"I create myself."

Rose: I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words, I scatter them in time and space. A message to lead myself here.

The Parting of the Ways, Doctor Who

In the first season of the 2005 Doctor Who relaunch, writer and showrunner Russell T. Davies started the idea of introducing Easter Eggs for the show's finale that would appear throughout the season.  For that first season, it was the phrase "Bad Wolf", that appeared as a project development title*, in conversational references, on posters, as a TV channel, a corporate name, and several times as graffiti. 

In the final episode, Rose Tyler, the new Doctor's first companion, gazes into the Time Vortex and becomes temporarily omnipotent.  She names herself the Bad Wolf and then broadcasts those words into her own past as a signal to herself in the future.**

Yesterday I saw bad wolf painted on a brick wall in Gastown, and a small part of me asked, "Rose...were you here?"

- Sid

* Albeit in Welsh.

** Wibbley wobbley, timey wimey...

Bakka at 50: Memories

Bakka: In Fremen legend, the weeper who mourns for all mankind.

Frank Herbert, Dune 

It's been 50 years since the Bakka Science Fiction Book Shoppe first opened its doors in 1972 under the ownership of Charles McKee, a dedicated American science fiction and comic book fan who had originally moved to Canada in protest of the war in Vietnam. The store's name comes from an obscure reference in the glossary at the end of Frank Herbert's 1965 novel Dune - it's a bit of an inside joke, based on the fact that the term never actually makes an appearance in the novel.

The comic books section split off to its own store in 1976 as The Silver Snail, which has just recently returned to Queen Street.

My first visit to Bakka would have taken place only a couple of years later, when I was attending high school in Muskoka, Ontario's cottage country. A friend's father had some business to conduct in Toronto, and we went along for the ride, with the specific goal of making our way to Queen Street West and shopping at Bakka and the Silver Snail.  In those pre-internet days, I wouldn't have known that either store existed were it not for an article in the Toronto Star, and we looked up their addresses in a Toronto phone book at a booth on the corner of Queen and McCaul.

I did Saturday Greyhound bus shopping trips to Toronto every few months until 1983, when I moved to Toronto to attend university.  Other than a brief return to Muskoka (just long enough to buy a house, get a divorce, and sell the house) I lived in Toronto until 2005, when I relocated to Vancouver.     

That period of time saw the purchasing of the bulk of my science fiction and fantasy library.  I visited Bakka almost every weekend and bought a handful of used or new books on every visit, it would have been a rare event to have left empty handed. You could say that Bakka was my Cheers - everybody really does know your name if you shop in the same bookstore once a week for over 20 years. 

I think of the constants from that era as being John Rose (left) and Jack Brooks, generally seen shelving books in his distinctive coveralls.  John was originally hired to manage Bakka in 1979, but purchased the store a year later, and his thoughtful, knowledgeable and intelligent leadership was responsible for transitioning Bakka from something of an amateur business into a superb independent genre book store. 

After owning Bakka for over 22 years, John passed the baton to Ben Freiman in 2003, who added Phoenix to the store's name to indicate its reborn status.  Freiman moved the store to its current location on Harbord Street near the University of Toronto in 2010.
 

The cautionary truth of any sort of independent retail outlet is that it exists not only on the basis of its success in the marketplace, but as an expression of its ownership. The fact that Bakka has managed to survive for 50 years is a testament to the quality of its service, the loyalty of the science fiction and fantasy community, and most importantly to its great good fortune in the succession of dedicated and engaged owners who have kept the business going through recessions, relocations, megastore competition, digital books, and COVID-19. 

A very happy 50th birthday, Bakka - and best wishes for another 50.

- Sid

Verisimilitude.

Verisimilitude: noun - the quality of seeming to be true or real.

As I've commented in the past, one of the hallmarks of a good science fiction author is the ability to extrapolate from a development or event to a future in which that development has created an unexpected result. My standard example is a writer in the 1930s who is able to look at the newly popular horseless carriage or "car" for short, and somehow make the leap of imagination to cloverleafs, traffic jams, oil wars, and road rage shootings.

That being said, previous to the events of the last two years, I would have been surprised if I read a novel set in a pandemic apocalypse, and the author described a situation where a significant percentage of the population refused the preventative vaccine.  Similarly, I wouldn't have expected those people to vigorously protest the vaccine process itself, along with objecting to mask mandates, vaccine passports, and all the other controls and safeguards recommended by the medical community and set in place by the government in hopes of controlling the virus. Who could have imagined that as a believable scenario?

 

And yet, someone came close to calling it.

Capitol Hill was in a state of uproar over the Plague. National policy was non-existent. Some states were quarantining Plague victims, other were doing nothing. Some states were testing people at their borders, other were calling this a violation of the Constitution. Some Representatives were calling for a national health identity card, others considered this a civil rights outrage. Christian groups were calling for a national quarantine policy. Plague victims rights groups were calling for an end to all restrictions on their free movements. Dozens of test cases were moving ponderously towards the Supreme Court.

The quote is from Norman Spinrad's satiric short novel Journals of the Plague Years, originally published in 1988*. The concept is an homage to Daniel Defoe's 1722 book A Journal of the Plague Year, a first-person narrative of the events of the bubonic plague in 1665 London. Spinrad's story focuses on a different plague from the 80s: Acquired Immuno-Deficiency Syndrome, more commonly known as AIDS. In Spinrad's story, AIDS has become a virulent menace that has decimated the population of the United States.  The general population no longer has sex with other people, only mechanical substitutes, and San Francisco has become a combination prison/palliative hospice for the infected.

Spinrad's ability to predict the same sort of chaos and lack of logic that surrounded the COVID-19 response is brilliant.  Unfortunately, it also demonstrates that someone was able to look at that kind of a scenario and anticipate exactly the way things would unfold - kind of a sad statement about human nature.

- Sid 

* Astute readers will recall this book from my guide to what not to read during a pandemic - ironically, since that posting I've now read it.