Editorial Archive 1999

The Rev-Up Editorial Archive

1999

1999 December

I've just returned from an intensive 2-week holiday touring California and places round about, so the Rev-Up Review Pages have taken a back seat for a while.

Highlights

Five of us were led out in order (determined by our relative weights) to the heli-pad. The chopper screamed and hissed like a model steam engine, and the single rotor whopped menacingly overhead. With hand-signals we were shown where to sit -- one next to the pilot, the remaining four of us in pairs facing each other in the cramped cabin. We put on headphones and fastened safety belts. The fibreglass door slammed shut. The sound of the rotor increased in pitch and the fragile bubble staggered uncertainly into the air. In a moment we were level with the tree-tops, and then left them below. What had been a forest now looked like undernourished grass, drifting slowly past. High winds buffeted the tiny chopper as it fought to stay on course.

In the distance the green carpet below became an edge. The chopper maintained its height as it approached, and we strained to see the mist-shrouded rocks. Then, as we continued over, the ground just disappeared, fell away, revealing the jagged 3D contour lines of the Grand Canyon in all its vast, incomprehensible depth. Awesome.

We traversed only a small part of the Canyon on our half- hour trip, but we did see the Colorado River at the bottom. It looked like the trickle of a stream, or it would have in a still photograph, but I could just make out that the white froth was in motion: that stream was actually a raging torrent, over a mile below. The scale of the Grand Canyon is like nothing I've ever seen before.

Who Pays?

Las Vegas is a place of great style and beauty. Billions of dollars have been spent to entice you into the casinos. There are magnificent street-shows every night in front of the hotels: a volcano erupts with 50-foot flames on a predetermined schedule; huge fountains dance and gyrate in a vast lake, to the tune of 'Hey Big Spender,' every half-hour; two full-size square-rigged ships engage in warfare, with much hollering from rigging and killing of pirates and the King's men, every 90 minutes.

You can eat anywhere really cheaply, because the food is subsidised. The technological sophistication of the place is mind-boggling. Escalators everywhere. Hotels with weird names (we stayed at 'Stardust'; we had breakfast at 'Circus Circus'). Everything about Las Vegas is absurd, until you think about how it came about, and what it's for. It's a very high-class place with no dress code, so people in tee-shirts and shorts dine under crystal chandeliers using silver cutlery and linen table napkins. All this conspicuous consumption has, of course, to be paid for. The money comes straight out of the pockets of losers.

The Colorado River running through the Grand Canyon is dammed to form Lake Mead at the Hoover Dam. This provides enormous amounts of hydroelectricity, which allows Las Vegas to leave its lights on all night. If you want to make fortune in Las Vegas, don't gamble. Become an electrician.

1999 November

That Witch, That Film

Somehow I missed most of the hype for The Blair Witch Project, so all I knew before seeing it was that it was presented as a true story -- the film itself being the video and 16mm black-and-white footage three youngsters made when they went into the woods to make a documentary about the 'Blair Witch.'

And very convincing it was too. Not actually scary at the time, but the ending (which I won't reveal here) reinforces a deep sense of unease that continues to build even after the film is over.

The use of both video and 16mm to give two concurrent views of events, as they gradually oppress the three protagonists, is highly effective. Despite the wobbly hand-held footage, the jump-cuts, the extended periods of blackness and the seemingly unedited soundtrack, this is a high quality film. During the night-scenes I found myself peering into the black void, searching for the slightest hint of something to identify, much as the three characters were doing. Thus the film is immensely involving in spite of the effort it takes to follow the jumpy narrative.

Coming out of the cinema I thought, "Clever...." Now, after its eerie images have insinuated themselves into my brain, I think it's brilliant. Truly ground-breaking, The Blair Witch Project is a must-see.

1999 October

Absolute Power

Insidious, underhand, subliminal, universal. Such power as has no defence. No wonder repressive regimes seek to censor public communication.

This same power can be used by fiction writers to move the reader to laughter or tears, to profound sympathy, to inflamed outrage. The best fiction engages readers so completely that they forget themselves, so involved are they in the story.

1999 September

Is there a future for web fiction -- either read online or downloadable? Music on the internet seems to be taking off, so what about fiction? Despite the widespread use of fancy graphics and -- now -- sound, the web is essentially a written medium, so you'd expect it to be a perfect outlet for the written word. To a certain extent this is true for non-fiction, but fiction is usually read for entertainment, and is traditionally something you can take with you. Until cheap and practical (meaning lightweight and easy to read) portable readers become available, web fiction is likely to remain the preserve of net-savvy people who use the internet mainly for something else.

1999 August

A Prequel

In my review of Paul J. McAuley's Child of the River last month, I suggested that the novel might be clearer if the author had written a prequel. It turns out that he has. It's the short story "Recording Angel," published in his collection The Invisible Country (Vista 1997). It originally appeared in Greg Bear's anthology New Legends (Legend 1996), and it's also in Gardner Dozois' 9th The Best New SF (Raven 1996).

On an artificial world of the far future, a human-descended race awaits the arrival of a renegade of the early humans, who's escaped from a starship that's travelled for thousands (relativistically millions) of years. She does arrive, and starts a revolution in the city. The story is set on Confluence (the world of Child of the River) and could, with advantage, have been a kind of prologue to the book. Although "Recording Angel" stands completely on its own, it gives what I consider to be essential information about the world of Confluence. It's well written, and if I'd read it first I might have been better disposed towards the novel.

Art?

What's it all for, this 'art'? What's the purpose of literature? Simply to entertain?

My own view is that all the arts are effective only when they inspire, engage or provoke. Art that simply passes the time is, in my opinion, of little value. But something that addresses issues about which I care, is worth my time.

Art isn't necessarily to do with the aesthetically pleasing, although, as a side-effect, this can help the artist make his or her point.

The purpose of fiction isn't necessarily just to tell a story, though that also is a useful side-effect. If an author wants to make a point, especially a subtle one, wrapping it up in a convincing, satisfying narrative is a good way of doing it. The parables of Jesus are just such stories. The Bible never suggests that a parable is a true account of events -- it's a fictionalised example to make a point.

1999 July

An Imaginary Interview with the Rev-Master

Q: Isn't there something of a contradiction in your enthusiasm for the written word? For someone trained in what is usually seen as one of the visual arts, namely architecture, your concentration on verbal communication (in its meaning of using words) is mildly perverse.

A: Possibly, but I still feel that verbal communication is a complement to visual communication. And don't forget that architecture isn't only visual. It's about -- among other things -- the interplay of volumetric space, integration of form and function, and the technical means of achieving this.

Although my honours degree is a Bachelor of Arts, I've always been biased towards the science and engineering aspects. Indeed some schools of architecture used to run BSc courses (I don't know if they still do), and I agree that this could be preferable for some students.

My grandfather (who worked for a while in an architect's office) told me that in his opinion the most important property of a building was that it should stay built. But many people still think that an architect is solely concerned with erecting an aesthetic monument to himself, leaving the engineering aspects entirely to specialist consultants.

Q: So, are there parallels between architecture and writing, given that they're both creative?

A: Yes of course, but there are parallels between most aspects of life. Literature is concerned with form and structure, as is architecture, as is computer-programming -- another erstwhile interest of mine. When one has a number of interests (as most people do) there is bound to be cross-fertilisation of ideas. This is not something to avoid, but to embrace.

Q: Well, that's enough of you blowing your own trumpet. Thank you.

A: You're welcome. Close the door on your way out.

1999 June

Following on from last month, it seems to me that one of the most successful areas of speculative audio drama is that of comedy.

For some reason (maybe it's the intimate nature of radio, the one-to-one aspect, particularly using headphones, allowing the listener to be especially receptive), speculative comedy drama goes down well in sound-only. A recent example is Old Harry's Game, written by Andy Hamilton and set in Hell, starring its writer as Satan.

Some time ago a series set on an alien planet, cutely named Oblivio, had its human characters interacting with the strangely humanoid Oblivions, at the same time as being able to contact Earth using a mobile phone. I remember a more recent futuristic series (I didn't catch all of it, and I forget its title) about a man whose (life-) time is up, and he's due to die. He's expected to have a party and do the decent thing. Only his time isn't up -- there's been a bureaucratic screw-up -- but he can't convince the powers-that-be that they've made a mistake.

And the faithful radio adaptation of Philip K. Dick's short story, "We Can Remember It For You Wholesale" -- unlike the film Total Recall -- preserved the irony of the original.

I expect many of these have been trying to repeat the success of Douglas Adams' The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which is in a class by itself.

1999 May

Better Pictures

I really enjoy science fiction audio. This month saw the BBC's concluding broadcast of a fine radio-adaptation of Stephen Baxter's novel Voyage. In total it was two and a half hours long, and quite enthralling. For those who don't know, Voyage is Baxter's speculation that NASA would have sent a manned mission to Mars if JFK had survived the bullets in Dallas.

A production like this, if done on film, or even TV, would have cost millions. But because the special effects could be done in sound only, the cost was surely much less. As with the written word, radio drama relies on the reader's or listener's imagination to fill in the gaps, rather than spoon-feeding the viewer in the way that Industrial Light & Magic must do in order to be convincing.

With radio you can go to extremes, and cheaply. The ground-breaker here was undoubtedly Douglas Adams' The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, in which -- incidental to the plot -- the whole universe was destroyed as a cabaret attraction in a restaurant. Try putting that on a screen.

Several SF classics have been adapted for radio; Arthur C. Clarke's Childhood's End is a recent example. Philip K. Dick's "We Can Remember It For You Wholesale" is another. The BBC has broadcast radio-dramatisations of at least four of John Wyndham's novels over the years.

Fantasy also works well on radio. Many years ago the BBC broadcast a 26-weekly-episode adaptation of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. Ursula Le Guin's A Wizard of Earthsea was done fairly recently.

The point is, radio-drama is not limited in the same way that movies are. The only way to maintain suspension of disbelief on screen is with very good -- and very expensive -- special effects. In sound only, this can be done with skilful radiophonics and a few deft touches of an audio mixer. The merest suggestion of an atmosphere can convince the listener's imagination to complete the scene. That's why radio has better pictures.

1999 April

What's the most important aspect of a story?

Assuming the actual writing isn't a problem, that the words flow passably well from one to another, the thing that keeps people reading is one thing and one thing only: what happens next.

It's plot, and plot alone, that makes a story successful. Some of the most badly written trash gets read despite itself, because it has one redeeming feature. The reader wants to know what happens next, how things are resolved, how the characters will get from A to B. In popular fiction nothing matters so much as plot.

1999 March

There are certain things I view with amused detachment: most sport, for instance, and discussions about religion in politics. I'm not interested in sport, save for a passing fad of tennis (as a spectator only) every time Wimbledon is on TV, and Formula 1 motor racing, but these aren't passions, they simply pass the time. (Is Formula 1 actually sport, anyway, or engineering?)

And I don't hold any conventional religious beliefs.

I often say to myself that such things really don't make any difference -- but that's not a realistic view. Sport makes a lot of difference to a great number of people. Religion also -- and religion in politics can affect millions of unbelievers, let alone those that profess to be followers. Such as in Northern Ireland, for instance, or Iran.

Similarly I view soap-opera with a take-it-or-leave-it attitude -- mostly 'leave-it.' It doesn't matter.

And yet, what have I been doing over the past couple of years attempting to write fiction? Can I really expect my minuscule efforts to have as great an effect as those inconsequential soaps that are watched by millions? Is that what am I aiming for in writing fiction -- to have an effect? To move people, amuse them, touch them? What's the point of it all? Just to make a mark? If so (and it probably is so) writing fiction -- as so much of writing -- is simply a huge ego trip.

1999 February

What is it that I like about writing?

It's not just that words are so powerful, that language is the prime means of communication, with more direct clout than the visual arts, more specific than music, and more subtle than almost any other way of conveying meaning -- it's also that language is actually part of the thought process.

Writing, and especially rewriting, is thinking on paper. Trying to express something in exactly the way one wants to, with all the careful reorganisation, redrafting and tweaking that can often be involved, is a reflection of the mind's efforts to be clear.

Thinking on paper -- or on screen -- is a way of clarifying one's own ideas, rendering rough imagination into crystalline logic.

1999 January

Getting There

Do you have a dream? A vision?

Whatever aspirations you may have, clearly defined or vague and indistinct, set aside some time, in the next day or two, so that you can list them. You might even like to put them in some order of priority.

Next to each item, write down the first few things you need to do to further yourself toward your goals.

You'll then have a list of probably quite small things you need to accomplish to be closer to your vision. Do something from this list every day.

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