Thoughts on the mysteries of the universe, the human soul, and cats |
I recently finished reading the Silmarillion, which is a series of stories written by J.R.R. Tolkien and posthumously published by his son, Christopher. This book is not an easy read, and reads like something between the Bible, and ancient Greek epics, which might have been what Tolkien had in mind when he wrote it. What struck me about this work was the tone which pervaded the stories and became more prominent toward the end – that of sadness and loss. This loss refers to the loss of magic and mystery in the world, which is of course something endlessly discussed by scholars of Tolkien and fantasy nerds like myself. This theme runs through all of Tolkien’s works, including his magnum opus, The Lord of the Rings, where magic is being pushed out of the world by technology by way of industry. This theme is common among the works of this genre, as if the authors ascending to the heights of prose to catch a glimpse of the dying light of fantastical worlds, now being drowned out by the harsh, neon glare of modern society. Some work clings to the magic, notably by the authors of “urban fantasy” such as Jim Butcher, Neil Gaiman, and J.K. Rowling. But these works simply transplant elements of magic into a modern setting and treat it as a utility, like electricity. Not to say it isn’t entertaining to read these things, but the Tolkienesque epic fantasy themes of change are absent here, the idea that as the world changes, so must the nature of magic itself, if it is to continue to exist. However, I would invoke science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke’s Third Law which states,” Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” This would refer to a culture clash of sorts between two civilizations of hugely disparate technological advancement. But isn’t this simply another form of magic, one with future implications? What answers would sci-fi’s questions about the future bring in response to the fantasy’s requiem of the past? Mysteries lurk in the shadows, out of the corners of our eyes, and even just off the edges of our phone sceens. Consider the continuing popularity of UFO sightings. Much attention is levied upon reports of Navy pilots who have recorded what the military calls “Unexplained Aerial Phenomena.” Tons of electrons are spilled daily posting speculation on the nature of these phenomena, never failing to ignore or discount rational explanations. Or consider the ongoing belief in phenomena such as the Bermuda Triangle, Bigfoot, or Nemesis (also known as Planet 9 – 10). Myths like these persist despite the advance of science and rational thought and there are no signs that they are going to creep away into the mists any time soon. So, what do with them? You write stories of course! You spin these myths into a larger narrative to delight and entertain, and to make commentary on the cultural impact of these modern myths. One piece that comes to mind is David Brin’s short story “Those Eyes,” in which the story is told from the point of view of alien visitors to Earth who engage in mischief and hijinks, only to discover that they face their greatest enemy in skepticism. This is also masterfully done by Neil Gaiman in “American Gods,” where old myths clash with the new. Both of these stories play with the trope of mythical beings who exist solely because people believe in them, and when the belief ends, so do the beings. These are the stories, among many, which blur the line between myth and reality. So, where is this meandering essay going? I think Tolkien was too quick to write an eulogy to the loss of magic from our world. It persists to this day, flitting about just out of the corners of our eyes, creeping about in dark places where only fear can see, and dancing in the clouds, taunting pilots. It is still there for anyone who cares to look, whether in whispered narratives around a campfire, or blazing across the message boards of the internet. The magic is there for the taking. All we need do is make it our own. https://www.davidbrin.com/fiction/thoseeyes.html |