Just The Caffeine Talking

Why The Initiate?

My upcoming novel The Initiate (now available for pre-order) marks a big change for me. My three previous books have all been science fiction, mostly on the "hard-SF" side of the spectrum. The Initiate is a modern-day noir fantasy, with magic and demons and a secret society of wizards in Manhattan.

Why the change?

A couple of reasons. First, blame my education. I got my degree from the University of Chicago in the History of Science, with a focus on the scientific revolution of the 17th century. For thousands of years, science and magic were close siblings — almost conjoined twins — so studying one naturally meant gaining a solid grounding in the other. I wanted the chance to use my knowledge of the occult.

My second reason is a bit more personal. Like pretty much every other literate person in the Anglosphere, I've read Rowling's Harry Potter series. And apparently unlike pretty much every other literate person in the Anglosphere, I found the Potterverse a little . . . problematic.

To me, Rowling's Potterverse shares the same problem as Stan Lee's X-Men: they are power fantasies of self-pity. If you get invited to Hogwarts or Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youth, it means two things. First, you're better than everybody else, because of your magical or mutant superpowers. And second, you're part of a secret hidden group and get to feel sorry for yourself because the Muggle majority are jealous of your specialness.

The concept of a secret self-pitying elite is kind of contemptible.

The X-Men, at least, do have a public service mission. When they're not pitying themselves for being oppressed, they do at least go out and fight other self-pitying super-powered mutants with more totalitarian tendencies.

Rowling's secret wizards are a lot less public-spirited. They fight practitioners of the "Dark Arts" — but mostly to protect themselves, rather than others. If the Dark Lord Voldemort hadn't kept up his Wile E. Coyote campaign against Harry Potter, it's not obvious that Harry would have done anything against Voldemort in return.

Now, one can write any number of 'blog posts about this, but I decided to take the next step. I wrote a novel about a secret society of wizards in the modern world — and how they're a bunch of selfish jerks and psychopaths. My "Apkallu" wizards conceal themselves from the ordinary folk they disdain as "Subur" simply for the sake of convenience, because it's easier to be parasites on normal human civilization if the normal humans don't know you exist.

If you want to find out what happens when one man turns against the Apkallu, you can read The Initiate when it comes out February 4.

A Lovecraftian Chronology

For no very good reason I found myself making up an internal chronology of H.P. Lovecraft's horror stories. My guiding principle was that if a story doesn't have any time clues — and it's interesting to note that most of Lovecraft's stories do include specific dates — it takes place in the year in which the story was written, not published. I have left out some stories, like "In the Vault," or "The Outsider" which appear to be "non-Mythos" tales and have no clear time setting. I've also left out his "Dunsanian" fantasies.

The chronology revealed some fascinating patterns. There are a few "big years" in the Lovecraft universe: 1913, 1920, 1923, 1925, 1927, 1928, and 1932. Gamemasters who want to run a "sandbox" style Call of Cthulhu roleplaying game campaign could do worse than simply pick one of those years and start tossing out clues to ongoing events.

It also reveals some potential hidden connections among the stories. In "The Shadow Out of Time," Professor Peaslee's alien possession ends in 1913 — the same year that Wilbur Whateley is born in "The Dunwich Horror." Did Peaslee's alien controller want to avoid potential contact with the Spawn of Yog-Sothoth?

In "Pickman's Model" it appears that Richard Upton Pickman vanishes some time in 1925 (and later turns up as a ghoul living in the Dreamlands). But of course 1925 is also rocked by the nearly apocalyptic events of "The Call of Cthulhu." Did Pickman get a warning in his dreams and decide to get out of Cthulhu's way? The events of "The Horror at Red Hook" that summer look like a power play by Robert Suydam to take over the scattered and demoralized remnants of the Cthulhu Cult after the sinking of R'lyeh.

The Federal response to the events of "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" in late 1927 and early 1928 explains their curiously lackadaisickal reaction to the theft of the remains of some revered early American (it's got to be Franklin) in The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, which happens at the same time. All the government men with knowledge of the secret war against Elder Horrors are busy up in Innsmouth.

Later in 1928, "The Whisperer in Darkness" and the climax of "The Dunwich Horror" are happening almost simultaneously. Perhaps if Albert Wilmarth hadn't been off in Vermont getting chased by Mi-Go he could have gone with Dr. Armitage to deal with the invisible monster in Dunwich.

LOVECRAFTIAN CHRONOLOGY

1771: April 12 — Raid on Curwen farm and (first) death of Joseph Curwen (The Case of Charles Dexter Ward)

1838: Obed Marsh establishes cult of Dagon in Innsmouth ("The Shadow Over Innsmouth")

1843: Enoch Bowen discovers the tomb of Nephren-Ka ("The Haunter of the Dark")

1844: Bowen establishes the Church of Starry Wisdom in Providence ("The Haunter of the Dark")

1846: "Plague" in Innsmouth ("The Shadow Over Innsmouth")

1877: Church of Starry Wisdom disbands ("The Haunter of the Dark")

1878: Capt. Charles Weatherbee discovers unknown island and recovers strange mummy ("Out of the Aeons")

1882: June — Meteorite lands on Gardner farm ("The Colour Out of Space")

1884: Gardner family die ("The Colour Out of Space")

1889: Walker and Audrey Davis settle in Oklahoma, incur the wrath of Yig ("The Curse of Yig")

1890: Three monstrous snake-children born to Audrey Davis ("The Curse of Yig")

1891: Young man named Heaton explores Binger Mound, goes mad from what he saw ("The Mound")

1894: "The Transition of Juan Romero"

1901: "Beyond the Wall of Sleep"

1904: Herbert West's first experiments ("Herbert West — Reanimator")

1907: November 1 — Inspector John LeGrasse leads police raid of swamp cult south of New Orleans ("The Call of Cthulhu")

1908: May 14 — Nathaniel W. Peaslee possessed by Yithian ("The Shadow Out of Time")

1909: "Peaslee" spends a month in the Himalayas ("The Shadow Out of Time")

1910: Harry Houdini escapes captivity under the Pyramids ("Imprisoned With the Pharaohs")

1911: "Peaslee" spends time in the Empty Quarter of Arabia ("The Shadow Out of Time")

1912: "Peaslee" charters a ship to explore the Arctic north of Spitzbergen ("The Shadow Out of Time")

1912: "Peaslee" explores a cave in West Virginia for several weeks ("The Shadow Out of Time")

1913: February 2 — Wilbur Whateley born ("The Dunwich Horror")

1913: August — Death of Arthur Jermyn ("Arthur Jermyn")

1913: August — meteorite lands off Maine coast containing Greek manuscript ("The Green Meadow")

1913: September 27 — Peaslee's possession ends ("The Shadow Out of Time")

1915: Two "eastern visitors" from a small college vanish at the Binger Mound

1915: Herbert West continues experiments in field hospital in Belgium

1916: "Dagon"

1917: "The Temple"

1919: "The Statement of Randolph Carter"

1919: "The Terrible Old Man"

1919: "The Shunned House"

1920: Herbert West carried off by his experimental subjects

1920: "The Music of Erich Zann"

1920: "The Nameless City"

1920: "The Picture in the House"

1920: "From Beyond"

1921: August — destruction of a hamlet in the Catskills near Tempest Mountain ("The Lurking Fear")

1921: November — destruction of the Martense house ("The Lurking Fear")

1921: "The Hound"

1922: "The Festival"

1923: Charles Dexter Ward travels in Europe

1923: "Cool Air"

1923: July-August — "The Rats in the Walls"

1925: Ethnographer visits Guthrie, Oklahoma and hears the Yig legend ("The Curse of Yig")

1925: "Pickman's Model"

1925: March — unrest among cults worldwide, artists have strange dreams ("The Call of Cthulhu")

1925: March 22 — Island of R'lyeh rises ("The Call of Cthulhu")

1925: March 23 —Johansen encounters Cthulhu and disrupts it; R'lyeh sinks again

1925: "The Horror at Red Hook"

1926: May — Charles Dexter Ward returns to Providence

1926-27: Winter — Death of Prof. Angell ("The Call of Cthulhu")

1927: April 15 — Ward reanimates Curwen (The Case of Charles Dexter Ward)

1927: June — Outbreak of vampiric attacks in Rhode Island (The Case of Charles Dexter Ward)

1927: July — Robert Olmstead escapes Innsmouth ("The Shadow Over Innsmouth")

1927: November — Vermont floods, reports of strange creatures ("The Whisperer in Darkness")

1928: January — attempted theft of Franklin's remains (The Case of Charles Dexter Ward)

1928: February — Federal raids on Innsmouth, Curwen kills and replaces Ward

1928: March — Ward/Curwen in asylum

1928: April — Willett explores catacomb, destroys Curwen (The Case of Charles Dexter Ward)

1928: May — Akeley-Wilmarth correspondence begins ("The Whisperer in Darkness")

1928: August 3 — Wilbur Whateley killed ("The Dunwich Horror")

1928: September 9 — The Dunwich Horror strikes

1928: September 12 — Wilmarth visits Vermont and barely escapes ("The Whisperer in Darkness")

1928: September 15 — Dunwich Horror destroyed

1928: October 7 — Randolph Carter disappears ("The Silver Key")

1928: Autumn — Destruction of two wizards in Prague and Transylvania (The Case of Charles Dexter Ward)

1928: Ethnographer visits Binger, Oklahoma, explores the Mound and recovers the Zamacona scroll ("The Mound")

1929: Edward Derby marries Asenath Waite ("The Thing on the Doorstep")

1930: Randolph Carter in alien body returns to Earth, lives in disguise in Boston as "Swami Chandraputra" ("Through the Gates of the Silver Key")

1930: April 30 — Climax of "The Dreams in the Witch House"

1930: September — Miskatonic Antarctic Expedition departs Boston (At the Mountains of Madness)

1931: February 2 — Miskatonic Expedition departs Antarctica after disaster (At the Mountains of Madness)

1931: Robert Olmstead and his cousin head for Innsmouth ("The Shadow Over Innsmouth")

1932: "Swami Chandraputra" vanishes in New Orleans ("Through the Gates of the Silver Key")

1932: Asenath Derby disappears ("The Thing on the Doorstep")

1932: "Out of the Aeons"

1932: "The Horror in the Museum"

1933: Daniel Upton kills Edward Derby (maybe) ("The Thing on the Doorstep")

1935: March 28 — Team of Miskatonic scholars set out on expedition to Western Australia ("The Shadow out of Time")

1935: July 17-18 — Peaslee discovers lost city in western Australia ("The Shadow Out of Time")

1935: August 8 — "The Haunter of the Dark"

Philcon 2019!

This weekend I'll be attending the venerable PhilCon convention, in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. That's near enough to Philadelphia that you can still get scrapple for breakfast, so I guess it qualifies. Here's my schedule. Stop by and say hi!

Fri 6:00 PM in Executive Suite 623: READINGS — PAUL LEVINSON, APRIL GREY, JAMES CAMBIAS

    I'll be reading a chapter from my forthcoming novel The Initiate.

Fri 7:00 PM in Crystal Ballroom Promenade: AUTOGRAPHS — PAUL LEVINSON, APRIL GREY, JAMES CAMBIAS

Fri 8:00 PM in Plaza II: CREATING IDIOMS FOR FANTASY WORLDS

    [Robert C. Roman (mod), Alex Shvartsman, D.L. Carter, James Cambias, Ann Zeddies]

    What do you have your characters call a French braid in a world where France doesn't exist? How do you fill the descriptive lacunae created when you want to avoid language that's anacosmistic?

Fri 11:00 PM in Crystal Ballroom Three: EYE OF ARGON INTERACTIVE

    [Mark Singer (mod), Keith DeCandido, B. Lana Guggenheim, Michael Ventrella, James L. Cambias]

    Yes, I'm going back for another struggle to keep from cracking up as I read from the charmingly inept Conan knockoff The Eye of Argon. Pray for me.

Sat 11:00 AM in Plaza II: WRITING FOR ALIENS — FAMILY AND SOCIAL STRUCTURES

    [Sally Wiener Grotta (mod), Tom Purdom, Ann Zeddies, Chris Kreuter, James Cambias]

    What if a species had no concept of marriage, or placed no value on raising one's own offspring? How would you write a culture that valued other relationships over ones that are viewed as the most important to humans without them coming across as cold and uncaring?

Sat 2:00 PM in Plaza II: OBSOLETE SCIENCE

    [Earl Bennett (mod), Michael Swanwick, James L. Cambias, James Beall, B. Lana Guggenheim, Russell J. Handelman]

    Remember when spaceships went whizzing through the ether? Remember the hollow earth? What obsolete scientific ideas shaped SF, and which ones still persist in it?

Sat 5:00 PM in Plaza III: HOW TO SERVE OUR NEW ROBOT OVERLORDS

    [Simone Zelitch (mod), David Walton, Dr. Valerie Mikles, Bruce Dykes, James L. Cambias]

    What it says on the tin.

Sat 7:00 PM in Plaza II: THE EVOLUTION OF MARS

    [Darrell Schweitzer (mod), John Ashmead, Tom Purdom, James Cambias, Earl Bennett]

    How have depictions of Mars changed in SF from the imaginings of Burroughs and Bradbury to the Mars we know now from studying its surface?

Sat 8:00 PM in Plaza III: GREAT SCIENCE FICTION MCGUFFINS

    [Mary Spila (mod), Joe Siclari, Richard Stout, Christopher Hinz, James L. Cambias]

    Alfred Hitchcock defined the McGuffin as the 'object' everyone in the story is looking for. This can be anything from a secret formula to a magic amulet to a living being. Which have been the genre's most interesting ones?

Initiate Teaser #1

A little amuse-bouche to get you ready for the main course, which arrives in February — an excerpt from the beginning of my new modern fantasy novel The Initiate (now available for pre-order on Amazon, or at your friendly local bookstore):

 

         "It wasn't a bear, was it?" The voice on Samuel Arquero's phone was reedy and precise. Whoever it was hung up before he could answer. Sam tried to call back, but got a recorded voice telling him the number was not in service. He tried again with the same result. Then he just sat there in the dark living room, looking at the fire in the wood stove. A half-empty pitcher of Bloody Marys stood on the coffee table in front of him.

         That was how Sam spent most of his evenings, trying to drink himself to sleep without incurring a crippling hangover. He made his Bloody Marys with V-8 juice, so they were almost good for him.

         Half an hour later the phone rang again. Sam had it on the couch next to him and snatched it up before it could ring a second time.

         "Mr. Samuel Arquero?" asked the same voice.

         "Who are you?"

         "I want to meet with you. Name a time and place — but it must be private."

         "Can you come here? Now?"

         The voice chuckled a little bit. "If you wish. Expect me in half an hour. Needless to say, you will be alone." The call ended.

         It had to be a prank call. A very nasty one. Sam was sure the joker wouldn't show. He'd have to be crazy to do that.

         But . . . Sam turned on the porch light and tried to tidy up the living room a bit, just from habit. Since he spent most of his time there it was pretty messy, but by shoving things behind the couch and making neat piles he got it marginally presentable. There was nothing he could do about the front window — pulling down the pink insulation stapled over it would just expose the bare plywood nailed to the outside. Probably ought to get that fixed, he thought yet again.

         Of course it had been a bear. Probably rabid, according to the cops. It was crazy to think otherwise. Just his memory playing tricks. Sam knew enough about psychology to figure the bizarre image in the doorway (which never went away, never) was just a manifestation of his guilt. If he'd just looked through the window before opening the door, if he hadn't frozen in astonishment that first instant, if he'd done something the house might not be so silent and empty right now. But he never spoke of what he'd seen — what he thought he'd seen — to anyone.

         Twenty-nine minutes later there was a knock on the door. Sam hadn't heard a car pull up. He opened the door three inches, with his foot planted to keep it from swinging wider, and his right hand just touching the kindling hatchet he'd placed with the coats and boots.

         The man on the doorstep was nearly Sam's height, with sparse gray hair. He was smiling, and wore dark glasses despite the late hour. Except for the glasses, his appearance was so utterly nondescript that if Sam looked away for a moment he thought he'd forget what he looked like. The visitor pulled his hands out of his overcoat pockets and held them up for Sam to see.

         "Good evening, Mr. Arquero," he said. "May I come in?"

         "Who are you?" Sam's mouth was dry.

         "I'm the man who has taken an interest in what happened to your family last summer. You can call me Mr. Lucas."

 

Get Initiated!

My forthcoming novel The Initiate is now available for preorders from Baen Books. You can see the listing here. As you can see, there's cover art already — Sam has longer hair than I imagined him, but the lightning-dragon and the inimitable Isabella both play important roles in the story. I just handed in the final revisions, so we're on track for a February release.

So . . . what is The Initiate about?

It's about a man waging war against a secret society of wizards who have ruled the world for six thousand years. There's monsters, evil magicians, a magical market, demons, and an adorable little girl named Isabella.

Culinary/Literary Notes

I can usually eat something without telling the world about it, but tonight I made a grilled marinated Porterhouse steak with an heirloom tomato salad, followed by fresh-picked ripe strawberries and ice cream. All served up on the porch on a perfect evening.

But that's not what I actually intended to post about today. Lately I've been reading Dumas on Food, an English translation/abridgement of Alexander Dumas's Grand Dictionaire de Cuisine.

The entry on "Cavaillon Melon" includes the following passage, which I commend to all my fellow authors:

"One day I received a letter from the municipal council of Cavaillon which informed me that they were establishing a library and were desirous of securing for it the best books which they possibly could. They therefore begged me to send them those two or three of my novels which to my mind were the best. Now, I have a daughter and a son, whom I think I love equally; and I am the author of five or six hundred volumes and belive myself to be just about equally fond of them all. So I replied to the town of Cavaillon that it was not for an author to judge the merits of his books, that I thought all my books good, but that I found Cavaillon melons excellent; and that I consequently proposed to send to the town of Cavaillon a complete set of my works . . . if the municipal council would be willing to vote me a life annuity of twelve green melons."

"The municipal council of Cavaillon . . . replied by return of post that my request had been unanimously endorsed, and that I would certainly receive my life annuity, which in all likelihood is the only one that I will ever have."

While I don't have an oeuvre of six hundred volumes, and so probably can't parlay a set of my books into a lifetime supply of anything, I think I could manage a one-to-one swap. If you like science fiction or roleplaying games, and have a Zamponi sausage or some chanterelles, contact me.

Arkad's World Review From Locus

The new Sage of Providence, Paul Di Filippo, wrote a very kind and perceptive review of Arkad's World. Somehow I missed it when it came out back in February, but he recently put it up on Facebook. You can read the full review here.

Then you can go buy the book.

Random Encounters: The Infinite Library

"The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite and perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries, with vast air shafts between, surrounded by very low railings. From any of the hexagons one can see, interminably, the upper and lower floors. The distribution of the galleries is invariable. Twenty shelves, five long shelves per side, cover all the sides except two; their height, which is the distance from floor to ceiling, scarcely exceeds that of a normal librarian. One of the free sides leads to a narrow hallway which opens onto another gallery, identical to the first and to all the rest. To the left and right of the hallway there are two very small closets. In the first, one may sleep standing up; in the other, satisfy one’s fecal necessities. Also through here passes a spiral stairway, which sinks abysmally and soars upwards to remote distances."

— "The Library of Babel," by Jorge Luis Borges

The name of the Infinite Library is a lie. The books within it have a finite number of pages and a finite number of letters per page, so the possible permutations are vast (10 to the 4677th power, according to one source). The library is much bigger than our own Universe, but it's not quite infinite. You can visit it here.

Each book in the Library contains a random assortment of letters, spaces, and punctuation. Some of them (a vast number) are readable books. Even more are gibberish. All possible books exist in the Library. Finding them is next to impossible.

Travelers come to the Infinite Library via magic or super-science, usually seeking a particular book. Without some way to locate the book you're seeking, you can wander the Library's galleries until you die and find nothing but randomness.

ENCOUNTERS IN THE INFINITE LIBRARY

(Technically, this table should be nearly infinite itself, since almost anything is possible in such a vast library.)

Roll 1d10 if you're staying in a single chamber of the Library, 1d20 if you're exploring.

1. Roll Twice and Combine
2. Alien Wizard: It's an ancient supergenius with five eyes, wings, and tentacles, and it knows secrets of magic you've never encountered. It's here looking for a particular book and won't leave without it.
3. Ghost: The phantom of an author searching for her books in the endless library. It's possible that all authors wind up here when they die . . .
4. Giant Book Worm: A worm twenty feet long, with a mouth a yard wide. It consumes books — but it won't say no to some fresh protein, either.
5. Giant Wasps: 1d6 wasps the size of dogs. They feed on books to make paper for their mammoth nests.
6. Gust of Wind: A blast of wind roars through this part of the library, stirring up a blinding cloud of dust and blowing out all lamps and candles.
7. Librarian: A tall robed figure, its face hidden by a hood, with inhuman proportions and extremely long fingers. The Librarian knows the location of all books and can give directions — but note that some books may be thousands of light-years away.
8. Madman: A visitor to the Library driven mad by the scale and the randomness of the books. There's a 50 percent chance that at first he seems rational and may give advice which is plausible-sounding but utterly delusional.
9. Origami Assassin: A small, stealthy killer made of folded pages, magically animated and sent after one of the party. It hides between books and waits to give its target a poisonous paper-cut.
10. Thieves: A band of 2d6 book thieves, sent to steal a particular book. In short, it's a rival band of adventurers. Roll 1d6 to see what they're armed with. (1: Clubs, 2: Knives, 3: Swords and Crossbows, 4: Revolvers, 5: Lasers, 6: Disintegrator Guns.)
11. Barricade: Someone has used the books in this room to wall off the entrance. There's a 50 percent chance that they're still inside; reroll to see who has built the book fort.
12. Dangerous Book: Instead of the book you're seeking, you've found a dangerous book. Roll on the Dangerous Books table below for its harmful effect.
13. Doctor: A blind physician who offers shelter and assistance to anyone who enters the room he uses. He is well-known in this part of the Library and anyone who harms him makes enemies of everyone else.
14. Empty Rooms: The shelves of the next 1d20 rooms have been emptied of books. Don't worry, near-duplicates of all of them exist somewhere.
15. Giant Silverfish: 1d6 roaches as big as cats. They scuttle among the books, eating the bindings and sometimes scavenging the bodies of the dead. There is a 10 percent chance that one of the silverfish has attained human-level intelligence and remembers all the books it has eaten.
16. Inquisitor: An official searching the Library for prohibited books. The odds of finding any book at random are basically zero, but they search anyway. There's a 50 percent chance that any Inquisitor is really a fraud, using bogus credentials to get stuff from people they encounter.
17. Purifiers: 2d6 members of a cult who believe the random nature of the books proves that this library is a Hellish creation. They destroy all books they encounter, casting them down the cosmologically-long shafts or building huge fires. Purifiers are unarmed but do not fear death.
18. THE Book: The one you came here to find is on the shelves of this room.
19. Wasp Nest: Giant wasps have filled this room with a paper hive made of pages of text. There are 2d6 Giant Wasps in the room, plus the remains of 1d6 unfortunate visitors stung to death.
20. Tracks: Roll again to see what the room has traces of.

DANGEROUS BOOKS

Roll 1d6 to see how harmful a Dangerous Book is.

1. Blindness: The words of the book damage the human visual cortex. The reader goes blind for the next 1d6 days.
2. Curse: Anyone who reads the book will be unlucky in all things for a year and a day.
3. Dreadful Knowledge: The book includes a description of something terrible which will happen to the character or a loved one. (Note that the prophecy can be false, but it is convincing.)
4. Haunted: A ghost begins stalking whoever read the book. It's both clever and sadistic, so will try to maximize the suffering it inflicts before killing its victim.
5. Madness: Reading the book drives a person mad. There's a 75 percent chance the insanity will fade in 1d6 days, a 20 percent chance it will last 1d6 weeks, and a 5 percent chance it's permanent. The exact form of the insanity is up to the gamemaster.
6. Poisoned: Literally. The pages of the book are toxic. Unless the reader wears gloves, he or she gets a dose of something.

SITUATIONS IN THE INFINITE LIBRARY

(Roll 1d6, then consult the table above to determine who A and B are.)

1. A desires B
2. A wants to capture B
3. A wants B dead
4. A wants to go somewhere
5. A wants to solve a mystery
6. A wants X

Disaster Excuses

One common thread running through science fiction, almost since the beginning, is a concept I call "Disaster Excuses." A Disaster Excuse is some awful event used to justify what would otherwise be an unlikely technological project, journey, or social change.

For a long time the standard Disaster Excuse was nuclear war. From 1945 up to the 1980s, nuclear war could justify almost anything. The most obvious was a return to medieval or even stone-age society — too many examples to count. It was also used to explain oppressive future religions, paranoid underground civilizations, secret time travel, and fertility cults. As with most Disaster Excuses, it was a prime mover for the colonization of space.

But it wasn't the only one. Beginning in the 1960s, pollution and overpopulation became equally prominent Disaster Excuses. Again, an overcrowded Earth was often the justification for colonizing other worlds or voyaging to the stars. Draconian population-control regimes served as the rationale for any number of dystopian futures.

Overpopulation waned a bit as a Disaster Excuse, for a couple of reasons. First, the trend lines have gotten less worrisome as the birth rates in country after country drop to replacement level or below. Second, once writers realized that most of the population growth was coming from outside North America and Europe, it was hard to ignore the kinda racist aspect of that particular apocalypse.

Pollution morphed into Climate Change, and is still going strong. It also seems to have spawned an odd backlash against space colonization. Because various writers over the years used environmental destruction on Earth as the pretext for terraforming Mars or settling planets of other stars, somehow the idea got around that this was a serious proposal. Consequently I've seen a number of critiques of space colonization centered around the idea that "we can't run away from Earth's problems!"

Astronomical disasters occasionally crop up as Disaster Excuses — most notably in When Worlds Collide. They do lack the social relevance of other excuses, since you can't really show off your political bona fides by taking a stand against colliding planets or interloping black holes.

All this does raise a question, though: why do we need a Disaster Excuse at all? Surely colonizing Mars or sending spacecraft to other stars are things worth doing even if Earth is a perfectly swell place to live. I'd even argue that a peaceful and prosperous society is actually more likely to tackle large projects like those. A starving or war-torn world is too busy struggling for survival. The Apollo program was launched in the booming 1960s; the leaner 1970s saw massive cutbacks in space budgets. Right now we're in another boom era, so that eccentric billionaires can afford their own space programs. I think I prefer that to fighting over my next Soylent ration.

Changes in Fandom: A Different Perspective

Judith Dial (editor of the delightfully un-redacted Conspiracy! anthology) published some remarks on the Amazing Stories blog about the shifts in fandom which provide an interesting "parallax view" on my own musings about status and social class in SF. You can read her post here.