Critique of “End of Eternity”

 I just finished another book; End of Eternity, by Isaac Asimov. I know, you immediately thought about the movie with the couple rolling around on the beach. That’s From Here to Eternity. They were copying Asimov. Ha ha, I don’t actually know that. I haven’t seen the movie, nor do I have a strong desire to see the movie - except that I kind of want to write a book comparing the movie and the book, which as far as I know have nothing to do with each other except the word “Eternity” in the title. But I would argue very strongly in the book that From Here to Eternity was a subtle ripoff of Asimov’s End of Eternity. I would call the book “Battle of the ‘Eternity’s”.  Note the punctuation. I would begin the book as a Critical Theory Tour de Force. In Chapter One I would discuss my own bodily functions and hang ups, then I’d smoothly transition to whatever similar issues the characters in the movie share with characters in the book. The personal details in Chapter One would jar the casual Reader of Critical Theory, but as  the book transitioned to an actual battle, in my mind, as detailed by its effect on my daily habits, the Reader would begin to realize that in fact I had never intended to write a Critical Theory book.  Those few readers who would ever think to purchase a Critical Theory book with the intent to read it would feel cheated. They would hopefully go online to post vengeful reviews that would explain the execrable dishonesty of the book in detail. 

I’d be willing to bet that the outrage burning in their souls would  flame through the stifling objectivity lashed into their verbal cortex by years of Lit classes, enabling them to compose insulting and mean-spirited and delightfully readable diatribes, all inextricably connected to the book in online searches. 

In the epilogue I would admit that From Here To Eternity came out in 1953, two years prior to the publication of End of Eternity, and that although Asimov might have come up with the central concept of End of Eternity years before, it is extremely doubtful that whoever wrote From Here to Eternity could have known anything about it. 

I would add a postscript to the epilogue with an additional confession for readers who hadn’t ever seen From Here to Eternity, admitting that I haven’t seen it either, and that the scenes referred to earlier in the book and ascribed to From Here to Eternity were not actually in the movie. 

In the same postscript I would admit that while I had read End of Eternity, many if not all of the extracts purported to be taken from the book were as fictional as those I pretended to take from the movie. 

At this point in the blog post I would like to assure the reader that I have no intention to submit “Battle of the Eternities” for publication in book or novel form, and that I have destroyed the proofs and all drafts and that I intend to fully comply with all terms of the settlement. 

“Battle of the Eternities” is of course the title of one of five Star Trek episode scripts submitted to Paramount by Gene Roddenberry for consideration to be produced and aired during the fourth season of the series.  The episode represents one of the primary examples of Roddenberry’s seminal “Crossing the Streams” concept, originating in the hyper cube of his mind some fifteen years before Terminator X popularized the DJ Remix. 

The episode begins with the Captain ruminating on past relationships in the Captain’s Log. Most of the ruminations concern “Yeoman Crantor”, a relatively recent flame that the Captain admits he is reluctant to discuss with Spock. As he speaks, a dreamlike image of a woman’s unsmiling face appears over Kirk’s scowling visage.  The woman possesses the elf-like ears of a Vulcan. Kirk’s reverie is broken by ship’s alarm. Spock’s harshly unpleasant voice chimes in immediately after the alarm, indicating, unnecessarily, that the ship has encountered the object they’ve been searching the quadrant for after the nearest colony’s distress signal about a large anomalous object set on a collision course with their home, and on and on, he won’t stop until Kirk issues a stinging rebuke and a reprimand that seems to finally register on his alien Vulcan mind because that’s the only way to talk to these people. 

The object is a gigantic alien structure spinning slowly through space, a chunk of something much larger, almost planet-sized, with twisted metallic framing covered in ancient ice crystals. Spock is scared and wants to go home, but Kirk has had enough. He leaves the bridge and visits McCoy, delivering a verbal tongue-lashing that leaves McCoy in tears, just weeping, hysterical. Kirk doesn’t slap him because of the recent disciplinary hearings. But he insists that McCoy join them in their exploration of the object. He takes the ship transporter to the floor below McCoy’s office, where he sees the door to Yeoman Crantor’s quarters at the end of the hallway. Kirk wanders around the hallway like an angry chimp. He ignores the calls to his breast logo and keeps an eye on Yeoman Crantor’s door.  He angrily accosts any crew members emerging into the hallway from their quarters, demanding to know their names and rank and proper whereabouts. Then he gets a text from Spock that begins; “Jim, I know you’re scared…” Spock means emotionally scared because he knows about Kirk’s relationship troubles, but Kirk takes it as a provocation. He runs to the elevator. He means to surprise Spock on the bridge with his patented two-fisted thunder punch. The elevator takes too long, so Kirk takes the stairs, taking three steps at a time until he’s bent over, gasping for breath. He’s too late to catch Spock on the bridge, so he hurries to the transporter room. Spock and McCoy and Yeoman Crantor are waiting on the circles. Kirk glares at Spock, but he walks with quiet dignity to his circle. Before they beam down, he informs McCoy that he has been demoted to Yeoman, and that Yeoman Crantor is now the ship’s doctor. “But Captain, I cannot heal,” Doctor Crantor says. 

“Neither can I,” Kirk says softly. 

They find two alien skeletons in one of the rooms in the object, intertwined in what Kirk interprets as a lover’s embrace, but Doctor Crantor deduces is in fact the final stage of a grim struggle to the death. 

Their argument grows heated, with McCoy egging them on until Spock administers a Vulcan grip to the Yeoman’s left eye socket. Kirk lunges at Spock, but Doctor Crantor administers a Vulcan grip to Kirk, removing his shirt in the process. They collapse together, their bodies entwined in a fashion intriguingly similar to the contorted alien skeletons.  Scotty beams them all back at once, humans and Vulcans and alien skeletons together. Back on the enterprise, Kirk commands Crantor to keep the skeletons in her quarters, as a reminder of “what might have been.” 

The last shot is of Crantor lying glamorously in her bed, gazing across her bedroom to a museum style exhibit with a placard reading “love is what you make it”.  The camera pans to a clear shot of the skeletons, their hands at each other’s throats. One of them wears a crumpled black robe. The other has Darth Vader’s helmet on. 

The credits roll to a jazzier version of the Star Wars theme, and end with a special note of thanks and tribute to the guy that played McCoy, making it crystal clear that the character passed away during the episode. The note also makes it clear that he passed away as a Yeoman, not as a doctor

First reading of Moonglow

 I just finished Moonglow, by Michael Chabon. Really enjoyed it, as I’ve enjoyed his previous stuff. If you haven’t read it, don’t read this post, because I’m not super careful about spoilers. 

It’s basically a story about a guy, ostensibly Michael Chabon, who’s recounting the story of his maternal grandfather’s life, as told to him by the maternal grandfather himself on his deathbed. So he describes some scenes where he’s at the side of his grandfather’s bed, talking to him, and then he describes his grandfather’s reminiscences for a chapter or so in third person, not as if the grandfather is saying it, but as if he’s telling the reader what his grandfather told him.  Keep this in mind; the book is fiction, so although there’s a “Michael Chabon” in the book, narrating the story and talking about his grandfather, the story is made up. So the “Michael Chabon” is a character in the book. So when I say “Michael Chabon’s grandfather” I’m not talking about a real person. I’m talking about a character. So Michael Chabon’s grandfather, it turns out, is not the biological father of Michael Chabon’s mother. The character. When he met the narrator’s grandmother, she already had a daughter. But he raises the girl as his own. This makes you admire the guy, because he puts up with a lot from the grandmother, who has a severe mental illness. He has principles. Also, he really likes the grandmother. So you feel admiration for the guy, and he in addition goes on spy missions during World War II but has sympathy for the German people, and he’s tough, and can fix things and invent things.  Another thing I like about him;  he obsessively makes rocket and space capsule models. He’s a professional model maker. So he gets paid to make these models, but it’s more than that; he has an obsession with space travel as a means of escaping the earth. The narrator keeps returning to one model in particular as a centerpiece of the grandfather’s model making obsession; a lunar base with a hidden module that contains little human figurines, meant to portray himself and his wife. Now I can’t remember if there was a figure for the daughter. That means I need to re-read the book. No problem! Chabon’s books are very re-readable. 

As a side note, I know there are people who don’t like to re-read books. I consider those people level I readers. A level II reader knows the value in re-reading a good book. A level I reader reads for the surface story, and figures they’ve finished a book when they reach the last page. They believe in genres, they believe most of all in Fiction and Non-fiction. A Level II reader knows you can re-read a book and discover things you wouldn’t find on the first read-through. And they know that book publishers invented genres to sell books by mediocre writers. Especially the Non-fiction category. A level II reader knows that Author is by far the most meaningful category. I’m not talking about the Author as a person of course. 

That was a Total digression. 

Back to the main narrative. Actually I don’t know if I believe in main narratives either. Anarchy Now! 

So the grandfather in Moonlight creates an extensive model of a lunar base with miniature figures depicting himself and his wife in a secret capsule and I think there’s a garden there too, a space garden. And I believe I was saying how much I liked the grandfather and that brings me to the beginning of the book, describing the enraged grandfather’s attempt to murder the president of the company that has just fired him.  A crossroads moment for the character. An office worker knocks him out as he’s strangling the guy. If he’d succeeded in murdering the guy, he would have gone to prison for decades at the least, but for attempted murder he gets less than five years. So the office worker did him a favor for sure. Does the narrator point this out? I can’t remember. Another reason to re-read the book. 

How could this character who loves space travel, and is such a devoted husband to his crazy wife, and a dutiful parent to her daughter, be an attempted murderer? Time for me to lay out the theme of the book: Escaping an imperfect Earth. It fits with his space travel obsession, and Chabon the Author doesn’t really hide the idea. It’s very overtly established and ruminated on by the narrator. 

In light of my diagnosis, I would describe the attempted murder as an escape attempt by the grandfather, away from his caretaking responsibilities for his wife and daughter. The reader eventually finds out that his wife had just gone psychotic and set a fire in their front lawn and checked into a convent. I’m not sure about the chronology of those events, but I will be after the second read-through. 

I think I may be dismissing the book with this theme. Maybe I’m attempting to escape something myself. Maybe there’s an even deeper theme I’m not getting. I’m thinking specifically of the Werner Von Braun theme. Von Braun is a prominent feature of the space travel theme of the book, in that the grandfather hunts for Von Braun in war-ravaged Europe,  and has a personal hatred for Von Braun after seeing the slave labor camp that supported Von Braun’s rocket-making operation. But Von Braun gets away and becomes a driving force behind the real space program. So we have a contrast here; the evil Von Braun, who creates murderous rockets and later works with real life sized rockets that actually send people into space, and the good guy grandfather, who makes toy rockets. The reality is awful and huge and all-powerful, the fantasy life is small and weak. And I come back to the beginning of the book now, with the “small” man, the grandfather, attempting to kill the “big man”, the company president. And failing, but it’s a good thing, for his family. He almost contributed to the violence in the world, but was thwarted. His attempt becomes almost comical in the narrative. 

Oh, and why is it a good thing for his family, that he only goes to prison for a few years? We find out later. We get almost a what if? vision later on. He has to leave the daughter, now a teenager, with his brother, a former rabbi gone bad, now a seedy gambler and con artist. Inhabitant of a fallen world. I liked the brother for most of the book anyway, he seemed fairly amiable, and rascally. But we later find out that while the teenage daughter was in his care, he got her drunk and sexually assaulted her. Pretty shocking and disgusting. Why? I thought when I read that part. Now I think it was to show what could have happened if the grandfather had succeeded in the murder. He would have gone to prison for so long that the daughter would have had to stay with the bad uncle indefinitely. Her mother would have stayed in the mental hospital maybe forever. The book describes the daughter’s behavior after the few years with the bad uncle. She’s smoking, drinking, a foul-mouthed delinquent. Going bad, so to speak. 

When we find out about the assault, it’s from the girl herself, the narrator’s mother. Interestingly, she minimizes the assault by saying he wasn’t her biological uncle. Just as the grandfather is not her biological father. 

I really need to re-read the book before I say anytmore