Only, is it ever really another universe, when it comes to sci-fi?
Or just modalities of our own, reimagined?
These last few weeks, admittedly, have been slow. And largely static. Periodically, the Universe takes it upon itself to remind me I need to sit the f-k down, and seems to become increasingly more irate, the more I protest. It is an ongoing battle. One in which I'm reminded constantly how little I actually embody those important yogic traits, like patience, humility, slow breathing. Or maybe that's what attracted me to yoga, in the first place? A tension of the opposites? After all, much of what is at the core of yogi practice, I know already I may never be.
I've spent a lot of this imposed down-time reading, which I have enjoyed tremendously. Particularly rediscovering a love for sci-fi novels. Not that I've ever been too hardcore of a fan. There's just something about it that seems to rub me the wrong way if I linger too long in this kind of world. But time to time, another universe imposes itself.
I borrowed Orson Scott Card's "Worthing Saga" out of respect for the author's Ender series, but frankly, a little doubtful of how this one would appeal to me. I've been reading so much literary fiction and non-fiction lately that I feared my sci-fi days may be behind me. Well, well, could I be more wrong.
From the get-go, the book (which is actually a collection, comprising the main novel, The Worthing Chronicle, as well as two adjacent short story collections) compelled me. The proposition of new worlds to disappear to seemed particularly appealing to me in the moment, though the interplanetary concepts and interactions were, admittedly, nothing new.
I enjoyed the book, surprisingly, from a religious perspective, as it deals much with the theme of deity, and good and evil, even featuring a character described simply as "the Devil himself" - compelling, not un-friendly, and wickedly clever. I enjoyed, perhaps most of all, the character of Abner Doon, the so-called Devil, particularly his role in one of the subsequent short stories, which deals with him taking on the destruction of a game "world" his grandfather labored to build (much to the old man's chagrin).
"Build well, and eventually, your beautiful creation, with or without my help, will fall. But destroy thoroughly, destroy effectively, and what was wrecked will never be rebuilt. Never."
To look out across our once-fair European plain now, one can only relate.
Perhaps due to my own naivety, I expected for some reason, a book on godhood that was linear, one-dimensional, but of course I was wrong. The saga is wonderfully playful and diverse, reminding me what a skillful writer Card is. The older I get, the more aware I am of the need for such stories, dealing with themes like sin and divinity, the return to big, primal stories, despite my modern and evolved tendency to roll my eyes and shrug.
Delving into issues like hubris and entropy, it seemed to me a good book for "our times". Bore the stark reminder that history goes on, through good and bad periods, and that even through the worst of times, sleep is not an option.