22 June, 2012

Fahrenheit 451

Yes, yes I'm late. As usual.

Two weeks ago, we lost one of the titans of science fiction, Ray Bradbury. As one of the four "greats" of science fiction (along with Asimov, Clark, and Heinlein), Bradbury brought science fiction writing out of the discount bin, regulated to weirdos and futurists, and allowed the genre to mature into a defined literary field.

Moreover, Bradbury's work in his later years proved him to be the best kind of old man-- a crotchety, opinionated, I-don't-care-anymore loudmouth. I can only aspire to such a thing come mid-century. In particular, Bradbury had a fierce commitment to public libraries as institutions existing to the betterment of all mankind, even dismissing formal education in place of the honored biblioteque,

"Libraries raised me. I don't believe in colleges and universities. I believe in libraries because most students don't have any money. When I graduated from high school, it was during the Depression and we had no money. I couldn't go to college, so I went to the library three days a week for 10 years."

Wow, isn't that the way it should be? I heard his echoes every time our town debated building a new library. 
As much time as his mind spent in the future, Bradbury was suspicious of the Internet, at one point responding to a request to digitize his books by saying, "To hell with you. To hell with you and to hell with the internet.", citing that "it isn't real." Indeed, the flow of knowledge was a topic close to his heart, leading to last week's re-read of the classic Fahrenheit 451.

Intended as a story not about burning books, but what happens to a society which no longer cares about deep thinking, this was Bradbury's launch from magazine serials to literary analysis. The plot itself is straightforward enough (most likely recalled from our high school days, whether this was assigned reading or not); Guy Montag is a "fireman," in that his purpose in this vaguely-defined 21st century dystopia is to burn the remaining books in the city.

Guy's world begins to bifurcate upon meeting Clarisse McClellan, a free-spirited seventeen year-old, whose family is highly suspect in clinging to the "old ways" such as talking, going on leisurely walks and drives, generally avoiding television, and asking "why" a bit too often to make people comfortable. In a society wherein the populace is entirely disconnected from one another, and to a large degree, themselves, Clarisse exposes Guy's suppressed, questioning spirit with which the fireman begins to wonder at the books, ideas, and -- by extension-- people which he has sought to destroy.

While the writing, particularly in part three of the book, leans more toward "adventure story," the message is where the story shines. In an adult's reading, I found interesting, the state of Millie, Guy's lassitude wife. Utterly dependent on the structure of the society, she is a waif of a soul, entirely unable to think more deeply on any topic beyond a nervous laugh, or derisive dismissal. Although written in 1951, the disengagement of the general public, more focused on soundbites and factoids than analysis and connections, one can see why Bradbury developed an irritation with 2009's state of the Internet.

And that's probably why Fahrenheit 451 leapt from the dregs of "genre" to become assigned reading in secondary and post-secondary analysis; its application. As a reader in 2012, one likely sees as many warning signs in the world around them as a reader in 1962 or 2075. Moreover, Bradbury's storytelling is an artful experience, stretching to ideals to which all of us reach-- the pursuit of beauty and truth.


07 March, 2012

Mr g by Alan Lightman

Writing good fiction is hard. Writing good science is even harder. From what I've come across over the years, science-based fiction (not science fiction) is a rare talent to be praised. Mr Lightman began his career as a physicist, specializing in astrophysics, and for twenty years, held a distinguished career in astronomy through MIT.

Then he started writing. With previous (and somewhat esoteric) work such as Einstein's Dreams and Good Benito, Lightman's talents have come to lay in weaving descriptive prose with a scientist's curious and detailed view of the Universe.

Which brings us to Mr g.The unnamed narrator, at the beginning of the book,  wakes up from a very long nap and decides to create a universe. In this story of Creation as told from the perspective of the Creator, we can see the development of geometric, scientific, mathematical, and physical ideas as the narrator builds concepts such as space and time from the infinite nothingness of the Void, where he lives with his argumentative aunt and uncle. The creator is at his core a curious personality, learning by trial-and-error as he builds, and rebuilds universes of varying dimension, geometries, logical consistences, and stability. He loves to watch his creations simply grow and change, and see how they react to stimuli, such as introduction of "organizational principles" and laws of physics.

His favorite project begins with Aalam-104729 (the name originates with His Uncle Deva's penchant for creative naming, and the 10,000th prime number, so he doesn't lose track of it amid the billions of other universes), which His Aunt Penelope randomly selects for him, encouraging that He "take His time with this one, and not rush into things." As Mr g (He is never actually referred to as such in the book, but I'm running out of things to call Him) launches Aalam-104729 by enriching it with symmetry concepts, a simple three dimensions of space, physical laws, and finally matter, which erupts in a fantastic explosion, He is delighted to simply watch his creation grow.

As a strict non-interventionist, the narrator is highly concerned with proper cause-and-effect, in which His own actions should not meddle with the internal workings as the universe unfolds of its own accord, and in a beautiful chaos, developing elementary particles, stars, planets, and eventually biology. His foil, however, has a somewhat more active philosophy. Soon after the creation of Aalam-104729, the tall, whip-smart, and elusive Belhor arrives with an interest in the new creation. While not "the devil" per se, Belhor represents Mr g's intellectual equal, who often serves as a balancing sounding board for ideas concerning thornier issues when conscious life arises, such as morality, and the overarching philosophy of a "disinterested" god who allows beings to suffer.

Perhaps the most compelling moral discussion in the novel is the narrator's discussion with His uncle, who is lobbying for the creation of an immortal soul for conscious beings; the creator is hesitant, well-knowing that a mind from the material universe would not be able to comprehend the Void beyond existence. With input from Belhor, and Uncle Deva, the idea of the beings having an actual connection beyond their universe is a heavy decision for the creator.

While being an exceptionally quick read, Lightman's work weaves together concepts ranging wide from mathematics, science, and philosophy, as taken by someone who has very good reason to consider the impacts of each of His ideas. The science, form the Big Bang to the End, is wonderfully expressed in the text as we read the life story of the universe, and its creator's pure love for all that it is. This is an excellent read for anyone with even a passing interest in philosophy or science, with a shift of perspective to the Outside which only a deity could appreciate


25 February, 2012

Wow, that is a crappily-rendered banner, isn't it?