By a show of hands, please.

Just a little housekeeping - is everyone aware that if you click on the pictures, you get larger versions?

- Sid

Challenging reality.

Fantasy did not start and will not end with Tolkien, black-and-white morality, escapism and nostalgia for fairy-tale feudalism. There are very different traditions: Surrealism; the populist modernism of the pulps; Peake's Gormenghast; Borge's dreams. For them, fantasy doesn't fall back on a stock of clichés – it estranges, it undermines and challenges reality.

- China Miéville

In spite of the fact that this blog claims to deal with both genres, I'm probably more of a fan of science fiction than fantasy. However, they're both well represented in my little library here, even if my fantasy collection leans more toward the classics than that of most readers: The Lord of the Rings and the Narnia series of course, but also lesser-known older books like The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison, the Gormenghast trilogy by Mervyn Peake, Lord Dunsany's The King of Elfland's Daughter, and so on.

I also have my share of the adventures of heroic (or anti-heroic) fantasy characters: Conan, Elric, Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser, Prester John, Brak, Kane, and a few other of their sword-toting brethren - or sisters, in the case of C. L. Moore's Jirel of Joiry.

But, as Mr. Miéville's introductory quote quite accurately points out, any attempt to limit the boundaries of fantasy is futile. Many of the examples I've listed above are well-known standards or classics as far as fantasy publishing goes, but let's not ignore Neil Gaiman's urban fantasies, China Miéville's own tales of New Crobuzon and its mixed bag of denizens, Stephen Donaldson's Thomas Covenant books, Tanith Lee's dark, sexually oriented tales, Ursula K. LeGuin's thoughtful Earthsea series, Roger Zelazny's brilliant Amber novels, or Jack Vance's quirky storytelling.

But in spite of having all this source material to draw upon, it took me a surprisingly long time to write this post. I had all these bits and pieces, all these observations and fragments regarding fantasy, but I couldn't find the hook, the connecting element that would get it all to make sense together.

In an attempt to further the progress of things, I did what I consider to be the equivalent of free association - I went to Google™ and typed in "fantasy". After moving past a lot of admittedly intriguing offers by buxom young women regarding my fantasies and their willing if expensive fulfillment thereof, I made my way to the Wikipedia entry regarding Fantasy, which contains the following statement:

Fantasy is a genre that uses magic and other supernatural forms as a primary element of plot, theme, and/or setting. Many works within the genre take place on fictional planes or planets where magic is common. Fantasy is generally distinguished from science fiction and horror by the expectation that it steers clear of scientific and macabre themes.

My first thought was, "No, that's not what distinguishes fantasy from science fiction, that's like saying that the ocean is generally distinguished from dry land by its lack of trees and grass. " Sadly, as a definition the Wikipedia entry seems to be far too close to the sort of narrow viewpoint that Mr. Miéville derides in his statement.

In my opinion, I think that at some very basic level the creative desires of the science fiction author and the fantasy author are completely different. The science fiction author accepts the rules, however much he may then proceed to bend them. If an SF author wishes to have his starships travel faster than light, they have to be able to provide some explanation of how this violation of current physics is possible. This explanation may not be a scientific possibility under current state of the art, but the author recognizes the need to acknowledge the limiting factor of c as a constant.

The fantasy author approaches things from the other direction. They create a world in which they make the rules, with no need to explain or justify them. Floating cities, talking trees, seven league boots, the author has complete freedom, unhampered by any need for explanation or logic - as in the opening quote, challenging reality.

To illustrate what I mean, if a science fiction author wants to include a flying horse as an element in their story, they have to consider the physics of flight: the surface area required to lift the weight of a horse, the question of how wing muscles would be integrated into a horse's physical structure, and whether or not a flying horse would need to be hollow-boned, like a bird.

A fantasy writer may have an explanation for the existence of flying horses in their story, but it doesn't need to be rooted in science. It might involve a drunken dalliance between a stallion and a roc (giant bird for those of you who don't follow these things); a magical cantrip that keeps the horses aloft; or it might simply be by decree, as this scene from The Magician's Nephew, the first book in the Narnia series: *

"Be winged. Be the father of all flying horses," roared Aslan in a voice that shook the ground. "Your name is Fledge."

The horse shied, just as it might have shied in the old, miserable days when it pulled a hansom. Then it reared. It strained its neck back as if there were a fly biting its shoulders and it wanted to scratch them. And then, just as the beasts has burst out of the earth, there burst out from the shoulders of Fledge wings that spread and grew, larger than eagles', larger than swans', larger than angels' wings in church windows.

Voilà - a flying horse, literally on demand. What better symbol could Fantasy have?

- Sid

* Not everyone is aware that the Narnia books were written out of sequence. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe was written first, and then in later years some person, possibly from Porlock, demanded an explanation from C. S. Lewis: why a wardrobe? Why is there a lamppost in Lamppost Waste? The result was The Magician's Nephew, a prequel novel which is probably the weakest of the books due to its dutiful filling in of the gaps. Thanks to my mother's wisdom, I read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe first, and never for a moment wondered why there was a lamppost flickering away in the middle of the forest on the other side of a wardrobe - for me, it was just part of the author's world and I accepted it. Interesting that Disney made the same decision in terms of filming the adaptations.

"Hello, my name is Sid..."

This post is respectfully dedicated to 15th century Dutch humanist scholar and theologian Desiderius Erasmus Roterodamus, whose famous quote:

"When I get a little money, I buy books. And if there is any left over, I buy food and clothes."

is an inspiration to us all.

My god - I've just been sorting through books as a start to the process of cleaning up the study in preparation for my sister Dorothy's Thanksgiving visit next weekend, and okay, I admit it, I have a problem. (Which I gather is the first step in dealing with addiction.)

Books, books, books! People are startled to discover that I re-read books - and frankly, I'm equally startled to find out that other people don't! What, did you memorize The Lord of the Rings first time through? Impressive, that. But sadly the question of books as reading material is not the issue.

No, at some point I started to take an academic interest in science fiction and fantasy, and I think that was the beginning of the end, or possibly the end of the beginning, as Churchill put it. As a result, I have to confess to owning books that aren't necessarily all that good and that I don't like very much. (These are not always related issues, but we'll talk about the Lensman series another time.) Then why am I still finding - or trying to find - shelf space for these literary dogs, you ask? Ah, that's because of the importance of their position within their genres...

As an example, let's talk about Stanley G. Weinbaum for a moment. (And everybody except Dorothy says, "Who?") Stanley Grauman Weinbaum, (1902-1935) is best known for his short story A Martian Odyssey, first published in the July 1934 edition of Wonder Stories. The story deals with the meeting between a shipwrecked human astronaut and a Martian, and is widely considered to be groundbreaking in its portrayal of a sympathetic alien character. Personally, I've always liked the way it handles the difficulties of communication with aliens.

All well and good, but most fans only know Weinbaum through that one story. However, during his brief career he wrote a selection of short fiction and a couple of novels, one of which, The New Adam, was published posthumously in 1939. I own a later edition - 1969 - and you know, I really didn't enjoy it, and frankly I found it a bit derivative and unoriginal.* But I have to keep the damn thing, Weinbaum is one of those roadmark writers in science fiction.

And it gets worse. The second of the two hardcover omnibus editions of Michael Moorcock's Elric novels that I purchased from The Science Fiction Book of the Month Club is missing a paragraph in Stormbringer, the final book in the series, when compared to my Lancer edition.** (Page 100 in the Lancer version, if you must know.) But the SFBOTMC editions contain a novel that I don't have in paperback, so I can't in good conscience get rid of them.

And so on and so on. Sigh...it must be easy for alcoholics, at least they can throw out their empties. In my case, in spite of the fact that I have six bookshelves in this room, there are still books stacked up that have never been properly shelved even once, there's just no room at the inn.

But hey, there's still hope. As I said, my sister is coming for a Thanksgiving visit, and she mentioned a desire to visit IKEA. Hmmm...I'm pretty sure I can fit in a 24 inch BILLY shelf over there behind the door...

- Sid

* In comparison to his peers, whose books I also have.

** At this point, most people say, "You're kidding." I know, I'm as surprised as you are that they'd leave out a whole paragraph like that.

"Collect the whole set!"

Just back from the post office, where I picked up an early birthday gift from my friend Colin, in Toronto: a copy of The Encyclopedia of Fantasy, by John Clute and John Grant. It's the companion text to The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, which I purchased several years ago.

Sadly, I lacked the foresight (and the extra cash) to buy them both at once, and when I decided that it was time to fill the gap in my little reference library, both the books had gone out of print. Colin managed to hunt down a copy of the missing volume online, and as such deserves a large vote of gratitude.

It's always a good sign when you open a book at random - I'm sorry, it's a reference text, I don't plan to sit down and read my Concise Oxford Dictionary from the start either - and the first thing you read makes you laugh out loud. The entry in question dealt with "quest coupons", which is a not terribly flattering but sadly accurate description of a certain approach to writing fantasy novels. It's also pretty much the entire raison d'être for World of Warcraft - go here, get this item, and that will allow you to go there and get that item, and so on. I was also amused to see that Monty Python deserved an entry - but, ignoring the surreal nature of the TV shows, what is Monty Python and the Holy Grail but an Arthurian fantasy?* Not to mention much of Terry Gilliam's oeuvre...

But I digress. I haven't discussed fantasy very much on here, so perhaps I'll take advantage of this opportunity and do a few posts on the topic. And Colin? Thanks again. Your choice of gifts was, well, fantastic.

- Sid

* I recall when the movie first came out, Baird Searles, the movie reviewer for The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, commented that in terms of art direction and style, Holy Grail would be a marvellous fantasy film - except for the coconut shells and so on.

Damn - I was hoping for Erica Durance.

I googled him (Princess was really impressed that he would approach one of the trainers at our gym), didn’t realize he was as famous as he is. Shows how much I keep up with TV culture. And I even have cable...

- Laurie Smith

Ooo ah, it looks as if Laurie is going to be training Justin Hartley, who plays the role of Green Arrow on Smallville! Now, I have to admit to not being an enthusiastic follower of the tale of Clark Kent's developmental years, although I do think that out of the various actors to tackle the role of Kal-El, Tom Welling is probably the closest to what I thought Superman might actually look like.

However, I have watched the show enough that I was one up on Laurie in recognizing the actor to whom she was referring. I suspect that I'm actually two up, since I'm somewhat willing to bet that she's never heard of Green Arrow, either. Not a big surprise if that's the case - GA is certainly one of the lesser-known characters in the DC Comics pantheon when compared to Superman, Wonder Woman or Batman.

The funny thing is that Green Arrow's lineage is almost as long as Batman's. Two years after the Caped Crusader made his debut in 1939, the world was introduced to archery wizard Oliver Jonas Queen, a.k.a. Green Arrow, another millionaire playboy/crimefighter whose early adventures bore a remarkable resemblance to those of Bruce Wayne. Apparently there was only so much demand for independently wealthy vigilantes, and Green Arrow and his array of trick bowshafts limped along in a lame-duck/backup feature/supporting role for almost 30 years.

In 1969 Green Arrow was unexpectedly re-invented as the social conscience of DC, and explored a variety of storylines dealing with issues such as poverty, racism, and political corruption. I say "unexpectedly" because for the most part, comic book characters have existed at a slight remove from the ebb and flow of everyday events. The original precedent was set by Superman, who conspicuously failed to fly to Europe and defeat Hitler during WWII.

This unusual approach to the character led to the production of what some consider to be one of the most ground-breaking storylines in the history of comics: the two-issue 1972 story dealing with the discovery that Speedy, Arrow's teenage sidekick, was addicted to heroin*. At the time, artist Neal Adams and writer Dennis O'Neill didn't think they'd even be allowed to run the issues, since any stories dealing with drugs were strictly forbidden under the Comics Code Authority, let alone stories that showed one of the heroes shooting up on smack.

Surprisingly, the CCA approved the comics, marking the first signs that the guidelines introduced in the 50's might not be as iron-clad as everyone believed them to be. The story received a substantial amount of media attention, and John Lindsay, then mayor of New York, sent DC Comics a letter of commendation.

Shortly thereafter, the title was cancelled, and Green Arrow returned to a supporting role in the DC universe. The shared Green Lantern/Green Arrow title was revived again in 1976, but GA proved less popular than GL, and the Emerald Archer was shifted off to supporting stories again.

Since then, Green Arrow has been through a constant revolving door cycle of redefinition and cancellation. In the past few years, the character has fallen prey to the same sort of look-he's-dead-look-he's-alive-look-it-wasn't-really-him silliness that I mentioned in my last post, to the point where I couldn't definitively determine whether the current comic book Green Arrow was both a) Oliver Queen and b) alive.

And the television version? Well, as I said, I really haven't followed Smallville in a consistent fashion, but from what I have seen, the television Green Arrow occupies much more of a leadership role than the comic book one. In Smallville, he's the formative influence behind the creation of the Justice League, and acts as a constant goad for Clark to accept his destiny as a hero. The writers have echoed the famous 70s storyline by having Oliver himself suffer from problems with addiction, and currently he controls Lex Luthor's financial empire. However, even with all of these elements, I somehow find the character to be lacking a certain degree of depth.

But let's look at this rationally - the part of Green Arrow/Oliver Queen is after all a supporting one, and as such may not offer Mr. Hartley all of the acting opportunities that the leading role would give him. And it could be worse. After all, he did an unsuccessful pilot for an Aquaman spinoff before getting the role of Green Arrow, and if you thought Green Arrow was an obscure character...

- Sid

*Okay, everyone who thought, "Hey, wouldn't it be funnier for a guy named Speedy to be hooked on amphetamines?" can go sit in the corner for a few minutes.

In business news: Disney buys Marvel Comics.

I have to admit that I don't follow current events very closely. I get the New York Times headlines via e-mail every morning, and watch The Daily Show when opportunity allows, but for the most part I'm more concerned about the day's weather than the price of crude oil or the latest death toll in Afghanistan.

But every now and then something of particular interest will sneak by, and I'll regret that I'm not paying more attention. As an example, I just found out that the Disney Corporation has recently purchased Marvel Comics for a price of four billion dollars, an event which certainly doesn't compare with the importance of updates on the economic crisis, but which has been the topic of much amused and/or horrified discussion in the fan community.

Personally, I no longer follow the comics scene closely, because about fifteen years ago I began to realize that both Marvel and DC were starting to run in circles in their attempts to maintain the various shopworn titles responsible for their success. There have been alternate realities, crossovers, character reboots, deaths and revivals, future versions of the characters, and a hundred and one other tricks designed to conceal the fact that they'd gone to the well once too often. Most people aren't aware that Marvel went bankrupt in 1996, but I have to wonder if part of that financial failure was based on too many other fans coming to the same realization that I had.

However, Marvel Comics hasn't really been a comic book company for some time. Ike Perlmutter, who took over after the 1996 crisis, owns the action figure company that had the licenses for the Marvel character line - note that Mr. Perlmutter isn't connected with publishing. What Marvel Comics represents in the 21st century is a huge storehouse of characters and plots that can be moved into other areas: action figures, Lego kits, t-shirts, video games, television shows, movies - I'm not even sure that it matters if they keep producing stories that involve ink and paper. (I suspect that the combined profits from the Marvel-based movie lineup since Spiderman 1 was released in 2002 makes the income from actual comic sales look like a joke.)

And that's what Disney is buying, the opportunity to add the Marvel lineup to its already monolithic array of merchandisable assets. All jokes about the Amazing Spider-Mouse aside, I don't think that Disney is going to do anything to alter the Marvel universe so that it matches the traditional view of Walt's approach to family entertainment. Why would they? All that really matters is that they get five cents every time some soccer mom buys a pair of Spiderman™ Underoos for junior.

Sadly, that also means that they won't do anything to change it for the better, either.

- Sid

P.S. the photocomp picture of Wolverine is just something I threw together for this posting, but for a comprehensive view of the horrifying hybrids made possible by the merger, have a look at the contest on Worth1000.com.

District 9: "We have met the enemy, and they are us."

And what is science fiction at its best but just such a "new tool" as Mrs. Woolf had avowedly sought for fifty years ago, a crazy, protean, left-handed monkey wrench, which can be put to any use the craftsman has in mind - satire, extrapolation, prediction, absurdity, exactitude, exaggeration, warning, message-carrying, tale-telling, whatever you like.

- Ursula K. LeGuin, Science Fiction and Mrs. Brown

I've often spoken about the "what if" role of science fiction, but that glib tag ignores the power of the genre in terms of asking questions - and questioning answers. Now, I don't claim for a moment that every piece of science fiction in the world is the intellectual equivalent of 1984 or Brave New World, but as Ms. LeGuin points out in her essay, SF offers some unique tools to anyone who wants to take apart the world and see how it works. Personally, I prefer to think of it as a toolkit rather than a single wrench, since there are different themes in science fiction that offer different opportunities.

The Alien is one of the more useful tools in the science fiction kit, one that offers both a mirror to our existence, and a telescope through which to examine us from a distance. As an example, in The War of the Worlds, H. G. Well's Martians are a distorted reflection of the British Empire, allowing him to show England suffering from the same sort of technologically superior attack that the Empire had itself visited on its colonies in its ascent to power.

District 9 uses a similar technique in its tale of humanity's - specifically, South Africa's* - reaction to extraterrestrial castaways. We're all familiar with stories about single aliens being marooned on Earth - ET, Starman, K-Pax - Escape to Witch Mountain, if you're being charitable. But what if instead of one little alien with a glowing finger and a desire to call home, there are a million such visitors? How do we treat them?

This question is certainly not unique in the genre, and it's already been addressed on the big screen and on television with the 1988 film Alien Nation, and the TV series and made-for-TV movies using the same title. However, the freed Tenctonese slave race in Alien Nation is close enough to humanity that they are able to integrate themselves into Terran society, albeit with tensions on both sides of the equation.

District 9 paints a grimmer picture. The aliens here are grotesque arthropods, with faces that are a disgusting blend of insect and shrimp, giving rise to the derogatory nickname of "prawns". The exact nature of the catastrophe which has caused their massive starship to be stranded here is unknown, but when humanity fearfully cuts its way into the silently hovering craft after three months of mounting apprehension, the ship is found to be packed with starving, dying aliens.

The aliens are removed from the ship, and placed in crude temporary housing while they are treated and attempts are made to communicate with them. To everyone's frustration, the aliens seem to be some kind of worker caste, moody, unintelligent, and unpredictable, and the alien technology is tagged to their DNA and as a result completely unresponsive to the touch of humanity.

Over 20 years later, the temporary housing has become de facto permanent housing, and District 9, the alien "reservation", is a massive, sprawling, stinking slum, which has begun to strain at its boundaries. Violent encounters between the aliens and humans have become frequent, and human rioters are demanding that something be done. As a result, MNU, the corporation in charge of managing the aliens, has decided to forcibly relocate them.

Much of the action is presented in a documentary format, and the jerky, handheld footage gives it both a feel of realism and a different kind of dynamic energy. Admittedly, there are points where the switch from documentary to drama makes for some confusion, but for the most part the feeling of watching a live CNN feed works very well to connect District 9 with the way in which most of us experience current events.

As part of that connection, I have to acknowledge the amazing acting ability of South African actor Sharlto Copley. Copley brilliantly plays the role of Wikus van der Merwe, the clumsy, inept mid-level bureaucrat in charge of the brutal alien relocation, all of whose success is the result of patronage on the part of his father-in-law. From the moment we first see Wikus on the screen, he is a completely believable character, to the point that he doesn't appear to be a character at all, just another man on the street. However, when Wikus has an accidental encounter with an alien fuel source and begins to transform into a "prawn", that everyday existence is completely destroyed, along with his callous attitude toward the aliens.

As soon as Wikus is considered to be one of "them", his treatment sharply illustrates the brutal indifference with which the aliens have been treated. He is shunned, hunted, beaten, tortured, electroshocked, and forced to kill alien subjects with their own weapons. After his employers, including his father-in-law, determine that he is now capable of activating the alien technology, they decide to slice up his living body and harvest his mutating DNA in hopes of duplicating his newfound capabilities.

Wikus escapes, but his isolation from humanity forces him to take refuge in District 9. Once there, he becomes involved in a plan on the part of one of the aliens to activate their ship and make the three-year round trip to their homeworld for help.

District 9 is not a fully developed story in many ways, but I don't think that it needs or intends to be. It's really more of a thought experiment, a well-presented "what if" of alien contact, than an attempt to present a fully rounded and complete plotline, and as such I found that the various logical faults in the story didn't in any way stop me from enjoying the story.

Although a sequel is an obvious possibility, I hope that director Neill Blomkamp takes up new projects. The uncertain conclusion, with its unresolved issues, perfectly suits the ambiguous nature of the story. A movie that attempted to resolve the moral issues raised in this film with some kind of alien ex machina would seem to me to be some kind of a cheat, an easy way out instead of the sort of labourious societal process that led to the current South African political environment.

Or maybe not. Perhaps the arrival of an armada of angry alien molluscs would be the perfect next step in the thought experiment. How would Prime Minister Botha and the National Party have reacted if during his inauguration in 1978, a delegation of several million "Bantus" from Tau Ceti, armed with plasma rifles and sonic cannons, had shown up to discuss their policies regarding apartheid?

- Sid

* I've read a number of angry online comments that derided the film for its apparent blindness to the progress that's been made in South Africa since the collapse of apartheid, and equally angry responses pointing out that anyone who thinks racism is dead in South Africa is just as blind to the realities of everyday life there. Obviously I can't address either side of that question, but it's impossible to ignore the resonance of placing the story in that particular setting.

"Perry Rhodan: Peacelord of the Universe!"

I have to say that one of the things that I really like about doing this blog is the way that it leads me in different directions. Right now I'm in the middle of researching material for three posts dealing with the Dune series, and I'm working on a photocomp image for one of those blog-posts-about-blogging that pop up now and then. Nonetheless, I'm going to drop everything and talk about Perry Rhodan.

Now, I freely admit this is my own fault for setting this up in the previous post with the joke about Rhodan versus Rodan, but I'm surprised that the person who broached the question wasn't one of my (six) regular readers. I'd like to extend my thanks to Zach, down in Utah, for following through:
Very well - who is Perry Rhodan?

The Perry Rhodan series is the brainchild of two German authors, Karl Scheer and Walter Ernsting. The series, which started in Germany in 1961, drew heavily on early science fiction for inspiration, and is written by a rotating stable of authors - possibly by necessity, since there are apparently more than 2500 episodes in the series. I refer to them as "episodes" because the Perry Rhodan stories were originally produced in a weekly serialized format that's more like chapters in a story than stand-alone novels.

The books first appeared in English translation in 1969, but as far as I know only a few hundred of the episodes have been published in English.

I hadn't read a Perry Rhodan book for about thirty years, and my schedule is open until I start my new job next week. So, in the interests of research, I hunted around on the internet and found a downloadable copy of the first book, Enterprise Stardust, and picked up a few of the later paperbacks at Pulp Fiction, my local used bookstore.

Enterprise Stardust: the stage is set with the departure of a four man mission to the Moon, led by Major Perry Rhodan, in 1971. (Interestingly, in spite of the German authorship, it's an American mission.) However, as the expedition prepares to land, unexpected electronic interference causes the ship to go out of control, and it makes a near crash-landing on the surface of the Moon. In the course of investigating the accident, Rhodan and his crew discover that a derelict alien spaceship is responsible.

The massive globular craft is part of the Arkon Imperium, a once mighty intergalactic empire which has fallen into a state of decay and decadence - in fact, only two of the crew are even able to summon up the interest to speak to Rhodan, and one of them is dying from their equivalent of leukemia. However, the dying man sees in Rhodan - and perhaps in humanity as a whole - the dynamic energy once possessed by his race, and convinces the captain of the ship to equip Rhodan with their more advanced technology in the guise of payment for an attempt to cure the sickness.

Thus equipped, Rhodan and his crew return to Earth, but not to America. Instead, they land in the Gobi Desert, and begin planning to use the science of the Arkonides to unite the world and conquer the universe.

After this humble beginning, no science fiction stone is left unturned as the series develops - alien races, intergalactic warfare, world government, mutant powers, immortality, fifth dimensional space drives, time travel, mind parasites, parallel dimensions, and an entire range of technological gimmicks, wonders and inventions.

When I started reading, I was amazed at how quickly it all came back to me: Perry's friend and second in command Reginald Bell, frequent provider of comic relief; the exotically beautiful alien commander Thora, who was also Perry's reluctant love interest; Khrest, the agèd "Arkonide Mastermind"; the Mutant Corps - hey, what ever happened to the mutant Ernst Ellert, who became lost in time at some point?* - and Perry's base in the Gobi Desert, protected by the impenetrable barrier of the Radiant Dome (Episode 3). And, of course, Perry himself, a steely-eyed visionary who sees it as his duty to unite humanity and travel to the stars.

To be honest, I consider Perry Rhodan books to be the science fiction equivalent of potato chips. They're short little books, and provided that they're not the only thing in your diet, they make kind of a fun snack. The writing suffers horribly in translation, I suspect - I had this ongoing desire to edit the text when I was reading the digital copy. That aside, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed reading them.

Although the books don't seem to be as well-known in North America as they were when I was in high school, the international Perry Rhodan fan base may still give Star Trek and Harry Potter a run for their money. In fact, the Perry Rhodan fan phenomenon may have set the stage for Star Wars fandom, since both require a certain acceptance of any possible shortcomings of the material.

And like Star Wars, the Perry Rhodan universe is painted with a large brush, as the saying goes, but let's be fair: it's painted on a canvas of intergalactic proportions. Wouldn't you want a big brush for that?

- Sid

* Ha, it looks like he got back in issue 83 - just a happy coincidence that I found that particular cover for the opening lineup.

But they're experts on Tintin.

>> By the way, do you know who Mothra is? <<

You mean the giant moth or is there another one I should be aware of?

Colin Campbell (very nearly half of the Campbell Brothers)

The poll is over, and the results indicate that only members of Laurie's family are unaware of Mothra. However, hardly anyone knows about Ghidrah, the three-headed dragon, and only three of us have to worry about getting Rodan (the giant pteranodon) mixed up with Perry Rhodan.

- Sid

(Okay, I admit it, I only did this post because I found a really great quality Mothra poster JPEG online and couldn't bear not to use it for something. Now to sit back and wait for questions about Perry Rhodan...)

Understanding Comics

To kill a man between panels is to condemn him to a thousand deaths.

Scott McCloud, Understanding Comics

Just back from breakfast, where my friend Laurie returned my copy of Sin City - the collected comics, that is - which I'd lent to her so that she could see what they were aiming for in the production of the film version. I asked what she thought of the two in relative terms, and she said that she found the movie easier to follow, because it didn't have the fragmented jumps from frame to frame that the comic had.

It's an interesting criticism of the space-bound nature of comics versus the time-bound approach of movies. Movies are designed to flow through time: they start, run for a specific period of time as determined by the director, and take place in one location: the screen. Comics are the opposite - the story's physical existence is spread out in space, with multiple moments in time existing simultaneously on each page and sometimes in a single panel.

For a much more comprehensive discussion of the nature of comics, I unhesitatingly recommend Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, a clever and thoughtful examination of how and why the medium of comics works.

Understanding Comics is one of those rare books which fully deserves the title "instant classic". Since its publication in 1993, it has become the standard for any discussion regarding comics. Not everyone agrees with its conclusions, but it's impossible to ignore the quality of the consideration which McCloud has given to the topic - presented, of course, in the form of a large comic book.

McCloud, acting as his own black-and-white narrator, offers a complete view of the comic: he defines it, views its historical roots, examines how our minds process the content, looks at the mechanics of the frame and transition between frames, abstraction and realism in style, and the flow of time, and concludes with a comprehensive personal theory on the nature of the creative process in general. But this quick summary does the book an injustice: there is not a single page which does not present the reader with some new or unexpected insight.

For me as a long-time reader of comics, Understanding Comics offers an amazing education in the nature of the medium, but I'm honestly not sure how it would read to a non-fan. I suppose I could lend it to Laurie and get her opinion - although, come to think of it, she'd probably prefer the movie version.

- Sid

Geeks, nerds, anoraks, otaku, boffins, poindexters, etc.

X-Men comics, you know I collect ‘em
The pens in my pocket, I must protect ‘em
My ergonomic keyboard never leaves me bored
Shopping online for deals on some writable media
I edit Wikipedia
I memorized Holy Grail really well
I can recite it right now and have you ROTFLOL

Weird Al Yankovic, White and Nerdy

I just received a question via e-mail regarding the content of an earlier posting - specifically, "Who is Mothra?" I responded with a brief bio for the giant 60's Japanese moth-goddess who co-starred with Godzilla as well as appearing in some solo projects, and added a polite request that in future, questions about blog content be asked on the blog. (Just because I like having comments here, it gives the illusion of readership.)

The response to my request was as follows:

I didn't ask about Mothra on your blog because I didn't want to appear totally ignorant and stupid :-)

Sigh...okay, if anyone, ANYONE, reading this thinks that they've understood EVERY SINGLE OBSCURE SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY STAR TREK MONSTER MOVIE DOCTOR WHO COMIC BOOK ZOMBIE TIME TRAVEL PULP MAGAZINE SPACE EXPLORATION VAMPIRE STAR WARS GEEK REFERENCE that I've used on this blog? I strongly recommend that you turn off your computer right now and go out for a walk, get some fresh air, and PUT SOME TIME TOWARD GETTING A LIFE. My god, it's bad enough that I know all of this nonsense, heaven forbid that anyone else should be expected to.

And if you do have any questions? Open up a Comment and ask away.

- Sid

Cognitive Dissonance, or WTF?

 

Okay, you've got me on this one. It's definitely Patrick Stewart, and it's definitely the Enterprise. If anyone finds any sort of explanation of this, please do let me know what the hell was going on.

- Sid

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.

The first nation of hockey - and the best part of North America.

Hey...

I'm not a lumberjack, or a fur trader....
I don't live in an igloo or eat blubber, or own a dogsled....
and I don't know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada,
although I'm certain they're really really nice.

I have a Prime Minister, not a president.
I speak English and French, not American.
And I pronounce it 'about', not 'a boot'.
I can proudly sew my country's flag on my backpack.
I believe in peace keeping, not policing,
diversity, not assimilation,
and that the beaver is a truly proud and noble animal.
A toque is a hat, a chesterfield is a couch,
and it is pronounced 'zed' not 'zee', 'zed'!!!!

Canada is the second largest landmass!
The first nation of hockey!
and the best part of North America

My name is Joe!!
And I am Canadian!!!

In a rare display of the herd instinct earlier today, I decided to wander down to Granville Island and see how Canada Day was playing out. A fragmentary little parade was winding its boisterous way through the narrow, packed streets, and Canadian flags were everywhere - t-shirts, hats, face paintings, and actual flags themselves. It was crowded, but convivial; disorganized, but friendly; all in all, the best possible picture of a nation happily celebrating its identity.

Canada Day is a very different event than the American equivalent that follows three days later. There's no militaristic element to our birthday: given the calm nature of our national reputation, it's not surprising that we legislated our way to independence, rather than fighting a war. And yet, commanding officers in both world wars commented on the unbridled ferocity with which Canadian soldiers fought - apparently when the circumstances call for it, we are more than able to make a stand.

Nonetheless, as in the famous "I AM CANADIAN" rant cited above, we believe in peace keeping, not policing, and as a result there aren't a lot of places where angry people burn the Canadian flag in protest of our actions.* (Which explains the rumour that American tourists may decide to have the ol' Maple Leaf sewed onto their backpacks instead of the Stars and Stripes.)

So, fine - what does all of this have to do with science fiction and fantasy?

My first thought was that in honour of Canada Day, I should take a look at Canadian science fiction. But you know, it gets fuzzy. Canadian author Tanya Huff was born and raised here, and continues to live in the country, but her university friend and fellow SF author S. M. Stirling relocated to New Mexico. William Gibson, originator of the cyberpunk movement, can be seen on the streets of Vancouver**, but he's originally from Texas, and Nova Scotian Spider Robinson moved to nearby Bowen Island in 2002, but grew up in the Bronx.

Even if we simplify life and decide that a Canadian author is an author who lives in Canada, it's difficult for me to identify a distinctive Canadian style for the sake of discussion. As unique voices, there are certainly lots of noteworthy Canadian authors, but I can't identify a group feeling to it, no kind of Maple Leaf Mafia. I've read opinions online that say that Canadian SF tends to examine how people exist within the future, rather than forming that future themselves, but I'm going to have to do a lot more research before I'm willing to make that judgement. And what about fantasy? Does the same comment apply in some fashion? I'm not certain that the two genres can be compared head-to-head in that way.

Okay, then....how about we look at Canada IN science fiction and fantasy? There, done - so after much preliminary debate, the next posting will compare "what if" and "once upon a time" views of the Great White North.

- Sid

* I'd like to say nowhere, but I recommend that you read Carol Off's The Lion, The Fox & The Eagle for an analysis of the mixed results of Canadian involvement in peacekeeping.

** And it's very exciting when it happens. Not long after I moved to Vancouver, I saw Mr. Gibson clumsily eating a bun as he strolled along Broadway near MacDonald - I felt all girlish for a moment, but refrained from embarrassing myself by falling at his feet à la Wayne's World and chanting "We're not worthy!!!".

Wider perspectives - or not.

As already established, I've been reading science fiction for what has effectively been my entire life. And, as a result, I think that I have an enhanced inner life, a broader imagination.

After all, I've seen Mankind skip through time like a child crossing a stream from rock to rock. I've watched post-human societies grapple with profound philosophical crises, and I've witnessed the death of the universe we know, and the start of universes unknown to us. Time itself has ended in front of my eyes, planets have been moved like pieces on a chessboard, galaxy-spanning wars for survival have been fought, and won, and lost.

And yet, and yet...half the goddamn science fiction movies that get made seem to involve nothing more thought-provoking than seemingly endless variations on hungry alien monstrosities dripping KY jelly. Sigh...

- Sid

"Just then, a horde of Nazi frogmen burst into the room."

"We should have gone to the beach like I told you!"

After a couple of long posts, a quick little tribute to a long-running gag: sorry, Laurie, the movie's just about Nazi zombies, not zombie Nazi frogmen, but I'll keep looking...

- Sid

Cities in Space

Why Asten?

Asten is an alternate name for the Egyptian god Thoth, who was tasked with maintaining the balance between Good and Evil, and was the master of divine and physical law. He is said to have directed the motion of the heavenly bodies, and the Egyptians credited him with as the author of all works science, philosophy and magic.

Similar to Thoth, the space station Asten seemingly directs the heavenly bodies in its location orbiting Earth, and opens up multiple possibilities in extending our knowledge and application of science. And who knows, perhaps there is some magic involved too.

Eric Yam, Asten Space Station Proposal

Today's rant finds its roots in a visit to Jeff Russell's Starship Dimensions. Ever wonder what the size relationship is between all of the various aliens, monsters and spaceships that you've ever seen? Jeff Russell has invested what has to have been a frightening amount of time and effort in assembling a fairly comprehensive collection of all the bits and pieces, ranging from Yoda (.66 metres) to Larry Niven's Ringworld (299,300,000 kilometres in diameter).

I happened to notice that Mr. Russell had just added the winning entry from NASA's annual Space Settlement Design Contest, which I'm pleased to say was a Canadian creation, entered by Eric Yam from Northern Secondary School in Toronto. If you visit the competition web site, you can download the 93 page entry and have a look at Mr. Yam's vision for what is essentially a city in space.

Okay, a small town, more accurately. By the standards of Jeff's site, Eric's Asten space station isn't huge - 1700 metres tall, and a thousand metres in diameter, with a planned population of 22,400 people. That doesn't sound like a lot, but given that the current International Space Station measures in at 80 metres and is maxed out with six people on board, it would represent a quantum leap forward.

I won't claim that I read the entire contest entry, but a quick overview suggests that Eric's proposal is comprehensive and realistic. However, here's the detail that jumped out at me:

As with any megaproject, finding the money to pay for the construction of the space station will be extremely difficult. Due to the magnitude of the project, costs could run upwards of over 2-3 trillion dollars. With this staggering cost, financing could take decades, maybe even centuries.

Now, I won't argue - two trillion dollars is a lot of money to build a small town, and there are a lot of factors in play that contribute to the cost of the process. The difficulties of construction in a vacuum have yet to be fully explored, and of course all the materials either have to come up the gravity well or be brought in from the Moon or the asteroids (and yes, Eric discusses that, along with the fact that all the labour has to have access to a shirt-sleeve living environment).

My first thought about the price tag was that it represented the sort of investment that has to be made in order to explore space - go big or go home, and we have to be prepared to deal with that.

My second thought was to wonder what a city actually costs. What do you think New York "cost"?

Third? A funding timeframe of a hundred years would result in a project which would be obsolete before it was fully started, as technology moved forward and the underlying strategies became outmoded. Italian architect Paolo Soleri started construction of Arcosanti, an attempt to build the first arcology, as he calls his architecturally and ecologically integrated urban environment, in 1970. Although arcologies have become a mainstay of the science fiction urban landscape, the actual project itself, chronically underfunded, has been limping along for nearly 40 years with no sign of completion.

Last - ha, only two to three trillion? The only thing that stands in the way of something like the Asten space station is our desire to create it. The United States has spent almost $700 billion dollars on the war in Iraq, and nearly $200 billion on fighting terrorism in Afghanistan. Guess what, stand on tiptoe and you can see a trillion dollars just over the horizon.

- Sid

Don't give away the surprise beginning.

"It's a poor memory sort of memory that only works backwards."
The White Queen, Alice in Wonderland.

It's surprising that this summer's first three big action movie releases are all prequels. (For me, it's even more surprising that two of them feature Anton Yelchin in prominent roles.) Well, perhaps not that surprising, Hollywood has an unfortunate but understandable tendency to farm ground which has already proven fertile.

The big three here are, of course, Wolverine, Star Trek and Terminator Salvation. All three are franchise films, and logically, as prequels, all three are faced with the responsibility of not violating the established plotlines - of not changing the future, if you will.

Or are they?

Wolverine is the most workmanlike in this area. As with any comic book movie, it occupies that difficult middle ground between fans of the original material, and people who have only seen the X-Men movies, and as such it has to try to make everyone happy. Wolverine has received indifferent reviews - I myself didn't find it too bad, as I say, it's a workmanlike film. You can almost see the checklist: Wolverine's childhood revelation, check...falling to his knees and screaming at the sky, check...walking away from an explosion like it's not happening, check... I'm being a bit unfair, perhaps, but there aren't a lot of places in this movie where anything unexpected takes place. (I wish they'd quit killing off supporting mutant characters, though, there seem to be a lot of mutant villains and heroes who only make it through one movie.)

That aside, Hugh Jackman and Liev Schreiber work quite well together on screen, and the movie does fulfill its prequel obligations by establishing Wolverine's origins and by managing to explain his memory loss regarding those origins. Again, the whole thing has a sort of methodical, working-off-the-list feeling.

For me, the joke was that the little stub after the credits, set in Japan, is the setup for a Japanese/ninja/yakuza sequel from the comic story arc that we comic book fans wanted in the first place.

Now, let's get serious: Star Trek. As per the fertile ground analogy in the introduction, the Star Trek franchise has been left fallow for a few years due to poor returns on the crop, as it were. The new film is part of the trend toward the concept reboot, but with the difference of exploring an aspect of the Star Trek history that's never been dealt with: the early days of the original crew of the NCC-1701.

I had mixed feelings about this movie going in, to be honest. I was never one of those foaming-at-the-mouth Star Trek fans, but I've always liked the various iterations of the show (okay, Enterprise didn't ring the bell for me) and I viewed any attempt to redo the original characters as being a bit of a mine field.

As it turned out, that was the least of my concerns. The various actors, called upon to re-interpret what may well be the most iconic TV characters of all time, all do admirable jobs. Chris Pine's Kirk may be a bit cockier than his TV predecessor, but he's younger, it's understandable. Spock, as played by Zachary Quinto, had just the right feel, and so on down the line. Anton Yelchin is perhaps over the top as Chekov, and Karl Urban gets a bit too close to doing a parody of DeForest Kelley, but generally all the actors make the roles their own.

Now, as to the movie itself. As in the joke about the man having sex with a running ostrich, the first few minutes were fabulous, but then I got out of step. The opening scenes of the film showed a vivid, kinetic view of a doomed starship fighting a losing battle, with a touching and emotional communicator exchange between George Kirk and his wife as their son James is being born.

After that? It all sort of went downhill for me. The aggressors in the opening conflict turn out to be Romulans who have come back in time to wreak their vengeance on the Federation for failing to save Romulus from a supernova. In traditional eye-for-an-eye fashion, they plan to destroy the planets of the Federation, starting with Vulcan - apparently the future Spock is guilty of dropping the ball in his attempt to use a black hole to eliminate the supernova.

Now, I realize that the time travel element allows them to rewrite the rules, but even so, there were just too many things that violated canon. Not that canon exists anymore, online Star Trek databases are already having to distinguish between the previous information and the Abramsverse.

And outside of all that, Kirk spends the whole movie getting beaten up by everyone else, the engineering section of the Enterprise looks more like a brewery than a starship, and my god, isn't Nero's ship sort of over-armed for a mining vessel? And hey, Nero, here's some advice on vengeance and physics. If you want to torment someone with the death of their homeworld, KEEP THEM WITH YOU TO WATCH. Dumping them on a planet that's apparently in another solar system is NOT going to be as effective - in fact, I'm willing to bet that I could drop Mars into a black hole without the man on the street noticing a thing, and Mars is just next door by stellar standards. For that matter, the whole supernova thing doesn't work as a plot point for the same reason. Unless it's Romulus' actual sun blowing up, which didn't seem to be the case, the effects of a supernova would take years to travel from one solar system to another, and even then the resulting gamma radiation would mostly have a negative effect on the ozone layer, rather than destroying the planet.*

And goddamn it, is the view screen of the Enterprise a window now?

Sorry, got a little carried away there...

I saw the movie with my friend Laurie, and I was trying to find a way to explain my disappointment to her. She's never been a fan of the whole Star Trek thing, but considers life in general to be pretty close to the Star Wars alien bar scenes. On that basis, I said to her, "Imagine this - as an old man, Luke Skywalker masters the most difficult aspects of the Force, uses it to travel back in time, and kills Darth Sideous decades before he becomes Emperor."

She thought for a moment, and said, "But that would mean that none of the movies ever happened..."

Yep.

I feel a bit as though I've lost a bunch of old friends. Not the characters themselves, but the episodes and plots that can't exist in the Abramsverse. The Conscience of the King - great little episode based in Kirk's survival of the purge by Kodos, governor of Tarsus IV. Not gonna happen, Kirk's gone straight from the Academy to being captain of the Enterprise, no other service. Amok Time? Vulcan's gone, and T'pring is probably dead. And so on....

Terminator Salvation occupies unique territory as prequels go, in that it takes place in the future rather than before the other films. However, thanks to the time travel element, it has the same responsibilities as a prequel: things need to happen in order to set up the stories we've already seen. John Connor has to send father-to-be Kyle Reese into the past, along with a couple of T-800s with thick Bavarian accents.

Frankly, I had high hopes for this one. There have been all sorts of comic book continuations from the original movies that attempt to deal with the complexities of a war waged through time.** Sadly, Salvation never even attempts to take this route, relying instead on a subplot involving a condemned killer and an improbable heart transplant. I did however like the suggestion of messiah complex on the part of John Connor - let's face it, the man has spent his whole life KNOWING that he was going to save humanity, how hard would it be for him to be humble about it?

Oh, and Mr. Yelchin was surprisingly effective as the young Kyle Reese - although, like everyone else in this gritty, post-apocalyptic future, he has the nicest white teeth. It's good to see that cosmetic dentistry is thriving in the face of cybernetic destruction.

- Sid

* There's a Larry Niven short story called At the Core which involves the discovery that the core of the galaxy is exploding - one supernova cascading into another, a phenomenon made possible by the closeness of the systems. Now that's more like it...

** Two movies that have dealt well with the uncertain nature of causality in time travel are Frequency, with Dennis Quaid and James Caviezel, where they show changes rippling across the face of the future as events in the past take place, and of course Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey. There's a great little sequence at the end where Bill and Ted discuss how they'll have to use their time machine to go back in time and set up all of the factors that will allow them to win - after they've won.