Indigestion, and -Earth Abides-

I've said that I love sf, and this is true, but part of loving the genre for what it is involves accepting that sometimes the reading of the classic stuff is a bit like taking cough medicine when you're a kid (and have no idea that Tussin has those other recreational effects). Which is to say, you kind of have to hold your breath and swallow really fast, and even then, that slimy aftertaste of 'blech' remains. Despite the 'blech' aspect, though, the ingestion is worth it. You stop coughing. You can finally sleep. You might even be able to breathe through your nose for the first time in several hours.

I may have taken this metaphor too far.

The point is, sometimes reading classic sf gives me mental indigestion. I do it anyway, because I'm one of those crazy people who is in love with something that sometimes makes me want to beat my head against a wall (which probably makes me like every other human being out there, which is to say, we're all a little nuts), and because, like taking cough medicine when you're sick, I think it's good for me. The reading, not the insanity. Well, maybe the insanity a little bit, too, but I guess that comes with the territory.

The particular book that is currently driving me crazy is George R. Stewart's Earth Abides. Published in 1949, and chalk-full of all that lovely pretension, misogyny, racism and masturbatory escapist language that is so much a part of the early genre. The book is a ponderous exploration of a post-apocalyptic world in which we get to see how the main character, Isherwood Williams, deals with having survived an epidemic that has killed off most of the human race.

The novel is less an adventure story and more of a thought-experiment, and so a lot of it reads like Robinson Crusoe, big on the technical details, less so on action. Which is funny, because Stewart has Isherwood borrow Robinson Crusoe and the Swiss Family Robinson from the library early on in the text, and then writes Isherwood as being annoyed with both books. Inter-textual irony, woo!

I've stuck with it despite the indigestion, and as what usually happens with these older sf texts, it was worth the effort. Part of what helps is looking at the novel as kind of cultural history artifact. The action of the text and the philosophies it espouses are all reflective of the time it was written in, and this makes the book fascinating. Especially considering that Stewart is remarkably thorough in his exploration of how people might handle an apocalypse, and even moreso when you take into consideration just how quietly he handles the whole concept. This is not a high-energy adventure story, with damsels in distress, a clear human (or alien) villain to fight, or the blood, gore and ridiculous thrill of Mad Max. This is the banality of apocalypse, and now that I'm almost done with the book, I'm a little pleased to have read this kind of an approach.

The payoff of sf is always that it tickles my brain, because at the end of every story, however frustrating it might be or however much I disagree with its ideologies, the fact that we're dreaming these things up at all is kind of wonderful. It's somehow reassuring.

I'll go into more critical detail about Earth Abides in another post, but this gives you an idea of what I'm working with. The irritating part is working through being offended by all the sexism, racism and narcissism in the text in order to get myself to the point of being able to critically analyze it. But then, that's part of what this blog is for. :D