Benford on Disch on SF

[J-Sun]

Our Meaning-stuffed Dreams.

Sf novels give us worlds which are not to be taken as metaphors, but as real. We are asked to participate in wrenchingly strange events, not merely watch them for clues to what they’re really talking about. Sf pursues a “realism of the future” and so does not take its surrealism neat, unlike much avant-garde work which is easily confused with it. Thes[e] followers of James have yet to fathom this. The Mars and stars and digital deserts of our best novels are, finally, to be taken as real, as if to say: life isn’t like this, it is this.

 

[jojajihisc]

That's a difficult article. Anytime I read something of Disch's, and I've only read The Genocides and several short stories, I feel like I'm holding my breath for something terrible to happen.

 

[J-Sun]

That's a difficult article. Anytime I read something of Disch's, and I've only read The Genocides and several short stories, I feel like I'm holding my breath for something terrible to happen.

I've never read a Disch book but have read several short stories and, yeah, that seems like a reasonable description.

BTW, it turns out that the article I linked to is a revision based on a re-read but was actually a straight book review on a first reading from 1998. The bulk of the text and all the thrust of the thing are the same, but there are differences in detail. (E.g., differences in names cited, clearer division between what are Benford's and what are Disch's thoughts, fewer typos, and using the right name for Mission of Gravity.)

 

[Ray Pullar]

Sf novels give us worlds which are not to be taken as metaphors, but as real. We are asked to participate in wrenchingly strange events, not merely watch them for clues to what they’re really talking about. Sf pursues a “realism of the future” and so does not take its surrealism neat, unlike much avant-garde work which is easily confused with it. Thes[e] followers of James have yet to fathom this. The Mars and stars and digital deserts of our best novels are, finally, to be taken as real, as if to say: life isn’t like this, it is this.

Disch would reply I think to Benford (from the after life) that what he has stated here represents the admonition to pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, or the person working the puppet, or how the stage magician fools us with his trick. It demands that the reader treat the SF tale in the most literal minded way possible - the exact same requirement in the reading of scripture stressed by religious fundamentalist teaching. The metaphorical meaning of the work - the subtext - must remain unexamined. The prophet always seeks to persuade his audience of the absolute reality of his visions and experiences and denounces the one who perceives an underlying meaning (often psychological). Benford expects credulity an uncritical attitude of acceptance. SF writers have often pressed their fantasies upon the readers with the forcefulness of men who believe they have truly perceived the way the world is and not merely presented a diverting illusion or an entertaining hypothesis.

To quote Disch from his essay "A closer look at CLOSE ENCOUNTERS" reprinted in the volume of his critical essays ON SF:

Admirers of science fiction have a paradoxical disposition to be literal minded in their discussion of sf, to resist the possibility of interpretation, and so very often to miss the point even of those works they admire. Perhaps the paradox is built into the genre, for what does the sci of sci-fi promise us but that there is a logical, "scientific" legitimacy to fantasies that we might otherwise blush to entertain?

Literal minded readings become the alibi of the readers - their attention was elsewhere.

 

[J-Sun]

what [Benford] has stated here represents the admonition to pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, or the person working the puppet, or how the stage magician fools us with his trick. It demands that the reader treat the SF tale in the most literal minded way possible - the exact same requirement in the reading of scripture stressed by religious fundamentalist teaching. The metaphorical meaning of the work - the subtext - must remain unexamined.

Or it could be saying that it is not helpful when a subtext is inserted. Anything that is there can certainly be examined as deeply as desired but certain literary types are missing the boat when they talk about things that aren't actually there.

The prophet always seeks to persuade his audience of the absolute reality of his visions and experiences and denounces the one who perceives an underlying meaning (often psychological). Benford expects credulity an uncritical attitude of acceptance. SF writers have often pressed their fantasies upon the readers with the forcefulness of men who believe they have truly perceived the way the world is and not merely presented a diverting illusion or an entertaining hypothesis.

Perhaps SF writers believe they aren't merely presenting a diverting illusion because they spent decades talking about nuclear energy and weapons, robots, computers, and trips to the moon when there were no such things and now there are. Really. And SF writers did this by being inspired by scientists and engineers who were truly trying to understand the world as it is and, in turn, helped to bring that about by inspiring more young scientists and also helped people to deal with the future shock by discussing such topics. Treating robots as metaphors for slavery when they are intended to be objects made of metal is a misreading of the "text". As far as credulity, it's rather the reverse - you don't get to wave your hands and say, "Oh, I was speaking symbolically." The author must make actual sense and the reader is free to be as critical as s/he can be in dissecting the premises in the work. If you've ever seen a a group of fans pull out their calculators and start demonstrating the fantasies inherent in Niven's nominally "hard SF" Ringworld, "uncritical acceptance" is not the term that should spring to mind. And a similar critical skepticism is brought to the sociological implications inherent in science fictions and so on.

But, as Benford wrote, Disch liked Hal Clement's Mission of Gravity and Benford calls Disch a friend. I don't think he was trying to set himself in opposition to Disch as you seem to be placing them (though that may well be misinterpretation on my part) but rather talking about varying angles. I don't think much talk of "religious fundamentalism" and "uncritical acceptance" was really what he was going for.

 

[Ray Pullar]

Or it could be saying that it is not helpful when a subtext is inserted. Anything that is there can certainly be examined as deeply as desired but certain literary types are missing the boat when they talk about things that aren't actually there.

Of course one can always contest an interpretation but the literal reading denies the possibility. It says that the text means exactly what it appears to mean - a robot is a robot, a rocket is a rocket, a furry alien thing is a furry alien thing, nothing more, nothing less, it denies any debate over the meaning by asserting an obvious one.

Perhaps SF writers believe they aren't merely presenting a diverting illusion because they spent decades talking about nuclear energy and weapons, robots, computers, and trips to the moon when there were no such things and now there are. Really.

Alongside a multitude of 'predictions' and speculations that never came to pass - such as the mass development by humanity of psychic powers (advocated strongly by the doyen of supposed hard SF, John W. Campbell during the 40s, 50s and 60s), teleportation of real objects and persons, faster than light travel, contact with aliens (assuming you dispute the stories of figures ranging from George Adamski to Whitley Strieber), time travel, human equivalent or superior artificial intelligence, anti-gravity, artificial gravity, manned space travel to any location outside lunar orbit, up-loading of brain states to computer memory, travel to parallel dimensions etc.

Which is not to say that some of these possibilities may not become actualities at some time. Whether they do has little bearing on the meaning of a given SF tale.

It is a strange approach to base the assessment of a work of fiction on the world coming to resemble it, a kind of delayed action realism where the mimetic aspect of the story exists as an implied promise: 'One day, this will be real'.

For a huge portion of published SF this will never be the case.

Treating robots as metaphors for slavery when they are intended to be objects made of metal is a misreading of the "text".

Apart from those works where they do function as just such a metaphor like the recent I, ROBOT movie. One can only tell by examining the work in question.

As far as credulity, it's rather the reverse - you don't get to wave your hands and say, "Oh, I was speaking symbolically." The author must make actual sense and the reader is free to be as critical as s/he can be in dissecting the premises in the work. If you've ever seen a a group of fans pull out their calculators and start demonstrating the fantasies inherent in Niven's nominally "hard SF" Ringworld, "uncritical acceptance" is not the term that should spring to mind. And a similar critical skepticism is brought to the sociological implications inherent in science fictions and so on.

I've friends who have cranked through equations inspired by their reading. It's a nice enough game and similar to constructing time tables of character movements in traditional murder mysteries. However, as I said, the focus on this attribute of the SF tale can permit the avoidance of larger questions. It reminds me slightly of Bishop Usher calculating the exact calender date of the Universe's creation from the genealogy provided in the Bible. It proceeds on the basis of certain unquestioned assumptions.

But, as Benford wrote, Disch liked Hal Clement's Mission of Gravity and Benford calls Disch a friend. I don't think he was trying to set himself in opposition to Disch as you seem to be placing them (though that may well be misinterpretation on my part) but rather talking about varying angles. I don't think much talk of "religious fundamentalism" and "uncritical acceptance" was really what he was going for.

My take on Disch stems from reading ON SF which comprises essays written by the man over several decades. I've not read THE DREAMS OUR STUFF IS MADE OF but from description it would appear to express much the same appraisal of the merits and demerits of the genre. Disch certainly does counter the literal view of SF in a number of the pieces published in ON SF such as the following:

In recent issues of Foundation and other magazines Ian Watson has been reiterating a notion that I finally cannot resist calling into question. His thesis, in its most skeletal form, is that science fiction characteristically treats of Ideas, and that such is the weight, wonder, and significance of these Ideas that the genre transcends mundane literary criteria, which are dismissed as "stylistics." This argument begs so many questions that it is virtually unassailable. As to his central thesis, that important Ideas are exciting, or vice versa, who will deny it? How, from this vast and fuzzy premise, he comes round to his usual conclusion that sf is the sacred preserve of a muse unlike all others varies from pronouncement to pronouncement, but that is his unchanging moral. I would like, here, to point out some of the ways in which his arguments strike me as wrong headed, self-serving, and dishonest.

[...]

Watson seems to be demanding that his Ideas be judged on their own merits--not as the elements of fictional invention but on the grounds of their literal truth. He makes a distinction between science and poetry parallel to that between Ideas and Stylistics. E.E. Smith, for all his failings, is to be admired for his faith in Science, while other writers, manifestly more accomplished, are nevertheless deplored because they worship the false gods of Poetry, Irony, and Skepticism. Of the work of these writers (though he doesn't mention me by name, I trust he would include me in their number), Watson writes:

"The science ideas of genuine sf, and science itself too, become all too often a form of stylistic kitsch, reflecting a self-indulgent disillusion with science, wonder, and hope, the future and their replacement by a sophisticated Silver Age rococo."

Science, in its current usage, is that area of knowledge which does not fall under the strictures that apply to Ideology. It is certain, not relative. "Science ideas," thus, are ideas we can believe in, and that is what Watson longs for on the evidence of his own work.[...] Faith must be, by definition, in things unseen and unproven--but passionately longed for.There is always the temptation to insist that one has, in fact, seen those things. Gospels are written to this effect, and novels. And yet, maddeningly, doubters continue to express their doubts about one's words of witness, doubters who reflect, to quote Watson again, "a self-indulgent Western disillusion with science, wonder, hope, the future."

I am not suggesting Watson's Ideas are Dumb Ideas on a par with those of E.E. Smith. But they are Doubtful Ideas, in that they are not susceptible of proof and so find themselves in the same boat with other Ideologies.

The Ideas of Poetry, similarly, tend to be Doubtful Ideas (and I would even suggest to Watson--and to sf writers in general--that Poetry, willy-nilly, is the business that they're in), but poets have a different relation to their Doubtful Ideas than do true believers. Poetry is the language Faith speaks when it is no longer literal, a language that is, of course, self-indulgent (i.e., playful, provisional, undogmatic) and that is also, perhaps, disillusioned (if the alternative is to be illusioned). It is the language of Ovid, of Dante, and of legions of other poets, and nowadays it is the language of such science fiction as I would care to make a case for. If it smacks of the Silver Age, there is no disgrace in that--for the Golden Age never did exist. Least of all in science fiction.

 

[J-Sun]

Of course one can always contest an interpretation but the literal reading denies the possibility. It says that the text means exactly what it appears to mean - a robot is a robot, a rocket is a rocket, a furry alien thing is a furry alien thing, nothing more, nothing less, it denies any debate over the meaning by asserting an obvious one.

So what's the meaning of life? A bush is a bush. A building is a building. The moon's the moon. And sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. The issue is not that there's no debate over meaning but that people not insist a bush is burning when it's just a bush.

Alongside a multitude of 'predictions' and speculations that never came to pass - such as the mass development by humanity of psychic powers (advocated strongly by the doyen of supposed hard SF, John W. Campbell during the 40s, 50s and 60s), teleportation of real objects and persons, faster than light travel, contact with aliens (assuming you dispute the stories of figures ranging from George Adamski to Whitley Strieber), time travel, human equivalent or superior artificial intelligence, anti-gravity, artificial gravity, manned space travel to any location outside lunar orbit, up-loading of brain states to computer memory, travel to parallel dimensions etc.

Which is not to say that some of these possibilities may not become actualities at some time. Whether they do has little bearing on the meaning of a given SF tale.

Minor point of order regarding teleportation, as atoms and information states are "real" but I assume your emphasis is on the "objects" and you mean to be using that in a macroscopic sense.

To the main point: Wolfgang Pauli, when asked if a paper was right replied that it was "not even wrong". I do not believe SF's business is "predictions" but, you asked why some writers seemed to act like they knew what they were talking about and why what they were literally talking about mattered and I gave examples. The fact that some of these "predictions" are "wrong" is not to the point.

I like the telling phrase, "advocated strongly by the doyen of supposed hard SF, John W. Campbell" or at least the word "supposed" because that's precisely one of the issues. Not to fall into the "no true Scotsman" fallacy but we are talking about hard SF and real science or at least something approaching it and that is difficult to actually achieve - much "SF" is defined by market rather than intrinsic nature and many editors fall into the Palmer trap. But writing about such things need not be entirely fantasy-like as there are principles behind it that may have validity - we currently have machines that "read", and magnetically even "control", minds now. The point is that, when Campbell was advocating its use in fiction he meant it to exist such that people could really "talk" to each other - he wasn't using the lack of it as a metaphor for human loneliness or the presence as some sort of gestalt agape. Indeed, it has those parallels (in van Vogt, say) and some (e.g., Sturgeon) basically do use it in such a symbolic way. And when Campbell was advocating its examination in science, he meant actual quantified study such as occurred at Duke as serious investigation - such that it could be "wrong".

It is a strange approach to base the assessment of a work of fiction on the world coming to resemble it, a kind of delayed action realism where the mimetic aspect of the story exists as an implied promise: 'One day, this will be real'.

For a huge portion of published SF this will never be the case.

No that's just it - and part of why SF isn't about prediction, and why many SF writers write in a "convinced" fashion. It's not a delayed realism about one day. It's about principles that are real right now. Granted, our understanding may change (just as you correctly note that the "future" may yet "prove" some currently "wrong" SF "right"). Some of the principles SF writes about may turn out to be wrong (or a subset of right a la Newton) but a "hard SF" writer tries to convey the world as it is. The fiction is that we travel approximately 4.3 light years to get to Alpha Centauri. The science that it is 4.3 light years (and has varied over time due to laws of motion) is true now. If I wrote a story now about man returning to the moon, it may never come to pass but that's not the point. The point is that it could. The only thing that would stop us would be ourselves. John F. Kennedy wrote a science fiction in 1961. It was rather amazing it came true but that was the contingent fictional part set in 1969. The necessary scientific part that it could be done was true when he said it and he meant it literally - whatever symbolic Cold War purposes ran parallel with it.

Apart from those works where they do function as just such a metaphor like the recent I, ROBOT movie. One can only tell by examining the work in question.

Glad we agree then. (Though using a movie version of I, Robot as an example means we're speaking a different language. )

My take on Disch stems from reading ON SF which comprises essays written by the man over several decades. I've not read THE DREAMS OUR STUFF IS MADE OF

Well, I'm not really addressing Disch personally at all - as I told jo, I've only read a few stories. But I think the viewpoint Benford raises is widely held and can be detached from Disch so as not to wrongly simplify or misrepresent his detailed view. Treat it as a viewpoint like this rather than to say it is this.

I don't want to get to much in to the specific quote because then we'd be talking about Watson's views at third or fourth hand, too. I never would have thought Watson to be in Doc Smith's camp, though. (Though I'll grant Watson's works are idea-rich.) It's also interesting to me that Watson speaks very harshly and Disch voluntarily jumps into Watson's line of fire while Benford is very compassionate and gentle about his disagreement.

And this gets into the main point here - apparently James and Wells and Watson and Disch and Benford and Disch and you and I have had this discussion and I doubt much will get resolved precisely because our discussion probably isn't even wrong.