Into The Thinking Kingdoms
Yes, you caught me. That's the title of the second book in Alan Dean Foster's extremely under-rated Journey of the Catechist trilogy. What's it doing here? Well, the book itself is a very pointed and very amusing diversion which makes riffs on the theme of 'interrogating the cosmos', as are its two companions in the set. The title crawled quietly into my head while I was discussing Aristotle and the idea of questions as aids to pragmatic understanding. Suddenly, I knew what would be the ideal textbook for the sort of people I work with. Sadly, I think it's out of print.
So we'll do the next best thing, my subversive inner self suggests. Why not do something totally unalike? It's 3 am in the morning, you are about to leave the Thinking Kingdoms for the Shadowlands, come on boss, you can do it. Oh very well, I mutter crossly. I used to have four personalities, and occasionally, they mimic each other. Fortunately, my mind is now held together by an Integrated Program.
The question of the night is: which science fiction novels have disguised themselves most successfully as fantasy? I don't know why this particular question; take it up with my innards. Here's my list of the top three, and if you really want a challenge, see if you can find your own. (By the way, the first two books are still in print! The third should be around somewhere.)
1) Zelazny, Roger. (1967) Lord of Light. New York: Doubleday.
The book proper begins with the immortal lines:
His followers called him Mahasamatman and said he was a god. he preferred to drop the Maha- and the -atman, however, 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.
2) McCaffrey, Anne. (1968) Dragonflight. New York: Del Rey.
It took several books before many of us even caught on:
Lessa woke, cold. Cold with more than the chill of the everlastingly clammy stone walls. Cold with the prescience of a danger stronger than the one ten full Turns ago that had then sent her, whimpering with terror, to hide in the watch-wher's odorous lair.
3) Tepper, Sheri S. (1983) The True Game, London: Corgi.
This book throws you straight into the Game:
'Totem to King's Blood Four.' The moment I said it, I knew it was wrong. I said 'No!'
Gamesmaster Gervaise tapped the stone floor with his iron-tipped staff, impatiently searching our faces for a lifted eye or a raised hand. 'No?' he echoed me.
So we'll do the next best thing, my subversive inner self suggests. Why not do something totally unalike? It's 3 am in the morning, you are about to leave the Thinking Kingdoms for the Shadowlands, come on boss, you can do it. Oh very well, I mutter crossly. I used to have four personalities, and occasionally, they mimic each other. Fortunately, my mind is now held together by an Integrated Program.
The question of the night is: which science fiction novels have disguised themselves most successfully as fantasy? I don't know why this particular question; take it up with my innards. Here's my list of the top three, and if you really want a challenge, see if you can find your own. (By the way, the first two books are still in print! The third should be around somewhere.)
1) Zelazny, Roger. (1967) Lord of Light. New York: Doubleday.
The book proper begins with the immortal lines:
His followers called him Mahasamatman and said he was a god. he preferred to drop the Maha- and the -atman, however, 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.
2) McCaffrey, Anne. (1968) Dragonflight. New York: Del Rey.
It took several books before many of us even caught on:
Lessa woke, cold. Cold with more than the chill of the everlastingly clammy stone walls. Cold with the prescience of a danger stronger than the one ten full Turns ago that had then sent her, whimpering with terror, to hide in the watch-wher's odorous lair.
3) Tepper, Sheri S. (1983) The True Game, London: Corgi.
This book throws you straight into the Game:
'Totem to King's Blood Four.' The moment I said it, I knew it was wrong. I said 'No!'
Gamesmaster Gervaise tapped the stone floor with his iron-tipped staff, impatiently searching our faces for a lifted eye or a raised hand. 'No?' he echoed me.
etched with acid at 7:44:00 am
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