Sands through a Martian hourglass

 In exploring the science fiction of Mars, taking up Arthur C. Clarke's classic, the Sands of Mars, is an interesting place to start.

Clarke suggests that it was one of the first novels to abandon what he refers to as the "romantic fantasies" of Percival Lowell, Edgar Rice Burroughs, C.S. Lewis and Ray Bradbury. I think as I go

along it is important to visit with each of these writers in turn, once I have listened to Arthur C. for a while that is. I must say, it is difficult not to take Clarke's use of "romantic fantasies" as a bit of a slap, if not entirely derogatory. I'm not sure our mate Arthur meant it that way, but the undercurrent is suggestive. The fact that he follows up with the statement that here are "four gentlemen I admire greatly, though not necessarily for the same reasons," is telling, but it places the work I am about to read at an interesting impasse in terms of the mis en scene and my expectations of it.

I admit that I have not read the C.S. Lewis, which I assume is Out of the silent planet. I confess to being a fan of the Burroughs' Martian series, sure, not a lot of hard science fiction, which is not at all surprising for 1911, but certainly lots of rollicking good adventure and deeds of daring do. What's not to like.

I think back to a comment I made in my last post, about the stage settings demanding more attention to what the actors are doing. When the setting becomes obtrusive it detracts from the drama unfolding before us. Yes, I admit that we have that definition of science fiction whereby the science is and must be an integral part of the structure of the work, and I'm OK with that, after all, it wouldn't be science fiction I know and love otherwise.

What happens when the obtrusive mis en scene becomes not so much glaring backdrop but integral texture? I will leave that question hanging for a moment or two.

I read the Bradbury many years ago, and if I recall correctly there was a movie made? With lots of afternoon breezes and billowing silk? Of course, the other name in the list is poor old much maligned Percival Lowell. I was lucky enough to find a biography in the public domain. That will be an interesting read, I'm sure. I will let you know when I'm up to that.

Where was I?

Mars!

Of course.

Clarke makes the observation that by the 1940s "it was already certain that the planet's atmosphere was far too thin to support animals of the terrestrial type, and what little there was of it contained no oxygen." It's probably just as well Edgar Rice Burroughs did not know this, or we may not have enjoyed the exploits of John Carter.

Having said that it may well be that he did know and chose to ignore it for the sake of a rollicking good story. (Who was it who said never let the truth get in the way of a good story?)

Spectrographic analysis of Mars was undertaken in 1894 by William Wallace Campbell, who was then an astronomer at the Lick Observatory. He was a pioneer of astronomical spectroscopy with some solid results for his research, not least of which was his work on the Wolf-Rayet star HD 184738, which became known as Campbells hydrogen envelope star.

It kind of cramps a writer's style knowing that Mars had some pretty severe limitations. You either throw them out the window or you go with what you have. Clarke acknowledges this: "The chief problem I faced in writing this novel was, therefore, that of making Mars interesting and exciting despite these limitations. Or, if possible, because of them." Ah, now my interest is piqued. How do you deal with an obtrusive or perhaps restrictive mis en scene?

As Clarke points out, there is "rather more explanation of fundamentals than is strictly necessary in these enlightened times." And this is indeed the case in the opening chapter that is very heavy on the scene setting. To the point where the reader is left wondering when the actual story is going to start.

I do find Clarke's prescience compelling in terms of his vision of a future where his space station is close to, but not identical with the ISS as we know it today. "Space Station One had grown with the passing years, by a process of accretion, until its original designers would never have recognised it." Added to bit by bit yet remaining true to its original function.

There are certainly strong hints of the space station that we eventually find in 2001 a Space Odyssey, and it wouldn't be surprising to learn that Clarke drew upon this, his first full length novel, for inspiration when writing his supposed magnum opus. Now it might come as a surprise, as it did for me, to discover that, despite the fact the ISS doesn't spin, it does have gravity. Of course it does, it is in low earth orbit, and it benefits from earth's gravity, albeit diminished. Clarke follows through with the trope of spin on his space station. Clarke makes a point of showing the reader how the spin works to the advantage of the station, but not necessarily to the physical benefit of his protagonist who has a really bad case of Space Adaptation Syndrome, and it seems has barfed all over the cockpit, and perhaps the pilot. This happens off screen, so to speak, so mercifully we don't have to wade through the adjectival soup of the protagonist's illness.

Finally, at the end of the chapter one, we get through Clarkes preamble, and launch, excuse the pun, into the story proper. I was reminded of my pre-existing awareness of all things space; knowing what space is like because I have been exposed to it since my childhood. I have lived through and enjoyed with breathless anticipation the lead up to the launch of the Pioneer missions, and later Voyager, and the long agonising wait to see what they would show. I wasn't so much interested in Mariner, at least not at that time, my imagination was captivated well and truly by Galileo and Cassini. (I was conscious of the moon landing but to a much lesser extent, being much younger.)

Space has slowly become part of our cultural consciousness. Between the NASA missions and the steady use of space by cinema as a theme, we have continued with the romanticising of space.

And here we have something interesting. In reality the destination is why we buy the ticket. It becomes not so much a part of the backdrop, or indeed the backdrop itself, rather it becomes a very real player in the drama that unfolds before us. Or perhaps we have to look to Charles Dickens or even Christina Stead where the environment influences, through sub-textual means, the behaviour of the characters.

As readers and viewers we are keen to absorb a different reality, at least for a while. We are prepared to forgive a certain level of improbability, but overall the reality of our experience must be believable.

This is something we yearn for as readers, as consumers of science fiction. We look first for that absorption of place, like standing on a mountain top and soaking in the vista, or soaking up the smells and flavours, sights and sounds of a street scene in a foreign town. And this is the idea, this is when the mis en scene becomes so much more than just a backdrop, rather it becomes part of our experience. We find ourselves somewhere unknown but somewhere that is also familiar. 

What an exciting place to be.

I am interested to see how the persona of Mars develops as I continue this journey.