After scouring the webs for science fiction related articles that piqued my interest, these are the words that appeared most often. I chose not to actively remove words from the word cloud—there didn’t seem to be that many causing mayhem, so I left them there. Thus, these are all 125 of the most common words that I encountered on my searches.

It is no surprise that “science” and “fiction” appeared as much as they did—I was actively seeking out websites and articles related to science fiction.

I have to admit, I was somewhat surprised to that hopepunk was the fourth most common word I encountered. I certainly did do a fair amount of reading about hopepunk, especially more recently, but I didn’t expect it to feature quite this prominently. Nevertheless, I have become quite intrigued by hopepunk, or at least hope in science fiction. This is what I wrote my manifesto on, of course.

Grimdark made its small appearance too, as did fantasy. I did find it interesting how my inspiration for my manifesto initially came from fantasy. After watching the tv show The Magicians devolve into hopelessness, I grew quite frustrated at this phenomena. I certainly devoured A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin, and enjoyed his masterful worldbuilding, plot, and characters, but at the end of the day, I’m not a fan of the nihilism and hopelessness omnipresent in the series and in the genre.

As I began to turn towards science fiction with an eye on hope, I began to really appreciate hope in science fiction all the more. And I was fascinated how easily I found a bridge between science fiction and fantasy—it didn’t feel forced. This is the path I took to my manifesto, and it shows in this word cloud.

Coronavirus made a small appearance here, which is not all that surprising. So did climate—I am involved in climate action, and was interested to find where science fiction and climate intersected. Twitter also made an appearance, as did Elon Musk (both his first and last names—my, my). I’ve been quite interested in Elon Musk for a few years now. Though I’m not a fan of his, I’m interested in why his messages and work speaks to so many people. And those messages and works certain overlap with and draw from science fiction. His child’s name is just the latest example.

There are plenty of other words on there too, including many of the usual suspects in science fiction. World was the third most common word, which is not surprising. Star Wars was there—I certainly sought out a few articles about the films, but I was surprised to see both words highlighted so prominently (no doubt aided by other non-Star Wars related stars and wars). In fact, film was also highlighted quite prominently—a reminder that science fiction is still known to most through film. Combined, films, film, movies, and movie, would form the largest word together. New and time both featured prominently—two words that are quite present in science fiction and in writing in general.

Many more words formed the word cloud, but these were some that stuck out to me, and felt particularly significant.

Grimes and Elon Musk have named their child X Æ A-12, which somehow isn’t all that surprising. Elon Musk certainly draws quite a bit from science fiction, and is similarly guided by science fiction, from his Tesla Cybertruck to his dreams of colonizing Mars. And X Æ A-12 certainly screams science fiction.

It’s definitely interesting to note that the Æ is at least somewhat inspired by AI. How will a child feel growing up in a world increasingly running on AI with AI basically in their name? I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if they change their name—it wouldn’t be the first time a child of celebrity ditched an off-beat name. Wavy Gravy’s son did the same, going from Howdy Do-Good Gravy to Jordan Romney, which doesn’t surprise me, as I personally know him to be a pretty laid back and quiet person. But I do wonder how X Æ A-12 will feel about his name growing up, and how he will be impacted by it. Another interesting dimension here is that this name supports Musk and Grimes’ gender neutral position on parenting. Sci-fi meets gender politics here in an interesting way. We’ll see if the name sticks.

Hope for Science Fiction

I’ve come to realize that some of my favorite science fiction novels, stories, movies, and tv shows meld science fiction and fantasy. As I wrote in my manifesto, they are both children of speculative fiction, dreaming what if and tantalizing us with answers and mystery. Similarly, they can go really well together. Here are a few examples of this with some brief comments sprinkled in:

1. Star Wars has been called space fantasy on numerous occasions, and it makes sense. From the fantasy-like heroes journey and archetypal characters, and the force, Star Wars is not only great science fiction, but great fantasy as well.
2. Lost is one of my favorite tv shows, and it weaves sci-fi and fantasy together well. From the Black Smoke to the time travel, the two are often hard to tell apart, and it works to the show’s advantage.
3. Avatar certainly mixed the two.
4. Le Guin’s The Word for World is Forest certainly mixes the two, with the fantasy side coming out most in the alien society and science fiction coming most evident in the space colonization.
5. Jeff Vandermeer’s Southern Reach Trilogy also mixes them together well.

These are just a few examples, but there are many more, and they speak to the similarities between the two and the potential they have to mesh.

I found the entirety of Pumzi incredibly powerful, but the ending especially fantastic. The protagonist falls just short of the forest, planting her tree and dying at the edge of the desert. Knowing that she succeeded somewhat in planting the tree makes the ending even better, in how bittersweet it is. And the effect of the camera zooming out to show the title of the film and the forest on the other side of the mountains is masterful. The ending even includes sounds from a thunderstorm, planting water in the viewers’ subconscious. Honestly, this is one of the best endings I’ve witnessed in any medium of story at all.

I recently stumbled across a story titled Twinkle Twinkle written by Stephen Marche and artificial intelligence, which was fascinating. While some of the stories I’ve read that have been written completely by AI are surprisingly entertaining just because of how hilariously strange they were, this was a bit more interesting. I would find it completely plausible if a fair number of authors were writing in conjunction with artificial intelligence in ten years.

The story isn’t great, but as the author points out, the fact that it is not awful is somewhat of impressive. I’ll admit, part of me was somewhat disgusted that the artificial intelligence here was playing such a large role in the writing process, but I’ve since become more intrigued.

One thing that I think could make it a bit better would be if the AI was more suggestive and less prescriptive. For the sake of the experiment, the Stephen Marche ceded to the AI on its every recommendation, but if it was more recommendation-based I think it would be more helpful and more realistic. Think of a more creative spell-check. Rather than forcing Stephen to use more dialogue, it could suggest that he use more dialogue and keep him in the know regarding his dialogue to non-dialogue ratio.

There are some areas that I think AI could be particularly helpful in. Mostly, I imagine it could be great for aiding the implementation of structure in a number of ways. I found the fact that it forced Stephen to use more adverbs to be interesting, potentially doing a good job to correct the overcorrection caused by understandable but sometimes over the top adverbaphobia. One a larger scale, I wondered what the AI would look like if it worked as a part of software writing like Scrivener. It could help writers all kinds of things, from settings to characters to themes to plot.

Of course, the danger is always that it could trap and limit writing. But it is interesting to consider.

I have to acknowledge my favorite science fiction: The Far Side.

Gary Larson’s cartoons are absolutely fantastic, and mostly beyond explantation. But I’ll briefly touch upon them.

A lot of Gary Larson cartoons might not be considered science fiction, but a lot can be. And I think he offers anyone interested in how humor can work in science fiction some pretty great inspiration. The cartoon above is a reminder that science fiction only need take itself seriously and feel less real than “literature” if it such limitations are self imposed.

Science fiction can similarly highlight what is right in front of our nose in this world better than if we attempted to describe it factually. This is somewhat obvious but Gary Larson reminds of it so well.

Science fiction can be simple and insightful.

Is this a commentary on industrial agriculture? Or is it just a cow phone? Gary Larson doesn’t shove any messages down our throats.

I’ll admit, this post might’ve just been an excuse to enjoy The Far Side.

I absolutely loved Zima Blue. Being fed the robot’s story piece by piece was enthralling, and the story’s grappling with memory was fascinating. But my favorite lines were undoubtedly this:

“All we had been told was to make our way to Murjek, a water­ logged world most of us had never heard of before. Murjek’s only claim to fame was that it hosted the one hundred and seventy-first known duplicate of Venice, and one of only three Venices rendered entirely in white marble.”

It took me a while to figure out what made these lines so impactful. I still have trouble putting my finger on what exactly it is, but I’ve thought of a few things.

First, it says so much more than it directly addresses, laden with subtext and implications. This is what all great writing does, and it’s done really well here. A greater universe is hinted at without being explained, and it makes it feel more real than if it was laid out in front of us.

Second, this has a humorous flavor to it. When I watched the Netflix adaption of Zima Blue, I found it to be preachy and somewhat obnoxious. This line helps set a tone in the story that masterfully avoids a story that comes across as having been written by an author who took it too seriously.

Finally, these two sentences fantastically convey the significance of the setting—or in this case the insignificance. The fact that Murjek hosts “one of only three Venices rendered entirely in white marble” is not only hilarious, but it also really gives the reader a sense of the story’s place in its galaxy. In it being subtly portrayed relatively meaningless, we find the setting more meaningful.

These lines made me consider how I could explain the significance of “the streets” to someone why knew nothing of cities. I’m not sure I would do it exactly, but reading Zima Blue has convinced me it could be done.

I recently rewatched one of my favorite science fiction movies, The Prestige. It chronicles two rival magicians one upping each other at the turn of the twentieth century. Such a premise certainly doesn’t scream science fiction, but I believe it is, not only in spite of the premise, but because of it.

The opening monologue sets up the entire movie: it’s plot, themes, and character arcs:

“Every great magic trick consists of three parts or acts. The first part is called ‘The Pledge’. The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see if it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But of course… it probably isn’t. The second act is called ‘The Turn’. The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret… but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough; you have to bring it back. That’s why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call ‘The Prestige'”.

This monologue is repeated once more at the end, highlighting how it really does sum up the movie’s themes, plot, and character arcs.

In the context of science fiction arising in unexpected ways, the turn is where this apparent historical fiction turns into science fiction. One of the magicians, Robert Angier, after finally being convinced that Nikola Tesla’s attempted transportation device—the novum—is a failure, discovers all of the items not only transported (simply farther than expected), but also cloned. This sets up the rest of the movie, in which Angier clones and transports himself every night in an attempt to one up his rival Alfred Borden. The catch is, it is his clone that survives, while he drowns himself every night. It is all a set up not only to one up Borden, but to lure Borden backstage to frame him with his drowning body. It is not the last twist of the film, but when the viewer reaches this point, it is clearly a science fiction movie.

Ultimately, I do believe this “turn” to science fiction makes the Prestige especially great sci fi. The turn introduces entirely new stakes, and really an entirely new world, that shocks the audience.

This same technique is employed in Ursula Le Guin’s short story Semley’s Necklace, possible my favorite science fiction short story. The potential for science fiction is never too far from the beginning, with the implication of alien colonists, and an opening scene depicting colonial scientists considering who the protagonist is. However, it initially appears to be bite size epic fantasy—a young women’s journey to reclaim a family heirloom in a medieval world. So when she finds herself transported to the colonizer’s museum, where her family heirloom is simply a trivial trinket, and casually returned to her, the turn is shocking even in spite of its set up.

The Prestige and Semley’s Necklace—one a blockbuster feature film and one a short story—both are excellent examples of the power of science fiction making a dramatic appearance to turn the direction of a story.

Thursday night, I had the pleasure of listening to fantasy and science fiction author Catherynne Valente speak along with four others. I was so inspired by hearing her talk. Sure, most of what she detailed were the semantics of storytelling. But the glimpses I got of the power of writing spoke to me because of my own aspirations to be a fantasy author. This is one reason why science fiction speaks to me so much—because of my interest in speculative fiction.

I do have to say, part of what made hearing her speak so special was learning about the details. Considering denouements, helical narratives, and strategies to avoid info dumps got me excited to continue reading science fiction in this course, and to be attentive to how they’re written. I look forward to reflecting on Catherynne Valente’s talk throughout the semester and beyond.