Getting yo' mirrorshades rewired

I've recently taken the time to meander through the thoughtfully compiled Rewired: The Post-Cyberpunk Anthology, which is meant to chronicle those steps being taken to move us away from the near future menagerie of zaibatsu assassins and keyboard cowboys that cyberpunk established in the early eighties.

Though its editors previously rolled out the Feeling Very Strange: The Slipstream Anthology this book emerged from and stills stands ass deep in the reproductive juices of Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology, which was seminal in shaping the man who writes this blog.

Cyberpunk, as the name implies, is a species of postmodern science fiction that started to appear in the late seventies and began to find its feet in the early eighties. Like postmodernism it was a thing that was always going to happen. Its DNA was shaped and prepared in the opening salvos of the industrial revolution, and by the same token it was always going to produce its own progeny that carried with them the family resemblance in their tropes and the way that they swaggered.

There is a problem with what they are trying to establish here. While at its most axiomatic cyberpunk is about the keyboard rebellion, the traits and tropes that it has laid exclusive claim to can be found in less trendy science fiction as far back as the twenties, and in usage is a much broader term with a similar policy for rigidly acknowledging its borders as the People's Republic of China. There is no room for post-cyberpunk to lurk in its wake. The stories in Rewired are standing too close.

Kelly and Kessel are participating in an increasingly obsessive trend towards a fractal model when talking about genres and sub-genres in a fool's errand to hit the nail on the head. This is part of a bigger conversation about how and why we engage with all mediums of media and the degrees of meaningfulness of the categories we use to keep them separated. It is also part of a conversation about the contemporaneous use of categories that are defined by what they are not.

As a compilation of reasonably contemporary postmodern science fiction highlights covering a decade from 1996 to 2005 Rewired rolls with the big boys. It concisely packages the major tropes in chronological order, explored by only the most talented pens. It is especially interesting if you can get your hands on a copy of Mirrorshades.

Prometheus has broken my eyes and the way that I sleep

Look, yesterday I did manage to see Prometheus.

I saw it with a man I know. I'm not sure how he is feeling right now, but the new thing that Ridley has made permeated me in a way that I thought didn't happen anymore. Some part of it took up residence inside me, which is what the original film did to me, and I'm not yet at a stage where I can comment confidently on whether or not I actually liked it. I can tell you that I got home and lay face down on my bed for an hour to process.

This thing that I have witnessed is far closer to Alien in concept and intent than anything that has occupied the temporal space between them. In many ways I feel vindicated, as assumptions that I made about the mythology of the series have been confirmed, but at the same time it has started something new that affects the way I see people as they pass by me in the street.

I've had conversations with people about the film since I saw it, and I'm not sure I can see the same borehole in their psyche that I seem to have come away with. It has invaded my dreams, and they are now far less welcoming.

Prometheus

I will be seeing Prometheus tomorrow.

To say that I have waited a long time for the release of a film that is related to Alien without being about Ripley would be an understatement. It has been a long time since I was amazed by Aliens.

I wasn't even a third of the way through Alien by the the time I had seen more in it than is in the entirety of everything that followed. I'm not aware of many people in my life who agree with me.

From the first film alone we take away so many questions. Where is the other ship from? Why are the eggs on board? What senses does the alien possess for processing the environment around it? How did 'the company' know there was something there to be found in the first place? Were the aliens engineered as a kind of tool for genocide, used to prepare planets by clearing all indigenous populations before returning to dormancy? Does the alien use the DNA from its host to help it adapt to its new environment? Can the alien survive in the vacuum of space?

No other film in the series really elicits this response. Worse than that, they drift further and further from any of the questions that were worth asking or answering with each sequel. Everything that gave the first film depth is destroyed or abandoned to follow a story about Ripley.

Prometheus is the sequel (or prequel) to Alien that I have always wanted.

Some people stand in the darkness, afraid to step into the light

“When I feel difficulty coming on, I switch to another book I am writing. When I get to the problem, my unconscious has solved it.”

- Isaac Asimov

I've used this quote before. It is my lifeguard in what often feels like an ocean of pages and words that are capable of losing all meaning at a moments notice. It is something I cling to for safety, but at the same time something with which I am not entirely comfortable. In this way my lifeguard is also an octopus.

We must all have these from time to time. Advice, methods or guidelines that we have adopted, that seem to work, but we don't feel entirely comfortable with the processes until it is actually clear on each separate occasion that they're working. An old octopus lifeguard of mine is my method for writing essays, that to most people appears so counter intuitive that they will not even attempt it. People just flat out refuse. At first I wasn't entirely comfortable with it either. It seemed too convenient. We need to embrace the octopus.

I am reluctant though. The lack of appeal in this little kernel of wisdom is in the writhing suckered tentacles of our previous relationship, which was abusive and unhealthy. I used it unilaterally as the foundation for a cornucopia of poor literary decision making and general copping out. Apparently the octopus lifeguard is also my ex-girlfriend now. 

The point I am actually trying to make with this increasingly convoluted metaphor is that sometimes you need to look at how you've been doing things and accept that it isn't working, and that just because you executed it poorly last time doesn't mean that there is a fault in the octopus (or the method). 

At the moment there is only The Book, but most of the time I spend with it is horrible and unproductive. The other side of this is that there are also one hundred and thirty-two other stories in various stages of The Process. Some of these have been put aside because the structure and characters exceed my current ability and experience, while others have been outgrown, and others still are trapped in there own circular logic. They aren't all like this though. Some of them are just waiting. Waiting for the The Book to be finished so that they can audition for the lead. Well, one of these budding understudies is being promoted to the status of The Other Book (or The Second Book, I haven't decided yet). They will share time in my life. Neither one will be treated as the dominant role. 

To be clear, the books are ballerinas and the process is the Baywatch Octopus. You can have as many ballerinas as you want, but only one octopus. You can suck back on ballerinas like they're going out of style (seriously, they aren't real people, they're metaphorical people), as long as it doesn't impact negatively on your relationship with the Octo-Hoff. I'm sure I could've made some better choices with this metaphor earlier on, but I'm enjoying it now. The point being that I am staying wary that this approach has been handled poorly by myself in the past, but sometimes it's worth trying old things anew.

Embrace the Octo-Hoff, but keep it professional.

One adult for "Ender's Game" will cost you $16.50 and a piece of your SOUL!

Here's the dilemma. I recently discovered that Orson Scott Card, writer of Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead, is so opposed to same-sex marriage that he is on the board of director's for the National Organization for Marriage, which is an organisattion who were originally established to prevent the legalisation of same-sex marriage. While reading into this I also discovered that he had a history of saying some fairly repulsive things about homosexuals.

From the way I am presenting this information you have probably picked up that I am not riding the same political, philosophical or religious train as Mr Card, and that these discoveries prompted conflicted feelings towards both Ender's and Speaker, both of which I still count amongst the most influential books in my life.

This isn't the first time I have had my politics run up against those of an author (or artist) whose work I respect. Much of my fantasy writing is clearly influenced, both in style and theme, by Poe and Lovecraft, but I do not share their politics or philosophies. Lovecraft's writing gives the very clear and distinct impression that he was racist, homophobic, antisemitic and misogynistic, and I am not going to defend his beliefs with that old "product of his times" chestnut. Plenty of his contemporaries showed no evidence of these prejudices. Irrespective of these beliefs Lovecraft was an amazing writer and storyteller with a unique and horrifying imagination, and his impact on contemporary popular culture is, in my mind, quite often deeply understated.

Likewise, William S. Burroughs was a man with a skewed and ever changing view of the world that at different times led him to Scientology, an obsession with narcotics and the belief that playing with guns was a good idea. Amongst his many accomplishments are Junkie, Naked Lunch, the Nova Trilogy and the accidental shooting of his wife during a "game' of William Tell. Despite not being as widely regarded as I believe he should be, Burroughs had a habit of influencing influential and popular writers. Without his books late Twentieth Century literature and everything that followed and is yet to follow would and will be a very, very different game.

If these names don't register with you perhaps it might mean more to you to know that Hunter S. Thompson (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas) was a devoted libertarian and gun enthusiast , Ernesto Guvera (The Motorcycle Diaries) was homophobic, C.S. Lewis (The Chronicles of Narnia) was a Christian Apologist, and Stephanie Meyer (The Twilight Saga) is a Mormon.

The way I perceive the universe doesn't run concurrently with any of these people, nor do I expect that it will for the handful of people who read my blog. Some of these people's beliefs bother me at the essence of the ideas behind them, while others bother me only when they are abused, but I cannot deny that I see something worthwhile in each of their bodies of work. More than that I am of the opinion that there is always something to gain from engaging with media that supports views other than our own. Something that is beyond the simple assimilation of differing views, but something that is in the act itself. Even more so if done willingly. Without differing views we end up reenforcing a bubble, and just because we engage with something does not mean that we automatically lend credence or validity to the ideas espoused within it.

I have known many people who I perceived as open-minded and still perceive as intelligent who have disregarded books solely on the philosophies of their author, most commonly when someone mentions Ayn Rand. It is apparently acceptable to hate on Ayn Rand and her books without actually informing yourself on her ideas or reading her books. I blame South Park for some of this, but the rest is a kind of  popularly enforced cultural ignorance. I'm not on Ayn Rand's bandwagon by any stretch of the imagination, but I can't deny that there is something deeply profound and astute happening between the pages of The Fountainhead, and to a far lesser extent Atlas Shrugged. As a matter of interest my only real complaint towards either book (especially the latter) is that they are absurdly long, and could have been written more concisely.

The reason I bring all of this up is that Ender's Game is currently in the process of being made into a film. The book itself does not condemn same sex marriage, and in fact there is even an intimate scene between two boys in which their affection for each other is expressed with a kiss. At this stage I doubt very much that Card is going to include any new materials to push his current agenda considering how long and hard the author has fought for a faithful adaptation of his book. So the work itself isn't something I take any issue with, but the creator is quite literally a fascist. So, the question you have to ask yourself is: Will any of the money earned by the film go towards opposing same sex marriage?

Honestly? I don't know. He may have already been paid in full for the film rights to the book as well as any role he had (as Producer) in the production of the film. He may be opposed to using the money from his art to fund his own agendas.

In the case of many of those that I mentioned earlier the question of separating the artist form their work is a much simpler one, because they are deceased, and unless their estates are up to some funky stuff I am unaware of we aren't running the threat of funding a cause in which we do not believe by buying their works.

Where do I come down on all of this?

I do believe that a work should be set apart from its creator and regarded and judged on its own merits, but should also be regarded and judged as a part of a whole body of work that includes the creator. Similarly I will not support those that condemn a work on the basis that it does not align with their own views, but while I think there is always something to gain from engaging in media that runs contrary to one's own philosophies, religions, politics and world views inherent in the act itself, I do get tripped up when you introduce the possibility of my own indirect funding of an agenda to which I am actually opposed. Would I have bought and read both Mein Kampf and Zweites Buch so as to better understand the ideas and events that lead to the holocaust if I thought for a moment that the money would go to further the causes and ideals valued by their author? Fuck no!

Ponder on it folks.