Monday, September 23, 2019

NYNY 2019: "On the first day of Christmas"



After spending our first night in New York at a hotel near LaGuardia Airport - a useful approach if you're arriving in a foreign city late at night - Karli and I experience an excruciatingly slow airport shuttle trip into Manhattan.  To be fair, it's not really the fault of the shuttle company, LaGuardia is being rebuilt from the ground up, and construction has slowed traffic to a literal crawl around the airport - it actually takes us longer to get from LaGuardia to downtown Manhattan than the flight from Toronto to New York.

Having finally arrived at our destination, and settled into our charmingly decorated Lower East Side Airbnb apartment, we decide to check out the neighbourhood, get some lunch, and perhaps do a little shopping.

Although our street is perhaps a little more, ah, colourful let's say, than we expected, our lower Manhattan pied-à-terre is perfectly located, close to two subway lines and within walking distance of several of our planned activities for the trip, including the Strand Bookstore on Broadway, where we make the first stop of our orientation tour.

Shopping at the Strand is a bit like drinking out of a fire hose, and as such I don’t attempt a scientific approach to perusing the closely-spaced 10-foot tall bookshelves of the Science Fiction section (which, to be honest, don’t lend themselves to casual browsing anyway – I’d be curious to see statistics that correlated shelf placement with sales figures).  However, a few interesting choices catch my eye, and it doesn’t take long for me to reach my self-imposed cutoff of buying only as many books at a time as I can grip in one hand.


First into the stack are Red Seas Under Red Skies and The Republic of Thieves, the second and third books in Scott Lynch’s Gentleman Bastard sequence.  I read and enjoyed The Lies of Locke Lamora, the first in the series, in 2014, but for some odd reason I wasn't able to find the next two books together, so when I spot them here, I instantly add them to my handful of books.

I always try to pick a random book on trips like this –  this time it’s Version Control by Dexter Palmer, which is apparently a novel about causal violation (or, as the rest of the world calls it, time travel).

A used copy of Good Neighbours and Other Strangers, a 1972 hardcover collection of Edgar Pangborn short stories, catches my eye next.  Pangborn, best known for his 1965 post-apocalyptic novel Davy, was an accessible humanist author whose work was driven more by emotion than science. I have another collection of Pangborn short stories at home: Still I Persist in Wondering, published two years after his death in 1976 - I'll have to revisit that after I read this collection.  (Come to think of it, I haven't read Davy for a long time either.  So many books, so little time...)

I finish out my handful of shopping with China Miéville’s fantasy novel Kraken, which won the 2011 Locus Award for Best Fantasy Novel.  I've already read it digitally, but I'm happy to support the publishing industry by purchasing a paper copy.  Kraken is characteristic of Miéville's unique and dark creativity, but with more of a whimsical feel than his other writing - I look forward to a re-read. 

Surprisingly, I don't see the one book that I do look for: Joe Abercrombie’s new book, A Little Hatred, which is the first book in a sequel trilogy to his memorable First Law series.  How strange, I'm positive it's been released - I wonder if it's on a new release display table someplace...no matter, I've already reached my quota.

However, now I face a bit of a moral dilemma – if we happen to pass by the Strand again before we leave nine days from now, is it breaking the rules to buy a second handful of reading?

- Sid

Friday, September 20, 2019

NYNY 2019: Two names twice.


 
“In return I owe you the answer; are you good at riddles?”
“Riddles?”
“Raetseln,” Amalfi translated.
“Oh—conundrums. No, but I can try.”
“What city has two names twice?”
Evidently Specht did not need to be good at riddles to come up with the answer to that one. His jaw dropped. “You’re N—” he began.”
James Blish, Earthman Come Home
Although it's only been a couple of years since our last visit, Karli and I are off to New York once again as of this coming weekend.   And, really, how could a return visit be a bad thing? Our first two-week visit barely scratched the surface of New York's vibrant historical, cultural, culinary and architectural presence - its status as one of the world's great cities is undeniably well deserved.

One of the more epic and well-known examples of New York as a science fiction setting is James Blish's epic Cities in Flight series, although, surprisingly, the series relies very little on the aspects of the Big Apple which have made it so justifiably famous.

The title of the series says it all:  a future in which Earth's cities have abandoned the planet to travel between the stars.

The underlying technology that makes this possible is the spindizzy -  mammoth gravity-controlling mechanisms that power and drive the cities' flight across the stars. The spindizzies allow for faster than light travel, but even then, transit between solar systems can take decades, which makes anti-aging drugs, or anti-agathics, one of the crucial resources of the migrant cities.

The series relies heavily on a varied selection of historical and cultural influences, and finds some of its inspiration in Spengler's Decline of the West and its analysis of the characteristics of different types of cultures - which sounds a bit intimidating, but the books are actually quite readable.

The series is made up of four novels: They Shall Have Stars, A Life For the Stars, Earthman, Come Home and The Triumph of Time (in chronological order).* 

They Shall Have Stars lays the groundwork for the other books: the creation of the first anti-agathics, and a massive research project on Jupiter that provides the data on gravity necessary for the development of the spindizzy, all conducted in an atmosphere of secrecy and intrigue due to a repressive and totalitarian government, and finally resulting in an opportunity for escape to the freedom of the stars.

The second book, A Life For The Stars, is one of those traditional "teenage boy makes good" stories, which takes place over a thousand years later.  It starts on Earth following a global economic collapse, where relocating to space, "going Okie", in the parlance of the Dustbowl and the American Depression,  will hopefully offer a better alternative than a dead-end existence on an impoverished planet.  The 16-year old hero, Chris deFord**, is press ganged by the city of Scranton, PA as it prepares to leave Earth, but is eventually transferred to New York***, where he is adopted by a conveniently narrative couple, and enrolled in school in hopes of achieving citizenship and access to anti-agathics.

Although he seems to lack any skills that will earn him citizenship, even after endless rounds of education, deFord defuses a dangerous situation involving Scranton by analyzing the cultural analogies involved in the situation, and finally becomes the city's first cultural morphologist at the age of 18, under the job title of City Manager.

Earthman, Come Home, third in the series, is a collection of somewhat picaresque adventures on the part of New York and its immortal mayor, John Amalfi, made up of stand-alone stories that originally appeared in pulp magazines between 1950 and 1953 - a common publishing strategy at the time.

As laid out in A Life For the Stars, the economic model occupied by the travelling cities in Earthman, Come Home is that of depression-era migrant workers - the cities provide technological and industrial solutions to Earth's far-flung colonies for a fee, then move on to the next star system in hopes of finding more work and thereby staving off starvation.  The motto on this New York's City Hall is "Lady, mow your lawn?" and the stories borrow the terminology and mores of depression-era migrant workers:  good cities are hobos, tramp cities steal from their hosts, and bindlestiffs are cities that have gone rogue and prey upon other cities.

Throughout the various episodes that make up the book, Mayor Amalfi and Mark Hazelton, his current city manager, resolve the challenges facing the city by understanding and subverting the socio-political matrix of their opponents, based on analogies from other societies. In the final adventure, Amalfi saves Earth from a remnant of the defeated Vegan empire, then New York leaves the galaxy.

And the fourth book?  Time and space come to an end. And begin again: fiat lux, the end. (Or, presumably, the beginning.)

When I first read the series in my teen years, I was far less critical than I am now - I just took it all in. Re-reading the books now, I'm surprised that Blish chose Manhattan for his setting. Its primary claim to fame is as a port and trade centre, rather than being an industrial hub like Pittsburgh or Detroit - or Scranton, for that matter - and I feel that Manhattan would need to substantially up its game if it wanted to be competitive with other cities as an industrial resource.

I'm also a bit shocked by some of the solutions chosen by Mayor Amalfi, for whom the survival of the city outweighs all other concerns.  Amalfi makes some startlingly amoral decisions, such as using women as expendable bait to lure in a bindlestiff city, casually deploying fusion bombs to eliminate a small garrison, and callously hijacking a dying city without concern for its remaining inhabitants.

Perhaps the oddest thing about the series is that, other than a street name dropped here and there and the reputation attached to the city's name, Blish doesn't look very much at life in New York as such.

Over the course of the three books that deal with New York's voyages in space, there's surprisingly little detail about daily life as Manhattan travels between the stars. In A Life For the Stars, there's a brief reference to the rumble of the subways as they travel through the city's bedrock foundation, and Chris Ford's adoptive parents live in a conventional apartment, but Blish never looks at how everyday life in the city has altered in order to reflect its status as a hobo city-ship - even though "...the ship was a city, a city of jails and playgrounds, alleys and alley cats.”

Regardless, in my mind it's a sort of perpetual starlit summer night in Manhattan - bright lights, crowds on the streets, Broadway shows, people talking and shouting and eating and drinking, hustle and bustle, Times Square and Central Park, Greenwich Village and Harlem, all the myriad of things that go into the distinctive energy that informs life in the city with two names twice.

It has to be like that - otherwise, it wouldn't be New York.

- Sid
* The actual order of publication is:
Earthman, Come Home - 1955
They Shall Have Stars - 1956
The Triumph of Time - 1959
A Life For the Stars - 1962.

** Given the sequence in which the books are written, the selection of Chris deFord as protagonist is an odd one, given that his eventual execution by firing squad is casually mentioned near the start of Earthman, Come Home.

*** To be completely accurate, it's only Manhattan Island, not New York. We are never told if Brooklyn, Staten Island or Jersey City have also gone Okie.

Friday, September 13, 2019

Like it's 1999.



As a follow-up to last month's discussion of a permanent base on the Moon, today we commemorate the tragic events of September 13, 1999, which saw the Moon permanently leave Earth's orbit following a catastrophic explosion at the nuclear waste disposal site located on the Moon's dark side.  Sadly, the 311 personnel of Moonbase Alpha were lost in the accident.


Of course, this is all in reference to Space 1999, a British-Italian* science fiction collaboration which debuted in 1975 and ran for two seasons.  The series was the culmination of a long series of increasingly sophisticated SF-action programming created by the legendary partnership of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, who were best known for their Supermarionation** children's shows such as Fireball XL-5, Stingray, Thunderbirds and Captain Scarlet.  In 1960, they produced UFO, their first live action series, and wrote and produced a full length film, Journey to the Far Side of the Sun, in 1969.


Space 1999 offers what is probably the most detailed view of a lunar station in television or movies, and, in its way, it's a fairly well thought out view.  I rewatched the first episode as part of my research for this posting, and I have to say that it all seemed very logical in terms of how the base was set up.  I haven't seen any sort of preliminary plans for the permanent base planned as part of the Artemis program, but NASA could do worse than to take a look at Moonbase Alpha for ideas as to how to put together a lunar colony.


Alpha is made up of a combination of surface and underground structures arranged in an open wheel system, and split into four levels, most of which are underground.  The various sections of the base are connected by a network of travel tubes, which are rather like horizontal elevators.


For aerial transportation, they rely upon zero-G lifters – called Eagles** in homage to the Apollo 11 lander – which utilize a modular system to add medical, cargo or living space to the basic Eagle superstructure, a concept that the Andersons introduced in the Thunderbird series. In addition to surface landing stages and docking tunnels, the Eagle fleet is stored and maintained in underground hangars accessed by elevator platforms. Surface travel relies upon six-wheeled moon buggies and a variety of specialized vehicles.


The base, which is powered by four fast breeder fusion reactors and a solar energy plant, includes a hydroponics unit, research labs, recycling centre, two water purification plants, and a life support complex, all controlled from a central command section.  As is common with science fiction programs, Space: 1999 cheats the lunar gravity situation, in this case through artificial gravity generators that somehow create Earth-normal gravity within the base. (To the credit of the Andersons, they do their best to mimic the effects of lower gravity in outside surface shots.)


Personnel arriving on the base are provided with a commlock, a hand-held device that locks and unlocks doors, as well as acting as a communications device.  In addition, the base is equipped with communications posts, which contain internal communicators, clocks, and data displays.

Space: 1999 is also an unlikely cautionary tale regarding the potential use of the Moon as a dump for hazardous materials.  In the first episode, unknown radiation causes a massive nuclear waste disposal area to reach critical mass, resulting in a massive explosion that propels the Moon out of its orbit and out of the solar system. Ignoring the practicalities of shipping huge amounts of nuclear waste to the Moon, it’s certainly a strong argument for a self-sustaining base: you certainly wouldn’t want that sort of thing to happen if you were still relying on weekly food shipments from Earth.

- Sid

* I gather that, to the educated eye, the base's decor is a catalogue of modern Italian furniture design.

** If you're not familiar with the camp appeal of the Supermarionation shows, you really need to see it to believe it.  YouTube™ is full of examples.

*** There’s also a militarized version called the Hawk.