Book Comment: Starship Troopers

I recently read Starship Troopers, by Robert Heinlein. When I closed the book, I thought, "Meh. It was okay. I probably wouldn't have read it had it not been recommended by a friend, but it was a fair to middling read for me."

Given that response, I was rather surprised to learn this morning, as I prepared to write this post, that this book (initially published in 1959) has had a significant impact on technological developments in the US military, and

is on the reading lists of the United States Army, the United States Marine Corps, and the United States Navy. It is the only science fiction novel on the reading list at four of the five United States military academies.

Moreover, the book has influenced subsequent books, movies and even video games. Not bad for a tale that is, in my view, dry as a work of literature.

The things I found uninteresting about the book are a) the characters are too bland to describe, and b) the plot is dull. Call me plebeian, if you wish, but, when I read a novel, I expect to encounter characters that inspire emotional responses (they can be either negative or positive, but they should make me feel something) and a plot that drives ahead towards a resolution of some sort. I did not find either of those features in this book.

The things I found interesting about the book were the forays (and there were many of them) into political philosophy. To take one example, in the society of Starship Troopers, the right to vote is restricted to those citizens who completed at least two years of service in the military (active soldiers cannot vote). This restriction is based on the presumption that those who have so served will have been conditioned to consider the interests of society at large in making decisions that will affect the society. Is this philosophy elitist - only those who have proven themselves worthy can vote? Or is it fascist - only those who demonstrated their willingness to put the state before themselves can vote? I'm having some difficulty pinning this down, but that probably doesn't matter, as it's a view with which I disagree either way.

I haven't served in the military, but I can still see that my community's interests and my personal interests are not always at odds, nor can they always be neatly disentangled. Sometimes, in order to help myself and to reach my personal goals, I need to help my community meet its goals. If I were to vote in a purely selfish (and, ultimately, short-sighted) manner on taxes, for example, I would always vote for lower taxes, against bonds to fund schools and parks, etc., so that I could keep more of my money for myself. If I want to vote by taking a long-range view of my own interests (as well as my community's), however, I will vote to fund schools and parks (even though I will have to surrender more of my money to do so) because my community (and, ultimately, I too) will benefit by having higher quality facilities and services to offer its citizens. Moreover, there are times when I ought to be willing to sacrifice something for the good of others just because that's the right thing to do. So, even though I would not be allowed to vote in Starship Troopers Land, I'm pretty sure that I would be as capable of balancing my personal desires and my responsibilities to my community as any of the ex-soldiers in that land. Are all voters willing to find this balance? I doubt it. Still, I prefer to accept the risks involved in making the franchise more inclusive rather than accept the risks involved in restricting the franchise.

A more inclusive franchise will undoubtedly allow more voters who are selfish and uninformed have a say in communal matters, and the effects of their involvement will sometimes (perhaps often) be detrimental to both my community and me (the Bush era is all the proof I need of that). But, a more exclusive franchise based on the presumption that an elite group will act in the best interests of society at large frightens me even more (can anyone say AIG, or the Great Financial Meltdown of 2008?). A broad franchise may lead to societal ruin, but it may also contain within itself a self-correcting mechanism forced by the sheer range and multiplicity of interests that are always active in the process. In contrast, a narrow, elite franchise may lead to utopia, but, given the realities of human nature, it would just as (or more?) likely lead to oppression of the majority by an oligarchy. That's not a society in which I care to live. That old-time fascist elitism may have been good enough for Heinlein, but it's not good enough for me.

In closing, I'll note that many people revere Heinlein's works. I'll just say that, having read Starship Troopers, I'll have to agree to disagree agreeably with them about that.

Book Comment: Remembering Hypatia

Remembering Hypatia, by Brian Trent, was entertaining and easy to read, but I find it difficult to classify it as historical fiction. It is loosely based on an historical person and historical events, but that is where all semblances of historicity end. Upon finishing this book, it would be a grave error for the reader to assume that his or her understanding of Hypatia, the significance of Alexandria's famed library, or the religious and political currents that were current in the late fourth and early fifth centuries has been enhanced. That's okay. Reading does not always have to be for functional or informational purposes; it is an activity that one should do, whether occasionally or often, just for the sheer joy, pleasure and fun that reading can bring to one's life.

I appreciate this book's focus on an historical woman whose scholarly achievements have received far too little attention through the ages. I'm ashamed to say that I don't recall ever learning about Hypatia, or even hearing or reading her name, until I read Jennifer Hecht's fine book, Doubt (which I highly recommend to all readers who are looking for a book that is both historically sound and a pleasure to read). On the other hand, I disliked the fact that the characters were either Good Guys Wearing White Hats or Bad Guys Wearing Black Hats. I get frustrated, sometimes to the point of rage, when people of a particular faith tradition, and even those of no faith tradition, portray people who don't adhere to their particular beliefs as thoroughly amoral, immoral, opportunistic sleaze bags. Trent's lopsided portraits of his characters filled me with a strong desire to encounter people that seemed less like comic book heroes and more like human beings.

Having read this novelization of Hypatia's life, I may turn my attention to a more scholarly examination next time around. Michael Deakin's book looks like it may be a good place to start.

Book Review: The Philosopher's Apprentice

Author: James Morrow
Publisher: Harper Collins
ISBN: 978-0-06-135144-0

Londa Sabachthani is seventeen, brilliant and thoroughly amoral.

Mason Ambrose is a twenty-something philosopher who, on the occasion of his dissertation defense, has recently flushed his promising academic career down the toilet.

Londa’s mother, Edwina, believes that Mason is the perfect candidate to instruct her daughter in moral reasoning and she is willing to pay him handsomely to assume that responsibility.

Mason arrives at Edwina and Londa’s home, located on a lush tropical island, and quickly discovers that this apparent paradise is the setting for some deeply troubling mysteries. Nevertheless, he throws himself into the task of educating Londa via role play. As they work their way through the teachings of Kohlberg, Jesus Christ, the Stoics and others, Londa gradually develops her personal ethical system. She also becomes privy to Mason’s discoveries regarding the family’s secrets. What she learns changes her life and significantly affects her later actions.

Approximately ten years later, Londa is the head of a philanthropic organization that is set to launch an earth-changing charitable initiative. To Mason’s chagrin, she has adopted an end-justifies-the-means ethic by which she defends her plans to boldly commit several illegal acts in the cause of creating a tremendous social good. When her plans go awry, Londa and her mother pay tragic prices for Londa’s ambition.

Morrow’s tale explores a range of ethical theories and issues in an inventive, engaging manner. The dialogs and role plays between Londa and Mason are effective devices for transmitting what would have quickly become dry philosophical content had they been presented less creatively. The plot is filled with surprises that add fascinating, and always relevant, layers of mystery and complexity to the story. The characters are unique, to say the least. Sometimes they arouse the reader’s empathy and sometimes they infuriate the reader, just as real live acquaintances do every day. The story’s greatest weakness is that Edwina’s wealth, ambition and activities make her character seem more like a James Bond villain than a realistic person in a plausible real-world scenario. The story has a strange air of science fiction about it and seems to vacillate between fantasy and a novel set in a recognizable venue that explores familiar moral and social issues. All in all, The Philosopher’s Apprentice defies classification as literature of a particular fiction genre. It is not quite science fiction, it is not quite fantasy, it is not quite a romance novel – it is all of these things and more. It is also a stimulating, thought-provoking book that is worth reading if one enjoys fiction that rises far above the pulp level.

Chloe Liked Olivia

A Room of One's Own, published in 1929, is an expansion of two lectures that Virginia Woolf delivered at Newnham and Girton colleges on the topic of women and fiction. Woolf's overarching theme is that "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." She supports this assertion by examining the economic and social constraints under which women lived for centuries. In addition to discussing the lives and works of such notable authors as Jane Austen and Emily Bronte, Woolf examines the way women were generally portrayed in literature. Woolf's thoughts about this issue were prompted, so she reports, by reading the simple sentence, "Chloe liked Olivia." Woolf goes on to say,

I tried to remember any case in the course of my reading where two women are represented as friends. There is an attempt in Diana of the Crossways. They are confidantes, of course, in Racine and the Greek tragedies. But almost without exception they are shown in their relation to men. It was strange to think that all the great women of fiction were, until Austen's day, not only seen by the other sex, but seen only in relation to the other sex.

A little later on, Woolf says,

Suppose, for instance, that men were only represented in literature as the lovers of women, and were never the friends of men, soldiers, thinkers, dreamers; how few parts in the plays of Shakespeare could be allotted to them; how literature would suffer! We might perhaps have a good deal of Othello; and a good deal of Antony; but no Caesar, no Brutus, no Hamlet, no Lear, no Jaques - literature would be incredibly impoverished, as indeed literature is impoverished beyond our counting by the doors that have been shut upon women.

According to Woolf, not only were women proscribed from writing throughout much of human history - the literary roles they were alloted (by male authors) were rigidly constrained. Off the top of my head, I can think of two current fiction series that feature groups of women or female buddies: Lisa Scottoline highlights a female law firm in several books and James Patterson has a series that features a Women's Murder Club. If you're familiar with other female buddy fiction series (and you probably are), mention them in the comments.

Moving on from women's roles in literature, let's look briefly at women's roles in movies. Specifically, taking my cue from the ideas that Chloe liked Olivia, that Chloe and Olivia were friends who had interests other than romantic intrigue and child-rearing, I want to consider the "buddy movie."

The first buddy movie that I remember in any detail was Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I had previously seen some of the Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis movies on TV reruns, but I can't recall anything about them except that Martin was the straight man and Lewis was the buffoon. In the years since Butch Cassidy hit the screens, I've seen countless other buddy movies, such as 48 Hours, the Lethal Weapon series (I believe there were 4 of them), The Odd Couple, Grumpy Old Men and Grumpier Old Men, The Last Boy Scout and Men in Black (I think there are 2 of these). As you've no doubt noticed, all of these movies feature men. Furthermore, you can probably name many others that I've omitted. As always, you may note them in the comments.

Now, let's look at female buddy movies: Thelma & Louise, Outrageous Fortune, Big Business, Fried Green Tomatoes and, if we're willing to enlarge the circle of buddies from two to three, perhaps 9 to 5, are the only ones that come to mind immediately. Of these, only Thelma & Louise is listed as one of Amazon's 25 Best Buddy Movies. Think about that. 25 movies. 24 of them feature male pairs. The last time I checked, men did not outnumber women 24 to 1. What is going on here? Do Hollywood writers believe that women are not friends with other women? Do they believe that women's friendships with other women are far less interesting than men's friendships with other men? Are moviegoers so uninterested in women that they prefer movies about men to such an outrageous degree? Why? As one who enjoys reading books and viewing movies about both men and women, I'm perplexed by the lack of attention that women continue to receive in film and literature. It's the 21^st century! By all means, let's continue exploring the multiple facets of men's lives. But, please, let's also start viewing women in roles other than wives, mothers and jealous lovers. I know for a fact that women make fabulous friends, and I, along with Virginia Woolf, want to read their stories.

Quick Comment: Not the End of the World

Author: Christopher Brookmyre
Publisher: Atlantic Monthly Press
ISBN: 0-87113-787-9

Steff Kennedy is an unlikely hero for an action thriller. One thing's for sure: he's no James Bond (nor even a Jason Bourne). Which is okay, because the villain in this piece, Rev. Luther St. John, is no Dr. No either. And author Christopher Brookmyre is no Ian Fleming.

I love a good thriller as much as the next person. There are many nights when I go to bed at 2 or 3 a.m. because I can't put down the book in my hands. There are many mornings when I arrive at work bleary-eyed and fuzzy-headed because I didn't put down the book in my hands until 2 or 3 a.m. the previous night. Not the End of the World did not live up to the publisher's promise (inscribed on the dust-jacket) that this book would "keep [me] furiously turning its pages." In fact, it took me nearly a week to plow through it, reading perhaps 75-80 pages at a time before finally calling it quits for the night.

What's wrong with this book? The plot for one thing. It reads like something that was inspired by some of the lesser James Bond films: a lunatic Christian evangelist schemes to bring America to God by causing a tidal wave to engulf Los Angeles and its environs at a time of his choosing. (Okay, this isn't the plot of Licence to Kill, but that Bond film does feature a villainous evangelist.) This dastardly plot is foiled, after some twists and turns, by an unlikely team comprised of a photographer, a porn star and a policeman. Maybe it would work on film - where it could be enhanced by special effects and beautiful people (I'm talking lots of effects and the most beautiful people on the planet) - but it misses the mark, badly, on paper.

What's wrong with this book? The characters for one thing. The villains are all religious kooks. The villains' disciples are all kooky religious dupes. The heroes are all atheists whose experiences with religion have been unremittingly negative. The primary villain, Rev. St. John - surprise, surprise - was raised by his sexually dysfunctional mother. The secondary hero, or heroine (is that term still acceptable?), porn star Madeleine Witherson, was - surprise, surprise - sexually abused by her father, who is - surprise, surprise - a hypocritical Republican in the United States Senate. And, just in case you haven't guessed it already, the hypocritical Republican Senator is a good friend of the right-wing religious fanatic villain, who is, in turn, a supporter of the Republican Senator. Good God! Brookmyre compounds his sin of religious stereotyping with that of political stereotyping! Did I miss Wal-Mart's three-for-one special on cardboard characters? Brookmyre obviously didn't.

I haven't read any other books by Brookmyre and, based on my experience with this one, I'm not likely to do so. My recommendation is that you avoid this book and read something else. It won't be the end of the world if you do so.