Science Fiction

Have Her Home by Ten.

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 06/09/2018 - 10:21pm in

Doctor Who’s Steven Moffat Lands ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ Series Adaptation at HBO

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 01/08/2018 - 6:27am in

[Ed. Note: My bad, DOCTOR Who fans ;-) ]

While much of the attention over the past several months has been focused on the “original content smackdown” going on between Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Hulu (for example, check out the price tag on Amazon’s Lord of the Rings series), HBO has quietly been securing deals with some major names for some major projects – and that streak continues with a straight-to-series order for UK writer-producer Steven Moffat‘s (Doctor Who, Sherlock) adaptation of Audrey Niffenegger‘s novel “The Time Traveler’s Wife”.

Steven MoffatCredit: Gage Skidmore

“I read Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife many years ago, and I fell in love with it. In fact, I wrote a Doctor Who episode called ‘The Girl In The Fireplace’ as a direct response to it. When, in her next novel, Audrey had a character watching that very episode, I realized she was probably on to me. All these years later, the chance to adapt the novel itself, is a dream come true. The brave new world of long form television is now ready for this kind of depth and complexity. It’s a story of happy ever after – but not necessarily in that order.” – Steven Moffat

time travelers wife series moffat hboCredit: MacAdam/Cage

Written by Moffat and based on Niffenegger’s best-selling 2003 novel, The Time Traveler’s Wife is described as an “intricate and magical love story about Clare and Henry, and a marriage with a problem: time travel.” Moffat, Sue Vertue, and Brian Minchin are set to executive produce through their Hartswood Films banner; with Warner Bros. Television co-producing.

“HBO is the perfect home to tell this incredible story with all the scale and space it needs, and we’re delighted to be working with Warner Bros to bring Steven’s thrilling vision of the novel to life.” – Hartswood Films (statement)

HBO‘s deal with Moffat is the third major competitive situation that the network has entered into and secured a series from this year. The cable giant peviously announced that they would be the home for JJ AbramsDemimonde and Joss Whedon’s The Nevers. With Game of Thrones ending its run in 2019 and the prequels still some time off, HBO is looking for another “tent pole” series that could garner the level of succes that Game of Thones has brought.

“We are thrilled to be partnering with Steven Moffat, Hartswood and WBTV on The Time Traveler’s Wife. Steven’s passion is evident in every project he’s written and we are certain that his love and respect for this mesmerizing and textured novel will make it a quintessential HBO series.” – Casey Bloys, President of Programming, HBO

This story was originally reported by Deadline Hollywood.

The post Doctor Who’s Steven Moffat Lands ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ Series Adaptation at HBO appeared first on Bleeding Cool News And Rumors.

Book Review: Economic Science Fictions edited by William Davies

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 27/07/2018 - 9:26pm in

In Economic Science Fictions, editor William Davies brings together contributors to explore the relationship between science fiction and economics, driven by the view that modes of economic thought function as fictions and that science fiction enables the imagining of alternative economic futures. In her review, Anna Nyugen focuses on the way that the authors evaluate and perceive the role and value of sci-fi throughout the collection. 

Economic Science Fictions. William Davies (ed.). Goldsmiths Press. 2018.

Science fiction as an academic case study has long been interrogated in many humanities departments, with a genealogical approach seeming the most obvious or intuitive way to understand any given sci-fi narrative. That is, one may try to link the text to the turmoil around its year of publication and question why the future invoked seems so bleak despite promises of future advancements. Yet, the current trend of embracing science fiction seems to indicate a shift in how scholars value the genre. In recent sensationalist news, the technology sections of many media outlets have continued narratives of AI, disruption and online data breaches. Questions of governance and ethical accountability have been constantly echoed in the policy forums that specifically target technology. In each case, an admiration for sci-fi narratives and their technologies occlude their genealogical significance.

The essays in Economic Science Fictions offer reflective critical theories and literary dystopian narratives, which yield the ever normative dilemma of what good science fiction should be and should do. The volume is divided into four thematic sections: the beginning interrogates the science and fictions of the economy; the second part offers a scholarly introduction to the connection between dystopia and capitalism followed by four literary pieces; the authors in the third section consider design for a different future; and the concluding contributions explore utopia. For the purpose of my review, I want to specifically examine how the authors view and critique sci-fi and evaluate the purposes of their scholarly analyses. This is especially important as science fiction has been categorised as speculative fiction in the realm of policy-making, which repurposes these narratives as forms of possible realities and calls for action through policy implications and interventions.

Capitalism and neoliberalism are often invoked in sci-fi narratives. In a foreword based on a contribution in the process of being written by Mark Fisher prior to his death (to whom the book is also dedicated posthumously), he observes that capitalism has been described as:

work[ing] with how people actually are; it does not seek to remake humanity in some (idealised) image, but encourages and releases those ‘‘instincts’’ of competition, self-preservation and enterprise that always reemerge no matter what attempts are made to repress or contain them (xi).

He continues to note that the paradox of neoliberalism is that it is a deeply political project that is both economical and ideological (xi-xii), allowing an often contentious understanding of the relationship between the individual, collective agency and the market. If this sounds familiar, one needs only  remember US politician Nancy Pelosi’s controversial statement that ‘we’ just have to deal with living in a capitalist society. In his introduction to this volume, editor William Davies describes the construction of the free market and its emphasis on the importance of a price system, a driving concept of Austrian economist Ludwig von Mises. It is in this way that the market, although a human-made technology, is legitimised by mathematical rationale and scientific terms (3-14).

Image Credit: (Hidenori Watanave CC BY 2.0)

Davies continues to trace the role of the market’s evolution, connecting modernism and visions of utopia from the 1970s as a sign of revisions to the market and any related inequalities. Yet, he sombrely notes that ‘progress’ might only be measured in narrow terms and according to the metrics of the market. For example, newer sophisticated computers and cellphones are praised for their success in a flourishing market and not necessarily for the betterment of society. Simultaneously, the self-governing and ‘rational’ citizen-cum-consumer participates in surveillance and economic infrastructures. Despite these old problems in newer economic models and technologies, Davies expresses the need to treat science fiction as a potential risk model, as these narratives are a form of imagined reality.

In the first section of the collection, the task is to understand how science fictions even relate to the field of economics. This interrogation is echoed earlier by Fisher and Davies, as they suggest the words ‘fiction’, ‘utopias’ and ‘imaginaries’ are not empirically-based but instead capture experiences, designs and visions. But, as Ha-Joon Chang writes, economists view their own fictive constructs as science and consider technoscience as the main force to solve any economic problems (31-32). Chang makes two points: that sci-fi can serve as economic critique; and that readers should ask why visions of utopia are imagined in the first place. These fictive narratives should not be merely lauded for their fantastical imagery. Furthermore, he notes that science fiction narratives do indeed depict a world that may be better equipped with technology, but citizens and society may not necessarily be happier or thriving. And yet the persisting need to innovate based on science fiction has been a common headline in reputable media outlets. The implausible may be plausible after all.

Chang’s chapter is a thoughtful critique that should bring attention to what science fiction means in economic reimaginings of the complex relations between individuals, technologies and institutions. Technology should not be spoken of as an artefact with human qualities as it obfuscates responsibility, a topic explored by Laura Horn in the next chapter. Dystopias are frequently reduced to evil corporations and their crimes, and she argues that the lack of questioning and distinguishing of the power that permeates these institutions prevent alternative visions of collective action or worker-directed initiatives (42).

There seem to be two recurring statements throughout the book: firstly, that science fiction narratives are not merely desirable futures but a commentary on the present; and, secondly, that the economy under neoliberal capitalism is a manufactured product that has been viewed as autonomous and natural (205). In the twelfth chapter of the third section, Bastien Kerspern offers the concept of design fiction, a method that relies on ‘fictitious artefacts’ (257) to attend equally to culture, the social and the economy. Simply put, Kerspern wants to reorient existing problem-solving approaches towards human actors and their values. If the approach to understanding public problems before innovation seems novel, one must remember that the Silicon Valley model of solving problems is actually a competitive race to innovate and to experiment (258).

The essays in Economic Science Fictions continue to portray speculative fiction in ways that can be both confusing and pragmatic. The authors have attempted to critically approach sci-fi and address collective calls for change, but they do not always employ a consistent form of critique or settle on a particular conclusion. If the inclusion of literary essays in this volume means anything to scholars, it is to remind them that while sci-fi authors may not necessarily be experts, their stories reveal the increasing anxieties of the impact of technological change on vulnerable societies. In the concluding chapter by Jo Lindsay Walton, he offers a fictional vignette in which the protagonist, Laing, is fired from her journalism job because of automation. Walton then reflects on how a short story illustrates the tension between the democratic commons and the undemocratic algocracy. If algorithms and data have already seeped into our lives and have altered our understanding of governance, what does sci-fi scholarship mean to an existing society at risk?

Looking beyond this volume, one can connect its core dilemma, the role of sci-fi, to critiques posed in science and technology studies (STS). If sci-fi can indeed inform policy, it is not by uncritically mimicking narratives from literary fictions or video games, but by recognising that these concerns are actually rooted in ongoing injustices and inequalities. The implausible but alluring futures of innovation should not make scholars or policy-makers neglect the social context of socio-economic problems. As STS scholar Sheila Jasanoff wrote for Slate, the fetishisation of sci-fi narratives as academic knowledge should not make us lose sight of who and what frames public policy and whose expertise and experiences are included. Sci-fi can certainly be a starting point to better welcome public participation in democratic policy-making, but it should not be used as a testimony for innovation.

Anna Nguyen is a PhD student in the Communication Studies department at Concordia University. Her research analyses discourses of innovation, novelty and expertise in the context of food literature and scientific food reporting.

Note: This review gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics. 

Ursula Le Guin Referenced in Radio 3 Programme about Forests

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 14/06/2018 - 5:17pm in

Next week, Saturday 16th June 2018 to Friday 22nd June, Radio 3 is broadcasting a series of programmes about forests, in folklore, history, anthropology, witchcraft, music and art. And next Tuesday’s edition of Free Thinking, 19th June 2018 at 10.00 pm discusses forests and the natural world in the work of the Fantasy and SF author Ursula K Le Guin. It takes as its title that of one of her SF novels, The Word for World Is Forest. The blurb for it on page 126 of the Radio Times reads

Humanity’s impact on the natural world is a theme running through the work of American novelist Ursula K. Le Guin. Matthew Sweet discusses Le Guin on forests with British academic and Green Party politician Rupert Read.

Radio 4 Programme Tonight Wondering What Happened to Star Trek’s Optimistic Vision of the Future

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Sat, 09/06/2018 - 6:07pm in

This is one for the Trekkers. On Radio 4 tonight at 8.00 pm, 9th June 2018, Dr. Kevin Fong will be presenting a programme on the Archive hour discussing what happened to the optimistic vision of the future in Star Trek. The blurb for it on page 189 of the Radio Times runs

8.00 Archive on 4: Star Trek – The Undiscovered Future

The first episode of Star Trek aired in 1966. Space medic and broadcaster Kevin Fog asks what happened to the progressive and optimistic vision of the future that the iconic television series promised him.

Mars as Communist Utopia in Pre-Revolutionary Russian SF

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 08/06/2018 - 3:39am in

I thought this might interest all the SF fans out there. One of the books I’ve started reading is Lost Mars: The Golden Age of the Red Planet, edited by Mark Ashley (London: The British Library 2018). It’s a collection of SF stories written about the Red Planet from the 19th century to just before the Mariner and then Viking probes in the ’60s and ’70s showed that rather than being a living planet with canals, vegetation and civilised beings, it was a dead world more like the Moon. It’s a companion volume to another book of early SF stories from about the same period, Moonrise: The Golden Age of Lunar Adventures, also edited by Mike Ashley. The Martian book contains stories by H.G. Wells, Ray Bradbury – from The Martian Chronicles, natch – Marion Zimmer Bradley, E.C. Tubb, Walter M. Miller, and the great novelist of dystopias and bug-eyed psychopaths, J.G. Ballard. It also contains pieces by now all but forgotten Victorian and early Twentieth writers of Scientific Romances, W.S. Lach-Szyrma, George C. Wallis, P. Schuyler Miller and Stanley G. Weinbaum.

Both books are also interesting, not just for the short stories collected in them, but also for Ashley’s introduction, where he traces the literary history of stories about these worlds. In the case of the Moon, this goes all the way back to the Roman satirist, Lucian of Samosata, and his Vera Historia. This is a fantasy about a group of Roman sailors, whose ship is flung into space by a massive waterspout, to find themselves captured by a squadron of Vulturemen soldiers from the Moon, who are planning an invasion of the Sun.

The history of literary speculation about Mars and Martian civilisation, is no less interesting, but somewhat shorter. It really only begins in the late 19th century, when telescopes had been developed capable of showing some details of the Martian surface, and in particular the canali, which the Italian astronomer Schiaparelli believed he had seen. The Italian word can mean ‘channels’ as well as ‘canal’, and Schiaparelli himself did not describe them as artificial. Nevertheless, other astronomers, like Percival Lowell of Flagstaff, Arizona, believed they were. Other astronomers were far more sceptical, but this set off the wave of novels and short stories set on an inhabited Mars, like Edgar Rice Burrough’s famous John Carter stories. I remember the Marvel adaptation of some these, or at least using the same character, which appeared as backing stories in Star Wars comic way back in the 1970s.

It’s also interesting, and to contemporary readers somewhat strange, that before H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, the vast majority of these stories about Mars assumed that the Martians would not only be far more scientifically and technologically advanced, but they would also be more socially and spiritually as well. Just like the Aetherius Society, a UFO new religious movement founded by George King in the 1950s, claims that Jesus was really as Venusian, and now lives on that world along with Aetherius, the being from whom they believe they receive telepathic messages, so there were a couple of short stories in which Christ was a Martian. These were Charles Cole’s Visitors From Mars, of 1901, and Wallace Dowding’s The Man From Mars of 1910.

Other utopias set on the Red Planet were more secular. In Unveiling a Parallel, by Alice Ilgenfritz Jones and Ella Merchant, of 1893, the Martians are handsome and intelligent, and their women totally liberated. Another feminist utopia was also depicted by the Australian writer Mary Moore-Bentley in her A Woman of Mars of 1901.

And in Russia, the writer Alexander Bogdanov made Mars a Communist utopia. Ashley writes

While the planetary romance theme was developing there were other explorations of Martian culture. The Red Planet became an obvious setting for a communist state in Krasnaia Zvesda (‘Red Star’, 1908) and its sequel Inzhener Menni (‘Engineer Menni’, 1912) by Alexander Bogdanov. Although reasonably well known in Russia, especially at the time of the revolution in 1917, and notoriously because of its reference to free love on Mars, it was not translated into English until 1984. Kim Stanley Robinson claimed it served as an influence for his own novel, Red Mars (1992), the first of his trilogy about terraforming the planet. Although the emphasis in Bodganov’s stories is on the benefits of socialism, he took trouble to make the science as realistic as possible. The egg-shaped rocket to Mars is powered by atomic energy. His Mars is Schiaparellian, with canals that have forests planted along their full length, explaining why they are visible from Earth. He also went to great lengths to explain how the topography of Mars, and the fact that it was twice as old as Earth, allowed social evolution to develop gradually and more effectively, with planet-wide communication and thus a single language. (Pp. 11-12).

So five years before the Revolution, Mars really was the ‘Red Planet’ in Russian literature. I’m not surprised it wasn’t translated into English until the 1980s. British publishers and censors probably disliked it as a piece of Communist propaganda, quite apart from Anglophone western Puritanism and the whole issue of free love. No naughtiness allowed on the side of the Iron Curtain, not even when it’s set on Mars. Russian cinema also produced one of the first SF films, also set on Mars. This was Aelita (1922), in which Russian cosmonauts travel to the Red Planet to start a revolution, though at the end it’s revealed that it’s all been a dream.

Meanwhile, Mars as a planet of mystery continues in the French SF series, Missions, shown at 10.00 Thursdays on BBC 4. This has French spationauts and their American rivals landing on the Red Planet, only to find a mysterious altar constructed from lost Atlantean materials described by the Romans, and Vladimir Komarov, a Soviet cosmonaut, who has been turned into something more than human with three strands of DNA. In reality, Komarov died when the parachutes on his spacecraft failed to open when it re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere. Tragically, Komarov knew it was a deathtrap, but went anyway because Khrushchev wanted another Russian space achievement to show up the Americans, and Komarov did not want his friend, and first man in space, Yuri Gagarin to go. It’s a tragic, shameful waste of human life on what was a purely political stunt, and Komarov is, because of his desire to save his friend, one of the great heroes of the space age.

But Missions shows not only how much people really want us to travel to Mars – to explore and colonise – it also shows how the Red Planet still remains the source of wonder and speculation about alien civilisations, civilisations that may not be hostile monsters intent on invading the Earth ‘for no very good reason’, as Douglas Adams described the motives of those aliens, who wanted to take over the universie in The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. One of the French spationauts, Jeanne, has dreamed of going to Mars since being shown it through a telescope by her father when she was a little girl. Electromagnetic scans of the area, when developed, give a picture of her face, and ‘Komarov’ tells her he has been waiting millions of years for her, and she is the true link between Mars and Earth.

Yes, it’s weird. But different. And it shows that Mars is continuing to inspire other forms of SF, where the Martians aren’t invaders – or at least, not so far-but benevolent guides waiting for us to come to them and make the next leap in our development. Just like Bogdanov in 1912 imagined that they would be ahead of us, and so have created a true Communist utopia.

Keep your feet on the ground, but your head about you!

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Mon, 04/06/2018 - 11:41am in

It’s a little-known fact that John Dewey, the father of Pragmatism, started his career as ‘the midnight philosopher’, a lab assistant for Victor Frankenstein. (He didn’t have the ‘stache yet, you will note. He grew that later, to cover his exit shortly before the mob with the torches and pitchforks showed. But the resemblance is unmistakable.)

Eric Schliesser on Omelas and Ideology

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 01/06/2018 - 11:44pm in


… the representation of Omelas shows how an ideology that is grounded in the truth, in a society in which philosophy and knowledge exist, is possible … Even so, I insist that their self-understanding is a form of ideology. By ‘ideology’ I mean (without pretending to have offered an analysis or to be at all precise) a discourse that (i) justifies a status quo – in which some are subjugated (made miserable, exploited, etc.) – and (ii) which prevents from conceiving alternatives to the status quo. Only (i) is necessary for something to be an ideology, but (ii) is an important function. This (i-ii) is precisely what happens when the children begin to realize that even if the child could be released, it would not get much good of its freedom.” What they say is (let’s stipulate) all true, but it ends up justifying continued misery for the child.

I’m interested because I wrote about this a while back. I’m not sure I like this semi-definition of ‘ideology’. I confess, I’ve really never thought about how ‘ideology’ can be usefully teased apart from error-implying notions like rationalization, bias, on the one hand; and, on the other hand, more neutral, but socially thicker terms like belief-system, value-system. (I am aware a great deal of ink has been spilled over ‘ideology’, over the years, yes. Just not by me.) One of the things that’s disturbing about Omelas is our strong suspicion that, even if the citizens are justified, they would keep on doing it even if they weren’t. Because they are human. But this is cross-cut by the fact that the Omelans do something that humans never would: namely, confront the facts squarely and honestly. Is ideology always psychic self-preservation from inconvenient facts? The Omelans, oddly, have no such mechanisms. Which makes the story surreal, which is satisfying. But perhaps inhumanly unhelpful as political parables go?

Refuting Anti-Semitism Smears with the Reasonableness Test: Part 1

In this post, I intend to critique and refute one of the arguments used by lawyers for the Israel lobby to support the anti-Semitism smears. This is that a comment may be fairly considered as anti-Semitic, even if this is denied by the person who made it, simply because somebody else may consider it as such. This is the argument used by the prosecution lawyers against the Black anti-racist and anti-Nazi activist, Marc Wadsworth in his trial by the Labour party. Wadsworth has a long history of defending Black civil rights. He also was instrumental in changing the law on racial harassment in concert with the Board of Deputies of British Jews after a spate of attacks on Jews following the election of the BNP’s Derek Beacon to a place on one of the London councils in the 1990s. He is in no way any kind of anti-Semite. But he is left-wing, and so Ruth Smeeth, a Blairite and supporter of Israel, accused him of anti-Semitism when he remarked on her passing information to a Telegraph journalist at a press conference. Smeeth immediately whined that this was anti-Semitic, as it was accusing her of being part of a conspiracy. Just like Nazis accuse Jews conspiring to enslave gentiles. In fact, Wadsworth’s comment made no reference to Judaism at all, and he didn’t even know she was Jewish. He states that his lawyers at the trial refuted every one of the prosecution’s arguments. Until they took a call from their lawyers, who advised them that they could still win if they claimed that another person could consider it anti-Semitic.

In many parts of the law it sometimes does come down to the question of whether a person would consider that the issue in question is the case. But there’s a proviso. It has to be a reasonable person. And in many cases where the anti-Semitism argument is used, the parallels between real Nazi doctrines or symbolism are so tenuous, that they have less similarity to what a reasonable person would be live, than with the barking mad ideas of conspiracy theorists and rumour-mongers.

Let’s take the symbolism the Board of Deputies of British Jews claimed to find in the position of a fallen Palestinian protester in a story in the 1990s comic, Crisis. Created by Pat Mills and a group of three Jews, the story was about Israel’s maltreatment and brutalisation of the Palestinians. In it, a member of the IDF beats up a Palestinian protester, breaking his limbs so that he lies awkwardly on the ground. Pat Mills is the creator of 2000 AD, and one of the major forces behind Action and the war comic, Battle. As readers of 2000AD will know, Mills is very left-wing, and a firm and very vocal opponent of racism. This is a very clear subtext in the strips Nemesis the Warlock, where a future human empire wages a war of extermination against aliens based on no more than racial prejudice, and Strontium Dog. This is set in a future where mutants are second-class citizens, forced to live in ghettos and forbidden to pursue any job other than bounty hunter. And I’ve said before that it was in the pages of Battle that I first encountered stories dealing with the Holocaust and the concentration camps. This was simply a story where a British squaddie fights his way to one of the camps and sees the emaciated inmates through the barbed wire. I can remember myself being shocked by the prisoners skeletal, emaciated appearance. As I was supposed to. The comic couldn’t show anything too explicit, but what it showed was enough. Enough to show that the Nazis weren’t just responsible for an horrific war that claimed 40 million European lives, but also for scarcely imaginable horrors perpetrated against Jews, and other racial and political minorities and dissidents. And their should be no doubt also that Mills’ co-creators on the Crisis strip were decent, self-respecting Jews, and not self-hating anti-Semites either.

But the Board ignored all this. They claimed the scene was anti-Semitic, because the position made by the Palestinian’s fallen body looked like a swastika.

This is clearly bonkers. It’s the view of someone, who has spent so long looking for anti-Semitic and Nazi imagery, that they’re finding it wherever they look. In this instance, it did the Board no good because Robert Maxwell, the comic’s publisher, stood up to the Board and told them where they could go. But the ruling that something is anti-Semitic, if someone else considers it is, makes future decisions like Maxwell’s much more problematic.

Self-described anti-racists finding what they want to find in popular culture, and making stupid claims of racism, aren’t confined to Jews and anti-Semitism. Way back in the 1990s one Black academic made a similar claim about the film Aliens. This was the sequel to Ridley Scott’s classic Alien. Directed by James Cameron, this had Ripley join a team of Space Marines as they went to wipe out the Aliens, who had attacked and killed the colonists on their planet. Moving through the Aliens’ nest, Ripley finds the Alien queen, laying her eggs which will hatch the next generation of face-huggers.

It was a straightforward SF/Horror yarn. But not according to this academic. She declared that it was a metaphor for Reagan’s America. The Alien Queen represented Black American ‘welfare queens’, who were a threat to White society and conservative values by threatening to drown everybody else with the children they brought into the world. It’s quite a bizarre theory, as nowhere in the film is there any explicit or even implicit comment about race. Except that the Marines themselves are thoroughly multicultural, with a Black sergeant, and a tough, Hispanic female squaddie, Vasquez. And the only feature the Aliens have in common with Black people is their colour. In every other respect they’re vastly different. But it shows how some people’s determination to find a political or racial subtext in a movie leads them to see things that aren’t there.

Continued in Part Two.

Frederik Pohl On The Ideas In Science Fiction

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 24/05/2018 - 1:03am in

A whole page of videos, mostly consisting of old interviews with science fiction authors. I just watched Fred Pohl on “The Ideas In Science Fiction”. I guess I’ll check out the Michael Moorcock one next. (Only on Facebook, it seems, so I guess you have to deal with that if you want to watch.)

I’ve also been reading old 70’s comics. For the dialogue.

Also, this. How can they NOT have called their paper “We Can Remember It For You Whole Snail”? Standards, people.