Death of the space opera

Jack Deatherage

(10/2021) "Fourteen billion miles away from Earth, the Voyager's instruments picked up a droning sound that may be caused by plasma (ionized gas) in the vast emptiness of interstellar space. Launched in 1977, the Voyager 1 space probe - along with its twin Voyager 2 - has been traveling farther and farther into space for over 44 years. It has now breached the edge of our solar system, exiting the heliosphere, the bubble-like region of space influenced by the sun. Now, the spacecraft is moving through the "interstellar medium," where it recorded the peculiar sound." - -Hard Science -May 11, 2021

Well hell. It was hard science that killed space operas and dampened my interest in science fiction in general. I'd burnt out on high school math in 1971 when I was introduced to an imaginary number- the square root of negative one- %(!1). The following year I sat, often dozing, through trigonometry and physics while contemplating whether I'd walk all the way home from Catoctin High School or manage to hitch a ride when I left that prison at noon. I earned solid Fs in both subjects because that's the grade one gets after signing a name to the test papers and turning them in blank.

By the time Voyager was riding a flame into space I'd begun reading sword & sorcery, Westerns and adventure novels, rather than straining my brain trying to plough the new science fiction stories that focused more on science than fiction. I wandered off into the Hyborian Age, knowing I'd never walk where Conan the barbarian had anymore than I'd live on the Moon- Hyboria didn't exist outside of Robert Howard's and my imagination. Nor would I likely see Larry McMurtry's Lonesome Dove, Texas, or follow the Berrybenders journey up the Missouri River. However, I would spend all of 45 minutes aback a horse, and learn to clean and inspect its hooves. (The DW always double-checked to be sure I hadn't missed anything.) All thoughts of living in a Moon colony, or on Mars, or traveling to other stars while sleeping in a cryogenic pod fell away as "hard science" showed me such possibilities would never occur in my lifetime- perhaps not in anyone's' lifetime.

Planetary romance stories told of adventures on other planets, came to a disheartening end when Mars Rover reported none of Ray Bradbury's Martian cities, or the chance of any form of life more evolved than bacteria. Which is not to deem all those stories I once lost myself in as now irrelevant! Space travel, other planets and aliens were merely backdrops where the genre's great authors worked out their thoughts on the human condition- which seems to have changed little in the knowable 6,000 years we apes have pondered life, the universe and everything. (Of course I've laughed my way through some Douglas Adams. And why not? He was good at rubbing our noses in our ridiculousness.)

For a decade or two (Gods! I never thought I'd live long enough to think in terms of decades) I drifted as lost in the world of fictional literature as Earthship Ark did in Harlan Ellison's "The Starlost"- a made for television show that ended up as off track as the people in the generational colony spacecraft the show was about. (If Ellison had written the story in novel form I'd have a copy to reread today. Leave it to TV Land to wreck a good story.)

Well aware that the bulk of my reading was escapist literature, and discovering the various genres were moving into current social situations that were of little or no interest to me, I began reading monthly magazines. Hunting, fishing, gardening, news weeklies (those were a waste of time and money), writing (I still hadn't realized I didn't have the mind, or talent for that) and various other topics I vaguely remember were devoured as income allowed.

I don't recall when I first walked into the Emmitsburg branch of the county library and asked for a patron card. The last time I'd been in a library was when the town maintained one on West Main Street- I think that space is now part of the Ott House. Anyhow, my library searches were mostly nonfiction at that time: gardening, fishing, hunting, small scale farming, dog breeding, fish keeping, houseplants, carpentry, art, entrepreneurship, newsletter publishing, small business startup- subjects I blew through as I searched for something- anything I could stay focused on for more than a week or a month, maybe a year. A major subject that held my attention for more than a year was "how to become a millionaire".

Oddly, I understood the basics of accumulating a million dollars. But I lacked the wherewithal to do it. Which was actually a relief. Beings I's lazy and becoming a millionaire requires way more effort and sticktoitiveness than I can muster. Besides, I had already begun turning my attention to college lectures on philosophy of religion- not that I understood much of that.

Eventually I wandered back into fiction, mostly because I didn't have the attention span and/or income to pursue any of the how-to subjects I'd pondered. Murder mysteries- until they became too graphic, adventure stories- until they became formulaic, and finally, fantasy- magicians, witches, werewolves, vampires, the Fae folk and their ilk. Historical romance (not the romantic love sub-genre) slipped in there somehow. Currently, I'm reading S.J. Parris' Giordano Bruno series to break up my reading of Kevin Hearne's The Iron Druid Chronicles.

Recently I've discovered Dr. Jordan Peterson's "12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos". I'm intrigued. Chaos is one of the gods I can prove to my satisfaction. Chaos has also been what goes on in my head as far back as I can remember- that time when I was three years old and was trampled by my Great-uncle John's turkey flock when I opened the coop door for a closer look at the birds. (The god Chaos got a good laugh out of that adventure and has seldom stopped laughing since.)

Being told I have to obey rules has never set well with me, but living in chaos hasn't done well by me either so I bought Peterson's book and began hurting my head trying to plough his writing style and word usage- Gods have mercy! I need to refer to a dictionary at least three times for every paragraph! And my general habit of dozing off after four pages of any book isn't making the reading of Peterson any easier! Thankfully I found an unabridged audio version and have managed to grasp some of his argument via that, in spite of dozing off 5 minutes into each lecture.

"Rule 1- Stand up straight with your shoulders back"

My immediate reaction is - bite me! I've been ignoring that rule since the first grade! To my detriment. So having bought the book, and needing to come to grips with the chaos in my head, I decide to soldier on with having my nose rubbed in my arrogant stupidity.

I'll tell a man, I regret the loss of the space opera, and the oblivion of alcohol.