Showing posts with label "A Rose for Ecclesiastes". Show all posts
Showing posts with label "A Rose for Ecclesiastes". Show all posts

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Rewriting Earth History on Mars

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Several people have identified the relationships between this week’s readings/media and personal memory, highlighted in Total Recall. What struck me was the repetition of themes of ‘civilizational’ and social memory – and the rewriting thereof. In Total Recall and “A Rose for Ecclesiastes” there are major issues of personal memory. Gallinger breaks his account of the salvation of Mars to describe memories of his father from his youth, which are of obvious personal significance. His memories of his father, who encouraged him to become a missionary, interact with what seems his destiny as he realizes himself as the Martian’s Sacred Scoffer. Doug Quaid exists in the quandary between reality and dream state, unable to certify that his memories are his own once the possibility of memory erasure is introduced. There exists an additional layer of historical memory which, through the colonization of mars, is rewritten.

In “A Rose for Ecclesiastes,” we are introduced to a dying civilization, which has transitioned into a state of resignation because of the infertility of its males and the writings of its great historian/poet, Locar. The story itself appears an appropriation of something biblical. A desert people, living in the shadow of former opulence (Gallinger finds “Byzantine brilliance” beyond the antechamber as he begins his historical and linguistic study), its buildings likened to tents with walls decorated with animal skins. They have experienced drought and plague, and are now waiting for their savior in the form of a spiritual dissenter. Even their literature paints their very existence as a kind of disease of the inorganic. The idea of dissent, of critical thought, is what saves them (though, paradoxically, this process of questioning scripture is written into the prophecy to be questioned).

In a way this echoes the development of the United States which, perhaps for Zelazny, is successful because of its rejection of uncritical thought, and its insistence on reasoned dissent against governmental or theological convention. This intervention into the decline of Mars at the hands of blind acceptance is then a kind of revision of Western history as it descended into the dark ages of scientific stagnancy, blind faith, etc. Zelazny is providing us with a revised Jesus, sent ‘down’ from Earth, in the heavens, to Mars for its salvation. Through Gallinger we can rescue ourselves from our own past.

The conflation of time into a kind of past present is furthered as Zelazny describes the Martians as having “science, but little technology,” without providing justification for this failure to leap from one to the other, as if there could exist a type of curiosity which does not then imply manipulation of the natural world by means of knowledge gained. They are a civilization which has “done all things…seen all things…heard and felt all things,” as if valuing experience over development, as if unable to conceptualize the creation of “new experience” until Gallinger brings one to them himself.

The portrait given of Martians resembles an earlier terrestrial time point, which the entry of modern humans as prophets by virtue of their own experienced past. In Total Recall, there is a more direct relationship between the situation of the Martians, who derive from terrestrial humans, and those enslaved populations of recent memory. Here we rewrite our own history by freeing Martians from slavery summarily by eliminating the scarcity of the instrument of their slavery (air/oxygen). Here again we are give an opportunity to rewrite the history of global slavery by liberating the population of this new planet.

Allusion and Identity in "A Rose for Ecclesiastes"

Forgot to mention: the keywords are the tags. So, allusion, identity, otherness, reference, translation

I'd like to address a topic that both Rhiannon and Alexandra brought up: the referential language in "A Rose for Ecclesiastes". Under the heading of "referential language" I'd like to lump in metaphor, allusion, and non-English words. Each of these has a superficial reason for working within the text, but taken together they reveal a somewhat disconcerting theme about identity and otherness.

The text functions as a sort of hard-boiled sci-fi (as pointed out by Conor), taking on the stylistic trappings of 1940s detective fiction. The two most conspicuous elements of hard-boiled fiction in "A Rose for Ecclesiastes" are heavy use of metaphor (currently distinct from "referential language") the detached narrative voice that at once describes and experiences. These two elements are actually quite closely related, as the heavy use of metaphor aids in establishing a witty, detached narrator. This narrator has time to think even when things are happening all around them, time to reminisce and explain.

My memory was a fogged window, suddenly exposed to fresh air.  Things cleared.  I looked back six years.
This detached narrator, however, seems sometimes too detached. In the moment above (95), the action pauses for half a page while Gallinger narrates a memory. Gallinger's aloofness does not exist only between the text and the reader, but between him and the other characters: Morton says, "I think he's spoken two dozen words to me since I met him" (73). Because he speaks through metaphor when he does speak at all, it is incredibly difficult to pin down Gallinger's identity.

Additionally, he expresses himself through the words of others, even as he is known as a great poet. The story is full of allusions, direct and indirect, to a canon of literature and religious texts. I could try to list all of them, but Alexandra pointed out most of them. (The biggies: Hamlet, the Odyssey/Iliad, the Bible, the Modernist poets, Sartre.) Instead of an attempt to show off his knowledge, these allusions rather emphasize the lack of a distinct voice. Gallinger is a poet, sure, but the only direct view of his poetry yields a disappointing poem (not disappointing because it's particularly bad, but it's not particularly good either). Aside from this single view, Gallinger always defines himself through association.
(If I were particularly playful, and I might just be, I'd say that Gallinger's identity is as fragmented as the narrator of "The Waste Land", with all "these fragments I have shored against my ruins".)

The non-English languages offer a key to the puzzle of identity. Gallinger opens the story, "I was busy translating" (58). Gallinger's function throughout the plot is to translate High Martian lore into English, to translate Martian culture into American (Earth) culture. When he can translate no more, he requests to "copy" (75), and introduces technology to assist him. But this technology merely puts off the task of translation, merely makes it easier to do so at a more convenient time. Gallinger is the translator, never the thing to be translated, even though the story sets him up as such (a great modern poet). In line with this, Gallinger's allusions encompass languages from German to Ancient Greek, from Hindi to Hebrew. The fragmented, refracted voice that defines through association is not unique to one culture, but takes its pick from all the cultures out there. It appropriates at will. It, however, always returns to its foundations: Gallinger, as much as he ties together the Koran and Japanese martial arts, always takes them as alien to his Word, his Bible, his Iliad, his Odyssey.

And here, we have the puzzle in its entirety. The identity, formed through appropriating the Other's, always appropriates but never assimilates. It defines itself through "not-being", and requires an Other to know itself. Gallinger, detached from his surroundings, coalesces fragments of other people's words and languages, and only really exists in translation. It doesn't matter that this story is set on Mars, only that it is somewhere totally alien and acceptably so. Martian culture appears composed of all the non-Western Terran cultures, amalgamated into this huge, yet non-threatening Other that requires saving. In saving it, Gallinger finds his identity (that is actually just another huge allusion; I guess there's nothing new under the sun after all).

"A Rose for Ecclesiastes": A (Non)Traditional Colonization Romance

In “A Rose for Ecclesiastes,” “civilized” humans discover other life forms on Mars. They study their habits and culture, which causes them to struggle with each other over who can take credit for the discoveries. They judge that culture as primitive and matriarchal (perhaps relatively less civilized than their own culture because it is matriarchal), even though the Martian culture predates that of human civilizations. When Gallinger is finally permitted to form a more intimate connection with the natives, which indicates that he has gained some of their trust, he falls in love with one of them. He slowly discovers that the Martians are a doomed civilization, and that he, the wise white man, is the only one who can save them, by forcing them to start thinking like humans (renounce part of their culture).
Does anyone think this looks familiar?
Pocahontas. Avatar.
Am I saying that Zelazny ripped off the story line? No. “A Rose For Ecclesiastes” was first published in 1963, long before Cameron filmed his legal LSD trip. But this “traditional” colonization fantasy of rescuing a doomed culture is difficult to ignore.
Zelazny’s motives for creating this story line can be analyzed in two extreme ways (or they could fall anywhere between these two interpretations): (1) He simply didn’t realize that the white man saving the doomed matriarchal race with his seed carries strong social/historical connotations. (2) He’s fully aware of the symbolism he’s evoking (and how offensive it can be).
I’m leaning towards the second motive. Gallinger is not a lovable hero; he deserves very little sympathy from his readers, despite his status as a great poet/literary figure of his time. Even after he falls in love and becomes slightly more bearable to the other human characters, he clearly doesn’t become more lovable to Braxa. As Ben points out, Gallinger feels that he saves the Martian race - that he’s rebelling against their foolish religion, forcing them to evolve just as he claims Christians evolved past the pessimistic Book of Ecclesiastes; that he’s bridging the gap between humans and Martians by replacing the impotency of the Martian men - but he’s really fulfilling a prophecy, and the matriarchs lured him into that prophecy with girl bait. So, although Gallinger fulfills a vital need for the Martians, he only does that because the Martians manipulated him into that role. Already, this seems to undermine the colonial fantasy. Zelazny adds to this by casting Gallinger as a hypocrite - after accusing the Martians of falling into the same trap that the Book of Ecclesiastes almost drew humans into. “[W]e [humans] did not lie down, despite plagues, wars, and famines. We did not die,” he tells them (97-98). After he succeeds in converting the Martians and saving them, he attempts to commit suicide. In this way, Zelazny refuses to allow the story to end on a heroic, triumphant note. He also reminds readers that although colonialization might ascribe to lofty aims - revitalizing a culture or helping it evolve to acceptable standards - it comes from the colonizers’ selfish motives.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

No New Thing Under the Sun

keywords: the colonizing "superman," prophecy and agency, familiarity and distance, daddy issues



In Roger Zelazny's "A Rose for Ecclesiastes" the main character Gallinger is shuttled between issues of familiarity and distance from his own life and experience. Gallinger blurs the line between human and inhuman as he seems so set apart from his fellow humans. Gallinger embodies the notion of a superhuman colonizer in the vein of characters such as Jake Sally in Avatar who come to embody the adopted culture to such an extent that they are more in touch with it than those who belong to it. He is able to grasp the Martian high language quickly and has no lack for faith in his own abilities. To all appearances this appears a textbook example of racial superiority couched in the language of science fiction and other cultures.

However, Gallinger is a mere catspaw in the hands of forces that both are and are not in his control. His own confidence in his abilities and his reference to being a prophet by the Martian people proves to be preordained; his actions are not of his own choosing. Everything he does is in keeping with the teachings of Locar, in keeping with Ecclesiastes. "There is nothing new under the sun."

First off, Gallinger has a severe issue with his own agency- with taking credit for his actions and elevating himself above others. As seen in his self-congratulating justification for why others react to his hubris poorly, "That's the reason everyone's jealous-- why they hate me. I always come through, and I can come through better than anyone else" (59). That sort of humility really inspires confidence in his ability to be a diplomat to an alien race.

Gallinger's issue with agency is related to his relationship with his father and his religion. The conflict underlying his relationship with his father and his relationship with religions as well as his place in them is based on this sense of familiarity and distance. On witnessing his father's body at the wake Gallinger describes how he "looked at him and did not recognize him" (65). Gallinger's removal from his father- his own family- points to his own issues regarding his position in relation to others. Gallinger is as alien to the rest of the humans as the Martians are to them.

He recalls his father as a "stranger" who "had never been cruel- stern, demanding with contempt for everyone's shortcomings- but never cruel" (65). This sounds oddly similar to how others see Gallinger, albeit with a slightly more jocular bent, nonetheless he tends to inspire a similar reaction of distance from others.

Gallinger keeps quoting the Book of Ecclesiastes without explicitly copping to the fact that he has fallen prey to the sins as well. Namely, Gallinger falls pray to the sin of vanity. "Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity. What profit hath a man... [of all his labor which he taketh under the sun?... The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun]" (67).


What Gallinger likely thinks he's doing.


He believes himself capable of changing a whole society, of saving it from a fatalistic bent. Instead Gallinger tries to convince the Martian into letting these outsiders impregnate the Martian females, displacing the men in the society while making a suggestion towards further investigating the source of their infertility. This is not in keeping with a diplomatic or civil meeting. Gallinger interrupts a major religious ceremony to call the Martians out on their perceived stupidity and refusal to take action of any sort.

Through his actions he says the Martians are taking their own inability to procreate, to actively contribute to society, as a greater sacrifice of their own agency. Gallinger presumes to return this ability to procreate by seizing the agency on his own, yet the Martians knew this would come to be. Gallinger was a cog in a machine of prophecy and preordainment that he refuted and in so doing affirmed. Locar proved to be the better prophet than he as Gallinger comes by no profit from his hubris or his actions to save their race in spite of their inaction.

Gallinger is so broken by his experience with Braxa, at the utter fatalistic inescapable nature of prophecy that he tries to kill himself by the story's end. As he returns to the shuttle he recounts in his narration that he is "leaving the burden of life so many footsteps behind me... I went to my cabin, locked the door, and took forty-four sleeping pills" (100). Gallinger is used just as he tried to use the Martian people when he first arrived to fuel his career and ego.

Versus what he actually is to the Martians.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Mars, Martians, and Setting

Warning: This post may be slightly edited over the course of Wednesday; I have a multitude of Wednesday classes and so am posting this now for the benefit of those doing a presentation on Thursday


Mars, Life, Civilization, Ruins, Desert. In essence, these terms are all synonymous with Science Fiction depictions of Mars. I personally am fascinated by the setting and background that Science Fiction writers incorporate into their stories and thus focus on the depictions of the Red Planet rather than on the actions taken upon it. Regardless, for stories concerning Mars, its appearance and setting are critical for the plot. With a clearly visible (from both Earth-based observatories and various robotic expeditions) rocky surface, the planet is both easy to describe for SciFi authors and scarily similar to various Earth locations. Moving into the realm of fiction, another trope is that Mars is the home of alien life or the ruins they left behind after extinction.

"The Ruins of a Martian 'Port'" as claimed by non-scientific sources

Mars has quite a pedigree when it comes to Science Fiction. Arguably most famously, it was the home planet of the extraterrestrials in H. G. Wells War of the Worlds. More broadly, the assumption of technologically or magically advanced Martians living in a more Earth-like climate is a hallmark of earlier Science Fiction works (see C. S. Lewis' Space Trilogy, etc...). More often than not, the Earth was under attack by the planet's denizens, thus forming the oft-repeated scenario of "Mars Attacks!"

Unlike War of the Worlds though, modern interpretations (clearly affected by more recent NASA expeditions to the planet) see Mars as the site of alien ruins surrounded by desert rather than the home of a thriving civilization. In the video game Mass Effect, Mars is where humans discover ruins from an ancient alien empire. These "Protheans" had established a Martian outpost to observe humanity and once they disappeared from the galaxy, their technology allowed humans spread beyond the Solar System. In a parallel manner, Total Recall centers around the discovery (and the subsequent battles over the activation) of an ancient alien artifact that could terraform Mars into a habitable Eden. As a result, Total Recall is something of a bridge between the two stereotypes in that Mars was once a paradise, but fell into desertified ruin. In both cases, despite the vastly superior technology of the respective alien race, all that remains on Mars are ruins and artifacts. Regardless, the existence of life on Mars (either past or present) is never deeply questioned and appears to be assumed in most Science Fiction works.

Do we find him or simply ruins?

A Rose for Ecclesiastes provides a classic example of just such a series of beliefs. In that story, the protagonist is brought to the Red Planet to help interact with and learn from the native Martians. These Martians are faced with the immanent collapse of their civilization due to male sterility. While Gallinger's actions are somewhat independent of the setting, his musings are not. Many times he discusses the state of disrepair of the (believed last) Martian city known as Tirellian, thus providing convenient and potent imagery of a civilization falling to ruin. Moving beyond the idea of Martian ruins, the only thing Gallinger describes besides the Martians and their civilization is the unimaginably expansive desert with its biting red sand. The desert also serves as a sort of metaphor for the Martian collapse as a sufficiently capable alien race would be able to at least partially tame the desert (as humans have for centuries). Additionally, there is a certain mythos surrounding great riches lost in a literal or metaphorical sea (ex: Iram of the Pillars, lost in a sea of sand; the city of Atlantis) that allows Roger Zelazny to draw a parallel between the fading Martian civilization and tragic loss of these historical human cities. In both cases though, the planet's surface is harsh and often serves either as plot context or a symbol of the collapse of the assumed alien civilization discussed previously.

In conclusion, Mars is fascinating as a setpiece because despite the variety inherent in Science Fiction, the planet is always portrayed in one of two polar-opposite manners. Either the planet is a lush Eden (or at least sufficiently Earth-like to support technologically advanced life) populated by Martians or it is a barren red desert populated by alien ruins. Nevertheless, the fact that Mars is the subject of a pair of popular Science Fiction tropes has failed to dissuade human fascination with the planet and I expect that Mars will remain a critical element if Science Fiction for the foreseeable future.