Science Friction

If you are as sad and geeky as me, you will know well there are two types of science fiction. Good and bad. The first is entirely normal and the sort of healthy pastime which everyone should enjoy, justified by the fact that this first type is enjoyed by yourself. The second is the last shelter for sociopathic nerds and weirdos who should generally go out and get a bit more sunlight. Of course, such subjective judgements can be made by anyone – but I find there is a grain of truth in these arguments.

Obviously, they need honing. To start with, I would suggest that there are – and always has been – two different distinct genres of science fiction. The first, and with the finest pedigree, is the “scientific romances” which originate in the work of HG Wells. The second, whilst sharing Wellsian genealogy of all SF, has emerged from a distinct tradition which has come into visibility most obviously with big TV SF shows such as Battlestar Galactica and the multiple incarnations of Star Trek and should be more accurately termed “hard sci-fi”.

The latter – possibly as a result of a more overt debt to (generally) American comic novels and cult novels in the genre – is perhaps overtly more fantastic. It deals in GIGANTIC SPACE FLEETS, TRAWLING THE DEPTHS OF SPACE and DISCOVERING MIND-BLOWING THINGS with STRANGE ALIENS and HUGE SPECIAL EFFECTS to MAKE IT ALL LOOK JUST A BIT REAL (please imagine the above read by the annoying shouty-bloke who seems to earn his keep from every single sci-fi or war movie trailer). However, whilst these shows may appear technically superior, they are almost universally populated by men and women in wet-suits reading out impossibly complicated scientific gubbins where the plot turns on a ubiquitously unexplained MacGuffin and any such thing as human sentiment or drama are reduced to the barest functional elements, thus detroying what shreds of believability and drama remain within the lacklustre and overly technical yet preposterous plot.

To an extent, these criticisms can apply to all low-grade science fiction. However, the “scientific romance” genre arguably is more successful. Three examples present themselves – the pastiches of Terry Pratchett, the original and classic “scientific romances” of HG Wells and the longest running TV sci-fi show that is “Doctor Who.” These stories can take place in some distant and alien place – for example, Pratchett’s parrallel Discworld or the strange world of 82,000 AD in Wells’ “Time Machine”. Yet these strange worlds always provide a relevance -often dramatic – to some real world concern. Imperialism, bureaucracy, the police and Universities (alongside Faust, Shakespeare and information technology) are all returning features of Pratchett’s fabulous Discworld books.

Whilst hard-SF fans might argue that this is equally true of, for example, Star Trek, I would counter that such shows deliberately alienate the viewer or reader from the drama through their functional emphasis on technical vocabularies and pseudo-scientific legitimation of their otherness with the net result that the plot and enjoyment for the casual – non-fan- viewer suffers.

This is arguably not true of Wellsian “scientific romances” – the original incarnation of which were serialised in popular magazines a million miles from the dedicated and dire fanboy magazines and internet sites of today. Furthermore, since shows like Dr Who do away with the tedious technical accuracy of their nineties counterparts through simple or allegorical explanations, plots are driven by drama as opposed to science. Not only does this result in a much higher quality product, it makes the whole show more accessible to the casual viewer.

You do not need fannish backstory to enjoy the story of a man who travels through time and space in a police public call box. Furthermore, the use of iconic and everyday images arguably increases the dramatic effect of the stories – shadows, statues, shop-window dummies can be imbued with a malignant edge in a way that warp-star alloys, Borg and people with pointy-ears never can.

In short, what I’m trying to get at is that the “scientific romances” have a magical edge. You don’t read Terry Pratchett and think how on earth can a flat world be balanced on the back of four elephants on the shell of a giant star-turtle called Great Atuin. You don’t read Wells’ superb ‘War of the Worlds’ and wonder how the Martians rockets crossed the vast space between their world and ours. More importantly, only the most hardcore (spotty, sociophobic) sci-fi geek wonders how you can fit the massive, beautiful, impossible and impossibly complex Time And Relative Dimensions in Space Machine inside a 1960s police box.

You just accept it. Because you’re watching or reading these things to taste a little bit of magic, to look into the dark and to wonder what’s out there…

Triumph? I think so.

The global financial situation – to attempt a long and somewhat confused metaphor – has been almost as sticky as a sticky stick stuck in sticky stuff underneath a sticky tree which is seeping sticky sap in a sticky forest somewhere in stickland, stickania. 

It is times like this where a part of me – that bitter, irreverent, irritating bit – misses Her Majesty’s Opposition. Government action has at times appeared to oscillate at random between dithering and panicking, egged on by occasional leaking. However – and I know someone who knows precisely nothing about stock markets or international finance, should probably not make such a claim after a single day of growth on the FTSE – it does look like Mr Broon has gone and done it.

The age of laissez-faire Thatcherite mis- (or should that be un-) management of this country’s Financial Services is at an end – the government has restricted CEOs bonuses and fat-cat payouts with the aim of encouraging a new culture of responsibility based on long-term gains to benefit both consumer and bankers. This is surely good for renewed confidence. With much of Northern Europe echoing Brown and Darling’s move, this is surely proof of this Labour government’s unprecedented economic record. After eleven years in power, this government is still full of new ideas and working to help ordinary people through a period of unprecedented economic crisis.

And where, pray, are Cameron’s “New” Conservatives in this? Oh yeh, supporting the government. And you get the feeling when you hear Cameron’s weak-willed warning to Brown to not glorify the rescue package that the Leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition is feeling somewhat jaded after a rather lacklustre conference performance, a party which is divided in both Houses of Parliament (on the issue of 28-day detention) and has singularly failed to prove itself as a government in waiting at any point during this current crisis. Not only that, the Tories have failed to even score any significant political points.

Bring on the Fourth Term!