"Certainly the prospect for 'normal' humans sometimes seems bleak in these stories." Amen to that assessment.

Supermen: Tales of the Posthuman Future
Gardner Dozois, editor
St. Martin’s Griffin, 2002
0312275692

“Would we ordinary, garden-variety human beings like the Posthuman Future if we were somehow suddenly catapulted into it? Or would we find it a terrifying, hostile, and incomprehensible place, a place we were no more equipped to understand and deal with successfully than an Australopithecus would be equipped to deal with Times Square? Are human beings, as we understand the term, as the term has been understood for thousand upon thousands of years, on the way out? Doomed to extinction, or at the very least to enforced obsolescence in some future equivalent of a game reserve or a zoo? Certainly the prospect for “normal” humans sometimes seems bleak in these stories, with author after author postulating the inevitability of a constantly widening gap between the human and the posthuman condition… with the humans left ever father behind, unable to cope.” (Preface, pp. xii-xiii)

As with almost every book I read, this one fits into a larger context. A few years ago, one web search or another introduced me to this idea called "the Singularity." It seems that science fiction writer Vernor Vinge came up with this term to describe that point in the near-future where developments in germline genetic engineering, computer science, artificial intelligence, nanotechnology, and associated disciplines will accelerate and converge in such a way as to create a scientific analog to the fundamentalist Christian "Rapture." Those of us who came into existence before this singular convergence will be radically different from those whose lives are defined by the terms of a post-Singularity world. The latter, deemed "posthumans" (or "transhumans") by various commentators on this vision, will be in control of the the fundamental constituents of the human universe---matter, life, and mind---to such a degree that they will effectively be as gods to the mere humans who preceded them.

I was fascinated by this idea, in part because these developments do seem to presage a variety of unprecedented social, cultural, and other realities. After all, just consider the impact that computer and mobile phone technologies have had on all aspects of global society in the last twenty years, and envision those changes compounded and sped up. I read a few novels that I've previously reviewed here (i.e., Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, Rudy Rucker's Moldies and Meatbops and Realware, and The Engines of Light trilogy by Ken MacLeod) and sort of burned through the most intense phase of the interest before I moved on to more pessimistic appraisals of our collective future (mainly dealing with the issue of Peak Oil, a prospect thatjust might put the kibosh on the whole transhumanist project).

This series of pessimistic appraisals then led me back to the topic of transhumanism in the form of Bill McKibben's book Enough. In this well-written but not entirely convincing book (more about which when I actually finish it), he argues against the posthuman/transhuman future implicit in these technologies on the grounds that it will be devoid of meaning, since meaning is grounded in our limitations, defects, and finitude. His book got too preachy too quickly, and so I put it down and picked up a variety of other relevant books, including Jeremy Rifkin’s The Biotech Century, Rapture, The Future and Its Enemies, and a bunch of SF, including this volume. So that's all by way of an explanation as to why I picked this book up.

Regarding this collection of short SF itself, editor Gardner Dozois provides a rough sketch of a "superhuman" posthumanity in his outline of the criteria used in selecting these stories. Science fiction, once dominated by stories of space conquest and interstellar adventure, had by the early 1970s begun to yield to the fundamentally unsettling discoveries of modern cosmologists and space researchers. Solar system changed into galaxy, which in turn had gave way to galactic clusters, galactic superclusters, and ultimately to a universe of such analogy-defying proportions that the space conquest fantasies of the 1950s came to be regarded as impossible. So SF writers and some scientists began to develop new scenarios and strategies for space colonization; after all, if the crux of the problem is a dearth of nearby earthlike planets, then two possible solutions are to make planets earthlike (i.e., terraforming) or to change the nature of human beings and adapt them to a wide variety of habitats. It is this latter notion, changing the very nature of what it has meant thus far to be a human being, that is the subject of this collection.

But it is not just any change of what it means to be human. Dozois invokes various filters in his anthology: the stories contained don't deal with "accidental" posthumanity brought about through mutation or post-apocalyptic scenarios, nor do they deal with posthumans who are angels, machines, or gods in disguise (it is SF after all and not fantasy), nor do they deal with virtual realities and downloaded posthuman consciousness. In this collection, all the posthuman situations are the direct result of deliberate change, often for the purposes of space colonization and conquest, and occur primarily in the "meat" world, as opposed to that of disembodied cyberspace.

Alas the stories in this collection did not, for the most part, live up to the promise of Dozois' introduction. While many of the tales were quite good in terms of craft, not many very meaningful or memorable. Too often I found myself shaking my head at the glibness of the authors and at how far they hadn't come from the Wild West, Manifest Destiny, cowboys in space mentality that characterized much of so-called Golden Age SF. A few stories do stand out, though, and so merit special mention.

• In “The Chapter Ends,” by Poul Anderson, the Earth has become a rustic backwater that has been traded to an alien civilization in a cosmic territorial exchange. The posthuman descendents of Earth, who have absolutely no connection to this obscure planet in an outer spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, move the few thousand remaining human beings off of the homeworld. They leave behind one Wendell Berry-esque holdout who realizes what it like to be the last person on earth--after the last flight out has gone.
  

• “Aye, and Gomorrah,” by Samuel R. Delany, is the sort of sexy science fiction I'd expect from Phillip Jose Farmer. The story centers on spacers, "modified" posthumans whose exotic asexuality makes them the target of fetishists called frelks.
  

• "Understand,” by Ted Chiang, features a patient who is resuscitated from a vegetative state through the use of an experimental new synthetic hormone. Of course, the vegetable becomes an uber-genius, escapes from the hospital as a fugitive from CIA, begins meddling in the affairs of humanity in pursuit of his posthuman aesthetic agenda, and finally discovers another pharmaceutically engendered uber-genius out to save the world.
  

• “None So Blind” finds Joe Haldeman (one of my favorite authors) telling a love story of sorts about an odd couple whose love begets an experimental surgery that turns regular folks into geniuses. And all they need to do is give up their eyes.
  

• “Border Guards,” by Greg Egan (another author I've always liked), poses a good challenge to the McKibbenses of the world with their argument that death gives our lives meaning and dignity. Egan asks the simple question, "is that true?" If we could find a way to get rid of death once and for all, would it be fair to our children not to do so?
  

• “A History of the Human and Post-Human Species,” by Geoffrey A. Landis, was my favorite story, I think. It is found in the epilogue, and constitutes a "scientific" abstract covering all the speciation and evolution, engineered and naturally selected, that facing the human race in the next few million years. Intelligent species arise after humans, but none achieve spaceflight, and in a final twist reminiscent of Dougal Dixon's Man After Man, posthuman descendants of Terrestrial colonists on Mars return to Earth in the far future, with no memory of their original connection.
  

A gift to all fans of smart AND brilliantly written speculative fiction

The Man Who Had No Idea Thomas M. Disch
Bantam Books, 1982


Prior to picking this book up at a library sale in Benicia, CA, my only experience with Thomas Disch had been playing his text game Amnesia many years ago. After putting this book down upon concluding the final story, I wished that I had been reading his books instead of playing that game. If the stories contained in this volume are indicative of his skills as a thinker and writer, then Disch is a true luminary of SF.

The notes I took for this review are brief. The stories in this collection are all about people and about what it means to be human. The stories in this collection contain myriad examples of really great writing, inventive language, and novel turns of phrase. The stories in this collection encompass a variety of styles, all of which are handled deftly. And the stories in this collection explore a wide range of awesome ideas, reminding me once again why I've always liked smart SF.

A few of the stories that still stand out in my mind include the titular tale, in which people are required to become licensed in order to hold a conversation; "The Santa Claus Compromise" in which the extension of full civil liberties to children leads to some stunning "revelations" about Jolly Old St. Nick; "The Vengeance of Hera" explores themes of fidelity, estrangement, and how the gods (or in this case, goddesses) work in mysterious ways; "Concepts," the centerpiece of the anthology, breathes new life into the throw-away space aliens motif, and raises troubling questions about the nature of life and consciousness along the way; in "The Foetus" we encounter a demon-spawn hellbent on nuclear annihilation; and the brutally titled "Planet of the Rapes" views sexual politics through the prism of space age satire.

This is definitely a book for re-reading and a gift to all fans of smart AND brilliantly written speculative fiction.

(This review was originally written on September 14, 2007.)

A collection of better-than-average SF stories that mix the theological with the technological

Other Worlds, Other Gods: Adventures in Religious Science Fiction
Mayo Mohs
Doubleday, 1971


I've long wanted to teach an undergraduate course on religious themes in science fiction, so when I chanced upon this anthology at the library I was very excited. After completing its 12 stories and one poem, I am less excited, but only because a few of the stories seem a bit dated. In his introduction to the anthology, editor Mayo Mohs (who was the religion editor for Time magazine) explains his criteria for selecting the stories contained herein: "All, in one way or another, have to do with religion, religious myth, conscience or that inestimable beyondness about life that we call the transcendental" (p. 12) In my estimation, the best of the stories were those that did not necessarily wear their religion on their sleeves, that suggested theological and philosophical ideas rather than telegraphing them to the reader.

My personal favorites included: "The Word to Space," a wry story in which a Jesuit is called upon to confound a planet of religious zealots whose interstellar broadcasts comprise little more than hyperdogmatic screeds; the centerpiece of the collection, "Prometheus," by Philip Jose Farmer, in which an adventurer-turned-monk inadvertently introduces a race of sentient avians to language, and with it, theology; John Brunner's chilling "The Vitanuls" which extrapolates the implications of a Hindu cosmology of rebirth in a world that has conquered death; and "Balaam," in which a rabbi and a priest find themselves reprising the roles of that famous Moabite and his donkey. Also included in the collection is Arthur C. Clarke's famous "The Nine Billion Names of God," a story which leaves me cold because of its inaccurate descriptions of Tibetan religion (i.e., Tibetans, who are Buddhists, don't have one name for God, let alone nine billion) but which is also a classic of religiously themed SF.

I really enjoyed this collection, and would love to find a copy to add to my home library. Too bad there aren't more anthologies like this.

(This review was originally written on April 10, 2007.)

Relevant and riveting anthology of "green" science fiction

Dreams Edge: Science Fiction Stories
Terry Carr
Sierra Club Books

"So here are twenty stories about energy depletion, endangered species, pollution, our vanishing wilderness, overpopulation, and alternative energy sources--problems of the immediate future. Science fiction still tells of wondrous futures far away and a long time from now...but these are stories of the boundaries that lie immediaely before us. We're coming to the edge of something---is it to be the death of our world, or an endless future? Before we think about next week, we need to know that there'll be a tomorrow." (p.4)

Indeed. While amazing stories of space colonization and alien invasion are still great fun, I currently find myself needing a science fiction that addresses my pressing "green" concerns. Science fiction has always been the literary form which demands that the writer and reader think through the unthinkable, and, as anthologist/contributor Terry Carr reminds the reader, previous impossiblities like space flight found their initial inspirations in the fancies of science fiction writers. Now that the unthinkable includes the prospect of the collapse of civlization, or even of life itself, we urgently need science fiction speculation to help us find our way. I, along with Carr, hope that this anthology will inspire its readers to "devote their working lives to solving environmental problems," so that science fiction may "make an even more important contribution to the world."

To this end, Terry Carr has collected twenty wide-ranging masterpieces to address these environmental concerns, and not one of the stories is disappointing. Some of my favorites include: "Occam's Scalpel," in which the old trope of extraterrestrial colonization of the Earth meets the new call for ecological awareness; "Young Love," a chilling love story set in a future where everyone abides in government-sanctioned idiocy; the metafictional "How Can We Sink When We Can Fly?"; John Shirley's chilling "Under the Generator," in which death itself is exploited as a source of energy; and Carr's own "Virra," a sad yet hopeful finish to the anthology. Each story is a gem; collected, they are a masterpiece.

(This review was originally written on March 2, 2007.)

Rich, challenging, literary anthology that demands re-reading

Future Primitive: The New Ecotopias
Kim Stanley Robinson
Tor Books, 1997


At first I was a bit disappointed in this collection, because the earliest stories didn't seem ecotopian, utopian, or even SF in character. After I discovered the editor's endnotes, though, the intention behind the collection and its total vision became apparent, and the inclusion of the early stories made perfect sense.

As Dr. Robinson himself notes, the stories don't tend toward standard utopian themes---namely the planned, perfect, permanent society---but they instead reflect the dirty, earthy, organic, fertile concerns of the ecotopian. The "stories reveal everywhere their writers' belief that the societies they depict are preferable to the boxed existences of modern, urban life" (p. 346) through embodied engagement with the world of physical nature and the re-infusion of meaning into everyday life. "What these stories ask us to reconsider is what is really important in life, and thus new definitions of utopia must be reconsidered as well" (ibid).
"It's not that [these stories] advocate a simple return to nature, or a rejection of technology, which given our current situation would be nothing than another kind of ecological impossibility." Instead, these stories, "reject ther inevitability of a machine future" (p. 11).

Not all of the stories are immediately accessible, and many, if not most, demand re-reading in order to get a full appreciation of both the ideas and the writing in which those ideas are expressed. Most of the stories in the anthology really impressed me, but my favorites (at least right now) would have to be "Hogfoot Right and Bird-hands," "House of Bones," "Chocco," and "Newton's Sleep," all of which explored essential themes about what it means to be human in communion with (or separation from) the world of biological nature.

All in all this is a superb science fiction anthology that belongs on the bookshelves of anyone interested in utopian and ecotopian fiction, about the current state of humanity, and about our possible futures.

(This review was originally written on January 27, 2007.)