The term science fiction brings about some strange images. Let's face it, we all see spaceships and robots and moon colonies when we hear that word. One assumes that sci fi will be based around technology and "the future." Often, sci fi does fit into this stereotype. The most popular examples certainly do: Star Wars, Star Trek, I Robot, etc. However, there's another term often used for this genre. Speculative Fiction. For many science fiction books, I feel that this term feels more appropriate. It's not much of a distinction (like the whole comic vs. graphic novel thing), but it doesn't make me feel like I need a background in electrical engineering to really appreciate it. Speculative fiction says, "What if ..." The Road, for instance, falls under this umbrella. It's not really about science, but it does speculate what could happen in a very possible future of destruction.
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro is another prime example of speculative fiction. If you've never read the book and don't want it spoiled, STOP READING HERE. If you have read it or don't mind a few hints at what happens, read at will.
Never Let Me Go is a touching and tragic novel about a girl named Kath and her relationship with Ruth and Tommy. They all met at an English country boarding school named Hailsham and have to deal with hormones and life after leaving the school. Pretty standard dramatic literature fare. Oh, and did I mention all of the students at Hailsham are clones that have been created so that their vital organs can be harvested for donations? This is what's so fascinating about the book. It's not for almost 100 pages that Ishiguro actually spells out the purpose of Hailsham. This not only gives the book a sense of mystery. It also shifts the focus from that sci fi plotline to the characters and their very messy, but realistic, emotions and relationships. It's also a book about memories, as the bulk of the narration is taken up with Kath's reminisces of life when she was in Hailsham. Like anyone who takes trips down memory lane, it's not a straight road. Memories flow one into another, and not necessarily in chronological order. This made the whole thing feel like a bit of a puzzle (most good books are), and also very authentic. The book can certainly be appreciated on this level, as a tragic human drama. This, I suppose, is why the book is categorized as "literature" and winds up getting nominated for the Booker Prize.
However, the speculative fiction side here is fascinating. When read from this angle, Hailsham is as intricately created as Hogwarts, though certainly a great deal less whimsical. The school's strange customs and enigmatic atmosphere are not fully explained until the final pages. That whole cloning thing is not explained scientifically; we get no explanation about how this breakthrough was achieved, only that it happened. What Ishiguro focuses on instead is what life is like for a clone who knows that they will never see forty because their vital organs are going to be extracted. What's life like for someone whose death is scheduled? While my heart went out to these characters, I had to remind myself that this organ donation is the only reason these people even exist, and that their death is saving someone's life.
Many science fiction books tackle a contemporary social issue. Never Let Me Go is about the ethical implications of cloning and stem cell research. It asks the question: if we ever clone a human being, will it have a soul? Ishiguro obviously believes that clones would have souls, as his characters feel heartbreak, longing, and fear just like the rest of us. The much larger question: if we ever see a world with human cloning being used for medical purposes (this is not that far fetched at all), will there be a place in the world for clones? Never Let Me Go asks huge questions with a deceptively simple narrative. It took me two days to read, but I'll be turning it over in my head long after. Highly recommended.
Heading out tomorrow morning to Milwaukee. I'm hugely excited about this; it's one of my favorite cities. It'll undoubtedly include multiple Kopp's Frozen Custard indulgences and a trip to my favorite coffee shop ever, Al Terra. Also excited to return to the beautiful and delicious New Glarus Brewery and to travel up north to Eau Claire, which will be farthest north I've ever been. Most excitingly of all, Mary bought me tickets to see a stage adaptation of Neverwhere, a classic Neil Gaiman novel. The play is in Chicago, and we'll be spending a day in the city. It's going to be a very exciting summer trip. I'm packing along Boneshaker since fun steampunk action is more appropriate than deep ethics-of-cloning dilemmas for vacationing.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Everything There Is To Know About Life
A character in Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five said that "Everything there is to know about life is in The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky." Having finished the book about a week ago, I can see where he's coming from. Dostoevsky has certainly written a book that covers much of the enormity of the human experience. While the philosophizing all over the place in the book gave me much to think about, I mostly learned about myself as a reader in the past month.
Like life, the book is a real roller coaster. There are moments of anger, passion, joy, grief, and confusion. Somehow, despite the many tragic moments in the book, I find the whole novel rather uplifting. Dostoevsky is somehow able to bring out the beauty in ugly character relationships. For instance, the final scene, in which a child dies, is among the most uplifting for me. I think Dostoevsky is being very true to life here: very rarely are the events of our lives completely hopeless or 100% awesome. We want our books to have nice and neat resolutions, but Dostoevsky does not let his readers off so easily. Some questions remain unanswered.
It's almost comical just how many philosophical discussions occur throughout the many pages of Brothers Karamazov. It's almost as if characters never make small talk. My friends and I quote movies and make broad jokes when we get together. It's not often that we discuss whether or not free will is actually good for humanity. The climax of the novel revolves around a murder trial, and the prosecuting and defense attorneys spend their closing arguments speaking about whether or not a neglectful parent can truly be considered a parent, sparking a philosophical debate, almost as much as focusing on actual evidence. This sort of dialogue, where characters mostly spoke in monologues that stretched across several pages without even so much as a paragraph break, did become a bit tiresome, but that's not to say I found no value in it. Ivan's treatise about how he could not believe in God because of the suffering of children was particularly powerful, as were many of the teachings of the elder monk Zosima.
The real treasure in Brothers Karamazov are the brothers themselves. Ivan, Dmitri, and Alyosha are fascinating throughout the entire book, even though they're not exactly realistic. The three are extreme character types: Ivan is the intellectual, Dmitri is passionate and reckless, and Alyosha as so faithful he's practically messianic. While they don't feel like real people because of this, it does open the door for some incredible conversation. Also, I'm not sure how, but I found myself really caring for Dmitri, even though he's sort of a scumbag for most of the book.
The book gave me a lot to chew on. I liked it quite a bit, certainly more than both One Hundred Years of Solitude and Moby-Dick. However, did I enjoy it? Not always.
I found myself wishing I was reading something else about half way through, or wishing that I wouldn't have to finish it. Mostly, I think this is because I started it a week after finishing Moby-Dick, another densely philosophical epic. I had an ambitious plan for the summer to be full of "important" books, but this simply was not realistic, not if I wanted to enjoy my summer vacation reading. These sorts of books are great to read occasionally, but not back-to-back. Probably no more than four or five should be read in an entire year, much less in a single summer. It's a shame really, because I'm pretty sure my long and challenging readings of Moby-Dick and One Hundred Years of Solitude really put a damper on my enjoyment of Karamazov. At the very least, I needed a palate-cleansing book or two in between.
This is not to say that I'm done with lengthy, complicated, philosophical books. I liked Karamazov enough to put War and Peace on my to-read list, and the approaching graduate coursework will undoubtedly be intellectually challenging, but I'm taking the rest of the summer off. Sorry Faulkner and Dickens, but I need to reclaim my love of literature with something a bit more fun. Since Bros. K, I've read some Kelly Link short stories, which I love (I'll have to write about her at some point). I started yesterday and am already halfway through Never Let Me Go, which is fascinating. Took a trip to Subterranean Books last week and picked up zombie/steampunk Boneshaker and, most excitingly of all, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by one of my faves, David Mitchell. It's not to say that these books have no intellectual value (quite the contrary), they're just plain more engaging.
Here's what I've discovered about myself in reading these last three books: reading long books easily turns into a chore for me. I go through the same cycle every time. I fall completely in love with the book in the first 100 pages or so. The characters and style completely click with me. However, after the newness wears off and the authors start getting into some juicy themes, my interest wanes. Reading is not fun anymore. I read about other books online that sound like fun and get depressed. In the last 100 pages, finishing the book becomes an obsession. I do enjoy the end more than the middle, but I'm in such a hurry to finish that I don't take the time to stop and think about what's happening.
Above all else, when I'm in the middle of reading these sorts of books, I have no desire to write anything. I become creatively constipated. Maybe it's because I have no desire to write lengthy philosophical works. I just don't feel inspired, just intimidated, if anything. However, going back to reading contemporary fiction and sci-fi gets me excited about my own ideas again.
Next time I pick up one of The Great Works, I need to make an active effort to have fun while doing so. Maybe that means writing about it more as I'm reading it, maybe it means reading some fluffy stuff concurrently so I have someplace to turn when I can't pick up the dang thing. That way, I can read what I want to when I feel like it and take my time with the patience-trying intellectual heavy lifting. That at least sounds like less of a chore.
Like life, the book is a real roller coaster. There are moments of anger, passion, joy, grief, and confusion. Somehow, despite the many tragic moments in the book, I find the whole novel rather uplifting. Dostoevsky is somehow able to bring out the beauty in ugly character relationships. For instance, the final scene, in which a child dies, is among the most uplifting for me. I think Dostoevsky is being very true to life here: very rarely are the events of our lives completely hopeless or 100% awesome. We want our books to have nice and neat resolutions, but Dostoevsky does not let his readers off so easily. Some questions remain unanswered.
It's almost comical just how many philosophical discussions occur throughout the many pages of Brothers Karamazov. It's almost as if characters never make small talk. My friends and I quote movies and make broad jokes when we get together. It's not often that we discuss whether or not free will is actually good for humanity. The climax of the novel revolves around a murder trial, and the prosecuting and defense attorneys spend their closing arguments speaking about whether or not a neglectful parent can truly be considered a parent, sparking a philosophical debate, almost as much as focusing on actual evidence. This sort of dialogue, where characters mostly spoke in monologues that stretched across several pages without even so much as a paragraph break, did become a bit tiresome, but that's not to say I found no value in it. Ivan's treatise about how he could not believe in God because of the suffering of children was particularly powerful, as were many of the teachings of the elder monk Zosima.
The real treasure in Brothers Karamazov are the brothers themselves. Ivan, Dmitri, and Alyosha are fascinating throughout the entire book, even though they're not exactly realistic. The three are extreme character types: Ivan is the intellectual, Dmitri is passionate and reckless, and Alyosha as so faithful he's practically messianic. While they don't feel like real people because of this, it does open the door for some incredible conversation. Also, I'm not sure how, but I found myself really caring for Dmitri, even though he's sort of a scumbag for most of the book.
The book gave me a lot to chew on. I liked it quite a bit, certainly more than both One Hundred Years of Solitude and Moby-Dick. However, did I enjoy it? Not always.
I found myself wishing I was reading something else about half way through, or wishing that I wouldn't have to finish it. Mostly, I think this is because I started it a week after finishing Moby-Dick, another densely philosophical epic. I had an ambitious plan for the summer to be full of "important" books, but this simply was not realistic, not if I wanted to enjoy my summer vacation reading. These sorts of books are great to read occasionally, but not back-to-back. Probably no more than four or five should be read in an entire year, much less in a single summer. It's a shame really, because I'm pretty sure my long and challenging readings of Moby-Dick and One Hundred Years of Solitude really put a damper on my enjoyment of Karamazov. At the very least, I needed a palate-cleansing book or two in between.
This is not to say that I'm done with lengthy, complicated, philosophical books. I liked Karamazov enough to put War and Peace on my to-read list, and the approaching graduate coursework will undoubtedly be intellectually challenging, but I'm taking the rest of the summer off. Sorry Faulkner and Dickens, but I need to reclaim my love of literature with something a bit more fun. Since Bros. K, I've read some Kelly Link short stories, which I love (I'll have to write about her at some point). I started yesterday and am already halfway through Never Let Me Go, which is fascinating. Took a trip to Subterranean Books last week and picked up zombie/steampunk Boneshaker and, most excitingly of all, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by one of my faves, David Mitchell. It's not to say that these books have no intellectual value (quite the contrary), they're just plain more engaging.
Here's what I've discovered about myself in reading these last three books: reading long books easily turns into a chore for me. I go through the same cycle every time. I fall completely in love with the book in the first 100 pages or so. The characters and style completely click with me. However, after the newness wears off and the authors start getting into some juicy themes, my interest wanes. Reading is not fun anymore. I read about other books online that sound like fun and get depressed. In the last 100 pages, finishing the book becomes an obsession. I do enjoy the end more than the middle, but I'm in such a hurry to finish that I don't take the time to stop and think about what's happening.
Above all else, when I'm in the middle of reading these sorts of books, I have no desire to write anything. I become creatively constipated. Maybe it's because I have no desire to write lengthy philosophical works. I just don't feel inspired, just intimidated, if anything. However, going back to reading contemporary fiction and sci-fi gets me excited about my own ideas again.
Next time I pick up one of The Great Works, I need to make an active effort to have fun while doing so. Maybe that means writing about it more as I'm reading it, maybe it means reading some fluffy stuff concurrently so I have someplace to turn when I can't pick up the dang thing. That way, I can read what I want to when I feel like it and take my time with the patience-trying intellectual heavy lifting. That at least sounds like less of a chore.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Best Man
I know it's mid-July, but I feel like summer is just starting for me. I am completely recovered from my surgery, summer school teaching is over, and I'm finished with sprawling philosophical epic literature (more on that in my next post). Completely unburdened, I'm ready to begin my relaxing. In celebration, I had this giant party. There were about 200 people there!
Okay, it wasn't actually a "Steve's Belated Summer Start" party. It was actually the wedding of two great people: my brother Pete and his now-wife Kaylen. It was an exhaustingly great time this past weekend, filled with friends from out of town, open bars, and party buses. Rather than recount everything that happened throughout the weekend, I'm just going to publish my best man speech here (to the best of my memory):
"How I first met Pete was a funny story. You see, we were womb-mates *uproarious applause, obviously*. Seriously, I grew up with Pete, quite literally. In our little childhood two-man communism, we shared everything: toys, rooms, Christmas presents, memories. Everything. Now that childhood is over, I couldn't be more proud of the way Pete's adulthood is going so far, especially since he's found Kaylen.
While the wedding ceremony was beautiful, I almost feel like it was a bit redundant. It only made legal what we in the Wissinger family have already felt for years: that Kaylen is a part of the family. She fit right in immediately with the first visit to Cairo. We're glad to have you sharing our name. As people have already mentioned today, Pete and Kaylen are perfect for each other. Anyone who's spent even five minutes with them has to think, "Yeah, they make sense together." The two of them complement each other in every way.
I started the speech talking about our childhood. Pete and I grew up on a pretty strict diet of comic books and science fiction movies. In our minds, adulthood must have looked like a strange amalgamation of space travel, crime fighting, and narrowly escaping giant rolling boulders. While life may not be quite so bizarre, there's still adventure to be found in the world, and, Pete and Kaylen, you are so lucky to have each other to share that journey. A toast to Pete and Kalyen Wissinger, the new dynamic duo!"
It pretty much sums up my feelings on the new addition to the family. More writing about books soon.
Okay, it wasn't actually a "Steve's Belated Summer Start" party. It was actually the wedding of two great people: my brother Pete and his now-wife Kaylen. It was an exhaustingly great time this past weekend, filled with friends from out of town, open bars, and party buses. Rather than recount everything that happened throughout the weekend, I'm just going to publish my best man speech here (to the best of my memory):
"How I first met Pete was a funny story. You see, we were womb-mates *uproarious applause, obviously*. Seriously, I grew up with Pete, quite literally. In our little childhood two-man communism, we shared everything: toys, rooms, Christmas presents, memories. Everything. Now that childhood is over, I couldn't be more proud of the way Pete's adulthood is going so far, especially since he's found Kaylen.
While the wedding ceremony was beautiful, I almost feel like it was a bit redundant. It only made legal what we in the Wissinger family have already felt for years: that Kaylen is a part of the family. She fit right in immediately with the first visit to Cairo. We're glad to have you sharing our name. As people have already mentioned today, Pete and Kaylen are perfect for each other. Anyone who's spent even five minutes with them has to think, "Yeah, they make sense together." The two of them complement each other in every way.
I started the speech talking about our childhood. Pete and I grew up on a pretty strict diet of comic books and science fiction movies. In our minds, adulthood must have looked like a strange amalgamation of space travel, crime fighting, and narrowly escaping giant rolling boulders. While life may not be quite so bizarre, there's still adventure to be found in the world, and, Pete and Kaylen, you are so lucky to have each other to share that journey. A toast to Pete and Kalyen Wissinger, the new dynamic duo!"
It pretty much sums up my feelings on the new addition to the family. More writing about books soon.
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