Just The Caffeine Talking

Notes on The Lost Road

I recently acquired a copy of The Lost Road, an unfinished work by J.R.R. Tolkien, edited and extensively annotated by his son Christopher Tolkien. The origin of the work is very interesting: according to Tolkien's own account, it grew out of a conversation he had with his close friend C.S. Lewis. "Tollers," Lewis told him, "There is too little of what we really like in stories. I am afraid we shall have to try and write some ourselves."

The two of them decided that Lewis would write a space travel story and Tolkien would write a time travel story. Some versions of the story I've seen indicate they flipped a coin to see who would do which.

Lewis wrote Out of the Silent Planet, which he followed with a couple of sequels to create his astounding "Space Trilogy." Tolkien began The Lost Road, a story of a modern person's mind being cast back in time to the time of the fall of Numenor (aka Atlantis). He began a draft but ultimately gave up on it and decided to concentrate on The Hobbit and its sequel The Lord of the Rings.

So . . . what if the coin flip had gone the other way? What if Lewis took on the job of writing a time travel story, and Tolkien cast his attention to outer space?

A time travel story by C.S. Lewis is certainly an intriguing prospect. I expect he would have focused on a historical period, probably the Middle Ages, allowing some contemporary characters from the 1930s to interact with the medieval world.

But J.R.R. Tolkien writing about outer space . . . ? What would that have been like? He wouldn't have been able to use his extensive "Middle Earth" legendarium as source material, as he did with The Lost Road.

 I suspect that Tolkien would have looked to Mars for his space story, just as Lewis did for Out of the Silent Planet. I also suspect he would not have had much patience for the mechanics of space travel, not even the technobabble handwaving that Lewis used.

Which raises the interesting question of whether Tolkien would have done as Lewis did, and send a contemporary human to another planet — or would he have done as he did in his fantasy works, telling a story entirely from within an alien culture? Tolkien being Tolkien, that would presumably require him to invent the entire language and mythology of his Martians, including poems and songs and folk tales.

But what kind of Martians would Tolkien have created? By the 1930s, science fiction was starting to move away from the idea of "men on other planets" toward the concept of extraterrestrials as the product of alien evolution in alien environments. Would Tolkien have gone along with that?

If he chose to write about a human civilization on Mars, we would have something very much like E.R. Eddison's The Worm Ourobouros, but with better names. I'm not sure how Tolkien would have addressed the question of whether the other planets of the Solar System are "fallen" worlds like Earth, or remain "unfallen." I suspect the former — his Middle-Earth stories mention ancient evils from outside the world, which would certainly provide perils enough for heroes to overcome.

That would be moderately interesting, but I find myself wondering how J.R.R. Tolkien might have handled a genuinely non-human species and culture. While I doubt he spent much time reading Amazing Stories or Astounding, he certainly must have been familiar with the works of H.G. Wells, like The War of the Worlds or The First Men in the Moon, both of which featured very non-human aliens.

So perhaps his space story would have involved some Martians — maybe bird-like beings, or insects — undertaking an arduous journey across the landscape of the Red Planet, on some mission to save the planet from some ancient horror from deep space.

The real question is whether Tolkien's heart would have been in the task, as it obviously was when he wrote The Lord of the Rings. Frankly I suspect it would not have been, but one can dream. A science fiction novel with the impact and quality of The Lord of the Rings, published in the 1940s, would have had a huge impact on the field. Science Fiction might have begun edging toward literary respectability a generation earlier than in our history.

It would also mean that science fiction would retain much more of a British flavor than it did historically. Instead of Asimov-Clarke-Heinlein as SF's "Big Three" of postwar SF we might remember Clarke-Tolkien-Wyndham in those roles, with Heinlein as an American also-ran.

And if science fiction remains "quintessentially British" would that in turn have affected national attitudes and policies? Would the Union Jack have been the first flag on the Moon, carried aboard a British Interplanetary Society atomic rocketship? Naturally the rest of the Commonwealth would be involved, with spacecraft launching from Woomera in Australia and specialists from four continents participating.

Why, we might even see an eccentric South African tycoon bankrolling a voyage to Mars by now . . .

Dinosaur Fundamentals

Here's an interesting science story: researchers describe fossilized soft tissue of a dinosaur cloaca — the first time this part of any dinosaur has been seen before. You can read about it at ScienceDaily (for the highbrow version), LiveScience (for the popular-science version), or Gizmodo (for the . . . Gizmodo version). The New York Times also has the story, but they have a paywall.

This paper reveals a lot about dinosaurs that was completely unknown up to now. We didn't really know what their genitalia were like. Now we do — they were (unsurprisingly) rather like modern birds.

I'm sharing this for two reasons. First of all, I've been hearing about it at home for about six months now, accompanied by dire warnings to keep it confidential until the paper appears. So now it's time to spill the beans.

Second, it's about dinosaurs! Just like in Bone Wars!

Arisia 2021

This weekend I'll be appearing at the venerable Arisia science fiction con. Normally it's held in Boston, but this year it's happening right on your computer. You can join it here: https://www.arisia.org

I'm doing three events this weekend. On Friday evening at 10:00 pm (EST) I'm doing a reading from my forthcoming novel The Godel Operation.

Saturday at 5:30 pm (EST) I'll be on a panel, "Cut the Boring Parts" about creating tension and writing lean prose.

And on Sunday at 10:00 am (EST) I'm doing a panel on "Solar System Tourism," covering places to visit on other planets, and how long we'll have to wait before you can vacation in space.

There's lots of other events going on at Arisia. Join and see!

The Lost Manuscripts of Lemuel Gulliver, Part the Second

A couple of weeks ago I posted about the exciting discovery in Oxford's Bodleian Library of unpublished notes and drafts by the 18th Century explorer and naturalist Dr. Lemuel Gulliver. That first post included Gulliver's discussion of how the difference in scale affected the architecture and habits of the Lilliputians. This excerpt is concerned with their dietary habits.

Concerning the Habits of the Lilliputians while at Table, I own I must admit they are the most gluttonous Nation I have ever had occasion to observe.

Immediately upon rising, each one breaks his fast with a cold Collation of Meat, Eggs, divers Sweets, accompanied by Beer, as the pangs of Hunger permit no delay for cooking. This first breakfast is followed at midmorning by a second, which any Englishman would consider more than ample for a dinner; with Soups, roast Fowl, Puddings, and suchlike Viands in great Abundance. At midday they take a Luncheon of smoked Meats or Fish, Eggs, and Nuts, all in considerable Quantities. At the setting of the Sun they dine, and those dinners are as great as the other meals of the day in combination. Even the meanest of Lilliputians has a dinner of three or four removes, with courses of Fish, Soup, roast Meat androast Fowl, &c. In the evening before retiring, these insatiable Lilliputians sup upon bowls of Porridge or Beans. All these immense meals are accompanied by Cheeses and Sweets.¹

I did notice some curious lacunae in the Diet of the Lilliputians. They have little Appetite for Bread, and never consume Greens or Herbs, save as a kind of Garnish to the great platters of Flesh they devour. Nor do they enjoy any sort of Fruit in its natural state, but must needs cook all Fruits and Vegetables into a veritable Pap, often stirred with Cream or Butter.

I had the Occasion to ask my neighbor Dr. Darwin if there might be some Defect in the Digestion common to Lilliputians which would explain their insatiable Hunger.

"The only Defect is the small Stature of these Lilliputians, Dr. Gulliver," was his reply to me. "One may observe in Nature that the tiniest Creatures have greater Appetites than large ones. My own Pigeons eat more Corn in proportion to their weight than my Geese. The ratio, based on my own Observations, appears to be the cubic power of the fourth root of the weight of the Animal."²

I asked him to explain that in greater detail.

"Certainly. You yourself weigh some thirteen stone, I should judge. You mentioned that Lilliputian gentlemen typically weigh about two ounces. If your respective Appetites were in proportion to your weights, one would expect that a Lilliputian would eat only 1/1728th as much as yourself — which would amount to less than a fiftieth of an ounce per day. Obviously, however, you did not observe that."

I said that their Appetites were very much of an opposite character.

Dr. Darwin continued: "If my Observations are correct, a Lilliputian one-twelfth of your height would require food in the amount of 1/268 of what you yourself would consume. If an active Englishman such as yourself eats two pounds of food every day, if not more (here Dr. Darwin absent-mindedly patted his own considerable Paunch), then a Lilliputian would thrive upon an eighth of an ounce. That would amount to one-sixteenth of his own weight, or the equivalent of more than ten pounds of food per day for a man of your size!"

"That accounts for the Quantities eaten by the Lilliputians, but I am curious as to whether their dietary Preferences might also have a physical Origin," I said to him.

"I consider it indisputable," said he. "If you examine any domestic animals you will quickly note that those creatures which eat a coarse diet of Grass or even Oats devote a much greater Proportion of their bodily weight to Organs of Digestion, than those which thrive upon Flesh. These Lilliputians must consume the very richest of foods, and must cook them so as to make them as digestible as possible. I suspect that a Lilliputian condemned to live by Bread alone might eat all day yet become weak for Want of food!"

"This explains a matter which had long puzzled me," I said. "During my time in the Kingdom of Lilliput, there was seldom much great Difficulty in supplying my wants, as the Lilliputians maintained great Storehouses of victuals. I now see that compared to them, my own Appetite was comparitively meagre, and thus easily satisfied by them."

¹It is possible that J.R.R. Tolkein may have read or heard of the Gulliver manuscripts during his decades as a professor at Oxford, as the similarity in eating habits between the Lilliputians and his Hobbits is striking. 

²Historians of science should take note that Erasmus Darwin here anticipates Kleiber's Law by nearly two centuries.

Thoughts on That Christmas Movie

A lot of people think they've watched the movie It's A Wonderful Life but either haven't actually seen it, or have forgotten most of it. This leads to a lot of misunderstanding. When my family watched it this past Christmas my son was astonished to discover that a good two-thirds of the film's run time is simply a biographical study of George Bailey, leading up to the moment of his suicide attempt.

It's also a lot less saccharine and feel-good than most people imagine. George Bailey's life is full of disappointments and hardships, and the people of Bedford Falls are realistically flawed and three-dimensional. George himself is not especially saintly, either. He's got some selfish impulses and when his frustration finally boils over he's pretty harsh with those around him. That's kind of the point, after all: he's not some paragon of moral perfection, just a generally decent fellow, yet he has a good effect on the world.

Business Matters

The story contrasts George Bailey's charitable, humane approach to Potter's ruthless devotion to business. But if you pay attention to the movie it's pretty obvious that Mr. Potter is actually a terrible businessman.

Specifically, Potter invariably chooses short-term over long-term gains. He owns rental property and apparently skimps on maintenance. He does little or nothing to promote development in Bedford Falls. And in the alternate-historical Potterville, he's apparently willing to let the town be run by gangsters (but see below) — again, not good for the long term, and possibly not even good for Potter himself.

By contrast George Bailey encourages business formation, and thus economic growth. His client Martini owns a restaurant and buys a house, but in the alternate universe the bar is run (but probably not owned) by Nick, and Martini is nowhere to be seen. Bailey encourages his childhood friend Sam Wainwright to open a plastics plant in Bedford Falls, making the whole town more prosperous.

And wait until the post-WWII boom gets underway! Bailey's already begun developing the "Bailey Park" subdivision. He's going to make an absolute killing in the postwar housing market as newly-prosperous residents demand homes of their own — and have the money to pay for them. By 1960 Bailey's going to be a big-time real-estate developer, in the same league as the Levitt Brothers (the builders of Levittown, the archetypical postwar suburb). He'll be able to buy Potter with pocket change.

Although . . . one does hope that after the missing-cash incident George eases his uncle Billy into a comfortable retirement. Seriously, a man who can lose track of $8000 (in 1940s dollars — that's about $100,000 in 2021 play money) does not belong in charge of a business. Keeping him on goes beyond decency and kindness to the verge of irresponsibility. Promote Cousin Tilly to his job; she's been around for thirty years and probably knows more about how the Building & Loan works than anyone.

Potterville

This is a period detail modern viewers may not recognize: the depiction of "Potterville" encodes the place as a "wide-open town" along the lines of Phenix City, Alabama; Butte, Montana (which Dashiell Hammett transmogrified into "Poisonville" in Red Harvest); and Galveston, Texas. All three were notorious "sin cities" of the 1930s and 1940s, completely mobbed-up and corrupt. Audiences of the era would have understood that immediately. The most famous and successful "wide-open town" of all — Las Vegas — came along after It's A Wonderful Life was made.

Nowadays gambling, drugs, and prostitution are legal or tolerated pretty much all over the country. Every town is Potterville now, so of course we mock Bedford Falls for its lack of sophistication.

Interesting note about Potterville: Mr. Potter himself is not in evidence. Is he running the town — or has he been pushed out by the gambling and vice operators he allowed in? Maybe while George was poking around the cemetery in the alternate timeline he could have run across Potter's elaborate tomb, erected after he accidentally rolled down a flight of stairs onto some bullets.

Religious Matters

The depiction of Christianity in It's A Wonderful Life is pretty weird. Its vision of mid-Twentieth Century American Protestant Christianity looks oddly like traditional Chinese belief in its depiction of the afterlife — with the spirits of the dead acting as guides and guardians of the living, and a bureaucratic and hierarchical Heaven. None of that's in the Bible.

To modern eyes the movie is very "religious," with characters praying, thanking God, and a plot driven by literally Divine intervention. But since Frank Capra was trying to downplay the story's religious elements, he avoided the doctrines of any real-world faith, giving it that odd "pseudo-Christian-but-not-really" feel.

For plot reasons, I suppose it would cause problems if the angel was a real Biblical-style angel rather than a sweetly bumbling old gentleman with a copy of Tom Sawyer. Having a being of eyes and flaming wings appear to George on the bridge would definitely undercut his skepticism.

Clarence the "angel" gives his age as "293 next May" in 1946, indicating he was born in 1654. If we assume that he appears as he did at the end of his life, that puts his death date in the early 18th Century, circa 1710-1720. Which means that if Clarence is reading Tom Sawyer he's been keeping up with developments in the mortal world (if somewhat delayed, given that the book was published in 1876 and he's only just getting around to it).  

Summing Up

It's a really good movie — better than the simplistic strawman version that hipsters like to disparage. It's also a fascinating look at another time, and at another time's depiction of other times. You get an idea of how 1946 saw 1919 and 1929. Highly recommended.