RS Classic: Science faux pas (and my movie pet peeves)

Given that I had my trash-Armageddon earlier, it seemed reasonable to replay this one from the same theme.

I can be irritating to watch movies with. I admit it. Unless I’m blown away by characters and/or dialog, little errors will bother me. And I’m vocal about it. I’m a history buff so trashing history will irk me, ditto with characters that make no damn sense. But many people are irritated by that. One thing that really gets me are “science fiction” movies where science was clearly not well thought out. Yesterday’s Armageddon blog demonstrated that a single movie can pretty much throw science in the toilet. But even the better movies can do things that defy science.

Here are some pet peeves.

Momentum - Few things take a pounding in science films like Newtonian physics. Star Trek (movies and television shows) - we’re zipping along at Warp 8 and the engines go down. And we stop. Now, when it comes to warp speed, we really don’t know much about how it would work (if it even would), so I don’t have a problem with popping out of warp into normal space. However, in normal space, shutting off the propulsion will just mean you’ll keep going. In fact, you’re likely to be in more trouble than standing still. Standing still, you know, means you aren’t going to run into something.

Side note - There’s a very good short story called “Cold Equations” by Tom Godwin which is touted, and rightly, as an excellent example how physics (and science) doesn’t care about whether someone lives or dies. Unfortunately, the science is off. In the story, the transports are fueled with no contingency fuel, just enough for the planned cargo and crew. They’re on their way, when the pilot discovers a stowaway going to see her brother. Because there’s no contingency (which is, in my opinion, a dumb way to do business), she has to be spaced, despite her tears and her brother’s anguish. Tragic. (He gives her an extra hour by changing the trajectory, but that’s silly, too - her weight only matters while speeding up or slowing down or changing direction) Except, since they’d launched with her weight on board, they were already short on fuel. Physics, whew, a tough taskmaster.

Angular momentum - Star Wars - Hey remember those cool shots of the Millenium Falcon zipping through the cloud of Empiric ships, flipping U-turns and dodging like mad? Uh, I kept waiting for people’s bodies to punch right through the hull. Anyone with experience in a fighter plane will tell you angular acceleration will eat your lunch, and your plane, if you pull too many g’s. As fast as they were going, the poor folks inside (not wearing seat belts, of course) would be pounded to mush against any hard surface. Don’t go talkin’ about gravity generators or dampers, ’cause I’m not going to buy it. If they really had those, why are they always being jarred out of seats and stuff? Speaking of the latter, why do shows like Star Trek and Star Wars forgo seat belts? The old (and much loved by me) original Star Trek had people tumbling around engineering and the bridge like dice. Why would any ship that moved at sublight and light speeds have standing engineering positions? Or seats without restraints? You can get tickets for that in cars that never bust 70 mph (113 kph).

Ignoring vacuum - Star Wars - Ah, shooting laser canons through open portholes, shuttles landing in bays open to space, Death Star under construction - just like you could do that open to space, with folks walking about without masks. In vacuum. Red Planet - Our refugee has made a habitat on the surface of Mars out of cloth with open bottoms that allowed air in and out. Mars, at its atmospheres densest point, is 0.011 atm (that’s 0.165 psia). I don’t think so. Not even if you breath really shallow.

Orbital Mechanics - Red Planet - There’s an impressive leap from the disabled rescue ship to an unmanned satellite ~1 km away in spacesuits. Ignoring, for the moment, the likelihood that the satellite would have life support or could facilitate their arrival on the surface, going across a km of open space between two vessels in almost undoubtedly different orbits going several km/second? Not bloody likely. This also applies to any movie where an orbiting but suddenly disabled ship will decay “within hours”. Space junk, even released in low orbit, usually takes weeks or months; any ship that decays within hours was flying stupidly low.

Holodecks - Star Trek (and others) - Building whole sets, with tactile interaction, using holograms? I can buy visual, smell and audio, but we don’t have light we can see or “eat” or “drink” or “sleep on” or “sit on”. It’s not a matter of speculation; photons don’t make solids. Nice try, though. (Note, that in a sophisticated VR suit with tactile sensor and or something that could interact with brains to simulate the experiences as “dreams” or “visions”, I would not have the same problem).

Are there are others? Sure. And, before I get blasted for being too hard on speculative fiction, let me tell you some things that don’t bother me: transporters (Star Trek), faster than speed of light travel, point to point travel/tesseract/wormholes (Stargate/Star Trek/others), replicators (Star Trek), simulated gravity, almost any biological anomaly or weirdness, hovercraft, cyborgs, artificial intelligence, complex robotics . . . the list goes on.

I also am pretty damn forgiving with such things as superheroes and other fantastic stories, including shapeshifting, amazing strength and imperviousness (yes, I like Wolverine), vampires, magic etc. There are plenty of things out there I can’t begin to explain. Except flying and that dumb thing where someone like Wonder Woman hold back a jet by digging in her heels.

But, hey, sometimes you gotta let go.

Read more...

Separating the Chaff from the Grain: Part Four - What Makes a Classic?

I know, I know, it's supposed to be a quote-a-thon, but my series isn't done and I do like things tidy. Plus I've been wrangling with someone on another blog so much I left in disgust. Something I'm not prone to do. (OK, I went back) I could go into it in detail, but then tomorrow's my day to bitch, so I'll leave it 'til then.

So, today, I want to talk about what makes a classic. And, in a disclaimer I didn't include on the others, but should have, I do not claim omniscience; these are just my opinions. I will add, too, as this is an area of expertise for several of my regular readers, I might very well be corrected in the comments. But this is what I think makes a classic.

Wait, didn't you discuss "crap" vs. "good stuff" in part 2? Yes, yes I did, but being "good stuff" doesn't necessarily make a classic. Something can be great without being timeless. Not every work, no matter how meticulously researched or cleverly worded, is destined to be taught in literature for years to come. So, how do you determine an "instant classic"?

First of all, I don't think anyone can say for sure. There are always people who think they can, of course, and make a living doing so. Yet, in hindsight, they have been wrong as often as they've been right. If not more so. As is so often true with experts (Studies have shown random guessing has a better track record than expert opinions when it comes to predictions). And, although most people can generally tell when something abysmally crafted, thoughtless, or incoherent is not going to be a classic, there have been exceptions to that as well. When it comes to something well crafted, even inspired, but not one's cup of tea, then it becomes considerably harder.

So how do you know?

Well, I think one of the most important ones is time. No matter how groundbreaking a novel or story might be, no matter how many loved it, if no one's heard of it 100 years later, it didn't make the cut.

So, what makes the cut?

Well, generally, "classics" are built with some measure of care, skill, an understanding of language and syntax, of characters and/or society. Many have meanings below the surface that make them commentaries on their time or address universal issues that are as fresh and timely today as they were then. Novels and books with an outdated outlook or an obsolete issue might fall to the wayside unless they are one of few books from an era, even if they are well crafted. The classics often demonstrate the pinnacle of this or that aspect of writing or form, like poem, story or novel.

Sometimes, classics involve a leap forward in imagination, like HG Wells or Jules Verne. Sometimes, they just capture the imagination with characters and setting so vivid as to breathe life into them. Often, a classic does something never done before or sets a standard, or perhaps represent a movement or an era in writing like romanticism or American Transcendentalism.

Sometimes, it represents the society so well that created it, it becomes our insight into that world. Sometimes, it represents a transition in audience, either in what they want to read or in who was reading. Sometimes, a novel or book is so far ahead of its time that it is ignored or villified by contemporaries only to awe the generations that follow.

Sometimes a book is still as powerful and insightful, as imaginative and compelling a hundred years after it was written as it was when it was first published. Now, that's classic.

Only thing is, you won't know for a hundred years. Today, no one will know for sure.

At least, that's what I think.

Read more...

Separating the Chaff from the Grain: Part Two - Who judges?

Somehow, some people, who shall remain nameless, seem to be confused as to what I think "crap" is and what is the "good stuff" when it comes to writing (and, theoretically, other forms of creativity like movies and music and art, etc. But, for this exercise, we'll focus on writing). According to this unnamed person, "If you wrote it clearly, I won't be able to read anything into it that isn't there."

*Pardon me while I laugh a bit. After all in the history of creativity no one has ever read into something what wasn't intended or thought or directly said. Have they?

Moving on. So, as the Rocket Scientist and the learned head researcher on Ask Me Anything, can you tell us definitively, how to tell "crap" from the "good stuff?"

Um, no.

Why not?

Because I have no idea.

[I hope that was clear enough for those who may have been confused with my earlier lack of clarity]

What do you mean? You think everything you read is good (or bad)?

No, I know what I like, but I am not the harbinger of taste and long term success. I can't decide for anyone else what they will and won't like.

I mentioned, in my last post, that the audiences out there are often consumed and fascinated with celebrity foibles and the sensational. I feel confident that that is true, if only based on the traffic and circulation of those sites/periodicals that focus on such subjects. I remember distinctly seeing a cover for the Weekly World News screaming "HUMAN HEAD TRANSPLANT! Medical world astonished!" I was a teenager at the time, but I laughed and laughed and laughed. The person in line in front of us bought this issue of WWN with nary a chuckle.

However, just because a subject doesn't suit me, doesn't interest me, bores me or, I feel, insults my intelligence, doesn't make it crap. It doesn't even preclude it becoming a classic. The staying power of something may depend more on the staying power of the celebrities involved (will Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie be remembered as actors who were pivotal to today's cinema? Who knows? I don't, but, if they do, books that address their relationship might be important even decades from now). Or a sensational assertion could turn out to be true. I'm skeptical that blatantly false accusation (and works that expound them) will become classics, but stranger things have happened.

And my skepticism really has no bearing on the issue at all.

However, the fact I have no interest in these things does not, in any way, confer judgment. I also have no interest in sports, most mysteries, most horror, vampires, pioneer stories, pederasty, rape-heavy novels (especially where both involved are "protagonists"), tragic stuff, religious literature, self-help anything, most politics, financial reports, or automotive manuals. That does not mean these things are bad. That means they don't interest me in general. There are and have been exceptions and this list is not exhaustive.

Wait, wait, shouldn't there be some criteria? Surely...

Well, one could say how well something is written. That's all well and good, but writing styles and syntax have changed radically over the centuries. If it was just how "well" something was written, we wouldn't likely still be reading "Beowulf" - but it has to be evaluated on the basis of its contemporary works. Ditto for Chaucer (who I rather like) and Shakespeare (who I like even more). However, skillfully the language was used for the time, it often fails to accomplish the same with a modern audience who is often left confused, unable to decipher the intent of the phrases, or, even if they can, appreciate the often contemporary references.

Even exceptional literature written in language and syntax many can read easily today, like Austen or Poe or Irving, use vocabulary that requires frequent trips to the dictionary or POV and sentence structure constructs that would get a manuscript today tossed by most editors. Whole paragraphs (often running half a page) might contain no periods, just semi-colons. Language and verb usage are often obscure or obsolete. Sentence structure is often convoluted.

However, writing something with perfect syntax and grammar is no assurance of greatness. Many a lofty English professor writes work that is dry as dust and so complex it obfuscates the meaning rather than elucidates. It is not across the board - I know two people who teach at the university level who write quite intelligently and cogently, often fascinating and thought-provoking stuff (Hi, flit and Shakespeare!).

"Poor" grammar and syntax doesn't preclude greatness either. Catcher in the Rye was never a favorite of mine, but it's held in high esteem by many. It's written in a very informal style that's compelling because it's not formal. It feels real. e e cummings broke all the rules, yet is often revered.

Or, for example, I don't care, as a general rule, for teenage protagonists. They often think and act like teenagers, which makes me roll my eyes or they come across as fake, which is worse. It's actually because some works are so good at capturing the teenage mindset that I find them unappealing. Why should I sneer at someone who finds it compelling? Who can recapture that sense from reading it? Isn't that what novels are for?

Someone might write "thesaurus-speak" - a pet peeve of mine, where they use many advanced words that are somewhat out of context with the sentences they're writing. This argues, for me, a tendency to use the thesaurus and the words found there without understanding the nuances of the word. But that's my reaction and I'm not an etymologist. I've been wrong once or twice before. And, this tendency, "thesaurus-speak", does not preclude being able to evoke emotion, describe a scene stirringly, build personable characters, develop an exciting plot or conjure realistic dialog. Who's to say that's just as laudable, if not more so, than someone who writes lifeless fiction but with a perfect understanding of vocabulary? Not I.

In the end, "great literature" has more to do with how it affects people, both at the time and after time has passed. The audience today and in the future, decides what the "good stuff" is, even if many an aspiring writer, like myself, doesn't necessarily understand their reasoning.

That's OK. I like many things that aren't critically acclaimed myself and dislike many a classic. I know what I like. I know why I like it (and THAT's yet another subject I could write a whole post on). No one has to agree with me. I also feel no drive to change the world to see things my way (unless I think it's harmful, like rape literature), though I will do my small part to support the literature I like by purchasing copies of it. Call it my vote.

Sometimes, I have called work that I detested "crap", though usually because they offended my sense of decency. But what I mean by crap in that context is something I personally despise. I have no control over the world at large and am no one's censor.

I just know what I like and that, whether it sells or not, it's what I aim to write. More on that later.

Now, all of that applies to fiction (also movies, music, and art, ironically enough). It's hard to argue something is meaningless and a waste if it affects a sizable portion of the populace, even if I don't personally get it.

When it comes to nonfiction, my criteria are different. Readability takes second stage, for me, to content. I'd rather read something dry and factual, but chock full of good stuff, than something approachable and weak on content. And, if they fudge a few things to make it more interesting, I usually disgusted. Again, that doesn't preclude literary brilliance.

However, though I won't judge such stuff on literary terms, I might very well judge the content and might readily describe it as "crap," "garbage" and "nonsense." And I might very well defend my opinions on content that isn't actually black or white.

Hope that was clear to all. I'll be writing more on this.

Read more...

Separating the Chaff from the Grain: Part One

(image from here - clever!)
Relax Max was here stirring the pot recently, and then did some stirring of his own on his blog. I told him I'd give my two cents here though I realized, when I said it, it likely had more than a buck fifty, so it might take more than one post.

Relax Max was pointing out that many an aspiring writer complained that crap was published while their own work languished. Why?

Because people are buying it, that's why. [I condensed his post rather drastically; feel free to check it out yourself]. I agree with him.

The "problem" isn't the publishers (oh, sure, they pass over a classic or megahit once in a while). It's not even the writers. It's the audience.

This is the audience that is riveted over Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's marriage and reproductive trends. The audience that waited with 'bated breath to find out if Tiger Woods did or didn't (he did, apparently, as stupidly as possible). It's the audience which can believe almost anything depending on who's saying it and how many times they describe their revelations as the "truth."

So, it's no surprise that books about or by celebrities and the like are successful. As are books that reveal some postulated "truth," ironically the less substantiated, inflammatory and outrageous, the more successful the book.

That's not all though. Books that elicit a reaction, especially if no thought is required, can be in great demand. A woman (or man) who grabs a few romances at the airport likely isn't looking for deep meaning and insightful nuance. Chances are she (or he) is looking for an easy read and a safe bit of vicarious lust. Like structured daydreaming.

When we think of classics, we often think of old literature and there are (at least) two reasons for that. One is that, in ages past, everyone didn't read, only the most educated and the social and religious elite. Books were also quite expensive to produce so publishing mindless "crap" would likely alienate one's limited audience. Many a "great" work, nonetheless, went all but unnoticed at the time, but they fulfilled the second aspect of old literature: standing the test of time.

Publishing became easier in the 19th century, for instance, and lending libraries became somewhat popular. There were several series of gothic romances and other frivolous bits of fluff that are all but forgotten today. They didn't stand the test of time, but they were wildly popular at the time.

If you're writing the great American novel, you may be swimming upstream. Even if it's the "right" work, it might be the wrong audience. If Shakespeare was writing today, I have no doubt he'd write in more accessible language, but he likely couldn't get any success unless he had Peter Jackson or someone putting it on the screen. Everyone's too busy watching Adam Sandler and his ilk. (So, I'm not a fan!)

So, is it hopeless? Nope, good stuff is published, too (and some of the "mindless" stuff is not really mindless or even bad). And if you want a little education, regardless of the literary quality of the writing itself, or want to feel something without thinking too hard, that's not really so bad now, is it?

So, does that mean all of us aspiring writers should stop trying for greatness and write something a little less ambitious? Well, I think I'll save that question for another time.

Read more...