Uncanny Valley: Science Fiction Summer Reading Group

If you buy one book this summer...Pravic for the people!Crack a book, science fiction lovers! Summer is back and so are we. Attend four stellar Thursday nights this Summer. (6/8, 6/22, 7/6, and 8/24) Join Editor of Pravic Magazine David Gill and science fiction author Suhail Rafidi as they once again brave the Uncanny Valley, searching out the latest and greatest in science fiction writers.

Page on!This summer, we’ll be reading 6 short stories over the first 3 sessions (6/8, 6/22, 7/6) counterweighted by one thick novel (Kim Stanley Robinson’s, New York 2140) for the fourth and final discussion (8/24). So plenty of time to get started on the whopper. If pages were years, this book’d have millennia. Let’s rock.

How’s It Go?

Four Thursday night discussions, 7:00 PM Pacific (6/8, 6/22, 7/6, 8/24)
If you’re in the Bay Area and can make it live, contact us for the address.
Otherwise, the Google Hangout link:
https://plus.google.com/hangouts/_/g5stgywth5n76vwbbyicm4jkqea

June 8
“The Game Of Rat And Dragon,”
-by Cordwainer Smith [Download PDF]
“And I Awoke And Found Me Here On The Cold Hill’s Side,”
-by James Tiptree, Jr. [Download PDF]

Yes, that Ted Chaing story...June 22
“Story Of Your Life,” by Ted Chiang [Download PDF]
“Reiko’s Universe Box,” by Kajio Shinji

July 6
“Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius,” by Jorge Luis Borges [Download PDF]
“Sharing Air,” by Manjula Padmanabhan

August 24
New York 2140, by Kim Stanley Robinson


Mark your calendars! Start reading now and join us this summer in the Uncanny Valley.
See you Thursday nights! (6/8, 6/22, 7/6, & 8/24)

In The Uncanny Valley...Bring it!
Dude, it’s Nowell & Nikita.

Thank you for reading. Reading rules!

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Uncanny Valley Digest: Manjula Padmanabahn

Hello, and welcome back to lip-smacking science fiction in the Uncanny Valley! Our “Sharing Air” discussion was the champagne’s bubbles! What happens when you’re buying air like bottled water? Are you aghast at the prospect? Or proud of how many flavors you can afford? This tidbit-length story packed a conversation-rich wallop.

“Sharing Air,” by Manjula Padmanabahn was published in 1984 in New Delhi’s New Sunday Express magazine. Another story of ideas; a pollution and climate change story that sets us up for Kim Stanley Robinson next time. Padmanabahn depicts the absurdity of the new culture that settles in after we adapt to rampant pollution.

Why the shortest story in the penultimate meeting? This week is our deep breath before a plunge. Our next discussion will be a full length novel, the latest from Kim Stanley Robinson: New York 2140. We will reconvene Even though you’ve still got four weeks to read it, Robinson’s book is nearly 700 pages long, so start now. Now for the notes!

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Padmanabahn’s story contained some essential character expression that was sorely lacking in Borges. The double edged satire of our flawed character narrating the story gives the sci-fi reveals a nice crackle.

"Are we there yet?" "Maybe we passed it."Welcome to HelDavid: “This story would be a great final exam. Come in, read it, then – based on the stories we read this semester – answer this question in an essay: ‘Is this story a utopian or a dystopian story?’ It’s clear they’ve solved a lot of environmental problems, after some serious setbacks (only 2 million humans left on all of Earth, for example). At the same time, you get the sense that they’ve got it worse than us.”

David and Nowell: “I am fascinated that this was 1984.” “Yeah, it seems 10 years too early.”

David: “It’s so clearly political that sci-fi magazines in the 80s would not have wanted it. That’s why it wasn’t never published in a sci-fi magazine. In some ways it resembles H.G. Wells, writing as a vehicle to get people to understand and become activists.

Huh...?

Nowell: “I like the flaws and self-critique of the main character. The mask and the radio communications, never seeing actual faces or hearing actual voices.”

p. 927, col. 2, “I own a brood of virtual children whom I share with other members of my thought-group.” A great, insidious line.

Not that kind of sharing...David: “The indignant narrator is what makes it work so well. The self-righteous narrator can’t see the things being preached to us. Just as heavy handed as the anti-nuke writing of the golden age. Sci-fi writers have something to learn from this writer.”

Nowell: “It turns on itself well, with good reveals. It’s like a dialectic.”

David: “Yeah, dialectic is a good word for this. But so heavy handed, it’s like a New Yorker piece.”

Suhail: “Another good example of a story of ideas. But at least this one has an engaging, flawed character to keep pace with. So much more effective.”

One smile?!David: “It’s not quite so dry. Telling, not showing; essay format, but nails it.”

Suhail: “It has a character. A narrator with a good conundrum of disdain for the past while still fetishising the past. (she still order boutique ‘Five Cities’ scented air.)”

p. 926, col. 1, “More like bleary with a touch of pleasurable panic,” The Radiohead syndrome. Modern technologized paranoia.

p. 926, col. 2, “They breathed one another’s air, for goodness’ sakes! Recycling all their airborne germs, their waste products, their cast off bronchial ceils, every kind of organic junk.” Contamination anxiety [This came up in The Iron Dream, also.], not just about pollution. People hermetically sealing their lives off from the organic living juices of other life forms; an unhealthy utopian perfection syndrome.

p. 926, col. 2, “The polluted earth itself!” By the end, a nice tidy, obvious, playful, heavy-handed, and mercifully short satire.

The reveal: A depression plague killed them, TJ & Tosc style, and who knows if it’s over. Self-loathing killed them. No trees, no air, no food, and she’s convinced she’s living in a modern utopia (because the propaganda apparatus works so well).

Did I mention the pizza was delicious?Did I mention the pizza was delicious?Did I mention the pizza was delicious?Did I mention the pizza was delicious?

See you August 24th for Kim Stanley Robinson’s latest novel, New York 2140.

Thank you for reading. Reading rules!

“Bloodless; but it’s big in Uqbar.”

What I say?

Hello, and welcome back to the Uncanny Valley! Our Borges discussion this week left us stimulated but mystified. In some ways, the story did not meet the criteriaof science fiction, and it brought up questions as to why this particular Borges story was included in the anthology. Possibly because the relationship between Tlön and Orbis Tertius toys with inter-dimensional travel.  An interesting discussion, though incessantly cerebral. And no fictional technology. Now for the notes!

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Jorge Luis Borges’ “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius,” is deft and erudite, but also dry and expository. In some regards, it is unclear why it is even included in a science fiction anthology.  It’s more of a linguistic and academic fantasy. It’s the kind of dry ideas-only story that makes grad students horny, so it gets niched into the canon via academia.

Part 1, Uqbar is just the phantom article, the hook clue leading to one mention of Tlön.

Part 2, A single volume of an encyclopedia from Tlön. A consequent linguistically deduced anthropology of Tlön from the articles in this one volume, somehow translated. Described on p. 148 as a “vast and systematic fragment.”

Part 3, A 1947 post script implying that Uqbar was invented by a cabal of intellectuals who wanted to create a fictional country, and that Tlön kind of grew out of that like a fan fiction universe or something. And now the world of Tlön, like the world of literature, is washing back and forth into our material reality.

Published in 1947. Borges is like Orwell or Huxley; sci-fi which is excluded from sci-fi by virtue of being literature. Gill: “Margaret Atwood’s publisher forbids her from labeling herself a sci-fi writer.” How is it sci-fi? It’s not; it’s a fantasy story. David: “If I had to tie Borges into science fiction, I’d bring him in on the branch that contains Poe.”

Nowell: “Reminds me of Flatland. It’s a thought experiment, not a story. It’s written as an essay. It’s a little dry.”

David: “You could Letham it up a bit. At least give it some characters. Make him a bookseller with an incontinent dog or something, tracking down this book, etc. Add some characters. Add some suspense.”

Suhail: “It reads like it should have a bibliography, but it doesn’t. Reading it reminds me of being in grad school. It’s all intellectual. It’s like a ripple of the Futurist movement. Modernist, stream-of-consciousness esoterica.”

David: “I like stories about feelings, not stories about ideas. That’s what I did when I was a pretentious teenage writer: ‘Wasn’t it Balzac…’”

Nowell: “No decoding of the ideas, very didactic. My favorite line of the whole story: ‘Transparent tigers and towers of blood.’ I laughed out loud and starred it.”

A people, a planet, a species who live in a different material experience of time and place. Much like the language conundrum in “Story of Your Life.” A different syntax describing a previously inconceivable reality. A different means of reaching similar ends. By page 150, infinite regressions teasing the horizons of human cognition.

p. 150  “The future has no reality except as a present hope, and the past has no reality except as a present recollection.”

p. 150 “crepuscular memory” or twilight memory. Is that like the pre-death dream in the last moments of life?

p. 150, footnote to “eleventh century”: “A ‘century,’ in keeping with the duodecimal system in use on Tlön, is a period of one-fourteenth of a year.” HA!

p. 151 A fun word here, “heresiarch.” A kingpin of heresy; czar of hearsay.

Escherp. 151 Tlön’s geometry. No nouns in their language, two types of geometry to account for the utter totality of the relative experience of reality. “As one’s body moves through space, it modifies the shapes that surround it.”

Other aspects of Tlon’s culture as characterized by pure and total idealism. Tlön’s literature: One plot, infinite permutations. Different means, same ends.

You start to get a clue that “Tlön” is a way of seeing Earth. Different means, same ends.

p. 152 “hronir”. “Secondary objects” that spring into existence out of distraction or confusion. These ultimately make it “not only possible to interrogate, but to modify the past, which is now no less plastic, no less malleable than the future.”

p. 152 “ur”, A related term. But an object with his brought into existence by suggestion, out of hope. (like the gold mask dug up by the students.)

Post Script – 1947. Tlön was “an invention, a satire.” Now some folk in Tlön wrote a book about us called Orbis Tertius. Also, two material objects from Tlön have been found here on earth.

p. 154, column 2. Really esoteric almost coherent language. David: “This sounds like Exegesis stuff, by the way.”

p. 154 The compass “intrusion.” Tlön starts leaking into our world. Like the porous exchange of ideas between the world of the written word and the world of our material experience. And the heavy cone, a Tlön-ian artifact; “an image of the deity.”

p. 154-5 Tlön is quite possibly overtaking Earth. Our sciences are transforming.

Suhail: “It is curious to note here that, in Arabic, ‘uqbar’ means ‘greater than,’ or ‘larger than.’”

David: “A bunch of stuff that prefigures the post-modernism. Juxtaposition of fictional, historical, and modern people and places. The Pynchon connection holds up. There’s a guy who picks out non-fictional elements and goes down the rabbit hole with them.”
Some gems:
-The language with no nouns. Nouns are described as moments, sense experiences. (p. 149, “There are famous poems composed of a single enormous word; this word is a ‘poetic object’ created by the poet.”
-Borges is trying to smash boundaries that at the time seemed insurmountable; but it’s a bloodless and cerebral mind puzzle.
-The porous realities between Tlön and Earth, now that Tlön has been discovered or set into existence, now others create fan fiction and artifacts from Tlön arrive in Earth.

Like this pizza.

David: “Like Star Wars or Middle Earth, these fictional worlds have their own mass and shape and consequence.”

Tune in next time for a taste of something you’ve never snarfed before, our discussion of Manjula Padmanabahn’s “Sharing Air.”

See you soon. Thank you for reading. Reading rules!

“Reiko’s Universe Box,” by Kajio Shinji

Where “Story of Your Life” is a story about almost too much science, in “Reiko’s Universe Box,” by Kajio Shinji, the science only functions metaphorically. Gill said it gave him insight into what kind of writer he is. “I’m more ‘Reiko.’”

Not Reiko.

“Reiko’s Universe Box,” by Kajio Shinji (published 1981, translated into English in 2007). This translation time lag led to a tangent about the western sci-fi scene naively “discovering” sci-fi which had always been in Asia -China, Japan, Russia, India – when they’d been reading ours the whole time.

A clean 3 act structure
1. Set up the characters and the situation, boom: universe in a box.
2. Husband punches the universe box.
3. Shit goes down. Black hole style.

From Indiana.edu

Sparse physical description, much is left to the reader’s imagination, and deftly. This story is about the marriage, their mismatch,  and the divergent relationship imploding.

Gill: “A superego marriage where society and social similarities have mandated that we be together.”

by Yoriko Nagasaki. Click for more...Cool, funky, red herrings; stuff like the anonymity of the gift giver, the detail about the manufacturer, all the false leads. Stuff you get excited about that goes nowhere. Some tangential stuff about how this is a pattern in Japanese erotic writing; little useless ancillary pleasures that function as foreplay.

The progression of their negligence of the marriage is very tidy. First he warns her about working late, then calling when late, then occasionally calling when late, never calling when late, then late more often. Their seperate lives are forming while Reiko gets more and more engrossed in the universe box. So by the time he is cheating on her, she isn’t even remembering to make him dinner anyway. And it is interesting the way her husband gets angry at her for not getting angry at his habits. Well, hey, you warned me, so what do I have to get angry at?

Each of them failed at the marriage. Like the universe box, the marriage was accelerated to its end within months.

In an improvisational way, the marriage is a universe box. Their marriage is predicated on their mismatch. There unimpassioned bond. “A superego marriage,” Gill called it. They’re both good but they don’t link up quite right and they consequently don’t have harmony. Then some forces come along that need harmony. Their lack of it affects the changes.

When the husband punches the universe box, things speed up. He shows violence. Gill referenced the “Confrontation Curve” at the husband’s outburst. A psychedelic time lapse of their marriage deteriorating. The sun is named after him, and the planets are their children.

Gill: “I’d be curious to learn about the translation process, because the way it’s described, it’s more of a solar-system box. The story has almost nothing to do with science. It is all about this couple, and what their worlds are, and what their engagement to their worlds does to them.

p. 718 “The flow of time of the universe box had accelerated drastically.”
p.    “The white giant had turned into a major black hole.”
A refrain of that theme of the two being mismatched in the beginning.
p.   “He must be a good guy, she would tell herself.”

From UniverseToday.comStock characters for the exploration. Reiko goes out and finds books and learns elementary astronomy. She becomes more addicted to staring at it. The husband stays stock, but his negligence of the marriage progresses in step with Reiko’s increased involvement with the universe box.

Did the husband become a black hole, too? (Being the namesake of the star and all.)

Given the theme of infinite regression (when Reiko speculates on another Reiko in her universe box), perhaps instead of dying like her husband, perhaps Reiko was quantum transported like an electron. Yeah, sure – no.

Tune in next week when we discuss the master of mysticism, Jorge Luis Borges‘ “Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius.” [Download PDF]

Thank you for reading. Reading rules!

Uncanny Valley Digest: Ted Chiang

“Story of Your Life,” by Ted Chiang

This skillfully and scientifically executed short story (published 1998) was recently released as the film, Arrival, which I enjoyed very much. If you’ve seen it, good, because this is an instance where the screenwriting effectively enhances the story. As a short story, it is cerebral, nostalgic, thought provoking, and in some ways underwhelming. As a movie, many of the storytelling elements, like tension and conflict, are filled out much better.

Gill says the thing that caused the salty discharge from his eyes was the parent’s choice to have the child, no matter what the future. The notion that Chiang toys with is that even if you know the future, you can’t change it. In fact, knowing the future obliges you to fulfill it.
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The heptapods bring a new temporal awareness to humanity, conveyed through their written language. Non-causal, telelogical reality. Knowing the end as you begin and going through all of the performance of communication anyway to get there. Similar ends, different means.

Nope.

Set in opposition, narratively speaking, to the human’s causal linear historical style of thinking. Word order is entirely irrelevant to heptapods, as is the practical difference between the present and the future. One tempting anecdotal illustration of the concept in humans: the child insisting on the story being read to her, not because she wants to know the end, but because she wants to hear it read aloud; the performance, like listing to the music of life, like listening to a good album. You know exactly how it ends before you begin, then immerse yourself in the cycle of songs. A good album can be listened to hundreds of times without losing relevance. That is what the heptapod time perception resembles, based on the clues in their languages. And since linguistic context builds a person’s world (the controversial [is language a technology or a biology?] Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, a cultural comparison through language. Which engenders the old sink hole of “aliens” basically just being some other terrestrial ethnicity. How outside the box is it possible to get?) Again, same ends, different means, but in heptapod, ends and means are essentially interchangeable and each integral.

More like this.

Of course Arrival was a pleasing enhancement of “Story of Your Life.” The short story uses scant suspense or tension, all of the surprises aren’t; because well, that’s the nature of heptapod’s temporal awareness – no surprises. The bits that the movie did which were very satisfying, like the Chinese prime minister stuff (the secret he gives her in the future), the keyed up military intrigue, and the explanation that the heptapods came to us now because they already knew they would be helped by us in the far future (which echos the Chinese prime minister stuff) – none of that is in the short story. Kudos, Arrival. Way to use a good screenplay.

Telelogical vs. Causal
When you know the future, if you can see the future, you can’t choose to live otherwise; having the child or not, though already knowing the future of the child.

Gill: “Philosophically, it’s bullshit. A good existentialist would say that’s not some choice you can make.”

Heptapod, by Anna Deef
by Anna Deef

Knowing the future doesn’t empower you to change it, even if you have the illusion that you can change it. Living out the present becomes a performance of well-known music, rather than a causal chain of events.

A good pairing/contrast with Reiko’s Universe Box. Where “Story of Your Life” is about almost too much science, in “Reiko’s” the science only functions metaphorically (except for the elementary astronomy Reiko begins reading).

Gill: “This contrast of the two stories, these two uses of science, gave me some insight into the kind of science fiction writer I am.”

Tune in next time for more on science fiction that does not ask you to learn science, and trip out with us over “Reiko’s Universe Box.”

Thank you for reading. Reading rules!

Uncanny Valley Digest: James Tiptree, Jr.

Hello science fiction lovers! Welcome back to the Uncanny Valley. Last week, we let Cordwainer Smith take us on a insightful, dangerous, but somehow whimsical ride through the human mind. This week, leave behind the whimsy, ’cause we’re going to Big Junction, where the only people laughing are the aliens!

“And I Woke And Found Me Here On The Cold Hill’s Side” (1972), by James Tiptree, Jr. (Alice Bradley Hastings Sheldon)

DerStandard.atThe Bio: Tiptree was a raised by intellectual parents, a lawyer father and writer mother, and before joining intellectual life, worked for the military, then the intelligence community. In 1942, she joined the war effort as a cryptographer and rose to the rank of Major. After WWII, she worked briefly as a CIA spook (‘52-’55), then returned to academic and artistic pursuits;  very conversant in military culture, and that made her gender deception more believable. She published under a pseudonym to protect her academic reputation, and a male pseudonym at that to conveniently sidestep sexist prejudices.

Another interesting biographical tidbit, thought by David to be a rumor, that just before she died, Tiptree killed her husband. Meg verified this bare fact with elaboration. Tiptree and her husband had a sort of death pact. Rather than decay into dotage, they chose to go before the very end. She shot him and then herself.

The story: A news reporter visiting a human built, alien-populated space station interviews  a human sex slave drug addict who is bitterly  enthralled with the aliens and tells a cautionary tale or two.

David: A weird gender dysphoria, or misidentifcation or dysfunction.

Meg has taught this story by giving it blind to students,  hiding the author biography. Then asking them if they felt any differently about the story after learning that it was written by a women. (The fact that Tiptree had expertise in psychological warfare may have had something to do with it, too.)

Getty

The colonialism theme. That line about balance of trade and the fall of the Polynesians. It’s not just about desire and sex and power, it is also about empire and servitude and conquering. The aliens get off on being admired, and tantalize and torture the humans, who wish for nothing more than to conquer this unconquerable population.

Nikita: There’s a whole element of addiction to it. That’s why the guy explaining it to the newsman is so bitter. A desire that leads nowhere, like sitting on a plastic egg. Like an impotent sexual addiction. There is a comparison to skag addiction earlier in the story.

P.614 “Sex? No, it’s deeper…Some cargo cult of the soul.”

Although, despite it being deeper than sex, the humans are attracted to the aliens for very physical reasons. The “smiling” animated body markings, etc., the strange bodies. Next thing you know they’re mopping up alien vomit “like it’s holy water.”

Detail of "The Thrall," By Dustin LeonMeg: During the space race, when this was published, there was a strong and public We’re-going-out-there, mentality. To the stars to the great unknown. And the aliens laugh, because they don’t have that. And they exploit that fascination in humans to make them gimpy freak slaves.

Suhail: And the way Tiptree describes it transcends technology. This kind of abusive addictive power play conquest has been played far back into time, with some humans doing it to others. An unpleasant thing to be made so vividly aware of, yet fascinating. Hmm.

David: A profound sense of sexual identity being alien, a far-out, fake, assembled, inhabited identity. None of this makes any sense biologically. Or in other words, that your sexuality is not inherent in your gender.

“Now we’ve met aliens we can’t screw, and we’re about to die trying.”

Cycle of abuse power dynamic being replayed over the Procyas by the Humans. Procyas are the little aliens who take abuse from humans, out of fascination.

p. 613 “Can’t you see, man? That’s us. That’s the way we look to them, to the real ones.”

Like the way it feels to be totally in love with someone who has contempt for you. That power posture, exploited to addiction and self destruction.

Tiptree was outed as a woman in ‘76 or ‘77.

David: I wonder what Phil Dick thought of that? It must have been a real blow to his world view. It would be interesting to see if there was a letter about it.

Meg: Remember, we are in unreliable narrator territory. This is a drugged up addict, with an inside knowledge of the addiction, speaking to a news reporter. But what is that person missing? And can we see anything through the story that he is not giving us? It’s one monologue to the newswriter.

Suhail: An idea that the Aliens represent Patriarchy doing to humans what men do to women. No, it’s a more subtle, diffuse power play even than that. Adoration and the urge to conquest thwarted, desire unfulfillable, and hence irresistible.

Suhail: and the end, it reminds me of The Story Of O (Pauline Reage, 1954).

David: Even if you know what happens, when you hear the muse’s call, you can’t help yourself.

Meg: Tiptree pulls the title from a line out of a John Keats’ poem, called “La Belle Dame sans Merci”  about a knight at arms spirited away by a fairy lover who seduces him and disappears, leaving him with nothing, haunted, on a cold hill side. But he is also relieved of his illusions.

Meg & David got into a thread about how they might teach this to undergrads: A commentary on Hook-up culture. “Collect them all,” attitude about lovers. How many different kinds of fascinating weirdos can you sleep with and how will they hurt you? The humans are attracted to the humans for very visceral, physical, sensory reasons. Look at the markings and colors on that body.

Nikita: A critique of consumerism. Those useless baubles, (Meg: “Trade beads!”) that humans collect to try to win the fickle favor of the aliens.

Meg: This is a great Tiptree story, but my least favorite.

Meg recommends “Houston, Houston, do you read?” “The Women Men Don’t See” and  “Love Is The Plan. The Plan Is death.”

David: Interesting pair of stories. Both have the erotic other and the consequence of unattainable, visceral desires. This would go well with the Frederick Pohl story, “Day One Million.”

Suhail: Coincidentally, Frederick Pohl is the one who encouraged Cordwainer Smith to publish his first story.

Meg’s off to Taos Toolbox in New Mexico to write! Sooper cool!

Be Advised: our next meeting is 6/22. Read “Story Of Your Life” by Ted Chaing (Yes, the story that became Arrival[Download PDF] & “Reiko’s Universe Box” by Kajio Shinji [In the book].

Thank you for reading. Reading rules!

Uncanny Valley Digest: Cordwainer Smith

Hello, readers. Welcome back! Last night’s discussion took a turn for the kink in us all. Reading more short stories this summer, instead of a book-a-week, has been very favorably received by the rest of the group. Great turnout last night, with two California call-ins and three live crew in the sci-fi lab. Each reading session covers two short stories by hand-picked authors. I’m going to dedicate one post to each short story, and publish them spaced apart. Now, to digest some Cordwainer Smith:

“The Game of Rat & Dragon” (1955), Cordwainer Smith (Paul Myron Anthony Linebarger)

Interesting pairing. Both of these authors (Cordwainer and Tiptree) worked for the military and U.S. intelligence. Cordwainer was an Army Colonel and an expert in psychological warfare.  As Paul M. A. Linebarger, he literally wrote the book on the subject, called Psychological Warfare (which, by the way, he dedicated to his wife).

Both authors used pseudonyms to publish their science fiction. Though Tiptree said she was doing it to preserve her academic reputation, Cordwainer more likely did it to hide his ties to the intelligence community. (You’ll forgive me for referring to him by his first name, but “Cordwainer” is too quirky and rare a word. I want to take every opportunity I can to use it in this post, because there are scant other places I’ll get to use it.)

Meg: Both of these stories are anthologized a lot.

Nikita: I’ve never seen them before they’re a real treat.

Cordwainer was a New Wave precursor, who inspired those reality shifters in the 60s. How many did he influence? LeGuin, it clearly seems.

Gill: Early LeGuin-style interspecies mind melding stuff. I thought it would be gimmicky, all about the pinlighting and the terminology.

Nikita: I thought it was going to be more of a dragons in space fantasy. But it turned into a cool conceptualization of traveling at light speed.

Pinlighting? it’s the use of light to dispel the dark malevolent consciousness-eaters that dwell in the interstellar dark.

Gill: Very freudian dark abyss void staring back at us

It’s treat that the Partners (cats) help prevent against that kind of psychosis.

Planoforming- using telepaths to navigate faster than light travel.

Gill: It’s a really coherent imagining of a really far-out, different system, tangentially connected to our reality..

Nowell: Yet it doesn’t feel stilted either. Doesn’t feel wooden. Totally sat with me. The language is somehow lean and commonplace, but the things described are complex and subtle.

Suhail: Lots here for the cat lover.  Cat relations and emotional intelligence and psychology.

Meg: He’s messing with human vs. alien archetype. Gets into that hubris about astronauts. The fact that as a species the cat is equivalent and necessary to our survival.

Illustration from the magazine edition, from Gutenberg.netNikita: A little flavor of Orson Scott Card’s Enders Game. These pinlighters are retiring at age 26 after 10 years service. These pinlighter telepaths start as children (much like Linebarger did). For example, the little girl new recruit, West, being leered at by the cat, Captain Wow. It has visceral undertones, not explicitly carnal, but deeper. And no one is concerned about it. That’s just the way it is.

David wonders how this went over back when it was published in ‘55. Must have seemed quite subversive. Hmm.

Being telepathic and melding with the cats has somehow made Underwood a pariah in polite female society. Pinlighters are creepy and bad with the ladies. And by the end, Underhill can not imagine a bond greater than that he feels with his cat Partner. How could a woman ever compare? Can’t.

Meg: The sexualization of pinlighter/cat pairings. If you’re a male pinlighter do you have to be paired with a female cat for it to work best? The girl West was paired with Captain Wow, but Underhill gets the Lady May.

The author did that, yes, but he also includes a description of how Partner pairings are done by a roll of dice. So maybe just a slip in style there.

P.297  Telepathy as a platform for very good and nuanced descriptions of interacting and changing states of mind.

p.297 Lady May experiences things before Underhill.

Illustration from the magazine edition, from Gutenberg.netP.296 “Human eyes and cat eyes looked across an immensity which no words could meet, but which affection spanned in a single glance.”

Lady May’s survival is unclear. And she saved Underhill. He’s struggling with language and humans at the end. “Words were all that could reach ordinary people, like this doctor.” it’s a step down to have to deal with other humans after being in this mind meld with a cat.

The little kitty football rockets with thermonuclear magnesium light cannons. That’s awesome. Imagine how well trained they are (anyone who’s ever tried to strap a cat into a pet carrier understands).

A lot of this story deals with desire and sex, and makes cats partially analogous to human females in a way because neither can ever be understood by patriarchal oafs. Ha.

Underhill is damaged at the end, some kind of damage from coming in direct contact with a Dragon (or Rat, depending on your perspective). He may be out of work, in that special part of the hospital where dragon survivors go?

"Hes hot for the cat now!"David: Look at this ending! He’s hot for the cat now!

p. 299 Underhill is having girl problems. For some reason, girls think that guys who fly with partners are creeps. Maybe it’s the telepathy. In the end, he loves his cat more than women.

Gill: It is really engaging and fun. The structure lures you into thinking you’ll be deciphering the tech vocab, but it twists far away from that and brings in some dynamic psychological and narrative elements.

Thanks for reading. Reading rules!