The Fredösphere

A while back I mentioned SF author John C. Wright, an atheist-turned-Christian.  John has a story in the current issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine, a copy of which is sitting on my shelf, waiting to be read.

Thanks to John's blog, I now know of the scholarly work of Doris T. Myers, whose book promotes the importance of C. S. Lewis as a contributor to the science fiction genre.  A small sampling of my SF friends tells me CSL is not regarded as among the stratosphere in SF, although his fantasy work (anybody heard of Narnia?) is almost Tolkienesque in its fan loyalty.

Myers disagrees, and puts Lewis at the center of a dialog among H. G. Wells and Arthur C. Clarke.  Lewis also gets credit for speaking from within the academy in favor of showing respect to the genre:

C.S. Lewis himself was a champion of the idea that science fiction should be taken seriously: C.S. Lewis regarded it as regrettable that a book of ideas like Arthur C. Clarke's CHILDHOOD'S END would be dismissed as juvenilia while modernistic books be feted. In a letter, Lewis says:

It is a strange comment on our age that such a book lies hid in a hideous paper-backed edition, wholly unnoticed by the cognoscenti, while any 'realistic' drivel about some neurotic in a London flat--something that needs no real invention at all, something that any educated man could write if he chose, may get seriously reviewed and mentioned in serious books - as if it really mattered. I wonder how long this tyranny will last? Twenty years ago I felt no doubt that I should live to see it all break up and great literature return: but here I am, losing teeth and hair, and still no break in the clouds. ~C.S. Lewis, Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis: Volume III, Letter to Joy Gresham, Dec 22, 1953

Of course, the admiration of the author of the Ransom Trilogy for the author of CHILDHOOD'S END will come as no surprise to those who recognize where these books stand in the Great Dialog of the Pen. Arthur C. Clarke's novel was an answer and a rebuttal to OUT FROM THE SILENT PLANET and to THAT HIDEOUS STRENGTH in the same way that C. S. Lewis' novel was a rebuttal and an answer to FIRST MEN IN THE MOON by H.G. Wells.

Read the whole thing, then read the follow-up post.  Then spend some time browsing Wright's other posts.  This is a man with lots of interesting things to say.

Labels: sci-fi

Weirdness possibly associated with domain renewal left The Fredösphere mostly broken for the last three days.  I have now fixed the problem (and I should add, 80% of fixing this problem was noticing it).  That everything loads now is rather obvious to those of you viewing this page, but don't laugh; remember some are reading these words via feed readers, which may not have been stymied by the problem.  Anyway, to those darling readers who are pouting:  come back!  All is well!  I still love you!  As much as I ever did!

At the official blog of the Tor publishing house, John Ottinger III notes a Parisian statue that honors the man who could walk through walls.

The most ridiculous political video ever?  A candidate, at least, but let's at least give Nixon credit for pulling off a nice one-liner about Truman, that other piano-playing president.



Too bad Nixon didn't enter that piece in a competition; with his political clout, he could have won!  Meanwhile, Don has heard the future, and it sounds like a nasal Japanese pop diva.

Labels: Futurism, sci-fi, VideoClip, vocal

First of all, let me stipulate that I absolutely do not begrudge Susan Boyle her 15 weeks of fame.  I hope her Christmas album goes platinum.  I really do.  Why shouldn't thousands choose her over all the crappy alternatives out there?  And we can be glad Susan Boyle is (presumably) unlikely to pull a Charlotte Church and take her million pounds to a topless beach.

However, it's time to examine what's going on with Britain's Got Talent.  We've seen Paul Potts; now we've seen Susan Boyle.  The pattern is obvious.  The narrative is unmistakable.  The key to the whole thing is revealed in those moments when Paul Potts talks about being bullied in school, or when Susan Boyle confesses she's never been kissed.  I think the way the whole thing is rigged, with the crowd trained to start cheering so you really can't tell how good they're singing, is pretty impressive.  (And note the supporting role played by the Timon and Pumbaa characters waiting in the wings.)  I was fooled into thinking Boyle was better than good the first time I heard the clip.  Alex Ross was sufficiently impressed with Paul Potts (or maybe I should say the Paul Potts phenomenon, which at least had the virtue of promoting Puccini, not a pretentious pop musical that needs no more grease applied to its already slick skids) to link to him from his blog.  The show is brilliantly manipulative, and what they're selling is: 

wounded inner child finds redemption through show biz.

I like that narrative better than Extreme Makeover:  Home Edition's redemption through McMansion, but that's not saying much.

Meanwhile, Britain's Got Talent is an excellent reminder for us music snobs just how much it is true that, in the opinion of a great mass of people, music itself ought never aspire to the so-called condition of music.  It wants to be a sound track for something else.

Labels: VideoClip, vocal

Oh my.  The prize for Best Comment goes to "Sam" who wrote, "This is why we have blasphemy laws in the U.K."

(Hat tip to—who else?—Holy Heroes!!)

Labels: GraphicNovel, Religion

I refuse to stop believing that a bias toward the active voice (the passive voice is not loved by me!) or words with Saxon origins (I despise your intestines:  bad; I hate your guts:  good) were bad biases to instill in the fertile minds of generations of American undergraduates, but still I recommend you read this corrective to Strunk & White's because it is useful, but more to the point, it's knee-slappingly funny.

Labels: Readers Are Leaders

The Vocal Arts Ensemble of Ann Arbor, they who lately gave me my latest premiere (of The Moon That Dreamed of Earth) are performing Menotti's The Unicorn, the Gorgon and the Manticore on May 9.  The piece is a bear and illness has left them desperate for more baritones.  In spite of that, director Ben Cohen asked me to join the group for this performance, something I was overjoyed to do.

I first became aware of TUTGATM through the miracle of modern television, believe it or not.  It was years ago, at my parent's home; I suppose that must mean I was in my late teens or early twenties.  No doubt it was a PBS station airing a performance, one that included dancers as is commonly done.  I was blown away by the spastic athleticism of the score (obviously Menotti was not taking his Ritalin) and the theatricality of the whole production—the semi-operatic work needs singers and dancers with a flair for drama.  After that magical night in front of the teevee it would be years before I heard of the piece again (and only lately that I purchased my first recording of the piece, downloaded via iTunes) but I never forgot it.

As you can see from the poster reproduced above, VAE will be joined by People Dancing.  Ben has told me some of his ideas for the performance, which includes dancers interacting with the singers on some level (I'm a bit fuzzy on those details, as was Ben at the time we had our conversation) and I can't wait to see what he comes up with.  You'll also notice Bill Bolcom will get a premiere in this concert also, Lady Liberty.  This will be my first chance to sing something written by the ol' Gorgon himself.  (And I say that with the greatest of affection.)

Labels: Choral, Composer, local

The world's largest, longest piano is one built by a New Zealand teenager.  Brilliant . . . but next, let's move that behemoth out of the tin shack it's in and into a fine concert hall, so we can hear what it sounds like, which, I happen to think, is kind of important.

Labels: LovableOddballs

It's amazing what turns up when you do a little research for a science fiction story you're writing.  I was shocked to discover that Prescott Bush, the sire of presidents, was a member of Yale's Whiffenpoofs, the Mother of All Collegiate A Cappella Groups.

Skull & Bones, eat your hearts out (if you have any).  I guess I need to add another node to this network.  And finally, I should remind you people that you're supposed to tell me about this stuff.

Labels: Choral, Conspiracy, Spooky

Dear Amazon.com Customer,

We've noticed that customers who have purchased or rated Henryk Gorecki: Symphony 3 "Sorrowful Songs" have also purchased Henryk Górecki: Symphony No. 3 "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs". For this reason, you might like to know that Henryk Górecki: Symphony No. 3 "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs" is now available.

Labels: fun, Holy Minimalists

One of Tolkien's more amusing eccentricities was his anger over the Norman Invasion.  Dude, I would reply in my mind's voice, that was a thousand years ago.  The Saxons are over it.  I'm over it.  Get over it.  Anyway, it's not like the Saxons were peaceful, lily-pure aboriginals; they call the big island "Great Britain," not "Great Saxon," after all.

I was interested to learn Gerard Manley Hopkins shared Tolkien's anger, as documented in this article by Denis Donoghue.  Hopkins' lingering regret involved the continuing effect the invasion had on the English language.  Aaaaah , that makes more sense, and almost certainly explains Tolkien's complaint as well, considering Tolkien was one of the great language-obsessed scholars of the 20th century.  Hopkins apparently harbored a crazy hope the influence of the Romance languages could somehow be backed out of the English language.  (He also wanted to undo the influence of Protestantism on English culture, a project that was somehow related and equally crazy.)

Would English be a better language if it were purer?  Ironically, the removal of the Norman would make English more Frenchified, at least in this respect:  we would have one word for each thing, rather than two (or three or seven).  English poetry would flow more easily, but even this has its downside, as struggle often leads in the end to better art.  I recall hearing somewhere that the Irish language routinely rhymes its antonyms, something that happens only rarely in English.  (Womb/tomb, hire/fire, and make/break are three good ones I stole from The Spencer Encyclopedia.)  Wouldn't such a rhyme-friendly language tend to produce a flood of good poetry, but a trickle of great?  I await expert opinion to set me straight on this conjecture.

Labels: LovableOddballs, New Criterion, Readers Are Leaders

Harlan Ellison is an incredibly entertaining writer, and no topic puts him in such fine form as that of his aclaimed Star Trek screenplay, The City on the Edge of Forever.  No, I don't mean he was in fine form when he wrote the screenplay; I consider it a mixed bag of inspired character development and embarrassing cliché.  No, what really brings out Ellison's genius is writing about the writing of, and the subsequent decades-long argument with Gene Roddenberry over, The City on the Edge of Forever.

My friend Jeremy, alert as always, reports to me today that the case is seeing—oh, how shall we put it?—fresh developments.  You'll laugh, you'll cry.

Labels: sci-fi, TeeVee