The Scientific Storytelling of Speculative Fiction

You know, I find speculative fiction one of the most enjoyable, strangest genres we've ever explored in class.

The genre is so off the wall, with such strange funny metaphors used to explain science and relationships that never would've crossed my mind. I like the combination of fact and fiction into stories relevant to everyday people. The story we read about the creation of the universe, likening particles to next door neighbors all jammed together without privacy or space was strange, hilarious, and endearing all at once. It was as if the author gave science this weird, quirky personality. Theory becomes a platform for storytelling.

The irony is that this combination makes the facts all that more memorable. Through these stories, I find myself almost connecting to scientific events as I would to those nature documentaries narrating the mating of two animals like a forbidden love story. It's a matter of finding a point where humans can relate to events so far removed from daily life. That, the author does very well. Occasionally the metaphors are hard to follow without a degree of pre-existing scientific know-how. However, I wonder if high school science classes would benefit from reading one of these off-the-wall little speculative blurbs referencing the beginning of covalent bonds or how oxidation reduction equations are really balanced out.

In high school, I had a teacher for Honors Chemistry who had a love for telling stories. I will never forget her explanations on molecular bonding. She explained them in the form of gender attraction; one bond involved a girl and a guy particle, another involved two of the same kind, and with the third the particles "went both ways." Her metaphor was so funny relevant that I've never forgotten it, despite some of the technical names being thrown to the wayside. Perhaps with the inclusion of speculative fictions students could grow in both subjects, crossing the supposed boundaries between the right brain and left brain. I'd take a guess that students may even enjoy both all that much more because of it.

To Infinity, and Beyond! The Space Opera

As the daughter of both a Trekkie and a Star Wars geek, I'm certainly no stranger to the Space Opera. It's funny how it's almost hereditary---I have just as much of an affinity for the wide, galaxy-traveling epics filled with different alien races and planets as my father. Filled with high adventure, brave heroes, and dramatic moments set in a futuristic societies, space opera is the great epic of the science fiction world. But what aspects of Space Opera make it so appealing? What makes the subgenre of space opera appeal to so many people, young and old alike?

I see space opera as something of a hybrid of multiple genres. It's like a big fantasy epic filled with different creatures and new sights, sounds, and technologies. Much like the Lord of the Rings trilogy, there's a strong feeling of high adventure, crossing into just the Action Adventure genre like any Indiana Jones film. Yet to expand on this even further, with gunfights and a frontier attitude, the some Space Operas could even be considered an epic western, with the occasional standoff between characters. After all, the notion of Manifest Destiny that led Americans to sweep through the West isn't far off from the race to acquire planets for precious resources (case and point, the film Dune). Even further, movies like Star Wars are more about war politics, akin to even some historical pieces about historical rebellions involving monarchies or dictatorships. Regardless of what genre floats your boat, there honestly seems to be something for everyone in the Space Opera subgenre.

Conceptually, the setting is a method of appeal as well. Space becomes a forum for the most creative of storytellers to the most scientific or theoretical. For people uninterested in fictional stories without concrete relevance or commentary, space in and of itself is a huge mystery. We wonder about life on other planets, travel to those planets, and just how large the universe truly is. As "the final frontier," so much of it remains unexplored that Science Fiction and Space Operas can run wild, yet their roots are still found in scientific speculation. The theoretical "What if's" become jumping off points to imagine new worlds, stories, and political systems. After exploring every nook and cranny of planet earth, space truly is our last greatest adventure----easily capturing the imaginations of people worldwide.

Fuddruckers... Futtbuckers... Buttruckers...

After watching the first few scenes of Idiocracy, I absolutely had to finish the film. Was I happy I did so----ehhhhh, it's honestly hard to say. A hilarious, yet horribly misogynist film, I think part of what made Idiocracy almost unpleasant was the truth in the commentary of it all. As our culture becomes more and more influenced and controlled by corporations, who's not to say that we'll all be wearing clothes turning us into walking advertisements? Or who's to say that in a couple hundred years, our race truly won't get dumber and dumber due to lack of natural selection, turning us into a laughing stock for any extraterrestrials peering at us from neighboring star systems?

When I look at science fiction parodies and satire, as outrageous as they are at times, their commentary almost seems to be even more truthful than that of other genres. Because it involves the future, theories based upon actual scientific exploration are easily expanded upon while still retaining something believable. For example, the opening scene of Idiocracy strikes me as genius. It takes a phenomena that is happening all across America---overblown commercialism, super-sizing food servings, mindless reality TV, etc.---and creates what really is a hugely exaggerated version of our present, but with much of the same problems. In my opinion, this kind of commentary is extremely relevant for upcoming generations.

It is the discussion of our future that creates a great platform for commentary on the present. For many people who go through life uninterested in the news, or who they're buying from, or what kind of culture they're feeding into; science fiction parody is just one way to get people to wake up and smell the coffee. While it won't change the world, for the audience that abhors serious speculation, humor certainly is one way to get people's attention.

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On top of the obvious jokes, Idiocracy also has tons of little snippets hidden in plain site on ads, cars, and in much of the film's production design. Here's a link pointing out eleven of them.

http://www.11points.com/Movies/11_Hidden_Secrets_in_Idiocracy

Warbreaker: A Colorful Concept

Warbreaker, with its world of color, breath, and necromancy definitely has the feel of any MMORPG. The mage, the princess, the gods---each character tends to fit into standard roles that could easily be at the title screen of any good fantasy game. Yet when I started reading Warbreaker the idea of a game-like story structure had not even occurred to me. With its own politics and talk of medieval war among neighboring kingdoms, the novel reminded me more of Game of Thrones or a watered-down Garth Nix's Sabriel. It read more along the lines of a Young Adult fantasy in my mind; the language was not particularly complicated, and the world was pretty easy to understand, albeit expansive.

It wasn't until Professor Steiling mentioned the game-like construction of the story that I connected the dots. In middle school, I was very interested in young adult fiction involving magic and fantasy elements, so it's possible I didn't notice the correlations because I'm so used to a similar structure. To start in a dungeon probably should've been a dead giveaway, since so many games (most memorably for me, Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess) have similar stages towards the beginning of the storyline. However, despite its likeness to books I've enjoyed reading and games I like playing, I don't think I really liked what I read of Warbreaker.

In all honesty, part of me feels that this quantitative nature is a bit too overdone, and kind of cheapens the story. In my opinion, the author makes it seem far too easy to transfer Breath, although there are certain rules based on classifications of people. Also, for me, the book didn't live up to its intriguing focus on color and spoken word linked with magic because it just didn't feel engaging or immersive enough. The concept has all this potential to have all this beautiful imagery, but the author falls short, limiting his explanations to the straightforward and fairly mundane. Because of this I only made it into the first few chapters. For me, I think that Warbreaker will be one for the shelves.

Gothic Horror: Keeping a Genre Alive

After studying the novel in high school AP English, I am no stranger to the dark tale of Frankenstein. We'd covered all the bases; Mary Shelley's fear of pregnancy, the legendary ghost-story competition at Lord Byron's castle. Not to mention all of the dark imagery that comes from being in a mysterious castle or mansion. However, gone are the days of cheesy black and white films, the monster holding a woman high over his head, teeth bared in a silly grimace with the accompanying, "UNNNHHHHH."

So how does a genre like gothic horror survive?

When I look at the most recent films and novels that have gained popularity along that vein of darkness and mystery, I suppose the qualities of the "gothic" have still managed to weave themselves into the woodwork. Some of the best gothic films in my opinion are the ones that have picked up the dark qualities in the novel Frankenstein, without overdoing it on the drama like in the old films. And a lot of these step into other genres, kind of allowing the "gothicness" to be in feel, rather than control the overall look of a film or hitting your over the head with overt themes.

Filmmakers (such as Tim Burton) have even managed to weave gothic aspects into films aimed at younger audiences. Burton's take on Alice in Wonderland as well as his original work, Corpse Bride are probably my two favorite examples because they incorporate a gothic feel without being dark to the point of feeling like a "horror." Burton's style is an odd hybrid of childishness, and darkness. There's a definite creepiness, the essence of a period piece and different time period, but the colors are stronger, there are lighter moments, and it's all woven together to create a style extraordinarily his own. I think the surge of popularity in darker films will keep the aura of gothic horror alive as its aspects weave in and out of other genres.

Ghosts, Werewolves, and Vampires, Oh My!

Vampires. Once they were monsters and predators, and now crushes and lovers? If Bram Stoker could see us now, in lieu of the Twilight franchise...

But let's back up here.

When I first read Interview With the Vampire, it came as a part of a long list of vampire and supernatural themed novels I'd been reading in high school in my own time. Before Interview, there was The Silver Kiss, Blood and Chocolate, Vamped, Bluebloods, Meg Cabot's The Mediator series, and yes, the infamous Twilight. One right after the other, I was reading these supernatural teen love stories. Definitely not the best writing specimens (with the exception of Vamped), so why was I so hooked? What made me so drawn to these types of stories, like a moth to a flame?

Perhaps it was the idea of having something or someone extraordinary----or rather, as a teen, BEING extraordinary. Every teen wants to feel special. Thanks to teen angst, media, home life, you name it---most of them don't. There's a feeling of isolation, of weirdness, of being the "other," and worrying about acceptance. Enter the mythos of the vampire, or really any supernatural creature. Taking on unfamiliar mutated traits, forced to do horrific acts as part of their nature, and forced into self-isolation form the norm---honestly, not much different than the internal struggles of your average teen.

The monster in question, be it a vampire, a ghost, or a werewolf, that's not the true focus. The books are less about those superpowers, the violence and danger, or the complications of having a supernatural lover; but more about relationships, and just teenage life, as a whole. Each of those books is really an exaggerated picture with just higher stakes. These books are about the risks we take in loving one another, dealing with changes to ourselves and other, and being thrown into the blurred morality of the adult world.

So why did I read them? Perhaps it was my way of understanding a world that felt tumultuous at the time. Like exaggerate parables. Or maybe they gave me something I could compare with my own boring life in my search for meaning. Hah, or maybe it was just a part of being an art kid, to want that escapism. Or maybe, it was like a form of passive rebellion. I saw characters defy expectation, and as an honor student who never skipped school, partied, or snuck out; I suppose I wanted to do the same. Because with strict Catholic parents, it was definitely better to live vicariously, then get grounded til' kingdom come.

The Kwaidan

With almost-realistic psychoanalytical twists, Asian Horror has always been something that both fascinates me and scares me off. I love the concepts behind Japanese folklore, especially the demons, since they aren't really bad, but simply a part of the mortal world. Ghosts are strange unstoppable forces of nature. Meeting one almost seems to be a product of complete luck most of the time; ordinary folks can end up in horrible situations, just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing exemplifies this like the Kwaidan, a collection of stories about ghosts, spirits, and strange occurrences by Lafcadio Hearn.

Reading stories from the Kwaidan was one of the strangest experiences I've had yet. I felt like I never really knew what was going to happen next, and the endings varied from happy to grotesque---while some stories hardly had resolved endings at all. And the spirits themselves seemed to vary greatly, in the sense that they were anywhere from good, bad, to undefinable---whereas most western scary stories only contain evil spirits. While some left me laughing at the ending (the faceless people), others baffled me, or left me just plain creeped out. The early story of the monk who plays for an undead court of spirits, fetched every night by the voice of a warrior---that story struck me as genius, while the imagery of the man's head bleeding from his missing ears was grotesque. After watching Yuki-Onna from the film Kwaidan in class, I actually went through and watched the entire film in my own time.

Speaking of Yuki-Onna---I have something of a love-hate relationship with those female Japanese ghosts dressed in all white, with long dark hair known as the "Yurei." They've always both terrified and fascinated me, ever since I first heard of Ju-on, or The Grudge. While I'll never see that film (I have a HUGE aversion to just the imagery of Yurei), I once read an article about the mythos of those specific spirits in which the author talked about the Yurei as an embodiment of the Japanese male's fear of the vengeful woman. It's fascinating to think about where and why these stories originated, before they were collected in works such as the Kwaidan---facts that for many of them, may even now remain a mystery.

From Hobbiton to Mount Doom

Dwarves, Elves, Orcs, Hobbits, Ents, and even a Smeagol---you name it, and J.R.R. Tolkein has written about it. Unbelievably comprehensive, the Lord of the Rings trilogy and prequels are truly works of art. Forging the ins and outs of every culture, language, rivalry, war, and landscape; the fantasy epic is a totally immersive experience. Reading one requires the reader delve into the world entirely, falling into step with the sleepy norm of Hobbiton only to be whisked away to dangerous caves crawling with terrifying creatures.

With such a detailed world and immersive journey, it's no wonder that epic fantasy novels such as these really become a brilliant method of escapism. With huge epics like Lord of the Rings and A Song of Ice and Fire, the material is almost endless. We are presented with this world, full of fantastical elements, unbelievable landscapes, and rich or bloody histories and it's nearly like traveling to a different country; all within the confines of several hundred pages. From my own experiences with epic fantasies these are the books you have to make time for, much like any addicting television series.

Cyberpunk, The Matrix, and Johnny Mneumonic

Whenever I read a book or novel, the visuals are one of the key factors that determines my level of interest in a story. Johnny Mneumonic was a bit difficult to place at first. I'm not sure I really knew what to picture for until I just happened to rewatch The Matrix for the first time in years. With gauges, strange piercings, lots of black and off-the-wall clothing and makeup, I suppose I imagine Johnny Mneumonic's version of the future to be filled much with people dressed the same way---though with a little more of a 90's feel to it, I must admit. I began to picture some kind of weird ska music video, mixed with techno, Bladerunner, and goth culture. But let's switch gears to The Matrix here.

In The Matrix, the Wachowski siblings created an aesthetic that went against the clean, minimalistic idea of the future that so many filmmakers tend to favor. The idea of a gritty, darker future is something that definitely feels more real, though I'm not entirely sure that I like it. It's just too dark, too seedy, too weird, and too dangerous. Kind of akin to moving backwards towards a future with questionable morality and decay, rather than a future meant to improve the human race. Perhaps body modification and less of an influence on technological aesthetic is an improvement towards a more straightforward, raw culture.

King Rat

Okay. King Rat's pretty gross. That garbage-eating scene was not a walk-in-the-park to read. And from what I've heard, I haven't even made it to the nastiest parts. Granted though, it definitely was interesting for a couple different reasons. Overall though, King Rat wasn't my favorite read so far.

I had very mixed feelings about reading China Mieville's novel. On one hand, the writing was incredibly interesting. There was an urgency to it, and a disjointedness about the thoughts, speech, and actions of each character in a way that I'd never seen before. The mood made everything feel dark, mysterious, cryptic, and gritty. The language itself also felt very fast paced. Yet because of this, often it was hard pretty hard to follow. The chapters that described the Rat King pulling Saul down alleyways, through windows, and over and across the eaves of houses were confusing without knowing the streets of London themselves. That, and British slang really is a whole other animal.

The strange concept of Saul's "ratness," which wasn't defined by the natural laws of science at all was a little tricky to accept. Eating garbage and liking it? Being able to fit through small spaces and go unnoticed? I had a hard time believing the realistic aspects of this world because there seemed to be very few boundaries to ground the story in reality. Also, the idea of the Piper, and King Rat, and all the different titles were a little bit hard to latch onto. With almost archetypal titles like the Rat King and the Piper, it felt like an odd and twisted dark fable, something I wasn't super fond of.  It felt a bit too cheesy, and didn't seem to mesh properly with the real world. Yet the introduction of the early dubstep was something I found interesting---I feel that there's been few books that I've read that have tried to describe sound or music that intensely. I liked the language used to describe the different beats, and the rising swells of the music.

In any case, again, King Rat was not really one of my favorites. Interesting, definitely---But I'm just fine without my share of garbage-munching. :)

Black Maria

Reading Black Maria was a very interesting throwback to The Witches by Roald Dahl. Much like Roald Dahl presented his witches, these women are almost normal, but with something decidingly "off." They are not pinups girls in short striped skirts and stockings (like the horridly short Halloween costumes released every year.) Nor are they echoes of pulp covers. Holding nothing short of hen parties, dressing like "proper" ladies, and following their own Queen Bee, both depictions of older, dangerous witches are quite similar. However, rather than make children their target, men seem to be instead.

I find it really interesting how witches do embody the battle of the sexes, and maternal power and society. When reading about witches in the past, because their stories and portrayals seemed for vary so much, I had never even picked up on it as a kid. For example, the portrayal of witches in Kiki's Delivery Service is VERY different from that of the Wizard of Oz, at least on the surface. One is a protagonist, the other an antagonist. The wicked witch is feared, while Kiki is just somewhat socially ostracized. Looking at that last fact however, perhaps both of them do have more in common than I thought.

I like that Black Maria's action starts to sneak up on you; the little blips in the radar of normalcy managed to keep me on my toe is just enough. I'm especially interested in the battle between men and women that slowly is coming to light, though it also does frustrate me---Mig is the only one who seems to be blind to the gender differences. Unfortunately, I did not get to read all of Black Maria, and have been stopping myself from creeping on the Wikipedia summary to write this. I actually am thoroughly enjoying reading it though. At first, the book felt slow and a bit tedious, but finally has begun to pick up like crazy. I look forward to finishing it!

A Spiritual Education

Like millions of other children, the Harry Potter series captured my imagination at an early age. Restless with ordinary life, I was fascinated by the idea of being whisked away to another country, to learn a "science" of doing fantastical things in a captivating new world running parallel to our own. Like many other children, I too waited for my letter for Hogwarts but to no avail. There is a picture that the promise of a spiritual education paints, gilded in the awe of magic that has been sculpted through generations. In that sense, the Harry Potter series is much like a Peter Pan story---at first.

Unlike Peter Pan, the world of Harry Potter is not frozen in a forever-young perspective. The story of Harry's spiritual education is about growth, and a coming of age. Almost like a second childhood, the Wizarding World provokes amazement and curiosity. Entering that world forever changes the individual, the Muggle world becomes boring and vaguely safe. We are at first amazed, then trauma breaks our built up ideal, and then we grow. From my own experience, my education has been the lifting open of a window to the world. If elementary school was grabbing the bottom rail, high school and college were a series of manic pulls, sliding it open inch by inch. With every event, we all just learn as we go, and change with each new experience.

One of the most profound (and conflicting) concepts the series offered was that mental and emotional aging of the main character. The feelings of wonder, decaying into anger, a sense of duty, and everything between takes the reader for a rollercoaster, akin to the ups and downs of any struggling teen. Holistically, magic takes a backseat to the larger picture of Harry's determination of good from evil. At the series' finish, this ultimately culminates with the answer that there IS no black and white. Good and evil is no longer as simple as it was a the start of the series. Nothing broadcasts this more clearly than Severus Snape's character, and the reveal of his involvement with Harry's past.

With the acknowledgement of these grey areas, J.K. Rowling adds a level of believability to an otherwise straightforward character arc. While there is a definitive evil force, many of the underlying characters are humanized as cowards, or victims to fear. Also, there is all a manner of post-Hogwarts wizards who mirror the typical graduates we'd expect today. Hagrid, the man who, years later, never left school after being expelled. Tom Riddle, the seemingly good student gone bad who was never right in the head to begin with. Quidditch players who become famous athletes professionally. All a manner of alumni are mentioned, and the archetypes are not unheard of in everyday life. And much like graduation will be for us, Harry leaves school with a plan with it's fair share of risks and danger for the next stage of his life.

With that, I leave you with a quote, from the great Albus Dumbledore himself.

"It is important to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated." --Albus Dumbledore