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Solaris ::
I usually read Science Fiction for the story line. I don’t expect much in the way of poetry or complex writing style, nor to I expect the themes to be all that compelling. So I was pretty amazed after I read the first twenty pages of Solaris and found all of those elements involved in the book. I soon felt comfortable making the assertion that it was the most textured, captivating novel I’d read since, well, maybe The Spectator Bird. (Not that the two had anything else in common, of course.)
Solaris is also interesting because for all the complexity and artistry in its discourse, there really wasn’t much in the way of plot. Basically, you have this guy who travels across the galaxy to a space station that is in orbit around a planet where it is determined that the sea is a living, sentient being. Soon after he gets there, it turns out that the ocean may be manipulating the minds of everyone on the station, because everyone there is experiencing physical manifestations of their own memories; for the hero, Kris Kelvin, he is visited by a lover who died ten years earlier. That introduces a significant amount of confusion and emotional intensity for him, but once it starts happening, most of the events and ensuing struggles are internal and emotional, so not all that much happens that advances a plot. But that was OK with me -- there was more than enough going on to keep me interested. At least for a time.
For all its surprises and its complexities, I did find in the end that it was a difficult book to read. There was a lot of words spent describing the speculations and internal searchings that Kris went through when his long-lost love was reintroduced into his life. And it seemed like he was mostly barking up the wrong tree -- he spent all of his time trying to understand scientifically the manifestation of his dead lover, rather than wondering why she had showed up rather than someone else. In the end, I found it hard to believe that anyone could have such an intense internal stuggle without having emotional issues arise in any meaningful way.
But then, maybe that was the point that Stanislaw Lem was trying to make. Maybe that weakness on the part of the hero was intended to reveal some strength in the reader they might not know existed. Not that I want to spend much time speculating -- I’d rather just read the book and enjoy it for what it was.
Joe Hill ::
I have two problems with martyrdom. First off, the martyr’s story is always so wrapped up in the ideology of the political or social movement they died for that a significant amount of their humanity is wiped away. For example: in the mythologizing of John Brown, we do not discuss the fact that he was crazy; we also don’t discuss any of the emotional, spiritual, or intelletual struggles he had that led him to Harper’s Ferry. No, he was always fated to fight his battle against oppression, no questions asked. But then on the other hand, when a political movement is blessed with a martyr, they somehow gain the ability to not be held accountable for their views or their political beliefs. It’s as if they have a belief that because they sustained such a loss, what they have to say is no longer up for debate, it is simply right.
The story of Joe Hill that Stegner tells illuminates this double-trouble of martyrdom. Very little is known about the man Joe Hill. He was an immigrant, he traveled the West Coast, and his belief that the IWW was the only answer to the oppression brought on by early twentieth century industrialization was all but unshakeable, right up until the point when he died. As far as anyone could tell, he was in life, as in death, inseparable from the Wobblies. Then on the other hand, his martyrdom is talked about to this day as an event that was emblematic of the injustice of not only Justice system in this country, but the whole economic and political setup as well. But never in that discussion of martyrdom will there be a discussion about the politics that Joe Hill and the Wobblies represented, or their absurd belief that the best way to end oppression in this world was through the perpetuation of violent uprisings.
Joe Hill gave me a sense of labor as it once was in this country. And the fact that it was written by someone who knew labor history but hadn’t made it his religion made the settings so textured and real that I felt I could them when I closed my eyes. But most importantly, this book gave me a version of Joe Hill I don’t think I could find anywhere else. I saw his flaws, his obsessions, and his anger; I saw his commitment and his quiet emotional intensity. I was able to see what made him such a leader in the labor movement, but I also saw what made him a real human being. I wonder what would happen to the present-day IWW if they started viewing Joe Hill as Stegner created him. But then, what would the world look like if we started looking at all our martyrs as a actual people?
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