Where Heroes Abide

[dedalus_1947]

“A hero ventures forth from the world of common day
into a region of supernatural wonder.
Fabulous forces are encountered and a decisive victory is won.
The hero comes back from this mysterious adventure
with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.”
(Hero With a Thousand Faces, by Joseph Campbell: 1949)

“He was a warrior and mystic, ogre and saint, the fox and the innocent,
chivalrous, ruthless, less than a god, more than a man.
There is no measuring Muad’Dib’s motive by ordinary standards.
In the moment of his triumph, he saw the death prepared for him,
yet he accepted the treachery.”
(Dune, by Frank Herbert: 1965)

“His followers called him Mahasamatman and said he was a god.
He preferred to drop the Maha- and the –atman, and called himself Sam.
He never claimed to be a god.
But then, he never claimed not to be a god.
Circumstances being what they were, neither admission could be of any benefit.
Silence, though, could”.
(Lords of Light, by Roger Zelazny: 1967)

I was in Barnes and Noble bookstore a few weeks ago when I passed a sign reading Recent Paperback Arrivals. As I casually glanced at the neatly displaced arrangement of hardbound and paperback books on the small table, my legs locked in mid-stride. My attention was caught by the bold, oversized print dominating the cover of a small, pocket-sized novel. Three words,

ORSON
SCOTT
CARD

commanded the top half of the cover, followed by a painting of a silver starship. The bottom half contained two more lines in large print:

ENDER
IN EXILE

The intentional use and placement of four key words on the cover was enough to force me to pick up the book and inspect it thoroughly. Orson Scott Card was the author of one of my all-time favorite, science fiction novels, and the creator of the modern, tragic hero Ender Wiggins. Since discovering Ender’s Game in 1990, a breakthrough novel about the futuristic uses of interactive videogames in cosmic warfare, I’d read many other novels by the same author. None ever reached the unique mythic threshold of Ender’s Game. This current book was promoting itself with the promise that it would fill the gap: “After Battle School... The Lost Years: The All-New Direct Sequel to Ender’s Game”. I was caught in the advertising web of the book cover. Against my better judgment, and despite having sworn off sequels to breakthrough science fiction novels, I purchased Ender in Exile and finished it on the Saturday of the MLK weekend. The completion of the book was hastened by my sitting next to my son Toñito for five hours in the Emergency Room of Hollywood Kaiser, as he slept and recovered from a bout of food poisoning and dehydration.

My relationship with Science Fiction novels started in college. Prior to UCLA, I was a Sci Fi dilettante, watching the flying saucer and space adventure movies and television series, but rarely bothering to buy a book. I was curious of the provocative (and usually erotic) covers of the Science Fiction pulp magazines and paperbacks I saw in the used bookstores of Santa Monica and Hollywood, but I wasn’t interested in science or technology. In high school, I believed that “science fiction” was simply a sneaky way of presenting academic subjects to young readers. The recommended books on our freshman-reading list contained such titles as A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, My Antonia by Willa Cather, The Jungle by Upton Sinclair, The Story of My Life by Helen Keller, and The Diary of Anne Frank. Hidden among those august books one could also find a smattering of “approved” science fiction novels: Perelandra by C.S. Lewis, Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, and 1984 by George Orwell. The only books in the science fiction genre that I actually read and enjoyed in high school were by Edgar Rice Burroughs. I loved the Tarzan movies that were shown on television during the 1950’s with Johnny Weissmuller, and I couldn’t believe my good fortune when my father introduced me to the novels that inspired them. The Burroughs library was endless and it seemed I could read them forever. But I never considered them mainline science fiction, and certainly not literature. They were adventure stories of Tarzan defeating cheats and scoundrels, John Carter battling monsters on Mars, and Tanar fighting pre-historic dinosaurs and mammoths in the land of Pellucidar at the center of the earth. It was only later that I realized that these rousing adventure tales filled the emotional longings left after the Greek and Norse myths and the Arthurian legends were discredited in grade school.

The childhood stories I loved hearing or reading followed a fixed timeline through my life. My earliest memories were hearing the folktales of Hans Christian Anderson, the Brother’s Grimm, and the Bible, told by my grandmothers, aunts and uncles. Then elementary school taught me to read and introduced the Occidental concepts and subjects I would later pursue academically and independently – Greek and Norse mythology, and the Arthurian legends in the Age of Chivalry. Greek history and culture immediately fascinated me. Not because of the richness of Greek art, architecture, and philosophy (that would come in high school and college), but because of the military prowess of their warriors and its heroic (and sometimes, tragic) stories and mythology. Greek history was a roller coaster ride of startling military victories over impossible odds and frustrating defeats because of human weakness. Its religion and mythology mirrored the dramas of life through the incredible and tragic antics of gods, demi-gods, and heroes. The myths of Hercules, Perseus, and Medusa were the first topics I researched endlessly in school and public libraries. So it came as no surprise that I eventually discovered another repository of mythic stories, adventures, and tragedies in the Norse legends of the Vikings. The Vikings never reached the cultural heights of the Greeks, and they were not popular among the nuns in the Catholic grade schools I attended. Our teachers portrayed the Norsemen of Scandinavia as savage pillagers who plundered monasteries and convents during “the Dark Ages”. I however, liked reading about them because they shared many of the same qualities I admired in the Greeks. Vikings warriors were unlikely conquerors but fierce warriors, with a paradoxical belief in their racial superiority and future. Their pagan religion and primitive mythology of Odin, Thor, and Loki, mirrored their human values and behaviors, with all their brutality and faults. In the meantime, my history classes began focusing on feudalism and the Middle Ages, and giving that topic the same level of attention as the Greeks and Romans.  This was the period when the spread of Islam was halted in France in 732, and the beginning of the monarchical consolidation of Christian Europe. Although the political and geographical study of this period was monotonous, I became excited over knighthood and the code of chivalry. Knighthood was a martial discipline and military system that honed the technology of the time (steel, armor, and cavalry) into an instrument for war and power. Chivalry was the Christian code of conduct, with an emphasis on virtue, honor, and courtly (romantic) love. Chivalry was the ideal at the heart of the legends of King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, and the Quest for the Holy Grail.


 

By the time I reached high school in 1962, all of these tales, myths, and legends had been pretty much debunked by adults, and my religion, history, and English teachers. There seemed little in this modern, mechanical, and realistic world to inspire a youthful imagination into believing that ordinary people could conquer unbeatable foes, achieve impossible tasks, or find the answers to eternal questions. Some of the stories in our literature anthologies came close at touching these themes and dreams, but none of the books. My sophomore English teacher, Mr. McCambridge changed all that. He did it by dumping all of our first essay exams into the trashcan and admitting that changes needed to be made. Mr. McCambridge was an energetic, first year teacher straight out of Loyola University, fired with the ideal that by reading fine literature and great books adolescents would become competent writers and independent thinkers. After only one test he was stunned to learn that we didn’t know how to write a clearly structured and organized essay, or how to analyze and evaluate what we read. He was so shocked and disheartened that he verbalized it in front of us. We were just as shocked at his candor about his expectations, his evaluation of our writing and analysis skill, and by his request to help him figure out what was wrong. Teachers never asked that! Miraculously we responded. Perhaps it was his youthful honesty and sincerity, but we trusted him and shared our thoughts. We told him that we had little practice with open-ended questions on tests and in discussions. We were trained to read for facts, not opinions, and didn’t know how to defend those opinions in writing. We also had little incentive to do the reading. We saw our anthology as big and boring, and the novels were simply a rehash of the same titles in our freshman year. How could we get excited over those old and tired books? He was quiet for a long time, and then said, “Then I guess we’ll have to change that”. He promised to negotiate a new book list and to adjust his teaching strategies and exam questions to address our problems area. But he made it very clear that by going into this partnership we were assuming personal responsibility to read and practice new skills. The most critical moment came when the teacher heard our book recommendations. With the leadership of two audacious students we created a controversial list of novels: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, Peyton Place by Grace Metalious, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, Casino Royale by Ian Fleming, and Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Without blinking, Mr. McCambridge acknowledged them as fine novels but that the school would never allow all of them in our curriculum (Peyton Place and Lolita especially). But instead of simply saying “No, I can’t do that,” he recommended other best selling novels, such as Seven Days in May by Knebel and Bailey, The Making of the President, 1960, by Theodore White, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and Alas Babylon by Pat Frank, as substitutes. The final list of 10 novels was a balanced trade off and it became our incentive to keep our part of the bargain. But it was more than that for me. You see Mr. McCambridge allowed Tarzan and Casino Royale to stay on the list (He even admitted liking them!). This was the first academic validation of two genres (Science Fiction and Detective Fiction) that were usually considered on par with comic books. In essence Mr. McCambridge redefined “acceptable literature” to include ALL written genres, and he encouraged us to read everything. The novels that didn’t make the final cut (Catcher in the Rye, Lord of the Flies, and Peyton Place) became our private reading list, and for the next two years we kept him apprised as to how we were doing and what new books we were reading (I never did get to Lolita). In my junior year, Mr. McCambridge continued expanding our horizons by teaching American Literature and introducing us to The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. But I never lost my secret love for old tales, myths, and legends.


 

 

In my freshman year of college, while visiting the Nepenthe Bookstore and Restaurant at Big Sur in 1967, I bought a paperback copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. The following summer I was devouring his trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. At the advent of adulthood, I’d finally found my way back home to the ancient world of heroes, myths, and legends, but through a different door – Science Fiction. One can certainly argue that The Lord of the Rings is not REALLY science fiction – and, up to a point, I would agree. Tolkien would never be confused for a classic science fiction author like Arthur C. Clarke or Isaac Asimov. These are trained scientists and astronomers whose books contain technical expositions on space travel, fusion energy drive, and artificial intelligence. But Sci Fi is a broad genre, and there is a commonality of themes and symbols in Tolkien’s trilogy and Asimov’s Foundation Trilogy. I believe that it is when heroes, myths, and legends cross over into science and technology that one discovers the best of the genre.


 

 

This is the science fiction literature I discovered and fell in love with in college. The novels were easy to read, interesting, and great escapist fare during finals and other stressful times. If I was feeling anxious or blue, I’d simply search for the science fiction section of any college, used, or new books store and go, alphabetically, through each author, book by book. I would take the book, look at the cover, read the reviews, and make a preliminary selection. I would later narrow down my quick picks to one or two final purchases. I learned early on that an excellent criterion for zeroing in on quality novels and authors was to find the Hugo or Nebula Award winners. This means of selection wasn’t foolproof and I occasionally bought some pretty bad stuff, but paperbacks weren’t expensive, and I always walked out happier than I entered. In this way I also developed a bibliography of science fiction authors whose works I came to enjoy over the years:

Douglas Adams
Brian Aldiss
Poul Anderson
Isaac Asimov
Robert Asprin
Ben Bova
Ray Bradbury
Marion Zimmer Bradley
David Brin
Terry Brooks
John Brunner
Orson Scott Card
C.J. Cherryh
Arthur C. Clarke
Michael Crichton
Samuel Delany
Gordon Dickson
Stephen Donaldson
Alan Dean Foster
Robert A. Heinlein
Frank Herbert
Fritz Leiber
John MacDonald
Anne McCaffrey
Larry Niven
Andre Norton
John Norman
Frederik Pohl
Terry Pratchett
Robert Silverberg
Jack Vance
Jules Verne
H.G. Wells
Roger Zelazney

Most important, Sci Fi allowed me to shamelessly indulge my love of mythology and legends. It was the beginning of a quest that continues today – and it was quite unconscious for a long time. Even though I recognized the biblical and mythical references in Dune, Stranger in a Strange Land, and Foundation, the connection between myth and Sci Fi did not become obvious until 1988 when I saw Joseph Campbell on the PBS television series called The Power of Myth. Campbell made this connection for me, and he demonstrated that the best of science fiction was an expression of myth.

I suddenly realize that I’ve described my revelation about Science Fiction as a very progressive and inevitable discovery (folktales, leading to myths and legends, detouring into literature, and then culminated in a science fictional epiphany). I wish life and learning were that neat and linear. Fortunately, my life has been (and continues to be) a messy affair of best intentions, hard work, incomplete projects, happy coincidences, and good friends and teachers. My literary path toward Science Fiction was never linear - if anything it was circular. My readings have spiraled from stories, to books, to comics, and whatever else seemed interesting to me (or others) at the time. Comic books were especially vital in nursing and maintaining my sense of the mythic, even though I didn’t follow their evolution into graphic novels (except for the occasional one recommended by my brothers or son). I will still wander into the Science Fiction sections of bookstores (especially when feeling stressed or anxious) and I’ll sometimes even buy one. I’m still looking for the mother lode, another classic Sci-Fi novel that locks into that mythic strain that Campbell illustrated in his books and TV series. Which brings me back to Ender. Ender in Exile did not reach the quality threshold set by Ender’s Game (or even Speaker for the Dead, another book by Orson Scott Card). But the book kept me distracted and entertained as I sat with Toñito through his uncomfortable morning. I suppose it served its purpose, and I’ll find the classic next time.

At the risk of alienating friends (or short story aficionados), here is my list of top 10 favorite Science Fiction novels. If you are a Sci-Fi devotee, perhaps you will share your list with me:

Earth Abides, by George Stewart: 1949
Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkein: 1954
The Foundation Trilogy, by Isaac Asimov: 1951
Childhood’s End, by Arthur C. Clarke: 1953
Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein: 1961
Dune, by Frank Herbert: 1965
Lords of Light, by Roger Zelazny: 1967
Dragonflight & Dragonquest, by Anne McCaffrey: 1968
The Final Encyclopedia, by Gordon Dickson: 1984
Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card: 1985