In discussing Jupiter Project by Dr. Gregory Benford, I felt as if I stood upon solid ground. By contrast, the first time I read through If the Stars are Gods by Gregory Benford and Gordon Eklund, I found myself sinking into sand, fighting to keep my head above the surface. After a second read-through, this time taking careful notes, I managed to fight the quicksand’s pull. Still, I cannot pull myself completely free: at best, my lower-legs are still buried below the surface.
Some stories are like that. Perhaps the most famous case is the film version of Arthur C. Clarke’s story 2001: A Space Odyssey. Unlike the Peter Hyams-directed sequel 2010, which set off with the purpose of answering questions (and which left you on much firmer footing), the original film seems to ask more questions than it answers. Reactions to Kubrick’s film divide into three camps: 1) Those whom it utterly mystified; 2) Those who feel absolutely certain as to the meaning of the film; and 3) Those who have fought to gain a tenuous grasp upon its questions and themes, but for whom each time they watch the movie, they still experience a sense of mystery. I find myself in the third category.
Awhile back, the leader of my reading group assigned the novel Descent Into Hell by Charles Williams. Unlike his contemporaries C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, I initially found this writer’s prose more difficult to come to grips with. Our group covered a chapter or two each week; I studiously reviewed previously-discussed chapters before each meeting. Re-reading, combined with the group leader’s comments, began to suggest that a tremendous depth hid beneath the surface plot. Perhaps Williams had interwoven themes and ideas within the novel like an engineer designing the numerous layers within a printed circuit board. When I later tried to explain my “enhanced understanding” of the novel to John Clute, a great historian of the Science Fiction and Fantasy field (and someone who has a greater understanding of Williams’ work than I), he very kindly responded with no more than a bemused expression.
Similarly, when my book group was reading through some of Flannery O’Connor’s stories, I found myself locked in battle with the leader of the reading group. I believed I perceived “the truth” behind the themes within the particular story, and had accurately divined the intent of the writer in her depiction of a peripheral character. The leader then read from a letter in which O’Connor responded to a fan’s questions: I found my face grow progressively hotter as the writer divulged an intent with the work different than I had perceived, and revealed a marked distaste for a character I had felt sure she secretly admired.
If the Stars are Gods deals with numerous issues, and ponders daunting questions. The novel is split up into several sections, and is a rewrite of an award-winning novelette. (To further complicate matters, I studied the original hardcover version; the later paperback edition, which I am working through now, contains notable differences). The novel deals with matters both scientific and spiritual. Given that my understanding of the authors’ work is less than I would hope, I find myself reticent to discuss the novel. I wonder if I am alone here, or if reactions to this novel are as varied as they are toward 2001: A Space Odyssey. My hope is that, through writing down what I believe I understand, and musing on what I know I don’t, that my grasp on the story will grow a little firmer.
If the Stars are Gods by Dr. Gregory Benford and Gordon Eklund sets before me a beautiful mystery, one that may well challenge me for years to come.
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