• Welcome! The TrekBBS is the number one place to chat about Star Trek with like-minded fans.
    If you are not already a member then please register an account and join in the discussion!

What do you diehard TOS fans think of the new movie?

He starts the essay by literally* observing that the mainstream pisses all over SF then spends the rest of his essay (and his life) doing exactly that himself. In an NPR interview from shortly before his death, he said that those who claimed he wrote SF were "denigrating" him. So The Sirens of Titan is not SF? Calling Galapagos a definitional work of SF is to (as Meriam-Websters defines it) "to attack the reputation of" or "to deny the importance or validity of"? Only if you share the idea that SF is beneath notice or are too afraid to buck the prevailing attitude. I can see why he felt that way but, come on, it's analogous in kind (but not in degree or moral implication) to what Coleman Silk does in Philip Roth's The Human Stain. (For those unfamiliar, Silk is a light-complected black man who "passes" as a Jew because he realizes his life will be much easier that way--Nicholas Meyer screenwrote the adaptation; I'd advise one to read the book.)

You're right that he somewhat accurately assesses the skill level of many SF wordsmiths but as you point out, the same has been said by many proud writers of SF--I'd add the late, lamented Tom Disch to that list.

Vonnegut claiming that what he wrote wasn't SF is as much an act of willful denial (though in the opposite aspirational direction) as the claim that this movie is not SF. The difference is that Vonnegut felt that he was above the genre and the people making the claim here about Star Trek feel it is beneath it. They're both wrong.

*Note the observation is literally made as in he actually uses the metaphor. No one literally pisses on SF.
 
Last edited:
Post Script: Posterity has given the temporary edge to SF. Philip K. Dick, who was just as aware of the stigma attached to being a writer of SF but never escaped its generic clutches, has two--count 'em--two volumes in the prestigious Library of America to Vonnegut's none. More of his work as been adapted to the big screen, some--A Scanner Darkly, Blade Runner and, to a lesser extent, Total Recall, Minority Report and the French film Barjo (based on one of his mainstream efforts)--quite successfully. He's influenced several others, most notably eXistenz, The Matrix and the films of Charlie Kaufman. Score one for SF. Score one for the ghetto.
 
Last edited:
Loved it, loved it, loved it!

I half hoped and half dreaded for months. It could have been awful, and just okay would have been worse in some ways. I've seen it five times and I'm looking forward to number six tomorrow :)
 
He starts the essay by literally* observing that the mainstream pisses all over SF then spends the rest of his essay (and his life) doing exactly that himself. In an NPR interview from shortly before his death, he said that those who claimed he wrote SF were "denigrating" him. So The Sirens of Titan is not SF? Calling Galapagos a definitional work of SF is to (as Meriam-Websters defines it) "to attack the reputation of" or "to deny the importance or validity of"? Only if you share the idea that SF is beneath notice or are too afraid to buck the prevailing attitude. I can see why he felt that way but, come on, it's analogous in kind (but not in degree or moral implication) to what Coleman Silk does in Philip Roth's The Human Stain. (For those unfamiliar, Silk is a light-complected black man who "passes" as a Jew because he realizes his life will be much easier that way--Nicholas Meyer screenwrote the adaptation; I'd advise one to read the book.)

You're right that he somewhat accurately assesses the skill level of many SF wordsmiths but as you point out, the same has been said by many proud writers of SF--I'd add the late, lamented Tom Disch to that list.

Vonnegut claiming that what he wrote wasn't SF is as much an act of willful denial (though in the opposite aspirational direction) as the claim that this movie is not SF. The difference is that Vonnegut felt that he was above the genre and the people making the claim here about Star Trek feel it is beneath it. They're both wrong.

*Note the observation is literally made as in he actually uses the metaphor. No one literally pisses on SF.

I've never paid any attention to your posts before the last few weeks, but I'm coming to absolutely love them.

It's worth noting too that while a good chunk of SF writers may be shit, so are a good chunk of "mainstream" writers. Unless one is really willing to defend Dan Brown as quality literature, of course. ;)

Also: why is your avatar William Frawley with flowers coming out of his head?
 
I've never paid any attention to your posts before the last few weeks, but I'm coming to absolutely love them.

It's worth noting too that while a good chunk of SF writers may be shit, so are a good chunk of "mainstream" writers. Unless one is really willing to defend Dan Brown as quality literature, of course. ;)

Also: why is your avatar William Frawley with flowers coming out of his head?

Thank you for the compliment. I think this new movie has brought out the best in me.

The literatti loves to pretend SF isn't SF when it's good--Disch talks about a guy who wouldn't acknowledge that 1984 was science fiction and look how many aficiandos of the rebooted BSG felt the need to apologize or deny outright its SF pedigree.

And as for my avatar...
 
The way a person gets into this [science fiction] drawer, apparently, is to notice technology. The feeling persists that no one can simultaneously be a respectable writer and understand how a refrigerator works, just as no gentleman wears a brown suit in the city. Colleges may be to blame. English majors are encouraged, I know, to hate chemistry and physics, and to be proud because they are not dull and creepy and humorless and war-oriented like the engineers across the quad. And, because English majors can scarcely sign their own names at the end of a course of English instruction, many become serious critics. I have already said what they then do to the drawer I'm in.

Whatever he's mocking there, it's not science fiction. He does get to that - at least, ribbing a lot of self-defined "sf writers" - by and by:

But there are those who love life in this fulsome drawer, who are alarmed by the thought that they might some day be evicted, might some day be known for what they really are: plain, old, short-story writers and novelists who mention the fruits of engineering and research. They are happy in the drawer because most of the people in it love each other as members of old-fashioned families are supposed to do. They meet often, comfort and praise one another, exchange single-spaced letters of 20 pages and more, booze it up affectionately and one way or another have a million heart-throbs and laughs.

I have run with them some, and they are generous and amusing souls, but I must now make a true statement that will put them through the roof: They are joiners. They are a lodge. If they didn't enjoy having a gang of their own so much, there would be no such category as science-fiction. They love to stay up all night, arguing the question, "What is science-fiction?" One might as usefully inquire, ''What are the Elks? And what is the Order of the Eastern Star?''

Exactly so.

Vonnegut goes on:

Well--it would be a drab world without meaningless social aggregations. There would be a lot fewer smiles, and about one-hundredth as many publications. And there is this to be said for the science-fiction publications: If somebody can write just a little bit, they will probably publish him. In the Golden Age of Magazines, which wasn't so long ago, inexcusable trash was in such great demand that it led to the invention of the electric typewriter, and incidentally financed my escape from Schenectady. Happy days! But there is now only one sort of magazine to which a maundering sophomore may apply for instant recognition as a writer. Guess what sort.

Which is not to say that the editors of science-fiction magazines and anthologies and novels are tasteless. They are not tasteless, and I will get to them by and by. The people in the field who can be charged fairly with tastelessness are 75 per cent of the writers and 95 per cent of the readers--or not so much tastelessness, really, as childishness.

Also all true.

Defining science fiction isn't like defining "tomato," which can itself have several definitions - a botanical one, a regulatory one for purposes of commerce and so on. Defining science fiction is more like defining "chili" or perhaps more like defining "soup" - what there is of an understood definition is pretty obvious and not real useful.

I've never had any trouble communicating with someone else on subjects like "what science fiction do you like" or "do you like science fiction" or "where's the science fiction section in the store?" The only type of conversation in which the definition of sf is ever problematic is when the conversation is about "how do you define sf?"
 
The way a person gets into this [science fiction] drawer, apparently, is to notice technology. The feeling persists that no one can simultaneously be a respectable writer and understand how a refrigerator works, just as no gentleman wears a brown suit in the city. Colleges may be to blame. English majors are encouraged, I know, to hate chemistry and physics, and to be proud because they are not dull and creepy and humorless and war-oriented like the engineers across the quad. And, because English majors can scarcely sign their own names at the end of a course of English instruction, many become serious critics. I have already said what they then do to the drawer I'm in.

Whatever he's mocking there, it's not science fiction. He does get to that - at least, ribbing a lot of self-defined "sf writers" - by and by:

But there are those who love life in this fulsome drawer, who are alarmed by the thought that they might some day be evicted, might some day be known for what they really are: plain, old, short-story writers and novelists who mention the fruits of engineering and research. They are happy in the drawer because most of the people in it love each other as members of old-fashioned families are supposed to do. They meet often, comfort and praise one another, exchange single-spaced letters of 20 pages and more, booze it up affectionately and one way or another have a million heart-throbs and laughs.

I have run with them some, and they are generous and amusing souls, but I must now make a true statement that will put them through the roof: They are joiners. They are a lodge. If they didn't enjoy having a gang of their own so much, there would be no such category as science-fiction. They love to stay up all night, arguing the question, "What is science-fiction?" One might as usefully inquire, ''What are the Elks? And what is the Order of the Eastern Star?''

Exactly so.

Vonnegut goes on:

Well--it would be a drab world without meaningless social aggregations. There would be a lot fewer smiles, and about one-hundredth as many publications. And there is this to be said for the science-fiction publications: If somebody can write just a little bit, they will probably publish him. In the Golden Age of Magazines, which wasn't so long ago, inexcusable trash was in such great demand that it led to the invention of the electric typewriter, and incidentally financed my escape from Schenectady. Happy days! But there is now only one sort of magazine to which a maundering sophomore may apply for instant recognition as a writer. Guess what sort.

Which is not to say that the editors of science-fiction magazines and anthologies and novels are tasteless. They are not tasteless, and I will get to them by and by. The people in the field who can be charged fairly with tastelessness are 75 per cent of the writers and 95 per cent of the readers--or not so much tastelessness, really, as childishness.

Also all true.

Defining science fiction isn't like defining "tomato," which can itself have several definitions - a botanical one, a regulatory one for purposes of commerce and so on. Defining science fiction is more like defining "chili" or perhaps more like defining "soup" - what there is of an understood definition is pretty obvious and not real useful.

I've never had any trouble communicating with someone else on subjects like "what science fiction do you like" or "do you like science fiction" or "where's the science fiction section in the store?" The only type of conversation in which the definition of sf is ever problematic is when the conversation is about "how do you define sf?"

Well, geez, Dennis, I can't take issue with that on its face. And I can agree with most of what you quoted from Vonnegeut (the thing about "noticing technology" seems too clever by half--Vonnegut's SF work doesn't just "notice" technology, it goes on flights of fancy as outlandish as any flown by Ellison or Dick; the thing about SF writers being "joiners" is also a bit reductive). But that's not where he leaves it. The NPR interview I quoted above shows just where he takes it but, even in the article, there is a smug condescension* toward the genre he plunders for his best ideas. And let's make no mistake, this article isn't a piece of idle philosophizing, it was a calculated (one could even say cynical) effort to distance himself from the very thing he was writing.

And it worked. You won't find The Sirens of Titan next to Verner Vinge at your local Barnes & Noble or Borders, you'll find it cozying up to John Updike (there's a writer who "notices technology" yet mostly stays in the mainstream w/o recourse to special pleading). He's escaped the drawer with only the faintest of urinous tangs clinging to him and he fought hard to scrub that away till his dying day. Better to slam the drawer shut and take the wangs of the pisssers clean off but that would have hurt his sales and his reputation. PKD may be doing better now that he is dead but he was swimming in critical micturation while he lived--and his mainstream efforts are shelved in sci-fi/fanatsy still.

Oh yeah: and his comments about the "childishness" of SF's audience could easily be repurposed as a weapon in the arsenal of those who hate this new Trek movie. Just sayin' (and getting us back on-topic)...

*Stanislaw Lem's take on American SF seems far more devatating and, for the most part, far more useful.

EDIT: I just re-read a paper I wrote for a grad class on this very topic and you know what's funny? I use almost the exact same quotes as you do.
 
Last edited:
Turns out I mis-remembered. The word he used was "discredit," not "denigrate." Here's the quote:

In an interview conducted by Liane Hansen on NPR’s Weekend Edition from September 11, 2005, he characterized those who insist on categorizing him as a science fiction writer as attempting to “discredit me, to say, well, you know, this is for pimply, teenage boys.”

Tomato, tomahto, it seems, since Merriam-Websters defines "discredit" as "to refuse to accept as true or accurate," "to cause disbelief in the accuracy or authority of" and "to deprive of good repute."

But I wonder: what do we make of mainstream writers who make the occasional sortie into SF? Margaret Atwood did it twice, with The Handmaid's Tale and Oryx & Crake. I wouldn't characterize her a science fiction novelist but those are certainly science fiction novels.
 
I guess we could just call all of them "writers" and assign the books to whatever genre(s) they belong. Thing is, an author's work tends to get shelved together, so all of Atwood is in the mainstream area, which makes sense, since most of her stuff is mainstream, and all of Dick is in SF, which makes sense, since--with the exceptions of Confessions of a Crap Artist and The Transmigration of Timothy Archer--all the stuff published in his life-time was SF (the mainstream novels that he failed to sell were published in the 80s and are now being brought back into print). But that's where Vonnegut felt he had to thread the needle, because most his of novels relied on SF devices.

Walter Tevis wrote many SF stories and novels but his most famous work is The Hustler, the novel about pool that was made into the movie starring Paul Newman and Jackie Gleason. Of course, he's almost as well known for The Man Who Fell to Earth, the novel about a hapless alien made into the movie starring David Bowie and Candy Clark.
 
I loved it, but in a different way than TOS. the movie was great in that it was visually spectacular. I loved seeing the realistic Vulcan planet, the enterprise and other ships going into warp, the battle scenes, etc. I also relished the character interactions (of which there weren't enough) and references to TOS. I love the original series for the characters. I don't watch it to see fabulous visual effects (obviously) but more for the dialogue and actions between the crew members, and of course to see kirk kick ass.

All that being said I love seeing big visual effects, and the fact that it's based on the best ever trek characters adds means that it is an awesome movie. Like most people, I think McCoy was the best character. A few people I've spoken to didn't like Scotty but I thought he was pretty good too. Spock is the most interesting to me, I think casting Quinto was an excellent choice, he looks like a young Nimoy for starters, and has the right sort of build. He also pulled off that Spock pose of standing hands behind back, sort of slouching at the same time, add to this the fact that he is hot and yes, good stuff :) What bothered me about him is his emotion. I think the filmmakers were perhaps trying too hard to endear Spock to a new audience, making him overly conflicted and actually rather aggressive. I have to keep reminding myself that this is not only a younger spock, but one who has also lost his mother and home planet, and has a crazy Kirk to deal with. But even so his emotions seem forcefully suppressed, more like a human man who can't deal with feelings than an alien being who is following a philosophy. Our TOS spock seems to carry his emotions deeply layered below, and controls them with a sort of passive detachment, aware of their existence yet in control of them. So when original spock does something like go :D "Jim!" in the end of Amok Time with that big geeky grin it's a really special moment.
I'm going to be very interested to see what Quinto does for spock in the following movies.
As for Kirk... he just wasn't Kirk. But of course this is a parallel world where he was raised in a different place, by a different father figure, and so obviously he's going to be different. Add to that the fact that TOS kirk was just pure shatner, and that's impossible to emanate. My husband made a neat little point where he said, basically, TOS kirk was not damaged goods, new kirk is.
Again, like with spock, I'm going to hold out full judgment until I see what becomes of the characters as they age closer to the ages they were in TOS :)
 
I think the new film is very, very good, but what I missed most from the new film is what made TOS worth watching: the deeper meaning. The new film was more about character sketches than providing commentary on social issues. And on that level it's quite valuable. But if you're looking for "classic Trek" in terms of being able to apply the story to contemporary issues ... there's no comparison.
 
If you are not already a member then please register an account and join in the discussion!

Sign up / Register


Back
Top