A Better Tomorrow.

“This is not a list of the ‘best’ fantasy or SF. There are huge numbers of superb works not on the list. Those below are chosen not just because of their quality – which though mostly good, is variable – but because the politics they embed (deliberately or not) are of particular interest to socialists.”

Sci-fi author China Mieville (Perdido Street Station, Iron Council, The City & The City) offers up his personal list of the 50 Sci-Fi and Fantasy Works Every Socialist Should Read, including Octavia Butler, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Edward Bellamy, Iain Banks, Kim Stanley Robinson, and Mervyn Peake. “Ayn Rand—Atlas Shrugged (1957): Know your enemy. This panoply of portentous Nietzcheanism lite has had a huge influence on American SF. Rand was an obsessive ‘objectivist’ (libertarian pro-capitalist individualist) whose hatred of socialism and any form of ‘collectivism’ is visible in this important and influential – though vile and ponderous – novel.”

As y’all already know, I’m not a socialist — I’m a civic progressive. But I have more admiration for the old Party of Debs than I do, say, today’s New Dems. Also, the Iron Council-ish train above is by Arizona-based illustrator Chris Gall, whose colorful, social realist-inspired drawings and engravings are worth perusing.

Atlas Hemmed and Hawed.

“Somewhere in literary-character hell, John Galt is spending an eternity getting beat down by Tom Joad & his pick handle.” Ah, Ayn Rand…come for the vaguely kinky sex, stay for the self-serving, thoroughly reprehensible philosophy. Salon‘s Andrew Leonard asks if the recent economic downturn has discredited Rand’s Objectivism once and for all, prompting — as you might expect — a war in the comments section between the true believers and the gleeful cynics.

Among the many funny comments, this one, reposted from here: “There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old’s life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs.”

It’s not you, it’s your library.

“Pity the would-be Romeo who earnestly confesses middlebrow tastes: sometimes, it’s the Howard Roark problem as much as the Pushkin one. ‘I did have to break up with one guy because he was very keen on Ayn Rand,’ said Laura Miller, a book critic for Salon. ‘He was sweet and incredibly decent despite all the grandiosely heartless “philosophy” he espoused, but it wasn’t even the ideology that did it. I just thought Rand was a hilariously bad writer, and past a certain point I couldn’t hide my amusement.’” In the NYT, Rachel Donadio looks at relationships undone by differing book tastes (and, along the way, quotes a college friend of mine, Christian Lorentzen.)

Funnily enough, my last serious relationship, lo, 18 months ago now, didn’t end because of book taste, but — like Laura Miller above — I always considered the Ayn Rand citation on her Friendster profile an ominous red flag (and, in the clear light of retrospect, I was absolutely correct in this regard.) In the relationship before that, things started out ok, and then, eight or nine months in, we daringly ventured to trade lists of recommended books. At first, all was well: She seemed to dig All the King’s Men, and I finally got around to reading Moby Dick (I liked it, but also found most of it the longest…Atlantic piece…ever…) But we got on shakier ground when I didn’t cotton at all to her favorite tome, Thomas Wolfe’s Look, Homeward Angel. (If you’ve never read it, here’s the short version: I, the protagonist, am more brilliant and tortured than absolutely everybody here in fake-Asheville, NC, and thus noone will ever understand me. After 500 pages of complaining about it, I will leave, and seek my fortune elsewhere.) Meanwhile, she was so embarrassed to be seen with Dan Simmons’ Hyperion — a book I don’t love, but thought might make a good intro to decent sci-fi yarns for someone with highbrow sensibilities, what with all the Chaucer and Keats nods therein — that she’d hide it from people on the train. Whether all this brought about or hastened the end, I know not…but it surely didn’t help. The point being, be wary, young lovers: The book collection can be a minefield, as the Donadio essay attests.

Cox the Corporate Cog.

So, apparently Rep. Chris Cox (R-CA), Dubya’s new pick to head the SEC, is — wait for it — yes, yet another right-wing freakshow, this time of the corporate stooge variety. “Mr. Cox – a devoted student of Ayn Rand, the high priestess of unfettered capitalism – has a long record in the House of promoting the agenda of business interests that are a cornerstone of the Republican Party’s political and financial support. A major recipient of contributions from business groups, the accounting profession and Silicon Valley, he has fought against accounting rules that would give less favorable treatment to corporate mergers and executive stock options. He opposes taxes on dividends and capital gains. And he helped to steer through the House a bill making investor lawsuits more difficult.”

Incredible Journey.

Well, the folks making next summer’s Fantastic Four film must be having a really bad couple of weeks. ‘Cause it’s hard to see how they can even close to topping the energy and fun of Brad Bird’s The Incredibles, Pixar’s new gold standard (and here I thought Toy Story 2 was going to hold that honor for some time to come.) More a film for comic fans than for little kids, The Incredibles is an inventive, madcap romp through superhero tropes that gives Spiderman 2 a serious run for its money as the best comic book film of 2004.

I must say, I was surprised right off the bat at how PG the film turned out to be. This is a darker film than most previous Pixar forays, with a surprisingly high body count and some mordant sight gags in the mix (for example, the montage explaining the trouble with capes). Whatsmore, Mr. Incredible’s most potent villain turns out to be existential ennui at the workplace, which seems as if it might fly right over the heads of the Finding Nemo age demographic.

Their loss, our gain. The Incredibles is a consistently clever ride, right down to the details. The writers and production designers have not only designed robots, ships, and a evil fortress that breathe originality while still paying homage to classic icons (Not unlike Brad Bird’s The Iron Giant in that regard — so take that, Sky Captain.) They’ve also come up with unique applications and situations for some of the hoariest superpowers going (strength, elasticity, speed, etc…Elastigirl’s break-in to Syndrome’s lair stands out as a particular highlight.)

The only real misstep in the film, aside from it feeling maybe 10-15 minutes too long (and, arguably, the Ayn Randish subtext), is the Brad Bird-voiced Edna Mode, who seems like some unholy cross between Vera Wang and Joan Rivers and comes off as somewhat embarrassing and misconceived. Better thought out is Mr. Incredible’s McNamara-esque boss and the “Issue No. 2” villain, The Underminer, whom I very much look forward to in the sequel. But, look, here I am monologuing again…To sum up, as the sinister mime Bomb Voyage might put it, “C’est incroyable!”