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— Scott Edelman, Editor-in-Chief
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n Larry Ray's letter ("Old Anime Should Be Made New Again") from issue 365, he mentioned remakes of certain older anime classics. I rather like the idea, but would like to take it a step further. Have someone re-edit the old Space Cruiser: Yamato series without kiddifying it like they did in the late '70s. Let our children see one of the shows with the same fascination we did, without losing anything in the translation.
There are many pieces of anime that drifted over to the USA in the '70s and early '80s that the moral majority had to tone down for our "benefit." If children in Japan can handle it, so can ours.
If there are ever any remakes of these classics, let it be done live-action. I'm sure that there are others out there wishing to see what the Yamato (or Argo as it was called here) would look like with a live crew, or Dangard Ace and Raydeen walking past actual buildings. Nobody can say it can't be done, they are working on a live-action Transformers movie as I write this. CGI has done wonders for effects, let's use it to the full extent.
Todd Behrmann
weyrleader(at)charter.net
'm inspired to write by the letter from Jeff Timmons ("Our Beloved Genre Is Fat and Lazy") in issue #365.
As background, I am 54 and have been a science-fiction reader and fan since age 12—that's 1962 for the math-crippled. I have read nearly all the great SF books, which in my jaundiced opinion have gotten farther and farther between since the rise of "sci-fi" on film and comics and games. (By the way, I hugely agree with Isaac Asimov's distinction between science fiction and sci-fi—sci-fi being media treatments of themes introduced in true literature, mere popularizations of literate ideas and works of art. But that is a digression.)
I would just like to put in a good word for new, short science fiction as found in the current crop of "pulp" magazines. I subscribe to Asimov's, Analog and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, all of which bring to me excellent stories and articles full of the wonder and discovery and deep thought I have always sought in good SF. They are vital and alive!
I rarely see mainstream sci-fi movies, and never watch television any more. They are just rehashing the old themes, and never improving upon it! Even Blade Runner was just a flashy remake of an excellent story, with more distraction than faithfulness.
Perhaps I'm just getting to be an old coot, but there is plenty of excellent new fiction being made—just don't look for it in movies or comics or TV! Go look around your friendly neighborhood independent bookstore, if you can find one, or subscribe to one of the above magazines.
I could go on, but just wanted to share this thought.
Lou Judson
inaudio(at)pacbell.net
just finished reading John Clute's response to Carl Glover's letter ("Campbell Did Not Destroy Heinlein"). And
I do have a question for Mr. Clute. Mr. Clute said:
I might add that, had Campbell himself been bearded a little more frequently by the authors whose careers he attempted to enfeoff, then the decline of Astounding after 1950, and his own descent into the cesspool of Dianetics, might have been averted through some exposure to reality.
First—what does he mean by use of the word "enfeoff?" My Webster's says it means to "invest with a fief, fee, or other possession." What does this have to do with authors' careers? Or is he just showing off his vocabulary? And as far as "descending into the cesspool of Dianetics," I only found one (count 'em, one) reference to Dianetics and John Campbell, and that was when he published L. Ron Hubbard's article on Dianetics in 1950. In Campbell's obituary, there was no mention of Dianetics (or the Church of Scientology), and since he died in 1971 when that sort of things was tres chic, surely it would have been if Campbell had been involved?
It seems almost as thought Mr. Clute has a personal grudge against John Campbell, and against Mr. Glover for contradicting him. I admit to some curiosity as to why this should be, considering so many authors who are considered giants in the field openly admit that Campbell made them better writers (even if he did have some weird theories, pet philosophies and issues of his own).
In fact, the whole response struck me as somewhat ad hominem—an excuse to belittle and denigrate a man who (regardless of his faults) did indeed contribute greatly to the field of science fiction.
Why?
Rachel Maley
rmaley(at)surgery.unmc.edu
Columnist John Clute responds:
My apologies for "enfeoff." My response to Carl Glover's letter was written at the gallop just before I had to catch a plane, and I used a word in haste that best seemed to fit my meaning, without making sure that that meaning was conveyed clearly. At the same time, Rachel Maley seems to have consulted the wrong dictionary. My Encarta—a modern, mid-sized dictionary for the general market—defines "enfeoff" as follows: "MAKE SOMEBODY VASSAL, to make somebody a feudal vassal by giving that person a fief or fee." I know that it was never literally true that John W. Campbell was the feudal monarch of Astounding, but he sure did rule the roost (see my comments on William Tenn's experiences trying to sell him "Brooklyn Project," as described in Immodest Proposals), and I do tend to think of Robert A. Heinlein as a baron who, in the end, revolted.
About Campbell's relationship to L. Ron Hubbard and Dianetics, I don't pretend to any original research. It may be that the John W. Campbell Letters (1985), in which Dianetics is promoted again and again, provide a distorted picture of his overall state of mind in the 1950s; and it may be that published speculations—to the effect that Dona Stuart divorced him in 1950 at least in part because of his involvement—are wide of the mark, but those sources, plus a general consensus that Campbell's application of hard-science sureties to speculative soft-science "breakthroughs" caused him to go very far astray, tend to support the comments I made.
It does, by the way, rather change the terms of dispute to refer to Scientology. Dianetics was a theory, which I think was deeply and obviously suspect; Scientology is a later religion. I don't know whether Campbell was involved in the religion; I believe, however, that he was not.
About Campbell as an editor. Everything I've read leads me to the belief that—in technical terms—he was a great one, and nothing I've said was intended to undermine that understanding. Indeed, it is hard to think that he would have been able even to begin to shape Astounding toward the philosophy of the future it pretty coherently espoused unless he had had an acute sense of how to make stories work. My quarrel is not with his skills. Nor, for that matter, do I quarrel with the mesmerizing beauties of 1940s Astounding: When I think of the Sense of Wonder, that's where I return, always. My quarrel with Campbell, and with those who wrote "his" stories, is that the cost of such clarity of vision was never reckoned.
If Campbellian SF had not existed, the space program might have foundered in 1946; but if SF had been wiser, Werner von Braun might never have had his heart broken by President Nixon.
Best,
John
alle Berry, Jennifer Garner, Uma Thurman, Carrie-Anne Moss, Miranda Otto and Jamie King (Bulletproof Monk) are proving themselves to be worthy action-heroines for the big screen in the 21st Century. One of these names reaches the top of my lists of votes for the role of Wonder woman: Carrie-Anne Moss.
After her dynamic performance as Trinity in The Matrix trilogy, I firmly believe that she would be perfect for the part. She does seem to resemble Lynda Carter somewhat. And she does, in her own way, possess Ms. Carter's feministic charm. This lovely action star is my final vote among all the suggestions to Science Fiction Weekly for the super icon who won this year's TV Land award for best hero. Halle Berry as Catwoman and Jennifer Garner as Elektra are sure to have some tough competition for this decade should Wonder Woman, especially if Carrie-Anne Moss considers the honor, be as WONDERous on the big screen.
Michael Anthony Basil
mike.basil(at)sympatico.ca
athan Brazil ("Filmed Fan Fiction Is Out of Reach") is absolutely correct. I totally forgot to mention the "Must Have Agent" aspect that Paramount/Star Trek/Pocket Books has. It was a wall came up against when they where actually explaining the guidelines for novel submissions. It's one of the reasons I prefer to submit work to Doctor Who Books in London novels. ('Course it takes a heck of a long time to see your work in print if it's accepted because they have so many submissions to choose from, and a publishing schedule to keep, and especially, the strict word count). However, there have been some exceptions. There was a series of novels written by a woman who won the grand prize in one of the early Strange New Worlds short story contests. "Wagon Train to the Stars," I think it was called. I might add that the writing in those short-story contests just continues to improve. I guess right after the first edition, folks that read it said, "Shoot, I can write better than that" and have continued to do so (not to take away from any previous author/winner). If you want great Trek stories, but don't necessarily want to invest the time in reading a novel, pick up the Strange New Worlds books. There are various lengths, but now they tend to be longer since the winners are paid per word as well as receive a monetary award.
Jonathan Grove ("Star Trek Has Run Out of Gas") may unfortunately be right also. I remember when Next Generation started, I wasn't entirely happy with it ... mainly because in nearly every crisis Picard would casually walk through the corridors to get to engineering or where ever the problem was. Even while the ship was under fire. In a situation like that, every second counts! I'd want my captain hauling ass to get where he's going so he can save our butts. Kirk, et al, had passion; Picard, et al, were bland by comparison in the beginning. But the show got better. When Deep Space Nine, and Voyager started I liked the idea of having so much Trek to choose from at first. But the quality was shaky, particularly with Voyager. I applaud Paramount for taking the risk of having a male lead that was black (although Sisko could just as well have started as a captain), then putting a woman in the center chair. (I do think Lensie Wagner would have been a better choice, though). Paramount showed they were willing to think outside of the box, back then. One quick gripe: For all those that "hated" on Kirk because he was "The Man." Kirk knew how to use his people to get a job done. He let them do what they did best and helped out technically when he could. Janeway, on the other hand, did and could do everything that her crew could do and better, including fighting. Talk about a horn-blower. ... Back to the point: I'd hate to see Star Trek on "silent running" for 15 to 20 years. I love its concept. This may be selfish, but I'm not getting any younger. I want to see the stuff I like while I'm still around to enjoy it. Thank goodness Star Trek came back, never mind whether or not I liked every incarnation.
Thank goodness Doctor Who is coming back (fingers crossed for storytelling because the American-backed movie sucked). Just make the shows good now, I want to watch them. There just aren't a lot of good sci-fi options on the air now.
Scott Sash
ScottCptsscott(at)aol.com
ormulaic, symptomatic, redundant; these are just a few adjectives I can think of that describe the overwhelming course of storytelling that has occurred since Deep Space Nine got it's start on the heels of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It seems that the incubation period is about two years, and at year three, each show blossomed into its own entity. DS9 became it's own once TNG went off the air and more focus could be brought to it. Voyager's third season was really strong, at least to start, as it started to set out and do the kind of storytelling that they had intended. Gritty, hard edged, the universe isn't always a nice place when you're all alone, kind of feel. (That doesn't excuse it from the 7 of 9/Janeway show it became). Enterprise's third season is its breakaway attempt, and it seems like the tractor beam is actively holding it at bay.
It's understandable that TNG needed two years to work out the kinks—after all, it was quite some time since Star Trek had been produced on the small screen and you had a whole new crew of people, both in front and behind the screen, trying to make it work. But as time has gone on, and producers and support staffs have crossed over from series to series, that need to shake out the flaws shouldn't require two years of time. I realize that they've brought in different writers and different directors into the mix to try and shake things up and give the franchise a fresh voice—one would do that to "keep things fresh." Enterprise has made a valiant attempt to get away from some of the social conundrum story telling that DS9 and Voyager kept using on the heels of TNG. I've seen glimpses of hope in the writing on Enterprise that show how some of our more basic social foibles could get us into trouble in contacting and dealing with other species. (Trip "liberating" a young woman who's role was facilitator of offspring for a couple was particularly strong). But at it's core, it's rehashing a formula that has worked well, and it's quite frankly stale.
Breaking the Star Trek formula would require, what some may deem a drastic change, in say format. Take Alias for example. I've started watching the DVD release and have read on the evolution of the show—I am instantly hooked on the show and hear that it's only gotten better since it started because it keeps mixing things up. I like the fact that they push the envelope and keep you thinking and guessing. What Star Trek: Enterprise and the movies need is a jolt of that kind of feel and pace—keep you pulling through from episode to episode. This is, after all, a story about and "ongoing mission." What this will do is make stories like "Inner Light" that much more precious. A capsule inside a broader canvas.
We surely haven't run out of history quite yet, but Enterprise needs to focus on the history it has and truly break the mold that has began to crack years ago.
Jonathan Grove
jgrove(at)weymouthdesign.com
cience fiction, like history, at the peak of its power, tells us why we are who we are, and at opposite ends of the universe as the two seem to be, in rare instances, they almost embrace.
From a strictly scientific perspective, last week marked yet another anniversary of one of the great events in human history, on April 12th, the first human being boldly went where no man had gone before.
Young and handsome, courageous, highly skilled and by all accounts, a terrific guy, he was the embodiment of all that Verne, Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke and Roddenberry had hoped for in the Columbus of the cosmos science fiction had told us would one day make history.
Ironically, while legions of Star Trek fans railed against the Enterprise theme, no one complained that the first man in space was missing from the opening montage depicting humanity's quest for the stars from the days of the Wright Brothers to the perfection of Warp drive.
An aberration, of course, an inexplicable oversight, a blip on the sci-fi radar screen somehow gone unnoticed by knowledgeable science-fiction stalwarts. After all, the very thought ...
In the high-tech communications field there could be a few people oblivious of the man who perfected the telephone, an ignorant electrician or two with no idea of who invented the light bulb and maybe a lone thespian who would fail to identify Hamlet's creator, but the concept of even one true science-fiction fan not knowing the name of the first man in space would be an historic event in itself, right?
(In SCIFI.com's vast data bank, the first man in space is referred to only once: a Babylon 5 episode synopsis in which his last name was misspelled.)
Kevin Ahearn
KEVTOMA(at)aol.com
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