I finished Becky Chambers 'To Be Taught, If Fortunate' this week shortly after rewatching Interstellar, and the pairing turned out to be unexpectedly revealing. I loved the book, so much so I messaged @holoz0r on Discord to see what he thought of it and he loved it too. ![2913.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/riverflows/23wCEHytN5FjZ9YT3493Y8MfJ9KMKhenuWNY8G9xQ1mpWvcgFbp39sCbnyMuvkgnTc5Pp.jpg) At first the blockbuster 'Interstellar' and this little novel by little known Chambers seem to belong to entirely different traditions of science fiction. *Interstellar* is monumental, operatic, obsessed with extinction, time and cosmic scale - it's a big movie that moves with engrossing action across time and space as Earth collapses. Chambers writes something quieter and more intimate as a team of scientists also investigate Earth on other planets. Yet both are deeply humane works and are compelling because of their humanity and hope - and both arguably belong, in different ways, to what people now call “hopepunk.” Hopepunk is not naïve optimism - it's not a Pollyanna genre where the universe isn't suddenly *not* dangerous and indifferent. Communication can fail - in Chambers novel, the harrowing lack of contact with far distant Earth is dark and horrific. Distance, both time and space, is terrifying - it's unfathomable to imagine being so far from loved ones and unable to return. Human beings remain fragile creatures moving through systems vastly larger than themselves - it's almost futile to even imagine this is possible. But what defines the genre is the refusal of cynicism - unlike some apocalyptic fiction where individualism trumps everything, care, cooperation and emotional connection are treated as meaningful forms of resistance. It's *punk* to care about people, whether your own or the entire world. Whilst there's a lot of physics and spectacle, what makes *Interstellar* so moving is that the broader message is that love and attachment are central to human survival. Brand is asked to be a scientist rather than follow her heart to Edmond's planet, but she argues that love is also an imperative, a deciding factor, a driver of humanity. The most devastating moments are not planetary disasters and spaceships blowing up or being crushed by giant waves on an ocean planet, but Cooper watching decades of messages from his children, Murph’s fury at his isolation and abandonment, the realization that time itself has severed ordinary human continuity. Murph loses her father for an entire lifetime even if it's only been a short time for him. Even the film’s treatment of isolation is moral - we totally Dr. Mann's actions because we can imagine what it means to be beome so terribly isolated that his responsibility toward others has been stripped. We can't surive alone. We *need* other people. Becky Chambers arrives at similar themes from almost the opposite direction. *To Be Taught, If Fortunate* reminded me strongly of Ursula K. Le Guin in its ecological imagination (I'd just finished The Word for World is Forest). Exploration is treated as an ethical responsibility rather than a right - this isn't colonialism of other planets. > *“Our mission is to catalogue, not to colonise.”* The astronauts move through alien ecosystems carefully, almost reverently, carrying an implicit understanding that other worlds are not ours to consume simply because we possess the technology to reach them. It's not space mining - think of Dune mining for spice as the people suffer. What Chambers does especially well is write scientists as emotionally alive people - like Brand's insistence that love is as important as stripped down, scientific rationality and coldness, the scientists in this novel treat each other, and the species they invesigate, with deep care. Competence does not have to be emotional coldness or even brutality. Here the four astronauts care for one another with extraordinary gentleness, and that care becomes part of the mission itself rather than a distraction from it, so much so that I found myself unusually moved by this kind of space fiction. There is a small scene involving the 'rats' - awful bug like creatures that stick to the ship as they're stuck there for months and that keep them awake and drive them crazy. Instead of trying to kill them - slaughter them - because they despise them and are frightened by them, the scientists recognise the judgement systems that make them fear and abhor them and are even saddened as they cling to the ship and die when they leave the planet's atmosphere. Then, back in space, one character steps out, untethered, clearly emotionally affected, and they talk her back on board and they all *hug*, consoling each other, clinging together, supporting each other. It's a really poignant and dramatic moment that carrries more weight than the 'victory' over aliens, death, or other space horrors. It felt refreshing. Chambers seems to argue understands that human attachment can deepen due to shared isolation and trauma, and we need each other to survive. The book also captures the existential horror of deep space just as Interstellar does. The most frightening moment is not physical danger but the gradual realization that Earth has stopped responding - the silence expands across impossible distance, and it's a more terrible silence because as far as they know, it's not just that they're far from home, but they are utterly detached from the continuity of human life itself. What other choice, but cryosleep, just as Dr Mann does? > *“We step out of our solar system into the universe seeking only peace and friendship - to teach, if we are called upon; to be taught, if we are fortunate.” We know full well that our planet and all it’s inhabitants are but a small part of this immense universe that surrounds us, and it is with humility and hope that we take this step.”* Yet there's more meaning in their decisions because even though you want a resolution whereby they find a solution to Earth - and humanity's - demise, there's a sense of joy because they *haven't* lost what makes human beings so remarkable - empathy and care for the whole is what drives their ultimate decision, over individualism. Happiness in immediate, shared connection. > **I was happy. Content like I could never remember being. I was surrounded by people I loved, safe in a place free of noise and performance and the empty trappings of civilisation. Here, nobody cared about status or money, who was in power, who was kissing or killing whom. There was only water, and the wonders living within it.”** That may be what connects both works most strongly - neither ultimately believes survival alone is enough. Human beings endure through relationships to each other, and love and kindness are valid survival technologies. Chambers novel isn't a perfect one, but it's definitely worth a quick read - it's certainly one that will stay with me, just as Interstellar does. Vive la hope punk. There's always another way. **Addendum: Chambers novel is also read as a queer novel - whilst I didn't think it relevant to this review, it was a refreshing read because of it. It's almost queer punk because it's not explicit but that that there's not the conventional hierachies and boundaries you'd expect with four poeple stuck in space together. Intimacy, care and attachment flow - tenderness and interdependence feel ordinary rather than exceptional, relationships trump domination. It's easy to miss, but part of the emotional structure of the novel that creates a kind of sensuality almost that you wouldn't expect from, say, an interview with NASA scientists about relationships between crew members. I loved this part of it - there's my emotional heart for you!**

# `With Love,` ![image.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/riverflows/23t6xT1abr5kFMeEirKwZ2QqT6MK9U4SBpKCQZAjVEojgm7uSSGL9AJSuwtBsUmMAV5jv.png) **Are you on HIVE yet? Earn for writing! Referral link for FREE account [here](https://peakd.com/register?ref=riverflows)**

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