Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Running Through Hugo's Back Yard 15: Dying Inside
Hugo nominee: Dying Inside by Robert Silverberg, 1973
My view: There is no doubt as to what David Selig is in this book. He's a telepath.
He's also a complete and utter wreck of a human being because of it.
This is easily one of Robert Silverberg's darkest novels (at least of the ones I've read) because he pulls absolutely no punches about Selig's many psychological shortcomings or the supposed gift of telepathy.That "gift" has helped shaped Selig into an opportunistic, ethically void grifter who is just as incapable of any sort of real emotional connection to another human being as anyone suffering from severe Asperger syndrome or full-blown autism. He's not a particularly likable protagonist as a result, but that's the point: Silverberg's ultimate message is that taking the easy way out from real human emotional give-and-take (in short, normal human interaction) is no real gift at all - it's one of the worst curses anyone can suffer in life.
Nuggety?: Only if you're into chewing gravel.
My view: There is no doubt as to what David Selig is in this book. He's a telepath.
He's also a complete and utter wreck of a human being because of it.
This is easily one of Robert Silverberg's darkest novels (at least of the ones I've read) because he pulls absolutely no punches about Selig's many psychological shortcomings or the supposed gift of telepathy.That "gift" has helped shaped Selig into an opportunistic, ethically void grifter who is just as incapable of any sort of real emotional connection to another human being as anyone suffering from severe Asperger syndrome or full-blown autism. He's not a particularly likable protagonist as a result, but that's the point: Silverberg's ultimate message is that taking the easy way out from real human emotional give-and-take (in short, normal human interaction) is no real gift at all - it's one of the worst curses anyone can suffer in life.
Nuggety?: Only if you're into chewing gravel.
Running Through Hugo's Back Yard 14: The Book of Skulls
Hugo nominee: The Book of Skulls by Robert Silverberg, 1973
My view: Silverbob's SF (or fantasy, in this case) is particularly rewarding when he goes into the dark corners of the human psyche and shines a flashlight around and he does it with a vengeance both here and in Dying Inside, which also picked up a Hugo nomination in '73. This is less a story about a mystical quest for immortality than it is of the limits of friendship and how far someone will allow their ethics to be mutilated in the name of an overriding goal, and it's no surprise that this was probably one of the works that caused Silverberg so much distress that he wrote less and less often in the seventies due to the emotional strain it caused. Admittedly, it's not easy to read. Which it to say that you should.
Nuggety?: Afraid not.
My view: Silverbob's SF (or fantasy, in this case) is particularly rewarding when he goes into the dark corners of the human psyche and shines a flashlight around and he does it with a vengeance both here and in Dying Inside, which also picked up a Hugo nomination in '73. This is less a story about a mystical quest for immortality than it is of the limits of friendship and how far someone will allow their ethics to be mutilated in the name of an overriding goal, and it's no surprise that this was probably one of the works that caused Silverberg so much distress that he wrote less and less often in the seventies due to the emotional strain it caused. Admittedly, it's not easy to read. Which it to say that you should.
Nuggety?: Afraid not.
Running Through Hugo's Back Yard 13: Bug Jack Barron
Hugo nominee: Bug Jack Barron by Norman Spinrad, 1970
My view: It's no surprise that this particular novel came out in 1969 and actually got things horribly right about trends in mass media decades before they became prevalent (the yapping-dog hothead as media pundit theme in BJB is especially galling to think about in this day and age); it's not even close to being a subtle novel (again, not surprising for the late 60's), but Spinrad's theme of trading your ethics in for a quick shot at "immortality" (as ersatz and disgusting as the form of it offered in this novel is) is just as frightening now as it was in '69. Even more so, since any number of more contemporary events (do not click on this link if you're concerned about spoilers) have turned out to be sickeningly true.
Nuggety?: You'd have one hell of an imagination in order to think so.
My view: It's no surprise that this particular novel came out in 1969 and actually got things horribly right about trends in mass media decades before they became prevalent (the yapping-dog hothead as media pundit theme in BJB is especially galling to think about in this day and age); it's not even close to being a subtle novel (again, not surprising for the late 60's), but Spinrad's theme of trading your ethics in for a quick shot at "immortality" (as ersatz and disgusting as the form of it offered in this novel is) is just as frightening now as it was in '69. Even more so, since any number of more contemporary events (do not click on this link if you're concerned about spoilers) have turned out to be sickeningly true.
Nuggety?: You'd have one hell of an imagination in order to think so.
Running Through Hugo's Back Yard 12: Slaughterhouse-Five
Hugo nominee: Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, 1970
My view: I suppose a hypothetical hard SF purist will refer to this as slipstream (o, Mother no!) and consign this to the non-SFnal rubbish heap instead of calling it the antiwar fable dressed up in SF clothing that it obviously is, but consider this - any number of Hugo nominees can be considered antiwar fables; the fact that they're encased in much more traditional forms of SF is probably the reason why they're not distastefully squinted at in a similar fashion. I suspect Vonnegut left organized SF more for that reason than any other. I wouldn't have, but a writer has to do what he or she thinks makes sense to their careers and artistic tastes. It's obvious Vonnegut apparently needed to do just that.
Nuggety?: You're kidding, right...?
My view: I suppose a hypothetical hard SF purist will refer to this as slipstream (o, Mother no!) and consign this to the non-SFnal rubbish heap instead of calling it the antiwar fable dressed up in SF clothing that it obviously is, but consider this - any number of Hugo nominees can be considered antiwar fables; the fact that they're encased in much more traditional forms of SF is probably the reason why they're not distastefully squinted at in a similar fashion. I suspect Vonnegut left organized SF more for that reason than any other. I wouldn't have, but a writer has to do what he or she thinks makes sense to their careers and artistic tastes. It's obvious Vonnegut apparently needed to do just that.
Nuggety?: You're kidding, right...?
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