No, the giant goose at Wawa doesn't count.

During one of my early drafts for my posting on Canada in science fiction and fantasy, I was hunting around for suitable images with which to illustrate the article. To my intense disappointment, I couldn't find a single image that showed a real science fiction view of anything Canadian.

Undaunted, I decided to take another direction on the search - how about monster movies? Sorry, no luck. Godzilla has never breathed radioactive fire on Vancouver, King Kong never made it this far north, the Cloverfield monster was restricted to New York - I finally had to photocomp my own picture, as above (and ended up not using it anyway). I know that we have a reputation as a peaceful country, but damn it, has not one other person ever wondered what it would look like if Mothra decided to attack Sudbury?

To add insult to injury, it turns out that the Japanese aren't content to have had every giant lizard, insect, primate and robot on the planet visit Tokyo. No, that's not enough - in honour of the 30th anniversary of the Mobile Suit Gundam cartoon series, they decided to build a 1:1 scale model of the star of the show. The 60-foot robot now towers over onlookers in the Odaiba Shiokaze park. The head turns, and the eyes light up, but unfortunately that's as mobile as the statue gets.

To be honest, I have to think that there must have been something more important than giant combat mecha on the list of civic projects for Tokyo. But you've got to think that if it had been built earlier, it would have made those Independence Day aliens think twice before blowing up the Imperial Palace.

- Sid

"Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed."

At the time, I didn't really care about the Apollo 11 moon landing.

In my defense, it was 40 years ago, and I was seven. As a result, the real significance of the event was lost on me, but I do remember sitting on the floor in the living room and watching the coverage of the landing - it must have been on CBC, we didn't get any American channels. I feel a bit sad now that my recollection of the events isn't clearer. After all, from the perspective of 2009, the moon landing may well be the most significant historical moment of the 20th Century. In the immortal words of Neil Armstrong: "One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind."

Or was it?

It's difficult to say if the moon landing or the first manned orbital mission should hold precedence here, but I'm going to stick with the moon landing. After all, "space" is a relative concept, and it's difficult to say exactly where it begins, whereas landing on the moon has a nice, definitive feel. That being the case, by the standards of the science fiction community landing on the moon should have been just the first step, rather than a giant leap.

It's not hard to run an alternate reality scenario here. Let's say JFK doesn't get assassinated, and in his next couple of terms manages to promote the exploration of the Moon as a crucial element of the fight against Communism. The Apollo missions following 11 aren't just imitations of the first landing, but instead begin to enlarge the American presence (given the photo I used to start this posting, I hesitate to say "footprint"). Four missions later and there's a permanent base - small, but it's there. By now there would be a constantly changing population of several hundred on the Moon, and there could easily be a manned mission in orbit around Mars, preparing to launch the Ares Lander.

Now obviously, that's not what happened, and it's somewhat tragic that the initial success of the lunar missions has gone to waste. Would a different president in the early 70's have changed anything? It's impossible to say, but it does raise the question of what a different president will mean now.

I suspect that Obama will ignore the exploration of space in favour of addressing a myriad of more pressing domestic problems - charity beginning at home, as it were. Admittedly, there's talk that the American space program may once again look at the Moon as a precursor to a landing on Mars. There's talk of a permanent base on the Moon, but there's also talk that a Moon base is irrelevant - if it's possible to build a base on the Moon, why not go directly to Mars, or possibly Deimos or Phobos? Sadly, I suspect that all this talk is just that: talk.

There are two sides to the whole discussion of space exploration. On one hand, it doesn't really matter. I won't argue the various benefits and developments that have resulted from the space program, because the man on the street probably just doesn't care. I suspect that it wouldn't take a lot of public opinion to tip the balance so that the United States government just folded up NASA and shuffled the money into health care, something with an observable benefit.

On the other hand, wouldn't a revived space program be a better national focus for the United States than the battle against terrorism? (And yes, it pretty much has to be the United States, I don't see anyone else being in a position to undertake the project.) I'm not going to suggest that they can ignore the terrorism issue, but the last eight years have made substantial changes in the mindset of the USA, and not for the better. A renewed space program might give the country a sense of pride and accomplishment that's been sadly absent for quite some time.

In the final analysis, or, as per my oft-used reference from the three-armed aliens in The Mote In God's Eye, on the gripping hand, all we can do is wait and see...

- Sid

The True North.

"So what do you trust?" Laughter in her eyes and utterly desirable.
He thought for a long time. "The cold," he said.
And watched her smile gutter like a candle and go out.

Sean Stewart, The Night Watch

"Can you tell me when to stop us there?"
"Can Gordon Lightfoot sing shipwreck songs?"
Who the hell is Gordon Lightfoot? Somebody with a shuttle named after him, whoever he is –

Elizabeth Bear, Scardown

When I decided to do a post dealing with how Canada is portrayed in science fiction and fantasy, I thought it would be a fairly straightforward process. However, as I started digging around in my library and doing some reading, it turned out to be a bit more complicated than just a question of geography.

As I've discussed previously, properly setting the scene is the great challenge for the science fiction or fantasy author, and obviously requires a greater degree of imagination than is necessary for mainstream material. However, it shares with the mainstream the problem of authenticity, of building a believable setting for the story.

So, Canada. What's required to set a story in Canada? I think that there's a very crucial difference between Canada and the rest of the world. Canada is a thin veneer along the edge of a huge wilderness - the majority of the population lives within about a hundred miles of the southern border. Mathematically we have one of the lowest population densities in the world, and I have no doubt whatsoever that there are many places in Canada that have never felt the touch of a human foot.

It is not unknown for people to go for a short walk into the woods and never come back. Fall through the ice in winter, and you're dead in minutes. Historical propaganda for the United States often refers to "taming the wilderness". I don't think anyone in Canada ever claimed to have tamed our country - at best we have managed to carve out a few niches at the edge of a vast silence.

How could any novel set in Canada not somehow address all of this?

Let's start with a bad example: Svaha, by Charles de Lint. This near-future post-apocalyptic story takes place for the most part in or near the Trenton Megaplex, part of the middle section of the Toronto-Quebec Corridor. Portions of this massive metropolitan sprawl have fallen into decay, and the remaining sections exist in a state of quarantine, with access being rigorously monitored in order to keep the street rats and mutants from gaining entrance.

In sharp contrast to this urban nightmare are the pristine Enclaves set up by the First Nations tribes. Gahzee, the protagonist, is a scout sent out from the Anishnabeg/Huron Enclave in the Kawarthas.

Unfortunately, there's not one thing in the entire book that makes the setting Canadian other than the place names. It's not that it's badly written, but there was never any point in the story where I felt that I was in Canada - the whole thing could be moved to the Boston-New York Arcology or the San Francisco-Los Angeles Urb without changing a single element.

The other side of the coin would have to be Sean Stewart's The Night Watch. Stewart has written a number of stories set in a sort of post-magical world, a world where a wave of supernatural phenomena has all but destroyed civilization. Godlike Powers control large or small territories, and monsters stalk the streets.

The Night Watch deals with two groups, the fortified remnants of Vancouver's Chinatown and the mercenary kingdom of Edmonton: the one surrounded by forest, the other by snow. In Vancouver, the forest has become the Forest: a dark, tangled, inimical entity sweeping across the greater part of the city, a Power that twists paths and kills unwelcome trespassers. On the other side of the Rockies, the North Side of Edmonton* is a realm of perpetual cold and frost held at bay by a fragile bargain based on the sacrifice of children.

In sharp contrast to Svaha, Stewart's settings invoke the basic elements of forest and cold that I discussed as characteristic of Canada: soldiers walk into the Forest and don't come out, and the description of one character's death by freezing is far too evocative. Stewart so accurately captures the two faces of Western Canadian wilderness, the darkness and rain of the coastal forests and the knifelike cold of the Prairies, that I can't imagine any way to move the story to another setting.

Honourable mentions in the Canada-as-setting category go to Wayland Drew's The Wabeno Feast and Elizabeth Bear's Jenny Casey trilogy: Hammered, Scardown and Worldwired. Much of the action of The Wabeno Feast takes place in Northern Ontario, against a backdrop of still lakes and silent forests. The description in the first chapter of the drive from Toronto to Lake Superior is beautifully accurate, and it's interesting to think of Canada's population slowly retreating into the woods in the wake of some sort of slow global catastrophe. To be honest, it's only marginally a science fiction novel, due to the apocalyptic element, but I felt that I should include it for its portrayal of the Eastern Canadian wilderness.

In contrast, there's no doubt that Elizabeth Bear's trilogy is science fiction: bionic enhancements, AIs, space ships, alien visitors, the whole catalogue. In Bear's future, global warming and other problems have destroyed the United States as a nation, and the failure of the Gulf Stream has frozen England and changed the face of Europe, but Canada has been relatively untouched. As a result, our traditional role as peacekeepers has become far more proactive, and Canada and China share an uneasy position as the dominant political forces on the planet.

I have to admit that there's nothing in the series that relates to the elemental features of Canada that Sean Stewart deals with, but I have to give Elizabeth Bear full points on Canadian culture. Naming the spaceships Calgary and Montreal is one thing, but naming the shuttlecraft after Canadian musicians is a clever touch. Some of the main characters are Quebecois and sometimes slip into joual, and there's a very familiar feeling to people going for coffee on Bloor Street and so on. There's room for nitpicking - I'm pretty sure that you can't turn west onto Bloor when you're northbound on Yonge, but when you get down to that kind of detail the author has obviously observed due diligence elsewhere.

And who knows, maybe they've changed the traffic laws in 2062 - it's science fiction, after all.

- Sid

* Now, personally, I would have picked Winnipeg for the home of Winter, but I can see how the author's desire to have the two areas relatively close together made him pick Edmonton instead.