Is it possible to buy too much science fiction?

Asking for a friend:

A stack of science fiction paperbacks with a cat sleeping behind it

I was coming home to Amsterdam from the office in Utrecht and since the Metro was passing through there anyway, I thought to stop off at Spui on impulse and see if the American Book Center there had anything good. What I failed to take into account was that it was a Friday and the weekly bookmarkt was just in the process of wrapping up when I arrived. I’d come there often before Covid but this was my first visit in three years or so and had completely forgotten about it. It has a dozen to twenty or so antiquarian and second hand bookstores particpating, not all from Amsterdam itself. Most of what they bring along is of little interest to me, local history, Dutch literature and art books and the like. But every other stand or so might have a some gem hidden among its stock and if that fails, there’s always Magic Galaxies, as the name suggests, a store that specialises in science fiction. It’s where this stack came from. One of those stores you always see at a book market like this, always with a large selection of secondhand paperbacks next to the glossy Star Wars or Star Trek popup books, always for extremely reasonable prices. It’s amazing that I can still get sixties, seventies or even fifties sf paperbacks in good condition for under five euros. I used to think their prices were a bit on the high side, but they stayed roughly the same while everything else became more expensive.

Cover of England Swings SF

Among that stack of paperbacks is the perfect example of what I mean: Judith Merril’s England Swings SF, a book I’ve spent literal decades looking for. A book I’ve known about, have read about for decades I yesterday finally got to hold in my hands. England Swings SF is an incredibly important book in the history of science fiction. A key work of the New Wave, a defining statement of what New Wave science fiction was all about. It’s Judith Merril’s defining work, the jewel in the crown of her work as an editor. You know how important and controversial it was just from the publisher writing its own introduction washing its hands of the whole thing.

Though it may seem strange now, the New Wave was revolutionary, was controversial because it set out to deliberately undo science fiction’s dogmas, both literally and politically. Worse, as it originated in the UK and its most important early writers were British like Moorcock, Ballard and Aldiss, it also upset the natural order of America as the centre of the SF universe. When England Swings SF was released in 1968, the controversy had been raging for almost half a decade between the upstarts and the SF establishment. Like the British Invasion in rock music of the same time, the New Wave also reinvigorated established pulp authors like Robert Silverberg, who would write his best works after the wave hit. It laid the foundations for the more socially conscious and politically engaged science fiction of the late sixties and seventies. The New Wave completely changed science fiction — even if there still people even now denying this — and England Swings SF was its flagship.

Judith Merril herself had been doing a yearly anthology of the best science fiction from 1956, which had been become increasingly progressive in its definition of what science fiction is and where it can be found. Science fiction had until then always prided itself on not being literary, not being concerned with style or technique, too much character development, let alone politics or sex. Judith Merril played a huge role in changing that. As a writer, she’s best known for “That only a Mother…” (1948) and Shadow on the Hearth (1950), two early stories about nuclear war that focused on how it impacts regular people rather than techno wizardry. She moved to Canada and into academia in the seventies, still active in science fiction but no longer writing or editing much. Finally owning her most important work is one personal goal ticked off.

Can’t Get Fooled Again

Atrios is tired of being expected to take bad faith merchants like Chait seriously when they’ve always lied and helped lurch America and the world from disaster to disaster:

Chait lies and some of his lies are along the lines of, “MY CRITICS ARE NOT ENGAGING WITH THE ARGUMENTS SERIOUSLY,” a neat little debate trick which puts honest people (unlike Chait) on the defensive and encourages them to say, “yes, yes, I am, here’s an example of it,” but by then Chait, laughing, has moved onto the next bit of bullshit. It’s projection and a little trick that helps obscure the fact that he is the one not engaging honestly. No you’re not engaging with my very serious argument!!! Why won’t you stop punching yourself!!!

Tired of being expected to pretend their motivations are pure.

It’s just a game to these monsters. Chait cares about trans kids as much as he cared about Iraqis, which is, at best, not at all. “At best” is a generous interpretation given the number of deaths he encouraged.

I’m with him. Next month will be the twentyfirst anniversary of this blog and on every important subject people like Chait and Singal and Yglesias have gotten it wrong while knowing they were wrong. The only function of these centrists and pretend liberals is to lend cover to the rightwing, to drain the energy of well meaning but naive opponents of whatever disaster they’re cheerleading this time. Afghanistan, Iraq, Lybia, Syria, the Great Recession, Brexit, austerity, Roe v Wade, trans rights: for each and every one of those their eloquent and nuances arguments served evil. How many times must they get it wrong before you’re allowed to dismiss them out of hand?

On each of these subjects, any random protestor against them would’ve been a better guide than the people paid very well indeed to explain to us that we shouldn’t believe our lying eyes.

New PreCure looks promising

Not so much PreCure as ParCure, am I rite?

Last year’s PreCure was a bit of a disappointment for me, the first one since I started watching it seasonally that I did not finish. Neither the theme nor the characters interested me and honestly it was clear from episode one that it wasn’t one of the good PreCures. Not that I’m anywhere near the target audience of course. This year’s entry, Hirogaru Sky Precure, looks a lot more promisingly from the very start. Sora is badass even before she becomes a Precure as that parkour scene shows, not hesitating to put herself on the line for a stranger’s sake. Which means when the villain kidnaps the baby princess of Skyland just as she arrives at the capital, she immediately sets up in pursuit. The villain escapes with his hostage through a weird portal, Sora immediately follows him and rescues the baby, only to find herself, well, here:

A good PreCure series needs a good sense of humour as well being able to handle its action scenes and this was hilarious, a proper Loony Tunes moment. Sora is a great protagonist and her meet cute with Mashiro, literally dropping out of the sky on her, was great too. In most PreCure series Mashiro, the ‘normal’ girl, would be the protagonist, so having the outer worlder Sora be it instead will be interesting. Looking forward to seeing Sora and Mashiro interact in day to day life as well.

Mist

for those of y’all still claiming Germans don’t have a sense of humour, let me introduce you to Bernd das Brot:

An anthropomorphic loaf of bread with short, stumpy arms and a pessimistic, cynical personality, Bernd comes from a German children’s tv series and has become a bit of a mascot for KiKa, the channel this was broadcast on. KiKa is aimed at children and only broadcasts between 6:00 AM and 9:00 PM, which means there’s a lot of dead air. So they decided to fill this air time with short movies like the one above, in which Bernd is basically put through a series of psychological and existential torture in Der KiKa Lounge. His attitude with which he undergoes these trials is what makes it hilarious and this particular one had me especially giggling. It’s just all very…

(And for all the nerd mockery on display in this video, it’s in the end actually very respectable.)

So if you’re ever in a German speaking country and late at night you’re flicking channels and come across a boxy, stubby armed muppet undergoing strange tortures in a white room, you now know what it is and no, it’s not a hallucination brought on by too much bratwurst and dunkelbier.

The Watersnoodramp — seventy years later

Seventy years ago this day the worst disaster modern Holland would endure was on its way to the Dutch coast, to arrive that night in the form of storm swept waves overwhelming the coastal defences that for centuries had kept us safe. The results are seen in this video compiled of contemporary news broadcasts:

1835 people died, 750,000 people lost their homes, tens of thousands of cattle drowned alongside their owners. Whole villages, even whole islands swallowed by the water. The flood hit the south-west of the Netherlands, coming through the Channel into the North Sea, its narrow width pushing the water higher and higher until it hit the coast. On the map below you can see how the northern islands in the delta were hit the hardest, the water pushing its way into the mouths of the rivers Rhine, Meuse and the Schelde flowing into the sea there. This is land that has always lived with the threat of the sea, has been conquered from it, that thought itself safe behind the dykes created to protect us from the sea. What happened in 1953, the failure of the dykes to protect us is something that even now, seventy years later, still resonates in the Dutch psyche.

a map of the area hit by the flood

The reponse to the disaster is well known. Drastic measures were made to ensure that this disaster would never repeat itself. Instead of strengthening the existing dykes, something much more radical was done. If the delta was this vulnerable because of its long coast line, let’s just shorten this coast line by damming in the various channels. The idea was to close up all of them except for the routes towards Rotterdam and (grudgingly) Antwerpen. That this would be an ecological disaster was ignored; that it would destroy the livelyhood of centuries old fishing communities likewise. The country must be made safe and even if strengthening the existing dykes was good enough, it would also be far too expensive, so instead the cheaper option of damming up almost the entire estuary was chosen.

As the lesser inlets were dammed up one by one, the fishers and ecologists saw how much of a disaster it was for the wildlife and the fish in them as they became dead, brackish pools with little to no life left in them. I remember liking to swim in one of these blocked up inlets, the Veerse Meer, because there was never any chance of encountering anything icky like jelly fish, let alone any real fish. But for the fishers in Yerseke it was a sign. They were dependent for their jobs on an open Oosterschelde, which also was one of the richest wetlands in Europe, a natural treasure trove, full of wildlife including seals. That would all be lost if the Oosterschelde was to be closed, but the state, province and Waterstaat, the agency responsible for the dykes and water management were all firmly in favour of the closure.

Yet that one small village resisted. A group of fishers, enironmentalists and sympathisers started a resistance campaign. Their reasoning was simple. If the Westerschelde could be made safe by strengthening the existing dykes and be kept open, why not the Oosterschelde? With the former being the entry towards Antwerpen it made sense that it was kept open, while the latter was just not judged important enough for the expense. Thanks to their dogged resistance, their years long campaign to convince politicians, the public and scientists, the Oosterschelde was kept open and the Netherlands got one of the seven wonders of the modern world: the Oosterschelde Storm Barrier, the stormsvloedkering:

I was there when the Stormvloedkering was officially opened, in 1986, as two students from each primary school in Zeeland were invited to it. Back then the political struggle, the role the activists had played in forcing the government and Rijkswaterstaat to this compromise, was kept largely unmentioned. I remember it was all presented as just a normal change of policy, that it was a result of changing insights naturally arrived at by the state itself, not pressure from lowly fishermen and beardy weirdo environmentalists. The Storm Barrier as the ultimate symbol of progress and Dutch innovation, but had it be left to its own devices, an environmental holocaust would’ve happened. Thank god for those Yerseke oyster fishers!