Solaris – A Complex Introspective Sci-fi Novel on Human Limitations

In the ‘Paris Review’ article (by Ezra Glinter) on visionary Polish novelist Stanislaw Lem, it is aptly remarked that, “Nobody can really know the future. But few could imagine it better than Lem.” Lem’s complex body of work astoundingly inquires upon the timeless questions of: what it means to be human, inadequacy of memory and anthropomorphic cognition of the universe around us.  Although Lem was adorned as one of the most read sci-fi writer in the world, he himself resisted the notion of being pigeon-holed as a sci-fi novelist. Mr. Lem also had poor relations with his American counterparts and often opinionated that American sci-fi is ill-conceived, censuring the popular works of Robert Heinlein and Isaac Asimov. While incorporating lot of complex scientific methodologies in his novels, the core of Lem’s stories aren’t clubbed into the category of ‘Hard sci-fi’; his devotees hail his stories as deeply philosophical, where the space and other science stuff takes backseat to probe the peculiarities of thought, memory, and existence.

Solaris is Mr. Lem’s most famous work, which has spawned out two dissatisfying movie versions (he hated Tarkovsky’s version and was indifferent to Soderbergh’s version). Published in 1961, Solaris was his first English translated novel (by Joanna Kilmartin and Steve Cox in 1970). The translation was done based on the French version (1964) and Lem, who is very fluent in English, dismissed the translation as ‘second-rate’. Nevertheless, for English readers there’s no other different source to fully breathe in the totality of Lem’s vision. Despite the author’s misgivings, I was quite compelled by Lem’s ironical, if not erudite, approach in exploring the unbridgeable communication gap that will always plague the attempts of ‘Contact’ between human and non-human sentient beings (it makes me wonder how much more compelling it would have been for Polish readers).  

The novel starts with Kris Kelvin, a psychologist, blasting off into the atmosphere of the planet Solaris (few light years from Earth in an unspecified year). Solaris, a planet revolving two suns, is covered by an ocean, marked inadequately with weird terrains and formations. The interesting thing about the ocean is that it is presumed to be a unique, sentient organism (or just a massive brain) whose consciousness has long been a debate among the group of scientists who call themselves as ‘Solarists’. The opening passages of the novels drop us into the dark, slowly shedding light on the strange happenings within desolate ‘Station’ of Solaris. Later we glean that Solarist studies have long been on the decline, since the scientific fraternity despite their decades of efforts and sacrifices of lives have gained little knowledge about the giant, enigmatic ocean. The spacious station now houses only three members and even their works may soon be suspended due to the waning interest back on Earth. 

In this volatile situation, Kris arrives into the Station and shockingly receives the news of his mentor/friend Gibrarian’s suicide. The other two scientists – Dr. Snow and Sartorius – act very strangely. Snow, the more talkative of the two, ambiguously warns Kris about certain preternatural experiences. Soon, he witnesses the simulacrum of his long-dead lover Rheya (he has long felt guilty of having driving her to commit suicide). The manifestation is meticulously created, right down to the scar at the back of her shoulders. Kris learns that the ocean is probing deep into their memories to manifest lost people from their respective lives. This naturally isolates the scientists from each other, provoking them to deal with these ghosts of tragic past in their own way. Initially, Kris questions his sanity and takes drastic steps to get rid of the ‘visitor’ (later named as ‘Phi-Creatures'). He imprisons Rheya within a shuttle and blasts it into the orbit. But another Rheya visits him the next day, clinging to his bedside.

The phi-creatures or visitors are intriguingly conceptualized. They couldn’t be easily harmed, perfectly realized from the memories of the mind from which they are created, and most importantly, they are unaware of their creation. Although the scientists believe that these manifestations are devious tools to study humans, the phi-creatures’ self-awareness and existential angst stimulates thoughtful questions on ‘what makes us human’. Feelings of obsession, isolation, and guilt gradually transform Kris to guard Rheya, although Dr. Snow repeatedly castigates Kris on why such approach is ultimately futile and dangerous to their scientific mission. And, how would these great minds, who find it hard to triumph over the corporeal memories, can bring themselves to understand or make contact with a bewildering sentient organism?   

Andrei Tarkovsky's (up) and Steven Soderbergh's adaptation of Lem's novel (in 1972 and 2002 respectively)

Stanislaw Lem’s prose may not have the formalist stylistics of Philip K Dick, but he has the knack for creating deeper rapport using seemingly simple exchanges. As ‘visiting’ Rheya understands the truth about her creation, she asks to Kris, “Do I look like her?” to which he replies “You did at first. Now I don’t know. I don’t understand. Now all I see is you”. Such conversations between increasingly conscious Rheya and Kris bring out the treacherous nature of memory and its slight detachment with the reality. The other most intriguing thematic exploration is Lem’s musing on how we inevitably anthropomorphize every scientific concept, rendering inconceivable the contact with an advanced alien mind (“We take off into the cosmos, ready for anything: for solitude, for hardship, for exhaustion, death... And yet, if we examine it more closely, our enthusiasm turns out to be a sham…….. We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds”, brilliantly remarks Dr. Snow). The author questions human race’s pomposity to mythologize space colonization and alleged near-future alien contact, while it hasn’t mastered or adequately addressed the darkness within itself. Lem further notes how in the cosmos of unfathomable cruelty and miracles, human race will be eternally limited by its existential or moral barriers (“Earth is a common type – the grass of the universe! And we pride ourselves on this universality…”).      

Stanislaw Lem’s detailed account of Solaris, chronicled through Kris’ study of old journals, is criticized as dis-interesting, dry and unnecessarily digressive. However, I loved those passages, especially the author’s vivid imaginative creation of ‘extensor’, ‘mimoid’, ‘symmetriad' & 'asymmetriad’ (these are unique, intricate structures mysteriously formed on the surface of Solaris ocean). The explanation of how Solarists of each generation operated and spawned divisive ideologies was also described in a very engaging manner (in the novel, the waning interest over Solaris & Solarists is often interpreted as a metaphor for the corruption or disintegration of communist ideologies).

Even though I initially loved Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris, it only sort of feigns ambiguity (lacks the edgy feel of the book) and never profoundly addresses Lem’s central themes. Despite Lem’s lamentation over poor English translation, Solaris remains as an astounding novel that blends in inexplicable yet relentlessly thought-provoking philosophical and scientific questions.

The Devil in the White City – A Staggering Historical Event Told with the Grace of a Luminous Storyteller

“Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood”

--- Daniel Hudson Burnham

“I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing”

---  H.H. Holmes

The 1889 Paris World Fair (‘The Exposition Universelle’) shrewdly captured the attention of the Western nations. A one thousand feet high phallic iron structure that was erected at the center of Paris Exposition thought to be the symbol asserting the supremacy of French architecture and culture. The giant tower was belovedly called after its designer – Alexander Gustave Eiffel. The immense commercial success and cultural marvel of the Paris Fair had deeply perturbed the American architects and engineers. America wanted to surpass Paris’ overwhelming glory (put the entire Europe in its place) and that too very sooner. In order to commemorate the 400^th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ landing on the American mainland, plans were made to design World’s Columbian Exposition. The Fair was held between 1 May and October 30, 1893. And, to everyone’s surprise, Chicago – America’s 2^nd largest city – was chosen to exhibit the Fair; not the allegedly culturally superior New York. At this time, Chicago was mired amidst cloud of self-doubt. The windy city was burdened to shed its image of a black city, drenched in coal smoke and stink of slaughterhouses (the huge meat-packing factories' 'assembly lines' of Chicago actually provided inspiration for Henry Ford). The Americans wanted the Columbian Exposition to be a grand expression of collective American thought. In the decades following the Chicago Fair, it was addressed as an important event in the country’s self-identification phase.

How Chicago conquered its inferiority complex through its army of engineers, architects, artists and inventors, spearheaded by the super-talented architect Daniel Hudson Burnham, contributes to the distinguished history of White City. The prodigious material achievements of humans, envisioned at the Chicago Fair, captured the imagination of millions of people, including that of the charming devil named Herman Webster Mudgett. American journalist and author Erik Larsson’s spectacular 2003 non-fiction book ‘The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and the Madness That Changed America’ tells the ascent of Chicago Fair and the accomplishments of two polarizing individuals of the city – D.H. Burnham and Mudgett aka H.H. Holmes (yes the name taken after Conan Doyle’s release of 1^st Sherlock Holmes book in 1887). As Mr. Larson says in the prologue, “the book is about the evanescence of life, and why some men choose to fill their brief allotment of time engaging the impossible, others in the manufacture of sorrows”.

H H Holmes

Erik Larson was best known for presenting non-fiction material in a very engaging novelistic style. He turns history into a vast canvas for portraying myriad of human stories. His wonderful gift for language easily makes us connect with the predicament of the men and women of late 19^th century; not just through analytical observation but also by using strong emotional perception. Apart from including rich invaluable historical details, Devil in the White City tells a lot about the American politics, suppressed labor unions, the perpetual clash between bankers and visionaries, and the clash of geniuses. Edison demonstrated his first light bulb at the Chicago Fair and the magic of electricity marveled the attendees. The public was introduced to Ferris wheel (built to out-Eiffel Eiffel), zip fasteners, dishwashers, shredded wheat, caramel-coated popcorn, Pabst Blue Ribbon, differently flavored gums, etc. The author particularly excels when reciting the experiences of famous personalities of the time at the Fair: Houdini, Scott Joplin, Buffalo Bill, Archduke Ferdinand, Woodrow Wilson (28^th US President), Susan B Anthony (founder of National Woman Suffrage Association), Nikola Tesla, Mark Twain, etc. Larson turns a simple trivia or infotainment into a fantastic narrative. For example, his description of Elias Disney being a worker at the Fair; he quips how Mr. Elias would have told lofty tales about the fair to his youngest son Walt Disney (other interesting trivia or is how the Fair came to serve as the inspiration for Oz by writer Frank L. Baum).

The crux of the book, however, rests upon the life story of Burnham and H.H. Holmes. Burnham and his beloved partner John Root were one of the greatest minds of the day. From erecting America’s foremost skyscrapers to creating the gorgeous landscapes of the White City, Burnham had a penchant for achieving the impossible. Larson elaborately sets up the tense atmosphere as the work to build the Fair meets myriad of problems in all directions. Perhaps, Burnham’s biggest among the impossible achievement is the army of powerful architects and engineers he conjured to make the nation’s vision a reality. Frederick Olmstead (celebrated landscape architect), George Ferris, and Louis Sullivan were the prominent men among those who made the Fair a runaway success.

Sketch of Chicago's World Fair 1893 (pic source: Wikipedia)

While Burnham planned the aesthetics of the Fair, Holmes was building his own dream house, closer to it. The house that occupied an entire block was actually called ‘Castle’ by the neighbors. Holmes was as much a charming entrepreneur (‘handsome and blue-eyed’) like Burnham, although he had different pleasures. The house was filled with soundproof and airtight rooms, trapdoors, odd staircases, portable gas chambers, and a large customized kiln. During the fair, he converted his castle into a hotel, focusing his blue-eyed gaze on young, lonely women who were new to the city. The fair attracted thousands of women fitting Holmes’ taste and he powered over more than handful of them. The champion huckster wore a mask of politeness and sensitivity that made many people voluntarily fall under his trap. The true dark secret of the hotel/castle was unearthed only two years after the end of Fair (by the efforts of a lone-wolf detective Frank Geyer; the Chicago police force didn’t have a clue about the serial murders). Till then, Holmes enjoyed doing what he did best: killing. The most gruesome detail about the murders is how Holmes sold many of his victims’ skeletons to medical schools (the era when medical fraternity robbed the graves to study human anatomy). Infamously known as America’s first modern day serial killer, the number of people he killed varies between 20 and 200.    

Larson brilliantly juxtaposes the hardships faced by Burnham and the Fair with Holmes’ terrifying exploits. The author recreates couple of scenario that lead to the murders of Holmes’ victims. The scenario is impeccably patched together after delving into police and judicial reports. While Larson cooks up interesting anecdotes and builds plenty of momentum in detailing Holmes’ deeds, he never perceives the serial killer with a misplaced sense of fascination. On hindsight, the book feels a little less on analytical perception (as many of the facts and quotes are pieced together from different sources and books, although Larson has taken great efforts to attain the information). Furthermore, it’s inevitably affected by an imbalance in focusing between the narratives of Burnham, Chicago Fair, and Holmes (if you are looking for Holmes’ psychological profile it’s better to read Harold Schechter's 1994 book ‘Depraved’).  Nevertheless, The Devil in the White City (447 pages) provides a detailed and dazzling portrait of America in the Gilded Age. It’s a highly ambitious work of narrative non-fiction (with wholly factual details) that thrills and enchants us like a popular fiction.

[Leonardo Di Caprio purchased the rights for the book in 2010 and Martin Scorsese was touted to direct the adaptation after finishing his passion project ‘The Irishman’. Di Caprio may don the role of H.H. Holmes]. 

 

Sharp Objects – Reimagining the Preconceptions of Femininity through Crime Fiction Framework

“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort”

‘Gone Girl’ fame Gillian Flynn’s debut novel Sharp Objects (published in 2006) is set in Wind Gap, Missouri, the Midwestern US State. Wind Gap is a typical viciously gossipy, class-ridden small town, whose local economy is based on the sprawling hog farms and other live stock farms. Apart from the squeal of slaughtered pigs and noise from drunken parties, Wind Gap is indefinitely cloaked in a peaceful lull. However, that has been shattered with the killing of two preteen girls. The first killing just seemed like an isolated incident. But a year later another girl is brutally murdered, her teeth pulled out just like it was with the murder of the first girl. Thirty-something Camille Preaker works as a police reporter in Chicago Daily Post under chief-editor Curry, an affable father-figure. Since Camille is from Wind Gap, Curry nudges her to cover the story. Moreover, other popular papers from Chicago haven’t yet got wind of the story or may have not considered it news-worthy, so it would be great if she could successfully cover it. Curry also wants Camille to spend some time with her family and there’s a slight hint that she doesn’t have good relationship with them, which actually turns out to be an understatement when we later get to read certain acutely horrific details. Anyway, she journeys to home sweet home to join the hunt for the possible serial-killer, if not at least an attention-grabbing article.  

Sharp Objects may appear to be a typical procedural with a female-protagonist, in the vein of Dana Scully or Kay Scarpetta. But it’s not. It definitely induces fairly good level of mystery to make us play the ‘guess-the-killer’ game, although what sets it apart from the other mainstream crime literary fiction is the distinct as well as the achingly painful female gaze. We may have read or seen many grim fictions dealing with the theme of ‘sins of father’. Sharp Objects is about the sins of mothers or the irredeemable feminine nastiness. Men in the novel either remain clueless to female meanness and agonies, mired in their own pursuit for pleasures or succumb to the whims of femininity. It actually might be considered as one of the novel’s flaw as the men characters are mostly thrown away to the periphery, while the female characters remain increasingly twisted. Nevertheless, I felt there’s a deep psychological truth to these specific proceedings. The action that unfurls may be frighteningly dramatized to serve the genre, but at its core Flynn unnervingly depicts the relentless violence and agony a female body is subjected to (not just by bad men).  

“Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom”, says Camille Preaker who has lost her younger sister Marian to physical illness, way back when they both were adolescents. Ever since then, Camille’s illness of the mind has been a threatening factor. She is a cutter; not just the one who slashes her wrists. Camille carves words into her skin. Except for the unreachable patch of skin at the back, she has carved words all over her body, each word an attempt to capture assortment of emotional pains. And, these inscribed signifiers or the literal evocation of private emotions quiver through her body whenever she goes through a tough or joyful situation. Marian’s death is only a little part of Camille’s problem, the biggest one being her frayed relationship with wealthy and manipulative mother Adora. Camille hails from a family of rich land-owners who has always been in the position to run the town. Adora and her husband Alan (Camille’s father’s identity is unknown) has never worked a single day in their life, whose collective wealth periodically increases due to the booming hog farms.  

Author Gillian Flynn

Adora has perpetually showcased emotional coldness towards Camille, while Camille has been a defiant girl right from the childhood. Adora also has a 13 year old daughter Amma whose sexual exploits and mean streak is an infamous topic among the residents. Amma wears a nice-girl mask in front of her mother and to Camille’s annoyance, Adora often cajoles Amma like a little child. Not only Adora, but the town residents stay frigid to Camille’s attempts to report the murder story. The town sheriff Vickery, a cranky old man, dismisses her in an off-handed manner, although the FBI guy in the town Det. Richard Willis takes a shine to Camille. Alas, he is tight-lipped when it comes to providing solid scoops. Camille visits the regular cauldron of gossiping circles in the town (her and Adora’s circle of friends) and uncovers few unsettling truths about the dead girls. Before long, she understands that the answers to the present-day crimes are wedged deep inside the dark past; her very own past. Subsequently, the inevitable spiraling down is effectively engineered with Flynn throwing in some classic plot twists. 

Camille Preaker isn’t always a likeable character, especially for readers of traditional crime fiction. Gillian Flynn takes us too close to Camille’s inner demons or one could say that she explicitly details the f**ked-up nature of the protagonist to makes us squirm with disquietude. There are times I wanted to free myself of Camille’s gaze and horrific experiences and just jump to the final chapters to find out who’s the killer (thankfully, I didn’t surrender to that feeling). From mutilated skin to poisoned emotional nature, Camille’s instability and penchant for making rash decisions constantly keeps us on the edge. We definitely empathize for her in the end, but Flynn deliberately turns the character into someone we don't immediately attach ourselves to. The author doesn’t provide the typical voyeuristic pleasure in seeing the beautiful protagonist (most of the characters are bowled-over by Camille's beauty) unlocking a set of clues to solve the crime. The literal as well as figurative sickness that pervades the town and Camille herself is portrayed in sharp details. Female bodies usually in crime mystery fictions assign a very simple purpose: to be either a victim whose murder & mutilation sets up the narrative or to be a seductress, a femme fatale who willingly gives her body to the male protagonist. Sharp Objects alternately infuses a fresh-spin to this banal narrative and also cleverly subverts it. 

Amy Adams plays Camille Preaker in the upcoming TV-series adaptation

Flynn’s crafting of female self-identity and representation of female bodies largely deviates from the regular narrative discourses. Women in the novel aren’t just blank spaces who aren’t experienced as mere objects that are either brutalized or glamorized. Flynn’s novels are often misconstrued as misogynistic; a concrete proof of how nasty women could be if they are allowed to run things. But these crime fictions are actually an effort to broaden the rigid boundaries of feminist framework. Sharp Objects is truly about the pervasive sexual violation and victimization of women. It chronicles how stereotypes of femininity or rigid aesthetic perspective of female body can create a nightmarish culture of sexually deviance and relentless violence. Camille, Adora, Amma, and other females in the small-town are coerced to display the accepted traits of femininity, which when combined with a rare yet truly malevolent scenario boosts up the narrative’s terrifying quotient. I also liked Flynn’s talent for darkly comic observations.

 In a traditional crime tale when two little girls are murdered, we expect the protagonist to be deeply empathetic. But here there’s a casual cynicism in the way Camille scrutinizes the victim’s family, especially when she comments on the temperament of first victim's – Ann Nash – family. Ann is the third consecutive daughter of the Nash family, who was followed by a boy. Camille in a matter of fact tone says, “Three girls until, at last, their baby boy…..I pondered the growing desperation the Nashes' must have felt each time a child popped out without a penis”. These emotionally detached but sarcastic observations lighten up the otherwise gloomy narrative. I wouldn’t say that the mystery element is perfect or the killer’s identity is wholly unpredictable. Yet, what works in favor of Sharp Objects (336 pages) is the distinct re-imagining of the femininity within crime/murder mystery fiction and author Gillian Flynn’s sharp, acerbic storytelling method [the novel is being turned into an 8-part mini-series with Amy Adams playing the central role]. Definitely worth reading if you can digest this kind of inescapable darkness. 

Gillian Flynn talks about 'Sharp Objects'