My reading has been slow of late, but that's okay; so has my watching! (I'm not convinced we're even averaging an episode per week right now.) Like I said I might, I'm actually doing two novels for Season 6; the first of them is the only episode novelization in this reread, Steven Barnes's novel of
Far Beyond the Stars.
Far Beyond the Stars is pretty unique. In the era where Pocket did episode novelizations, typically the only episodes to receive them were multi-parters (so usually finales/premieres):
Unification,
Descent,
The Search,
Caretaker. The only real exception to this were TOS crossovers; I feel pretty certain in stating that
Relics,
Flashback, and
Trials and Tribble-ations are the only 45-minutes episodes to be novelized.
Except for "Far Beyond the Stars." This is, of course, one of the greatest, most heart-breaking
Star Trek episodes, and as
Keith R.A. DeCandido's excellent writeup points out, even sixteen years later, it's sadly still relevant in an era where a man of color is rarely a dramatic lead in genre television. Despite the episode's quality, I have to wonder why this book exists: DS9 produced many excellent hours of television, and it's not like John Ordover called up anyone when the scripts for "In the Pale Moonlight" or "Duet" crossed his desk.
But I'm glad it does. Steven Barnes's novel was actually my original exposure to this story. Watching DS9 in its original run in the late 1990s, "Far Beyond the Stars" was one of those episodes I just happened to miss, and in those days, there wasn't much you could do about that; I didn't see it until sometime after it hit DVD in late 2003. The book caught my eye in the bookstore because of that awesome retro cover, and I purchased it on a whim, and loved it. I loved it so much that when I finally saw the episode on DVD, I was almost disappointed.
To get 45 minutes out to 262 pages, Barnes adds a whole subplot about Benny Russell's childhood; it's essentially a miniature
bildungsroman, and once Sisko is subsumed into Sisko's vision, the book shuffles back and forth between Benny coming of age in 1940 and his attempt to publish "Deep Space Nine" in 1953. Perhaps oddly, the 1940 plot probably takes up more of the book. In it, Benny goes on a school trip to the 1939 New York World's Fair, where he encounters an Orb of the Prophets that crashed-landed in Africa centuries ago, which gives him visions: visions of lottery numbers, and of actions people take. Eventually these subside-- until the preacher in 1953 reactivates them-- but in the meantime, Benny gets into fights, makes a windfall, falls in love, and experiences loss. It's a typical coming-of-age narrative in some senses, and I can see why I liked it so much at age 13, even if it didn't quite grip me as much now.
There are a couple of potent scenes here: one of which is Benny's realization upon leaving the World's Fair that
the future only contains white people. I have a friend who studies World's Fairs, actually, and one thing she's told me about is the idea that people building fairs often discussed them in terms of literally constructing the future in the present day. As a middle-class, cis, white, straight male, I've never not seen myself in the future-- here, people have gone to great effort to build a future that doesn't contain anyone like Benny Russell. But at the same time he's still captivated by it. Despite the absence of people like him, it's still a world he wants to live in,
all glimmering geometric shapes.
One of the most powerful sequences is when 1940 Benny returns to the exhibition hall where he saw the Orb, and he sees all the Bennys who preceded him, all the way back into the mists of prehistory in Africa, and all the Bennys who will follow him, including:
a string of Bennys who were dedicated to service, each in a more advanced and enlightened world. A Benny who lived to see a Negro president. A Benny--
God! This was the Twenty-first century!
In the Obama era, this line takes on an additional overtone which gave me chills, because it only adds to the message that Benny receives in this vision: things will get better. Never as fast or as well as we would like, not in this era of police shootings and the prison-industrial complex, but they can improve. We
can build a future that does include people who look like Benny Russell, and
Star Trek is part of that.
Barnes doesn't add as much to the 1953 sequences, and to be honest, they're not quite as powerful as their television counterpart, lacking Avery Brooks's spell-binding performance. That's the part of the episode I didn't appreciate that when I watched that DVD in 2003 as much as I do now, though what's always gotten to me in both the screen and prose versions is the scene where Benny is beaten by the Dukat and Weyoun cops for no real reason. How awful an indictment of our society it is that things like that still happen over sixty years after this scene takes place. We may be inching into the
Star Trek future, but we have a long way to go.
Continuity Note:
Barnes adds a scene where Kira returns from Bajor with word from Shakaar and the Council of Ministers that the Federation will not be allowed to carry out mining operations vital to the war effort on the surface of Bajor. It's the only real addition to the frame story, though it doesn't quite fit with Kira's trip to see Shakaar a few episodes later in "His Way"; no one in that episode acts like Kira has already recently spent a few days on Bajor with Shakaar!
Other Note:
There's a scene in the 1953 segment where Benny imagines his personal future:
What if he and Cassie got married?
If only his stories were as popular as he knew they were capable of being, he would be able to afford to take care of her, to build a home.
Yes, a home.
And if this goes on, he would eventually be able to let go of everything, every aspect of his past that had haunted him, and truly look forward to the future, not merely write about it.
The bits in italics (emphasis in original) actually come from Isaac Asimov's typology of science fiction. I'm not sure if it originated there, but I first encountered it in his introduction to the 1962 anthology
More Soviet Science Fiction. Asimov posits that American science fiction had three developmental stages: 1) adventure dominant, 2) technology dominant, and 3) sociology dominant. (This, he says, is ground he covered in the introduction to
Soviet Science Fiction, which I've actually never read.)
He divides Stage Three into three gambits for thinking about the way society develops: a) What if--, b) If only--, and c) If this goes on--. Stage Three-B is basically utopian stories, and Stage Three-C dystopian ones, while Stage Three-A is more detached sociological speculation, without the intention of providing a positive or negative models. It doesn't really have any implication for the scene to know this, I don't think (after all, Benny's Stage Three-C rumination is hardly dystopian!), but I felt smart that I did.
EDIT: Actually, on skimming back through the book, I realized they actually came up for the first time much earlier, when Benny reflects on his first in-person meeting with Pabst, the editor of
Incredible Tales. Benny there calls them "the three primary postulates which motivated the entire field."
EDIT EDIT: Googling shows me that these three postulates have been credited to a number of people, including Robert Heinlein. James Gunn calls Stages Three-A and -C "conventional wisdom," and claims that Stage Three-B is Theodore Sturgeon's addition to that. But unless Asimov is plagiarizing in his introduction to
More Soviet Science Fiction, this formulation originates with him.