The Letters to the Editor department is intended to be a forum for our readers to express their own opinions and ideas. While we appreciate the many complimentary letters we receive each day, you won't find them on this page. Instead, you will find letters that go beyond or even contradict what we have written, letters that offer a different perspective and provide a different view of science fiction.
— Scott Edelman, Editor-in-Chief
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ear Editor: John Clute isn't seriously suggesting in his piece ("Road RAH") on Robert Heinlein's For Us, the Living that the job of science fiction is to accurately predict the future? Clute says "if Heinlein, and his colleagues, had been able to publish adult SF in Astounding and its fellow journals, then SF might not have done such a grotesquely poor job of prefiguring something of the flavor of actually living here at the onset of 2004."
It seems to me that the job of SF is to talk about the here and now and cast the speculations of the future against the reality of world as it is, not as it may or may not be 50 or 100 years ahead. That way SF becomes part of a meaningful dialogue with the texture of the here and now. Sure, there are plenty of people who'd argue that speculative fiction's highest function is to do just that—speculate as accurately as possible—but we cannot know the future before it arrives. We might be able to divine a few signs of the coming age, but that still only reflects on the now, not the future tense.
Clute also makes an interesting proposition—the "what if" scenario of Heinlein being given full blood to his libertarian impulses in 1939. Who knows what might have happened? Perhaps we would have arrived at tracts-as-novels like Stranger in a Strange Land some 20 or 30 years sooner.
The other side of Clute's argument—left tantalizingly absent from the piece as published—is that maybe RAH got it almost right. As Clute quotes from RAH's U.S. Constitution of 2028, "No act shall constitute a violation of a law valid under this provision unless there is such damage, or immediate present danger of such damage resulting from that act."
Immediate present danger? Sounds a lot like the strike-first-ask-questions-later philosophy of the real 2004. Maybe Heinlein was spot on after all—except for the nudity.
Andrew Frost
tezby(at)hotmail.com
Columnist John Clute responds:
Andrew Frost makes some interesting points. I think he is right that SF, properly understood, is "part of a meaningful dialogue with the texture of the here and now," and apologize if I seemed to be subscribing to the old canard that SF's main job was to predict the future. The relationship of classic American SF to the various futures it posited is of course one of prophecy, not of prediction, and I should have made it clear that this was my understanding of things (old reviewers can get lazy sometimes, and can forget to say anew things they take for granted). Prediction is something futurologists try to do—usually badly. When I lamented SF's failure to prefigure "something of the flavor of actually living here," I was thinking about the narrowness of classic SF's take on the "here and now" of 1940, and of the narrowness of the illuminative futures generated by the SF writers of 1940. And of course it was precisely "the reality of the world as it is" in 1940 that this narrowness of focus failed to encompass. So I was thinking that American SF in the 1940s might have advocated or lamented exemplary worlds far more complex and fruitfully ambivalent and adult and human-colored if some of the areas of concern articulated in Heinlein's tract had become part of the "here and now" addressable within the pages of Astounding.
This is, of course, a vision of an alternate America. It is not easy to imagine Richard Wright couching Native Son (1940) as an SF study in the epistemology of First Contact (like Karen Joy Fowler's Sarah Canary) and becoming guest of honor at the next WorldCon. It is only marginally easier to imagine the flame lit in 1940s fandom when it is realized that William Faulkner's The Hamlet (1940) is in fact a generation starship. No. We probably got the SF we were able to get. Out of which much good has come. ...
About Heinlein's privacy provisions in his imagined Constitution of 2028: I don't have my copy of the book here (I'm in Toronto, visiting family), but my best recollection is that Heinlein explicitly restricts his privacy provisions to individual human beings, and just as explicitly denies corporations or governments certain rights (such as these) which apply to people.
Too bad about the nudity. I didn't mean, by the way, to imply that SF would have been better had tract novels like Heinlein's later stuff become the norm—you don't need tractates in order to imagine taking your clothes off, or sleeping with your friend, or becoming Dr. Mengele. But you do need an open book.
Best,
John
finally finished grinding my way through For Us, the Living, the fore- and afterwords of the novel and then John Clute's review ("Road RAH") and I don't know quite what to think. Taken together, all three commentaries agree that the work is not very good; that it serves as the foundation document for an extraordinary body of work that followed; and that Heinlein's true genius of ideas was throttled until too late by the social constrictions of his times. It's amazing how they get the first two right and miss completely on the third point.
Heinlein's genius was as a storyteller. That talent was what raised his stories over the cardboard cutout characters of his contemporaries and made his name. His science was always suspect and has not aged well at all (Starman Jones anyone?). I've always suspected he was a writer whose work benefited from editorial oversight; a belief that has grown stronger over the years as all those "director's cut" editions of his works were released. He was an old and sickly man when his late period works came out, true, but he was also so big a name that no editor dared touch up the corners of those novels. And it shows.
Still, "For Us, the Living" and its included commentaries explain a lot about the man we all admired. This book and hints in Time Enough For Love would seem to explain all three of his marriages. One can't help but wonder if Leslyn Heinlein's probable reaction to the juvenile novels that were Heinlein's bread and butter in his early career drove events in their lives, for instance. Robert James' afterward drops hints that Heinlein's widow pulled the official biography to preserve his privacy, and it's probably for the best. If Heinlein was the utopian in his heart of hearts that this novel would suggest, then he was certainly a very pragmatic one. He found ways to work ideas into his novels that made you think even as the story entertained. It didn't matter if you agreed with him or not.
Juan Suros
jsuros(at)suros.com
Columnist John Clute responds:
I hold to my sense that Heinlein constricted his take on the world between 1940 and 1960; but this is not the same as suggesting that if he hadn't done so he would have produced Stranger in a Strange Land, etc., 20 years earlier. As Juan Suros says, those books were written by a
different man; my own feeling is that Heinlein's freedom to write what he wanted from about 1960 on came too late to do him, or anyone else, much good.
Best,
John
too have enjoyed watching the the Night of the Living Dead films like Michael Anthony Basil [does, as mentioned] in his letter "Night of the Living Dead Lives On". Watching ordinary persons in extraordinary situations facing super-ordinary foes is what makes genre movies special. The touch of "realism" comes with showing that the Average Joe will not always handle such bizarre circumstances with uber-competence, but will do the best they can with what he or she has, while exhibiting to all the real human emotion called fear.
Julian Gift
lira-b(at)tstt.net.tt
ohn Parsons ("Diversity Must Be Reimagined") said: "In the '50s, science fiction was done only by white male and female actors, women were only there to be rescued."
John Parsons either needs to see more old movies or find a different source of information. In 1959, Harry Belefonte was the last man on earth in The World, The Flesh and The Devil. This was a very fine little movie that confronted racism head-on. As for women, how about the 1953 Project Moonbase which not only has a female astronaut, but the President of the United States is a woman!
These are examples just off the top of my head and I know there are more. The point is that the broad generality that science-fiction movies tended to show white men only and tended to have women who screamed a lot and had to be rescued is true. However, to state that it is 100 percent true with no exceptions is ridiculous.
Marian Powell
mepowell(at)intergate.com
he lack of good roles for minority actors and actresses was what created the blacksploitation films of the early to late '70s. Films and television programs prior to that era had few or no minorities. When a minority did appear they played servants, or supporting roles, not as main characters. Yes there exceptions, but none in the science-fiction film genre. Why? Directors and producers didn't think that minorities watched sci-fi. This lack of thinking also limited roles for women in science fiction. Gene Roddenberry initially had a woman captain in the early incarnations of Star Trek. The networks killed this idea because some executive did not believe America would accept women running a spaceship. Glen Larson took flak for some of his casting decisions. At the time, both these men's actions were acts of courage. The networks did not think America was ready for a multi-ethnic crew. In that light, the new incarnation of Battlestar Galactica was a step backwards. We want more eye candy and less substance. What was [BSG producer] David Eick thinking?
The examples Mr. Brazil cites ("Sci-Fi Shouldn't Cast by Quota") are by producers who put minorities their shows. None of the producers were members of a minority group, yet they were enough sensitive to include actors who were. The shows were originals and not remakes. The shows are examples of what a producer/director should do. Mr. Eick should have taken his cue from these shows. He did not. I wonder what was he thinking.
Why this is important? Why write these letters at all? I disagree with Mr. Papagermanos statement, "You cannot fix it, just because you wrote a letter." ("Believe in People, Not in Skin Color") I am not that cynical, or fatalistic. I write with hope that people can do things differently the next time. If they know someone cares. The only way they can know is if some writes. It is important because the presence or absence of a group sends subtle clues as to what's OK and what's not. It's not about one show, it's about a trend., but each data point in that trend counts. It's about role models. It is about minority actors and actresses getting screentime, which is as important to an actor as playing time is to an athlete. In a visual medium like TV, if you aren't seen you don't count. It's important because if we live in a diverse world our visual media should reflect it. The only way it will reflect it is if the people who produce and cast the shows make a conscious decision to do it. I write with the hope that if Battlestar Galactica is made into a series the producers can get right. I write because the future is not fixed and because producers and directors, like people, can change and do better.
John Parsons
[Address withheld by request]
aycheck a B-? A blend of Philip K. Dick and Hitchcock? Perhaps [reviewer] Patrick Lee and I saw two different films. Admittedly a B- is not exactly a rave review, but it is far too generous for this despicable hack job that serves no better purpose than to further blur the line between the action and sci-fi genres. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against action in sci-fi and I'm well aware that sometimes a literary work has to be altered for the big screen, but if you rely solely on action and relegate a great premise to nothing more than a setup for that action rather than the action serving the plot, you might as well just splice some car chases, fighting and explosions together and dispense with any notions of plot and character development. That would at least be honest.
Total Recall has way more action in it than Paycheck and resembles PKD's "We Can Remember It For You Wholesale" even less than Paycheck resembles PKD's original but at least TR captures the essence of PKD's interesting premise and all its related implications. The choice of [Paul] Verhoven as director was an excellent decision in that he was able to inject the film with his special brand of over-the-top, tongue-in-cheek, garish, live-action, comic-book style that served to further express its vertiginous roller-coaster-like quality. As a PKD fan I, of course, hold up Blade Runner as the ultimate PKD inspired film I also enjoyed Minority Report and was even able to barely stomach Screamers (based on "Second Variety"). Hell, I'll even go as far as to say that the deplorable Impostor is better than Paycheck.
All that aside, I must ask my next question: How do we get filmmakers to realize that good sci-fi does not necessarily mean loading up the film with action? You can always cram action into a heist film or similar type of film but the term "science fiction" carries with it the notion the plot will be dependent on technology and its implications at the forefront. I could be wrong, but it is my humble opinion that the best sci-fi has historically been those works in which dilemmas (moral, political, religious, sociological etc...) as a result of technology are explored, or those works which serve as a mirror to our own current societies in an effort to reveal what we cannot or refuse to see and face or (as in the case of PKD and Asimov). Sci-fi can also be used to explore radical ideas such as the nature of reality as from the former or an exploration of the question of sentience as from the latter.
In short, I expect more from sci-fi than what I've generally been getting from sci-fi films. For the record, I'm not hung up on such inanities as who was the better captain in Star Trek or what character is tougher than what other character (don't get me started on Alien vs. Predator, Alien and Aliens: two great films further cheapened by the stink of association with more mindless crap). I mention this because it seems to me that all the time I read [Science Fiction Weekly's] letters section I see more letters arguing these endlessly meaningless points than letters exploring the myriad of interesting and thought provoking ideas that some sci-fi manages to express.
In conclusion, I challenge Science Fiction Weekly as a SCI FI Channel Web site, to raise its standards and stop being a cheerleader. If something stinks, it stinks, just because most sci-fi films stink doesn't mean you should grade them on a curve. Who knows, perhaps with time a rave review from a notoriously unforgiving Science Fiction Weekly might even become a badge of honor, a sort of JD Power for all thing science fiction.
Orlando Pantoja
[Address withheld by request]
ear Mr. Edelman: Your latest editorial ("The Return of the Guilt") points out a fact that is often overlooked in describing the swords-and-sorcery aspects of Lord of the Rings. That is, the motive of saving a world overcome by evil. In the novel, this wasn't mentioned all that much, as such, but was symbolized. The meaning of symbols has to be gotten to, and LOTR signifies the gradual re-emergence of the spirit of good in a world dominated by evil. I agree with you that this should be recognized about the book and that we should look from it to our own world. Certainly there are evils all about us and the spirit of the novel is an appropriate one to have. You are foraying against the dominance of evil in your editorial, and I hope my response to it constitutes such a foray on my own part. I would like it to be known that I am 100 percent with, and for, any effort to protest against and overcome evils of this world.
Bravo and congratulations to your for writing this editorial!
John Thiel
thiel(at)dcwi.com
must admit, I completely agree with you on your editorial, "The Return of the Guilt". I also feel that I am not doing much, enough, nothing worth renown. But it seems that such deeds as were done by the heroes of the Lord of the Rings (and even the lesser characters) are deemed unmatchable in this world. Why? Because there is no war to be fought as the War of the Ring was. Swordsmanship, archery, horseback riding, etc... what use do they have now?
If the conflict from the Lord of the Rings were taking place now, armies would simply send a missile to Mordor. Not as much valiance is in the hearts of today's heroes as there was in yesterday's. For now, there isn't as much at risk. You can stand very far from the enemy and still attack without much danger.
Sumaiya Hashmi
sumaiyahashmi(at)hotmail.com
hank You. I've just read your [editorial] ("The Return of the Guilt") and I have been trying to understand why, among all the emotions [the Lord of the Rings] trilogy has cause to surface in my soul, I was still left feeling embarrassed and a little ashamed. Now I know. Whether we battle evil or just help out a friend in a time of need, we must remember reaching toward our limits is everyday, going beyond those limits, especially for others, is what makes life worth living. God bless.
Barbra Cecile Tessier
bctessier(at)yahoo.ca
n response to Mr. Aronson's "Jackson Sadly Overwhelmed Tolkien," allow me to point out that a novel and a film are two entirely different genres. What works in one might not work in another. Mr. Aronson asks a number of questions concerning why certain scenes were added, shortened or deleted in Jackson's last two films. In actuality, the writers do explain many of these changes in their commentary on Two Towers [DVD]. Oftentimes, because they film so much to maintain a certain level of tension and interest in the audience (especially for those who are not fanatical about Tolkien's original books), characters had to be given arcs and substance.
As for Mr. Aronson's claim that "Jackson seems completely unaware that the brilliance and popularity of the books comes from their societies, their languages and their total believability. Nothing breaks the readers' willing suspension of disbelief," I for one would strongly disagree. Jackson seems abundantly aware of the detail in Tolkien's work. Hence, that's why so much work went into detailing everything from languages to clothing to props. As reference, please watch some of the documentaries on the extended cuts of Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. Also, concerning Tolkien's ability to maintain a reader's willing suspension of disbelief (now this is my own personal opinion and does not reflect the opinions of a number of other readers) I never could maintain an interest in the novels. I have read Tolkien's work, but I was incredibly bored by them. Yes, I respect Tolkien's ability to envision an entire world, but his characters seem shallow, his writing inconsistent and his presentation of key moments poorly rendered. Before there is an avalanche of letters in response to that statement, let me reiterate that I do, indeed, highly respect Tolkien's imagination.
However, returning to Mr. Aronson's letter, his rather snarky remark that Jackson should have made four movies is a bit unrealistic. It's somewhat amazing that New Line agreed to make three movies simultaneously with no real guarantee of their success. I don't believe that any company would have backed four major movies. And no, Jackson did not write "the greatest book of the 20th century," but he has arguably made some of the finest films of the now 21st century. I would be happy that someone has finally provided an edition of Tolkien's works in something other than childish animation rather than bickering over some necessary changes. So, Mr. Aronson, I'm sorry that you and your wife did not enjoy the movie. However, give Jackson and his team a break. They've invested six years of their lives in these films. You've invested less than 48 hours in watching them. If you would like to see a more "accurate" version, I would suggest you write your own script and find a company to produce it for you. In the meantime, I am going to go enjoy watching Return of the King again.
Joi Tribble
aglaia000(at)bellsouth.net
'd like to respond to some of the criticism Peter Jackson has, as usual, received from Tolkien fans.
While we all know that it is impossible to portray every moment of the books in movie form, everyone has their own idea about what should be cut and what should not be added in to make sense in the new medium. With all due respect to Mr. Aronson, Tolkien is not here to make a movie out of his books, and we have no idea what he would have chosen to leave in or out. We will never see his version on film. One can only guess which scenes were most meaningful to him, which bits of dialogue and which characters. To suggest that Peter Jackson is somehow wrong to put his own stamp on the movie form of this great story is to misunderstand what making movies from books is all about! Of course, it is going to be Peter Jackson's own interpretation; of course, he's going to tell the story the way he thinks it should be told in the medium of film.
He chose to spend a large chunk of his life learning about film and pushing to get these movies made precisely because he loves Tolkien's work and thought it deserved to be translated into film. I am sure many of us thought so too—and yet we did not take the time to accomplish this magnificent feat. Each of us would have chosen different cuts in the action from the book to bring it to movie length. If we disagree, we all have the right to pursue, 20 years from now, a remake in our own image. Peter Jackson won the right to create his own interpretation of Lord of the Rings. We can disagree with his choices, yet I hope we can appreciate his great effort and perseverance. I, for one, deeply appreciate his magnificent achievement. I am also grateful that non-readers may finally appreciate this incredible story.
And ponder this—when a great singer covers a classic song, do we expect it to be sung exactly as by the original artist? Then why bother? Whether we like the new version or not, it only serves to deepen our appreciation of the song and remind us of why we loved it.
Tapati Sarasvati
[Address withheld by request]
ear Editor, please allow me to defend myself ("Jackson Gets Rings Wrong Again") against those who replied to my prior posting (Peg Davis, "Jackson's Trilogy Is Tight"; Yu Kai-lin, "Jackson's Action Wasn't Always Wrong"; David Rhode, "Tolkien's Words Tell the Tale").
I acknowledge the quote of Mr. Rhodes. But read a mere two pages further
and you will see my point:
And still Meriadoc the hobbit stood blinking through his tears, and no one spoke to him, indeed none seemed to heed him. He brushed away the tears, and stooped to pick up the green shield that Eowyn had given him, and he slung it at his back. Then he looked for his sword that he had let fall; for even as he struck his blow his arm was numbed, and now he could only use his left hand. And behold! There lay his weapon, but the blade was smoking like a dry branch that had been thrust in a fire; and as he watched it, it writhed and withered and was consumed.
So passed the sword of the Barrow-downs, work of Westernesse. But glad would he have been to know its fate who wrought is slowly long ago in the North-kingdom when the Dúnedain were young, and chief among their foes was the dread realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king. No other blade, not though mightier hands had wielded it, would have dealt that foe a wound so bitter, cleaving the undead flesh, breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will.
A little clarification and/or education may be needed:
Westernesse is the land that the Valar created for the Edain at the end of the First Age. The Edain are "the Second People" or Men of the First Age. The "First People," first born of children of Ilúvatar are the elves. The Dúnedains are the Men of the West.
The Valar (the first beings created by the Ilúvatar, i.e., guardians of the world) are called the "Elders," "Lords of the West" or "The Great Ones." I called the sword Elvish. It was of either Elder or elvish manufacture. I'll assume that I was wrong. But the sword was of ancient manufacture and specifically made to fight the sorcerer king and the minions of Angmar.
So, Merry's sword, being of ancient manufacture, is the only weapon specifically designed to fight and harm the lord of the Nazgul. Merry's blow, "...cleaving the undead flesh and breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will," destroys the manifestation of the Lord of the
Nazgul and causes the empty hauberk and mantle to fall forward, shoulders slumping, toward Eowyn. Eowyn drives her sword between "...crown and mantle...", the sword shatters, there is a loud clang and the crown goes rolling away. Her sword, being of common manufacture, cannot harm the
lord. It simply shatters. And the smallest person changes the course of history.
All of this information is within a mere two pages of each other. I have been accused of "...didn't even bother to open the book to check the facts." I read each book prior to the opening each of the movies. I wonder that others did not pay attention to the subtle details of Tolkien's story. The devil is in the details.
I acknowledge that when a book is converted to a movie, the movie can never show the level of detail of the book. Many of the subtle clues get lost. While reading any book after viewing the adaptation, I often realize, "Ah, that is why he did that. The movie did not show that aspect."
I understand some of the changes that Mr. Jackson made for dramatic reasons and to cut down on the shear volume of material. If done strictly by the books, the movie would have taken more the 20 hours (taking into consideration the extended DVD versions, all three movies exceed 10 hours).
But he just seemed to forget this detail, or assumed that the unread public would never know the difference.
J. Lee Watts
jleewatts(at)hotmail.com
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