V  I S U A L   R E F L E C T I O N

The visualization assignment was an interesting way to reflect on the semester – recalling previous interests, seeing how interests changed, and identifying what themes remained important as I spent time exploring science fiction on my own. I was unable to upload all of my links at once, so I split the list into two and created two visualizations. I think it is a bit hilarious that steampunk is so prominent – I chose to look into this topic because I had no idea what it was and ended up collecting a lot of links as a did my research. Frankenstein was a pretty important term for me. I read Frankenstein because of my interest in Romantic era literature, and conveniently, this story worked well with this course as it is one of the early SF novels. I think it is telling that I spent much of my time researching and thinking about Frankenstein. I am not naturally drawn to science fiction, but I think this story really solidified the genre, its consequences, and points of interest for me: the concerns of this story – ethics, humanity, religion, love, morality, human interaction, personal and social identity – are captured in the word clouds (human, science, life, social, time, people, culture, monster). I think the prominence of this story and the related themes are suggestive of my point of entry into science fiction: it is not the technology or the fantastical that I am attracted to, it is the human, the implications of human behavior in the realm of science and exploration, what SF can tell us about ourselves, how people exist and interact in complicated SF worlds, and how we experience abstraction and the inexplicable in our own world.

Cloud One: https://voyant-tools.org/?corpus=87d033981b2da7b1e5959cdf8aed8071&visible=175&view=Cirrus

Cloud Two: https://voyant-tools.org/?corpus=bdca009dc1a20ea4e0810e9de764f37a&visible=25&view=Cirrus

M O D E R N   &   S C I E N C E   F I C T I O N

I am a very visually sensitive person. I am particular and strict about the space around me – the colors, organization, “neatness”, the smell – I don’t like clutter or purposeless things. I like things that are sleek, efficient, self-contained. This preference aligns well with the modern, futuristic, aesthetic of science fiction”.  Though there are many science-fiction styles and worlds that do match this aesthetic I am thinking of, it is certainly a strong association between science fiction and modernism. The style of the 1970’s, I find to be particularly Sci-Fi-esque. This era falls under New Wave phase of SF. This was a time of experimentation and a break from traditionalism and this is quite reflected in SF and the style of the era – Groovy! If I were to design a space with some of science-fiction inspired objects, this is what I might include:

A n t i q u e    &   S c i e n c e   F i c t i o n

Since I was young I’ve always been drawn to old things  – I would spend hours in antique and junk shops, at yard sales, at old houses, searching for fallen shacks or pumps houses in the woods by my house. I can’t exactly put my finger on why I’m so captivated by old things, but there is something deeply sad or melancholy about abandoned objects and places. I feel like the things around us bear witness to our lives, they existed with us, we use them and rely on them. It feels too bad that they are cast aside and forgotten, uncared for – along with the history and memories they are imbued with.

The short-story we read, Cardboard Box, by Hanmura Ryo I think expresses similar sentiments, and I was particularly interested in it . The story is written from the perspective of a cardboard box. The box explains its life-cycle and it seems what desires most is to be used, to serve its purpose. Perhaps this is why I also find antiques and old things so sad – they have potential and purpose but it is unfulfilled.

I am unsure exactly how old places and objects really relate to science fiction. We debated whether or not Cardboard Box was really a work of science fiction or something else. But I feel like abandoned places and things have a lot to say and can evoke science fiction elements. For example, I went on a hike recently, here in California, to Knapp’s Castle. Once a grand home, it is now a ruin. It was a rainy, foggy day. The weather combined with the mysteriousness of the site felt very other worldly. Below are some pictures:

Usually you are able to see the other mountains and valleys all around you in this spot, but it was all blocked by fog. I call this “being inside of a milk-bottle.” The setting and the history of the ruins evoked the feelings of displacement, wonder, questioning, imagining that I find to be very SF in nature. I have really enjoyed thinking about and finding SF in the world around me and I think for me that is often in these abandoned locations and objects.

P L A N T S  &  S C I E N C E  F I C T I O N

During this quarantine I have been living in California at my roommate’s house. I grew up Vermont, and it seems that all the places I have spent time in – outside of Vermont, all have a similar climate and environment to the East Coast: four seasons, humidity, snow, rain, old mountains, lakes… the California climate I am currently in is quite different: its dry, hot (90 degrees this week!), green (at least for now…), vibrant, with tall, rugged, red mountains. The plants in particular are incredibly strange – and I don’t think that’s the Vermont talking. My friends’ family agrees – the plants around here are bizarre.

The space around me is so unfamiliar – perhaps this is the closest thing I might get to ever existing in another world. Is this another world? The constant strange-ness around makes me think about how science-fiction-y our own planet is. We are comfortable with and accept the things around us because they are “earthly” but perhaps they aren’t so. We distance ourselves from SF worlds and only envision them in our imagination, but perhaps we just need to look around a little longer or explore a new place to find it in the world around us. This sounds a bit like the old “no, we are the aliens” argument, but I think it’s fun to think about and disturb my own sense of comfort here and there.

I do this almost every morning! Most often I wake up at 7:00am and walk around the neighborhood to look at and listen to the plants and animals (mostly lizards!) around me. It’s a pleasant, yet provoking, way to start the day. Below are some pictures of plants I have come across:

^This Agave plant is absolutely massive! It is probably 1.5X the size of me! I have never seen anything like it.

These stalks grow out of the center of Aloe plants (and sometimes Agave plants) after they “die”. These things are massive!

In pursuit of this topic I did a little research about plants and science fiction. I found this data-base that chronicles botanical fiction beginning in 1844 into the present. There are some familiar authors!

F R A N K E N S T E I N

This past weekend I read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Written in 1818, this book is considered to be one of the first science fiction texts. This story is an interesting cross between my study of Science Fiction in this course and my study of English romantic era authors, a cohort of writers and thinkers with which Shelley was entangled.  It was a lot of fun to think about and read this text through both of these lenses – there were so many elements that are reflective of romantic era concerns: psychology, love, loneliness, humanity, ethics, morality, nature and our relationship to it, religion and the role of God and the supernatural… At the same time, these are concerns that are central in SF texts today.

In its time, Frankenstein was a daring tale – what it suggested, explored, and described was shocking, especially when it considering it came from the mind of a woman (initially it was published anonymously however). Comparing to SF today, its SF elements are quite tame. But, perhaps that’s what makes it most disturbing and provoking. The un-named monster that Frankenstein creates is very human-like in look and behavior. He has the potential to fold into the human race – overlooking his ugliness of course. His desires, emotions, mind are really that of a human. It is his lack of connection, his loneliness and rejection from humans that creates a monster out of him. I can really identify with his frustration and destructive reaction to his pain. I sympathized with the psychology of the monster, even though he was violent and murderous.

I was particularly irritated by Viktor Frankenstein, the creator of the monster. He was ambitious and selfish in pursuing such an invention. Once successful, he was horrified by what he had created. He flees his laboratory and avoids it for several years. I would honestly say that 60% of the book is made up of Viktor’s lamentations, expressions of disgust, pity, and despondency. It is relentless and kind of irritating – you just want to shake him and tell him to take responsibility!  It is clear that the monster is actually good-natured, polite, and has no desire to hurt anyone. This is made clear to Frankenstein, but he cannot get over the monster’s appearance and the fact that he had created him. I think the central lesson of the book is here, in the behavior of Frankenstein. This is communicated well in an article I found in Nature:

“So emerges the central drama of the novel. It is not merely the creation of life itself, the technical ambition of science, that is called into question. It is the unfolding moral choices and unforeseen ethical responsibilities that may come with scientific advances: artificial intelligence or artificial life, nuclear power or nuclear weaponry, the genome sequence or invasive genetic editing.”

Frankenstein was written over 200 years ago, but its warning about the moral responsibility we have to the things we create and the ideas we spread. There must be forethought about how the thing itself, others, and ourselves will be effected by what we pursue and create, and we must take responsibility for what is produced.

Mary Shelley 

An interpretation of the monster created by Frankenstein from the 1932 film. (Which is hilarious!)

Isabel Singer 

ITA 2500 | World Science Fiction 

Essay Two: Multiplexing 

April 3, 2020 

Embracing the Unknown 

              Everyone, to some extent, fears the unknown; it disturbs us and makes us feel uncomfortable. Those who seek out the unknown and embrace what is different, we call fools, insane, lunatics, irrational. The unfamiliar is often encountered in transient locations: hotels, taverns, restaurants, on public transportation. Here, people from all walks-of-life converge and differences are confronted. Though we share these spaces and our experience of them with others, we exist anonymously: our identities, motivations, backgrounds are not obvious. The temporariness of our presence does not motivate effort to interact with one another in a way that would allow for real understanding or connection. Instead, we make assumptions about the character of those around us, we rely on prejudice to make sense of their behavior, and often outright reject them. The short stories, Out of All Them Bright Stars, by Nancy Kress and Take Me Down the River, by Sam Lundwall, are set in transient locations in which characters are confronted with the unknown. In both stories, one character challenges the fear of the unknown and the dynamics of prejudice  in their temporary environment to embrace what is different. 

         The action in Out of All Them Bright Stars, takes place in a diner in a small town. The diner is owned by a rude, misogynistic man named John. He is disrespectful and aggressive towards his wife, Kahty, and his waitress, Sally, who both work in the diner. One day, a blue alien named John, walks into the diner and asks Sally for a table. The various people in the diner respond differently to the Alien’s presence. An elderly couple, who is regularly in the diner, and often fails to tip Sally, stares at John and later leaves without paying a tip. Sally is initially shocked by the alien, but later feels ashamed for staring at John, identifying with him as a target of disrespect and mistreatment: “we’re staring like it’s a clothes dummy and not a customer. So I think that’s not right and maybe we’re making it feel a little bad. I wouldn’t want Kathy staring at me like that” (Kress, 581). Despite being a bit unsure of John, Sally treats him as a customer. She sees that he is polite, and they begin to have a conversation. John asks for Sally’s name and he shares his own. She laughs at how ordinary his name is but then apologies for her response, thinking it might have been rude. John explains he has a different name in his native language. Sally continues boldly forward and asks him to say it: “John makes some noise with his mouth, and I feel my own mouth open because its not like a word he says at all it’s a beautiful sound…it’s just that I wasn’t expecting it, that beautiful sound right here in Charlie’s diner” (Kress, 582). Before John can share what it means, Charlie yells angrily at Sally: “What the hell do you think you’re doing…you get him out of here…The government says I gotta serve spiks and niggers, but it don’t say I gotta serve him!” (Kress, 583). John flees, saying to Sally, “I am sorry…I seldom have the chance to show our friendliness to an ordinary Earth person” (Kress, 584).  In contrast to Sally’s kindness and patience, Charlie is vulgar and disrespectful. He feels no obligation to treat John, who is polite and well-intentioned, as a customer. Kathy responds to John in the same way Charlie does: “…Charlies right. That thing scared me half to death, coming in here like that. And where there’s food… The National Enqurier… told how they have this fire-power up there in the big ship that hasn’t landed yet. My husband says they could blow us all to smithereens…I don’t know why they even came here. We don’t want them” (Kress, 584).  Like Charlie, Kathy makes no effort to understand or respect John. She relies on the prejudice and assumptions of outside sources to judge John. 

          Similar dynamics and varying responses to the unfamiliar play out in Take Me Down the River. The action in this story takes place at a hotel near the edge of the world. Here, hotel patrons are gathered to watch a man go over the edge of the world in a barrel. While perhaps unusual, this man, like John, is minding his own business, pursuing his trip over the edge of the world. Around him, the hotel patrons comment disapprovingly on the man and others that have made similar trips. One man says: “Some summers they come by the thousands…they do it in barrels and boats and riding on logs or just swimming, but all go over the edge and no one seees them again. Only foreigners do it, though. None of us who live here…I really don’t understand them… I really don’t” (Lundwall, 148).  The hotel patrons watch the man going over the edge as if he is some sort of spectacle. They don’t make an effort to interact with him, assuming that he is impossible to understand or relate to.  Not only do the patrons refuse to engage with this man, but they make assumptions about others staying at the hotel. For example, one man sees a couple, a man and a young girl, and assumes there is something inappropriate about their relationship and becomes preoccupied by their interactions, imagining some scandalous love (Lundwall, 148).  It is revealed to the reader that they are actually new friends that met traveling and are there to fly kites together.  The young woman becomes a central character later in the story. While conversing with her friend she expresses her interest in the man who went over the edge. She wonders about what has happened to him and what lays beyond the edge of the world. While peering over the edge, she ponders: “I wonder what is down there…I have neer seen the river before… I have heard so much about it, but never seen it… I  wonder where that man is now…I wonder what he sees now” (Lundwall, 149). The young woman is genuinely curious, posing these questions to her friend, and actively exploring the edge of the earth and the river. The man does not share her curiosity or wonder, and dismisses her: “That parachute won’t help him much, that’s for sure…or that barrel. A crackpot. Going over the edge in a barrel!… A barrel! The world is full of nuts, and most of them come here sooner or later, dragging their barrels and diving suits and one-man submarines and God knows what else, and then they go over the edge, thousands of them every year, and that’s that…”(Lundwall, 149-150). The next day, when the couple go to fly their kites, the young woman unexpectedly flies her kite over the edge and disappears. 

         In both of these stories, transient settings create environments where real interaction is difficult and unpursued. The characters misjudge and mistreat each other: Charlie, fails to take the time to consider others’ feelings or experiences, he speaks to Sally and John with rudeness and disrespect. In Take Me Down the River, those who go over the edge are labeled “crackpot,” “forgeign”, and “nuts.” The man who goes over the edge is just another one of the “thousand” who go down the river every year. He is anonymous and his reasoning is unconsidered and unimportant to those who watched his act. The elderly couple in Out of All Them Bright Stars, are quite similar to the hotel patrons in Take Me Down the River. They watch the spectacle, consuming the behavior of people around them but contribute nothing. They avoid real interaction and keep to themselves. 

       In both stories, the characters in these transient spaces are confronted with the unknown. Their fear of it keeps them from trying to understand or explore it. Instead, they disrespect, avoid, and reject differences outright. However, Sally, in Out of All Them Bright Stars, and the young girl, in Take Me Down the River, approach the unknown differently. Sally, in the transient environment of the diner, could have ignored John and maintained their anonymity. She could have rejected him like Kathy and Charlie, refusing to engage with his difference, but she chose to approach him. She did not rely on prejudice and instead formed her own judgements of John by conversing with him and learning about who he was. The two shared a moment of authentic engagement and connection. He experienced an unusual kindness and she gained a new perspective. Similarly, the young girl, in Take Me Down the River, did not judge the man who went over the edge as everyone else seemed to. She was curious about him and wished to know what happened to him, while the patrons at the hotel only made assumptions or wrote of the act and the man as crazy. In the end, the young woman quite literally went into the unknown to discover it for herself. She didn’t shy away from the edge but sought it out. She became one of the “crazy thousand” that goes over the edge. 

       In the spaces we temporarily inhibit we are put into contact with unfamiliar people and ideas. In such environments we do not know those around us, it can be easy to engage with each other at a superficial level or disengage all together. It is easy to make assumptions about the unfamiliar or the strange, but if we suspend our judgments and approach what we fear, these transient places can be opportunities to learn, understand, and enjoy one another. 

Bibliography 

Kress, Nancy. “Out of All Them Bright Stars.” The Wesleyan Anthology of Science Fiction. Edited by     Evans, Arthur, et al. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 2010, p. 580-586. 

Lundwall, Sam. “Take Me Down the River.” Terra SF. Edited by Richard D. Nolane. New York: Daw Books Inc., 1981, p. 146-154. 

ITA 2500 | World Science Fiction

Essay One: Micro-Reading

March 1, 2020

            “Hey Siri, write this paper for me.”

            The short story, “Codemus,” written by Tor Åge Bringsværd in (always give date of story, film, etc.), illustrates how a futuristic society has been organized to maximize efficiency. The city and people operate as parts in a machine: everything has a purpose and all inefficiencies have been eliminated through technology and careful design. Every individual, by law, is equipped with a device called a “Little Brother” that guides them through daily activity. The devices are relied upon in all aspects of life:  Little Brothers determine behavior; help owners navigate the city;  keep track of responsibilities;  act as social companions; and make decisions both big and small. On the surface, this resource allows for an incredible ease of living, as  all questions can be answered, entertainment is always available, skills and knowledge do not have to be maintained, and any confusion and uncertainty is eliminated. However, when one Little Brother decides to pursue its own interests and rebel against its owner, Codemus, the advantages of such a device comes into question. Through the detailing of the reliance on technology in this society, Bringsværd suggests that total dependence on technology erodes what it means to be human.

Bringsværed’s critique of the reliance on technology in this story is made evident in the name given to the devices. The name “Little Brother” suggests a familial relationship between the device and its owner. People in this society rely on and interact with the device in the way one might with family members, asking the device questions such as: “What’ll we play?” and “What do you think I should fix for lunch, Little Brother?” (Bringsværd 771). Instead of communicating with family to navigate day-to-day concerns and get advice, the citizens deferr to “Little Brother.”. The humanization of the devices suggests that it has replaced real humans as resources. It has taken away the need for human interaction. There is an irony also communicated in this name. “Little Brother” connotes an inferiority to an older sibling. Younger siblings are often expected to be submissive to older siblings. However, in this story, Codemus is reliant on “Little Brother” as if he is the little brother in their relationship. This suggests that while individuals may think they are superior to and command the technology they use, because of their total dependence on it, it has control over them. Technology has thus taken away individuals’ sense of self-efficacy and freedom. They are unable to operate autonomously when their thinking and behavior is dominated by the advice and instructions of an exterior source.

The extent to which technology has taken away Codemus’s experience of being human is further made evident when Little Brother demands that they go to the city’s park. Doing what he is told, Codemus takes Little Brother there despite the fact that it is not to be visited during the working week. Here, with no one around him, Codemus relaxes and enjoys nature. The peaceful, easiness of the park is described in stark contrast to the busy, overpopulated  park on the weekends: “He and little Brother usually had to elbow their way through, searching like animals for a free green space where they could unroll their blanket and sit down” (Bringsværd 774-775). Though Codemus is relaxed, he is “not used to it” (Bringsværd 774) and anxious about being unproductive while everyone is working. He even has a brief moment of guilt: “An uneasy thought flickered for a moment in the back of his head: This isn’t natural. This is wrong ” (Bringsværd 775). Codemus’ concern about being unproductive, and his unusual experience of relaxation and solitude in the park, suggests that technology has created a dependency and an axiety about straying from the societal norms it has created. Technology in this society has made stress, anxiety, and the need to feel useful a societal resting state. His surprising moment of leisure suggests how difficult it must be to relax and enjoy nature on any normal day. Technology has interfered with human’s ability to consider and enjoy the world around them, as Codemus is not totally able to escape the expectations of society.

Codemus’ feeling of guilt over his lack of productivity and enjoyment of the park does not last for very long, however. This is because “he didn’t have a guilty conscience. Codemus didn’t have a conscience at all. It was Little Brother’s job to keep track of right and wrong” (Bringsværd 775). Codemus begins to have an ethical exploration while in the park, but abandons the examination when he remembers that such reflections are not his responsibility. Technology has allowed Codemus to avoid having to make decisions about right and wrong. Wrestling with difficult questions, considering one’s behavior in relation to societal norms, and deciding what one believes to be good and bad is an essential part of identity creation. Technology has prevented Codemus from engaging in this challenging human experience that helps develop and clarify a sense of self.

Not only has Codemus’ dependence on his Little Brother prevented him from developing an ethical code, but also it has interfered with the development of social skills. While in the park a young woman who works for the park approaches him. He invites her to sit down with him, though she declines after her own Little Sister tells her it is not appropriate. Later on, Codemus’ Little Brother asks why Codemus has never been married and tells Codemus to marry the lady they met in the park. The woman, still nearby, hears this conversation and runs away fearfully. Codemus runs after her, chasing her through the park,  shouting to her: “Stop…Wait! I only want to marry you” (Bringsværd 777). Codemus struggles to interact with this woman. Without questioning the judgement of his Little Brother or the seriousness of his direction, Codemus pursues this woman. He ignores the cues that suggest she didn’t want to be followed. Codemus has no consideration that he is asking a complete stranger to marry him and no consideration for whether or not she wants to marry him. Codemus’ reliance on his Little Brother to guide his social interactions has prevented him from developing the ability to express himself and understand the behavior of those around him. Engaging with others face-to-face, to develop friendships, learn new things, and communicate needs and desires is a part of how humans operate. Codemus’ reliance on technology has prevented him from engaging in this way and thus his ability to interact with and relate to others on a personal level is impaired.

At the end of the story, Codemus and his Little Brother become separated and Codemus has no idea what to do. He is paralyzed with fear, he has no idea how to get home (Bringsværd 780), and has lost all sense of self: “Codemus felt meaningless. He was as good as dead. He was dead” (Bringsværd 781). Without his Little Brother, Codemus has no ability to care for himself or navigate his world. He feels he is unable to live  alone. Codemus’ reliance on his Little Brother eliminated his need to develop human social skills, understand his surroundings, and be self-reliant. When these abilities are most necessary, Codemus is unable to rely upon himself.

Aspects of the technology-dependent society Bringsværd created in this story in 1967 are notably similar to today’s world. Society seems to be entirely reliant on iPhones, GPS, computers, and other digital resources. People  navigate and manage their lives from their phones; they wake up to the sound of the ringing of their iphone, they interact with friends on social media apps, they walk and drive to places with the assistance from Google Maps, and can find answers or advice online by just saying: “Hey Siri, tell me…” There is a growing anxiety that people today are losing their sense of individuality and self-reliance because of their dependence on technology. The dominance of technology in the story of “Codemus” and the fate of Codemus himself, suggests that we should be mindful of how we use technology and aware of when it is preventing us from developing as humans. While technology may make our lives more simple and efficient, when it pervades all aspects of life and prevents us from nurturing human qualities and having human experiences we should be wary. Authentic, interpersonal experiences had outside the boundary of our screens give depth to life by helping us find meaningful connections, locate beauty in the world around us, and cultivate skills and qualities needed to adapt to challenge and change.

I find myself in a midst of a coincidence relating to the current COVID-19 crisis: in two of my courses at Bowdoin (World Science Fiction and English Literature and Social Power), pandemics have been important thematic topics. In my English course, we we read the book, A Journal of the Plague Year, by Daniel Defoe. Written in 1722, this novel is about the bubonic plague that killed tens-of-thousands of Londoners in the 1660’s. It is quite an interesting book, in terms of its genre; it is considered to be one of the first emerging novels. The author did not actually live through the plague himself, but writes as if he experienced it first-hand. The details he includes and realities he describes are not inaccurate however.

The similarities between the plague that Defoe writes about and the current out-break of virus are a bit disturbing. One of the most important similarities I have been thinking about is how this type of crisis disproportionately impacts the poor. During the London plague, those that were wealthy were able to shut themselves up in their homes, stock-pile food and supplies, or escape to ships and the country-side. Their wealth and advantage allowed them to isolate from others and focus on self-preservation. In contrast, the poor were forced to take jobs that put them in direct contact with the disease, they had to little access to food and supplies that were not contaminated, and without options to flee they consulted sham doctors who would charge them for fake medicine – plunging them further into poverty. The poor were forced to choose between money and the hope of survival and certain death. Today, the differing experience of the fortunate and the less-fortunate is quite similar. Those in entry-level or serviced-based jobs have been laid-off or are required to go to work and interact with potentially sick people, in contrast, those who can afford to work from home or be unemployed for a few months are able to enjoy time at home.

Viral outbreaks that disturb our normal way of life are explored extensively in science fiction. This week we read a story written by Octavia Butler, “Speech Sounds,” that details society that has been effected by a virus that takes away people’s ability to communicate. My own current experience of a pandemic combined with my reading of Defoe’s novel made me approach this story with more attention and consideration. I thought about the characters’ experiences more seriously and related to their uncertainty, feeling of loneliness, and fear. The stories final message of hope, kindness, and doing what is right (as demonstrated by the main character’s response to challenge) were quite welcome. I think often the setting and circumstances of SF stories are so primary and the point of focus as they are unfamiliar – however, in my reading, the circumstances were not quite as unfamiliar and thus I was able to focus more on the reactions, behavior, and psychology of the characters. I would like to continue to study SF depictions of pandemic – it would be interesting to track how characters respond to such crisis and compare it to how it is occurring in real-time today. Perhaps the responses of SF characters can be worthy models for us today…I will find out and continue to post on this subject in the coming week.

I have been intending to explore art and science fiction in at least one of my blog posts. In pursuit of this, I began to think about if I have encountered the themes, concerns, or styles of science fiction represented in an artistic format. What came to mind was something I had seen when I was in Cadaqués, Spain a coastal town North of Barcelona. Salvador Dali spent many years of his life in this small town, and maintained a residence on the ocean front. On top of his home here is a massive egg sculpture (pictured below).

I saw this egg from distance while on a walk around the coast. This egg and the experience of encountering it, to me, reflect the uncanniness, the “out-of-place”-ness, and the distortion of the “normal” that are so characteristic of the science fiction genre.  With this a launching off point, I spent some time exploring Dali and his artwork.

This was a great article – provided by the Dali museum that discussed Dali’s interest in science:

Salvador Dali was quite interested in science, mathematics, immortality, biology, evolution, and the origins of life. Dali engaged with science from an early age, starting by reading scientific articles and later participating in forums and gatherings of artists and scientists interested in the intersection between their respective disciplines. The article suggests that his library of science-based texts, on topics such as physics, quantum mechanics, and biology demonstrates his passion for the sciences. The article also discusses Dali’s attention to the observations of Sigmund Freud, particularly his ideas surrounding the conscious, unconscious, dreams, freedom, and the rational. In addition, Dali lived through great periods of technological and social advancement including: War World I, the testing of the Atomic Bomb during World War II, and the exploration of genetics and DNA in the 1960’s and 70’s. Dali’s deep interest and real study of science is reflected in his surrealist art and the focus of many of his works including: inner-paranoia, double-images, 3-D worlds, optical illusion, time, relationships between internal and external reality.

The website from where this article was taken also has a timeline gallery of Dali’s works by year. It is interesting to see how his work changed over the years – you can tell how he was influenced by what was occurring in the world at the time. From perusing the gallery I was drawn to these paintings that had a SF ~vibe~ to them. The first one, “The Persistence of Memory” was painted in 1931.  The second and third paintings were done in the 1940’s – to me they reflect the despair and horror of wartime – a concern for the SF genre . The last painting was done in 1973 and is titled “The Structure of DNA.”

W O O D E N   S H I P S  | Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Q3j-i7GLr0 ]

“If you smile at me I will understand
‘Cause that is something everybody
Everywhere does in the same language
I can see by your coat my friend you’re from the other side
There’s just one thing I’ve got to
Know, can you tell me please, who won
Say can I have some of your purple berries
Yes, I’ve been eating them for six or seven weeks now,
Haven’t got sick once
Probably keep us both alive
Wooden ships on the water very free and easy
You know the way it’s supposed to be
Silver people on the shoreline, let us be
Talking about very free and easy
Horror grips us as we watch you die
All we can do is echo your anguished cries
Stare as all human feelings die
We are leaving, you don’t need us
Go take a sister, then, by the hand
Lead her away from this foreign land
Far away, where we might laugh again
We are leaving, you don’t need us
And it’s a fair wind blowing warm out of the south over my shoulder
Guess I’ll set a course and go”

————————————————————————————————————————————

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young is one of my favorite musical groups. This song illustrates the first experiences of survivors of a nuclear holocaust. Ultimately these survivors leave the destruction behind on a wooden boat to create a new civilization. In this case, both sides of the conflict have annihilated each other and individuals from the opposing sides have encountered one another: “I can see by your coat my friend you’re from the other side / There’s just one thing I’ve got to / Know, can you tell me please who won.” From a bit of research into the background of this song there are several other lines that indicate a post-apocalyptic setting:

1. “Silver people on the shoreline” — individuals in radiation suits.
2. “Say can I have some of your purple berries / Yes, I’ve been eating them for six or seven weeks now, / Haven’t got sick once / Probably keep us both alive” — the “berries” they are referring to are are actually iodine pills to protect against nuclear radiation.
3. “Horror grips us as we watch you die / All we can do is echo your anguished cries / Stare as all human feelings die” — as the individuals escape, they see those left behind become effected by nuclear fall-out or perhaps are just confronted with the reality that they cannot escape and will face death.

The song was written during the Vietnam War when nuclear conflict was a potential reality. The lyrics communicate a confusion and disorientation that reflect the senselessness of war and suggest that the clarity and dominance that its conclusion is supposed to bring about is never really unattainable. I like the way basic human characteristics and concerns survive in this post-apocalyptic setting and help the individuals respond to the situation. As if this destruction has stripped away the complexity and self-centeredness of humans and basic emotions and a desire for simplicity remains. This is suggested to me in the line: “”If you smile at me I will understand / ‘Cause that is something everybody / Everywhere does in the same language.” Here, nuclear destruction has effected everyone and differences between people are not that important – people can’t be isolated in the same way as before – others must be approached in order to survive and in order to communicate. People rely on basic body-language to make assessments with others and our common humanity that is conveyed in a smile – a universal sign of kindness.