much away here). So the message seems to be that sex offenders are basically just like vampires whose craving for blood overrides every other motivation and is essentially unquenchable. I don’t know how familiar Cronin is with criminal psychology, and I’m not exactly a fan of sex offenders either, but this notion is fundamentally ignorant and borders on being childish. Of course, the book never makes this connection outright, but the idea is there, buried in the subtext. It’s hardly surprising, of course, but I do expect better from a writer of Cronin’s caliber. Still, because it is subtextual and not dwelt on too much, it’s a fairly forgivable error.
What is unforgivable though is Amy, a key character who is the very embodiment of the magical-child-as-MacGuffin that ruins so many good stories of this nature. She starts out as a normal six-year-old girl, and I have to say, she has more heart and personality at this stage (which is a fairly brief period in terms of the book’s narrative) than she does as the nearly century old demi-mortal she becomes later. Now, I do not have an issue with the magic child trope itself, but they should still have identities and personalities of their own and not just be single-minded (read: simple-minded) MacGuffins who need a ragtag group of bad-ass adults to transport them across dangerous terrain so that they can fulfill their destiny or whatever. I think I speak for many when I say, it’s time for this trope to die a painful and miserable death. Kids are people too, dammit! They deserve better than this. Granted, Amy is a quasi-child really and not a proper young girl, being as she is ninety-six, but in a way that makes it worse. What’s next, Cronin? Are you going to magically age her to complete adulthood when her youthful nature and appearance are no longer convenient?*
Now let’s focus on the positives, shall we? The #1 selling point of The Passage is that Cronin is sure-footed and confident as both a writer and a storyteller. Aside from Amy and the virals, his characters are compelling and well-drawn, and the settings are easy to picture (which is why the book will translate well to film). Peter, Alicia, Circuit and the rest are really the focus of the book anyway. The science fiction aspects of the novel are strong, and luckily Cronin leans heavily on them. He’s less adept at handling the supernatural side of things, and there is a touch of that here, but luckily not much. Sci-fi horror is a tricky business, I’ll admit, and to his credit, I think he is aware of the book’s flaws and for the most part does an outstanding job of diverting attention from them: Look away, nothing to see here folks. Now if you really want to see something, step this way . . .
Consequently, I’m willing to overlook a lot here. If not for the author’s skill, the book could easily have become just another ‘special child travels far to fulfill her ultimate destiny’ story, but instead we get an entertaining and insightful examination of the internal politics and changing roles of the last handful of survivors of the collapse of human civilization . . . within a story about a special child who travels far to fulfill her ultimate destiny. All in all, I think the book is somewhat overhyped, and possibly misclassified. As a horror novel, aside from a strong start, it fails. Despite having a metric crap-ton of vampires (who are bioluminescent, incidentally, a cute joke at the expense of some certain other sparkly vampires), it’s just not very scary. But as an epic post-apocalyptic adventure tale, it really hits its stride. We’re invested in the main characters and we want them to succeed. As the first book in a planned trilogy, it also plots out pretty well, tying up the Babcock storyline but promising much more to come. At over 760 pages it’s a long book, and there is perhaps some extraneous stuff in the middle, where we are getting to know the members and structure of the First Colony. Nevertheless, it is a fairly gripping look at a micro-society organized around surviving and fighting off a menacing new species. The ideas here are nothing new, but they have been sufficiently tweaked to feel new, and if you like this kind of story, I doubt you’ll be disappointed.
Grade: B
* Yes, I’m aware of what happens in the second book, thanks for asking.
Merry Christmas!
Wow, I’ve been away from the blog for over a month! I didn’t realize it had been that long. My apologies for that. But rest assured that I have a few things planned for the next couple of days, including a post about disabilities in fiction and a review of Justin Cronin’s The Passage. Meanwhile, merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, or whatever holidays you celebrate this time of year. I hope you get everything you want and then some. 🙂
Zenna Henderson’s ‘Pilgrimage’ – A Review
Zenna Henderson was not your typical sci-fi writer, and that is saying something for a genre positively gushing with eccentrics and standout personalities, even in its early years. Or rather, especially in its early years. For one thing, she was a transitional writer, beginning her career right at the tail end of science fiction’s Golden Age but prior to the New Wave (which didn’t properly begin until about the early 60s). The New Wave was marked by the shift of focus away from mankind’s boundless potential, technological achievements and conquering of space and onto more social and political themes and the problems inherent to mankind. Pilgrimage has some of that, yet it shares more with Golden Age sci-fi’s inexhaustible spirit and sense of wonder.
For another thing, Henderson’s was a thoroughly feminine voice in a time before women really embraced science fiction as their own, and what’s more, she did so without disguising her femaleness in a genre with a predominantly male readership. Miss Henderson was an elementary school teacher by trade, and the stern but gentle nature she must’ve exhibited as part of her occupation sets the tone for this dainty wisp of a book, which is less a true novel than a collection of short stories stitched together via a framework piece about a depressed, suicidal young woman who meets one of the People by happenstance and is introduced to their group, with their individual stories becoming therapy for her. In fact, ‘therapeutic’ would be a good way to describe this book, as would ‘pastoral’ and ‘spiritual.’ Those aren’t necessarily compliments, mind you.
The most glaring problem with the book though is that it’s basically plotless. The connective cartilage of these stories is the so-called Ingathering, the reverse diaspora of an alien population which crashed on Earth sometime in the mid to late 1800s–the exact dates of arrival are not clear. These humanoid aliens, the People, apparently arrived in a series of ships which landed all over the American West and beyond. For such an intelligent, psychically powerful and technologically advanced society, the People take a godawful long time to find each other. There’s also a distinctly Christian aura to the spirituality with which the People proudly gird themselves. Individually, the six stories that make up the meat of the book–Ararat, Gilead, Pottage, Wilderness, Captivity, and Jordan–are moderately good to very good in quality, although none are what I’d consider outstanding.
The first one, Ararat, was originally published in 1952, and in it we learn of the Crossing, the mass exodus of the People from their home world (which is called, get this: Home) after its sudden and unexplained destruction. Everything about the People is generalized to the point of harmless tepidity. Their society is made up of isolated pockets of utopia that bear an uncomfortable resemblance to the Mormon faith in which Henderson was raised (but left as a young woman for reasons unknown, even though she technically never renounced membership in the church), and the People are the very embodiment of the ideal 1950s American family, right down to the sexist gender roles and perfectly obedient children–faithful to their God and each other, singularly benign, and ever-optimistic. Except that they have psychic powers. Some can read minds, some can heal, some can turn sunlight into a semi-solid substance and scoop it right out of the air. Most can levitate.
Despite the People’s godlike patience and unshakable cheerfulness, they understandably feel like outsiders in their new home in the American West and tend to keep to themselves, which is really just one big metaphor for Mormonism, isn’t it? However, the People’s plight is so broadly portrayed that different sorts of folks can relate to it and have, including gays and lesbians, which Henderson’s beloved religion of course shuns. But by and large the message against oppressing those who are different resounds convincingly through these tales.
Where the book really excels, however, is in the stories set in the classroom, which are the only ones in the book that have any actual drama, to be honest. Pottage, the single story from Henderson’s saga of the People ever to to be filmed, concerns a young outsider working as a teacher within a People’s community who discovers that the children are joyless and strictly controlled by their elders. After learning that these amazing kids have powers, she gradually convinces them and their parents that those powers are their birthright and should not be forbidden to them, merely managed. But the best story here by far is Captivity, about an angry teenage boy of the People, an orphaned troublemaker who is disliked by his classmates and townsfolk alike. In some ways he’s the archetypal misunderstood sensitive genius, in this case one fascinated with music, but what’s most compelling about him is that his abilities seem to be setting him on a path beyond mere villainy. With a few minor tweaks, the Francher kid’s fable could be the origin story of a music-themed supervillain–the Maestro, perhaps, or the Conductor–but one that has been narrowly averted just in time by his clever and caring teacher, who sets him on the right path at last by convincing him of his specialness and great potential to help mankind, probably the ultimate fantasy of teachers everywhere with respect to the “bad kid” in their classrooms.
Another highlight of the book is the sheer beauty of Henderson’s writing. Her style is unique and poetic, if occasionally oblique. The People, despite their insipid docility and frustratingly conformist nature, are so warm, close and well-drawn that you can almost reach out and touch them. These are aliens that most people wouldn’t mind an invasion from. They’re the ideal neighbors: peaceful, friendly and fiercely private.
The final story in this collection, Jordan, is the most “science fiction-y” of the bunch, in that an actual spaceship has arrived to pick up some of the People and carry them to their newly founded Home (redux). The ship hovers languidly above a farm for days as the People decide who will go to the new Home and who will stay on Earth. This is quite reasonable, as it’s no small decision. Some of the People, despite the mistrust of the humans, have come to love their adopted planet; for those born here, it’s all they’ve ever known. And, of course, being unregistered aliens, they are not legally Americans, and yet America is decidedly better off for having them. It’s an allegory I imagine many of the current illegals in the U.S. might relate to.
This story also has the most explicitly drawn character studies and world-building; one can see how Henderson’s vision solidified a bit over the years that she produced the individual pieces, and how the characters became more nuanced and defined, though it may be too little too late for those readers who prefer hard details over the hazy background sketches Henderson offers. The heart of this piece is a budding romance between an adolescent boy of Earth’s People and a girl who comes along for the ride on the rescue ship with one of her parents. It’s a good one to round out the collection because there is a certain crowning quality to it, as the People’s odyssey finally reaches closure.
If you’re into intense action and swiftly moving plots, don’t even look in this book’s direction because I promise you’ll be sorely disappointed. However, if you prefer your stories to be more laid back and contemplative and don’t mind the religious implications, this may be for you. It’s also a valuable look into the mind of a prominent female science fiction writer from a time when that was a bona fide anomaly, even as first-wave feminism was well-established. That doesn’t mean you will find much speculative feminist thought here though; Henderson’s work fits plainly into patriarchal traditions. But somewhere in these odd little bonbons, buried beneath all the niceties, is an angry feminist voice crying to get out. Maybe we’ll find it in the stories from her later compilations.
Grade: B-
Remember . . .
Remember, remember, the 5th of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I see no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot! And to commemorate Guy Fawkes Day this year, I’m posting some of the most amazing V for Vendetta art I could scrounge up. Now V for Vendetta-themed artworks on the web are about a dime a dozen, but there are some really fantastic pieces out there, and here are just a few.
First, here is art from the original source, David Lloyd. This is cover art for the collected miniseries (graphic novel) created and written by the brilliant Alan Moore:
There were several official posters released for the film, but I quite like this one, which has a classic political propaganda poster feel to it. Actually, a lot of these posters do, which makes perfect sense.
Another sweet poster design for the film. This one emphasizes the mysterious nature of V himself.
Alejandro Fernandez’s poster again utilizes old political propaganda art to great effect. You can really see the influence of Constructivism here.
This poster by Marko Manev may possibly be my favorite. I say possibly because there are so many good ones I just can’t decide. But this is seriously gorgeous and definitely in my top five.
The weathered look and the simplicity of this poster design by Edward Julian Moran II work well together.
DeviantArt: DisgorgeApocalypse
Here’s another minimalist design that was well executed.
Blues and browns are often a good color combo, and this piece by Stephanie Zuppo is no exception on that count.
Finally, this piece by Shepard Fairey, the king of Neo-Constructivism, is not about V for Vendetta itself, but it uses the V mask to excellent effect nonetheless while riffing on Obama’s famous “Hope” presidential campaign artwork.
Happy Guy Fawkes Day, people!
Happy Halloween!
Yes, folks, it’s my favorite holiday again–the one where everything gets spooky! And in honor of this most diabolical of holidays, here’s some badass Bernie Wrightson art featuring the walking head horror from the John Carpenter film The Thing. Enjoy! Mwah ha ha ha . . .
And also, here’s your Halloween song, possibly the creepiest song in creation. Let’s just say, Annabelle has nothing on the doll in Christine. Nothing at all.
Indigo Xix 