Beyond Apollo

[as usual, minor spoilers...]

Ugh.

I want my four hours back.

Can something be pretentious and crude at the same time? Can an ostensibly science fiction novel about the first manned expedition to Venus that has more mentions of the sex act – solo, heterosexual in marriage, and homosexual innuendo – than the word “Venus” win a major award? Can rambling, disconnected verbal diarrhea result in a satisfying, conclusive, thought-provoking enlightening experience?

Yes, Yes, and No.

Look, I get what Malzberg is driving at. I know having “Venus” as your subject implies a possible exploration of sexual themes. The book was published in 1974, so you know it has to be hip, antiestablishment, anti-literary, edgy. Yes, I get that. So was Thomas Disch’s Camp Concentration, which is the work that kept popping into my head as I read Beyond Apollo. Both novels are written as first-person journals of men who may or may not be insane. And while I thought Disch’s book a worthwhile read, I was only able to get to the end of Apollo because the chapters are short and I was hoping against all hope that the end would wrap everything up.

It’s like someone throwing a bunch of jigsaw puzzle pieces at you and saying, “Hey man! This is the most awesome thing you’ll see! It won an award! Put it together, and you’ll see.” Only problem is, you have no idea what the picture is and as you put it together, you realize you’re missing about half the pieces.

For 153 pages we read the words of Harry M. Evans – an astronaut who happens to be the sole survivor of the first manned mission to Venus, in 1981. His commanding officer, the Captain, was killed, and though we’re given a couple of different possible death scenarios throughout the book, we’re never told exactly how, or why. Evans is schizophrenic, switching back and forth between first- and third-person narration. He could have killed his commanding officer, or the “Venusians,” who mentally contact the crewmen – maybe – and warn them to keep away. Arty, but unsatisfying.

The premise is good but I don’t feel Malzberg quite pulls it off. He’s doesn’t stay true to the old “psychic aliens are warning mankind away” kind of thing we saw a lot of in the 1950s. He doesn’t have to, mind you, but if he starts to monkey around with reader expectation he needs to replace it with something better. Be more mind-bending than those alleged Venusians. All he gives us is sad-sack Evans moaning over his cold wife and failed marriage and how he was hot for his Captain. May I remind you that there’s 153 pages of this?

Yeah, I’m disappointed. Malzberg has great street cred, though, so I’ll read more of his stuff as I come across it. But as far as Beyond Apollo goes, the only thought I found myself entertaining during the last half of the book was a kind of meta-theme: Can a book be labeled a “science fiction” book if the only “science fiction” takes place allegedly in the mind of the protagonist? I mean, replace “Venusians” with “Injuns” and the “first manned mission to Venus” with the “lead-up to Little Big Horn,” and you could construct a similar book. Or “Venusians” with “Nazis” and “first manned mission” with “escaping a POW camp.” This was the unintended mental exercise bouncing about my badly bruised brain as I closed the book on Beyond Apollo.

Neat Little Cartoon

Click on the image to make it larger.

...

Saw this while surfing on some Catholic blogs ... don't know who originally created the cartoon; if I find out I will update the post with the proper attribution.

Out of the Woods?

Well, it’s been a week since my surgery to install a stent in my left superior pulmonary vein. Exactly a week ago, as I write this, I was being wheeled into the operating room. For all the white knuckle drama, you can go here.

How do I feel? Only about a thousand-frickin’-percent better! Even coming out of surgery my wife noted my face was red and flushed; my color was back, and still is. Gone was the usual ashen paleness that accentuated the dark bags under my eyes. I guess now blood is flowing in and out of the lung, and it shows.

Still a little tired, though, and still get winded. That’s to be expected. My doctor told me that it could take two or three weeks until I really started noticing anything one way or the other. The tests in the hospital all were okay; they haven’t called me urgently about anything, so I’m taking the no-news-good-news approach. Got some aches and pains, too, but that’s probably still a result from the unnecessary surgery I had back in February.

I feel very energized. It’s a strange feeling; I haven’t felt this way since around the beginning of 2005. See here for what was going on back then. I joke with my wife that now that I have oxygen flowing to my brain, I might actually get something done – like find a job! Anyway, I’m getting up earlier, staying up later, crossing things off my to-do lists and my honey-do lists, all without the fatigue and mental depression that normally logically followed a clogged pulmonary vein.

Good news upcoming on the writing and blogging fronts, but I’d be a tad premature to mention it just now. But don’t worry; there’ll be some big announcements in the month of July.

Part of my daily regimen now includes a walk, in the morning before it gets too hot. I’m taking the Little One with me. Yeah, it holds me back some, but I get to bond with her, now that she’s off from school for the summer. It’s fun for her. Monday we walked to the center of town and checked out a new park which she enjoyed immensely. She also freed a lightning bug there, one she caught over the weekend and was keeping in a jar in her room. I was quite proud.

Yesterday we went to the local library for some story time, the first time either of us had been there for such a purpose. As we get nearer, there’re lines of kids getting out of minivans all over the place. There must be thirty, forty kids lining up to get in the library. Popular story time, I conclude, then we get in to the library’s all-purpose room and I see there’s a magician there! It’s Stretch the Silly Man! My daughter’s unsure and needs me right next to her, so there we are, the two of us, right up in the front row watching Stretch do his magic and comedy act. The kids loved it; the Little One was giggling hysterically in spots. A good time had by all, and completely free of charge, too. Can’t beat that.

Today we walked to the local pharmacy to pick up a couple of items. Back home I had some chores to do. Now the Little One is in the tub, getting all the grime off, getting ready for her third or fourth trip of her life to the dentist (she still doesn’t know what to make about all this dentist stuff). But first a quick jaunt over to another library after she’s dried and dressed. I got about fifteen pounds of books to return, but now I’m so strong I can lift that pile easily with one hand …