Category: Fiction

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Books & printed materials Pop culture Sci-fi

[2945] Watching Foundation

Amid the Dune hype, it is easy to miss the other classic sci-fi hitting the screen. A different screen in a different format, but screen nonetheless. Isaac Asimov’s Foundation has been adapted for Apple TV+ streaming service with 8 of 10 episodes aired. I myself found out about it after browsing Facebook.

I read Foundation a long time ago as a teenager, and the idea of psychohistory was so attractive that I was bought into its universe so deeply. I know Star Wars before Foundation, but I understand Trantor, the capital planet of the Empire in Foundation, first before Coruscant, the capital of the Empire in Star Wars.

I was not the only one loving Foundation obviously. I could not. I remember reading in an interview where Paul Krugman said he went into economics because of Foundation; the predictive power of psychohistory does have a hint of economics in it. Lots of probabilities, and possibly econometrics.

But that was a long time ago, and I admit, I do not remember all the details. My reading list meanwhile has moved on from science fiction to stuff grounded more on reality. There is only one unread sci-fi on my shelf waiting to be opened: Cixin Liu’s The Three Body Problem (okay, there is also Forward the Foundation, but I was told, it is an unjust prequel to the original trilogy).

So, I thought I must be getting old and utterly forgetful when I watched the first episode of Apple’s Foundation. While Hari Seldon was there, the details did not feel right. The Genetic Dynasty? Could I have missed something that big? The pace of the series, as I kept on watching the rest of the series, felt too fast to what I remembered it. In the novels, hundreds of years would pass. In the series, less than a human lifetime.

As it turns out, my memory is fully intact. A little internet refresher reminds me of the Foundation I know. Further research reveals that the series diverges away from the novel, adding new elements and throwing away some.

I know people who are angry at this. The deviation from the novel feels blasphemous. Foundation feels like a holy book, and the series defiles it.

At first, I felt the same way, but really, at risk of being cancelled, I enjoy the series. I really do (and I really like Jared Harris, the man playing Hari Seldon, from his Sherlock Holmes days).

And clearly this is not the first time an original work has been reimagined. Star Wars, under Disney, did that when they threw out of the window all of original storylines told by the Thrawn Trilogy and more. Marvel, under Disney too, definitely changed the background to some of its major characters. Star Trek rebooted its whole universe, rather unsuccessfully if I might add.

So, as blasphemous as it might be, the act of fiddling the original story, I have been desensitized to the idea. A retelling could be as fulfilling as the reading the original.

After all, we are living in an age where actual history is being reassessed and retold in different lights. Old understandings are being overturned. Revisionism aplenty.

Not be quite a parallel, but it seems like a zeitgeist of our time.

Categories
Books & printed materials Fiction

[2943] From Afghanistan to Algeria

These days, I generally prefer reading non-fiction to expand my knowledge. So far, it has been mostly history, mixed with a little bit of politics and economics. And it has been Malaysiana-heavy. So, I thought I needed a break from this and picked up some fictions for a change.

I recently finished reading two of them. One was The Art of Losing by Alice Zeniter, which is set in Algeria and France. The other is Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, set in Afghanistan, Pakistan and the United States. Both have the protagonists having lost their country to armed conflicts, and ended up as refugees in foreign but adopted lands.

I enjoyed them. And I thought I learned a little bit about Algeria and Afghanistan.

After completing almost every chapter, I found myself consulting Google Map and Wikipedia trying to comprehend the context sets by the both authors in their respective work. In The Art of Losing, I was attracted to paragraphs of Hamid the little boy remembering Algeria as Algiers, the white city on the coast of the Mediterranean despite only passing by the capital and having not living there, ever. He and his family were fleeing the country, and hectically catching a boat in order to cross the sea to get to France. That was the last time he saw Algeria.

Zeniter’s description of Algiers made me curious. A white city by the Mediterranean. That made me read more about it and searched for pictures of the city from the sea. On Google Map with its 3D feature, Algiers looks as described: a city of layers of white 3-4-5 storey buildings lining up the Algerian coast. And I did not realize the northern part of Algeria was quite green. When I thought of northern Africa, I could only think of mountains and deserts. I had extrapolated wrongly.

There is a scene in The Kite Runner where Hassan and his father were escaping Taliban-ruled Afghanistan. They were smuggled out of the country in a truck through the famed Khyber Pass. They needed to reach Peshawar in Pakistan that lies on the eastern end of the pass. I watched a couple of Youtube videos to understand the geography of the pass and comprehend the difficulty of the journey.

I have never been to either country, although I think I have flown above Afghanistan before en route to Europe several times. From what I could make from high up in the sky, the Afghan terrain is absolutely rugged.

But between Algeria and Afghanistan, I know the latter more. I was in the United States when the September 11 Attacks occurred, and Afghanistan was a constant feature in American politics for much of my time in Michigan. The Kite Runner makes reference to the US invasion and occupation of the country. More than that, the characters in the Kite Runners celebrated the fall of the Taliban:

That December, Pashtuns, Tajiks, Uzbeks, and Hazaras gathered in Bonn and, under the watchful eye of the UN, began the process that might someday end over twenty years of unhappiness in their watan. [Khaled Hosseini. The Kite Runner. Page 316. 2004]

People have been telling me The Kite Runner is an emotional book. Some cried. I did not, but I felt some sadness upon reading the sentence above, knowing the Taliban has returned, twenty years later. I personally feel the US leaving Afghanistan is a mistake. But never mind.

Algeria is more of a mystery to me. I know where it is located: sandwiched between Tunisia and Morocco. know the capital, and I know it is a Muslim country. I recognize its national flag. I may know a little bit about general classical history involving the Romans. But little else. Ask me about modern Algerian history and I will draw a blank. I have an Algerian French friend that I have not met for a long time, but I was not about to bombard her with questions. So, I read additional material online about modern Algeria, about the FLN that fought for Algerian independence and other relevant topics.

I have a copy of Tournament of Shadows by Karl Ernest Meyer and Shareen Blair Brysac sitting on my book shelf. The book would tell me about Afghanistan much more than The Kite Runner could. But the non-fiction is 700-page long, and has been left unread and untouched for more than 5 years. Moreover, I do have a long list of other books I want to read. So, until the day I start reading that thick book, The Kite Runner (and The Art of Losing) will do.

Are the two poor substitutes to non-fiction as far as learning goes? Maybe, but I enjoyed them thoroughly.

Categories
Books & printed materials Fiction

[2883] A story on integrity from Solzhenitsyn’s For the Good of the Cause

I am taking a break from reading everything Malaysiana that is related to my book project. And I have finally decided to read Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s For the Good of the Cause that has been resting on my bookshelf for more than a year.

Here is an excerpt which I would like to share.

But the story fell flat. Fyodor did not laugh. Grachikov knew that it was better not to revive war memories. But having started this train of thought, he now recalled what had happened the following day, when his division was suddenly ordered to cross the River Sozh and deploy itself on the other side.

The bridge across the river had been badly damaged. The engineers had repaired it during the night, and Grachikov was posted as the officer in charge of the guard on it. He had instructions that nobody was to be allowed through until the division had crossed over. It was a narrow bridge—the sides had collapsed, the surface was very bumpy, and it was important to keep the traffic moving, because twice already single-engine Junkers had sneaked up on them from behind the trees and dive-bombed the bridge, though so far they had missed. The business of moving the division across, had moved up, but they waited their turn in small pine wood nearby. Suddenly, six covered vehicles—they were brand-new and all alike— drove up to the head of the column and tried to force their way onto the bridge. “St-o-p!” Grachikov shouted furiously at the first driver and ran across to head him off, but he kept going. Grachikov may have reached for his pistol, perhaps he actually did. At that point a middle-aged officer in a cape opened the door of the first truck and shouted just as furiously. “Hey you, Major, come over here!” and with a quick movement of one shoulder he threw back his cape. And Grachikov saw that he was a Lieutenant-General. Grachikov ran up, his heart in his mouth.

“What were you doing with your hand?” the General shouted ominously. “Do you want to be courtmartialed? Let my vehicles through!”

Until the General order his trucks to be let through, Grachikov had been willing to settling things amicably, without raising his voice, and he might even have let them through. But when right and wrong clashed head-on (and wrong is more brazen by its very nature), Grachikov’s legs seemed to become rooted to the ground and he no longer cared what might happen to him. He drew himself up, saluted and announced:

“I shall not let you through, Comrade Lieutenant-General!”

“What the hell…?” The General’s voice rose to a scream and he stepped down onto the running board. “What’s your name?”

“Major Grachikov, Comrade Lieutenant-General. And I’d like to know yours!”

“You’ll be in the stockade by tomorrow!” the General fumed.

“That may be, but today you take your place in the line!” Grachikov shot back and then planted himself right in front of the truck and stood there, knowing that his face and neck were flushed purple, but quite determined not to give in. The General choked with rage, thought for a moment, then slammed the door and turned his six trucks around. [Page 95-96. For the Good of the Cause. Alexander Solzhenitsyn. Sphere Books. 1971]

That is integrity at work.

Categories
Pop culture Sci-fi

[2862] The Last Jedi and the balance in the Force

Star Wars Episode VIII reminds me of Hero, a Chinese movie set during the Warring States Period starring Jet Li. What I like the most about Hero is its offering of multiple perspectives of the same event. Each perspective details how different characters see and understand the same event differently, and how it leads to conflict. And if one reconciles all perspectives by listening to all sides without prejudice, one gets to a higher truth. In Hero, the truth is an authoritarian one but the conclusion from understanding those perspectives is so profound that I think a libertarian would submit to its truth (within the context of the film of course).[1]

Director Rian Johnson used the same trick in The Last Jedi to explore the conflict between Luke Skywalker and his nephew-apprentice Ben Solo/Kylo Ren. Johnson does not take the relationship for granted and takes time to explain it. The exploration blurs the line between good and evil that previously was so clear in Star Wars, suggesting as I understand the scene, that the relationship between Luke and Kylo arises out of an unfortunate misunderstanding. The conflict is told through three perspectives: from Luke’s, Kylo’s and then from Luke’s again but with further commentary augmented by Rey. The colors, the cuts and the narratives are so convincing that sometimes I wonder which one is the truth. Rey is so confused by the stories told by Kylo and Luke that she demands Luke whether he created Kylo on purpose. The confusion between good and evil even leads to an altercation between between Luke and Rey, a fight so convincing that as I sat in my chair, I began to wonder, is Rey turning? Is Luke a Sith? Who is the good guy here?

There is at least another scene where Johnson tries to blur the line. I do not remember the exact dialog but it is the scene when hacker DJ shows Finn that the same party supplying the First Order weapons is the same one supplying the Resistance equipment. DJ goes on to tell Finn to not get involve and be free.

But the mindblowing moment for me is the philosophical truth Luke discovered during his exile. As he trains Rey, he tells her all Star Wars fans knows since A New Hope: the Force is “an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together.” But Luke goes further by explaining explicitly to Rey that is a balance in the Force and the Jedis do not own it. And since there is a balance, the light that the Jedis claim to defend must always come with the dark side. All this is not groundbreaking. But Luke’s conclusion is. He comes to the realization that if that is so, then the Jedis must not exist and the order must end.

Luke’s philosophy casts all of Star Wars films in a different light, forcing us to reassess what the whole franchise really means.

Mohd Hafiz Noor Shams. Some rights reservedMohd Hafiz Noor Shams. Some rights reservedMohd Hafiz Noor Shams. Some rights reserved

[1] p/s — I recently learned it was the Japanese film Rashomon by Akira Kurosawa that first used this technique.

Categories
Politics & government Sci-fi

[2792] Malaysian dystopia coming true

Some dystopian science fictions rest on absurd premises.

Terry Gilliam’s Brazil is a statist world of paperwork. There is a form to fill up for everything you do. The story begins with a naming mistake in a government ministry.

Instead of Tuttle printed on the warrant, it was Buttle. That leads to the arrest and the eventual death of an innocent man the authority believed was a terrorist.

When a person discovers that the authority had the wrong person, everybody else refuses to correct or even admit the mistake for fear of having to face the impossible mountains of paperwork. And so the bureaucracy covers it up rather.

Mistakes or not, the bureaucracy is always right. Adherence to the system is so paramount that any attempt to rectify the error is an act of rebellion against the state. The state, meanwhile, does not look kindly on rebellion.

George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four is more ominous than Brazil. While people of Gilliam’s world are free as long as they fill their forms correctly, Orwell’s is a totalitarian universe with the one party controlling every facet of your life.

The truth is whatever the government ”• the Big Brother ”• says. The government rewrites history however it sees fit. If anybody has a different opinion or remembers history differently, the government will put him through a special rehabilitation program to change his or her mind, forcefully.

There are other brilliantly absurd dystopian works out there.

These absurdities are fictions only to a healthy civilized society when the government is decent. We can laugh at these fictions because they are entertainingly absurd and so far removed from reality.

But the farther down the hole we are from a decent government, the less fictional these absurdities become. In them lie the seeds of truth.

Whenever I think of Malaysia today, my mind wanders to these old dystopian science fictions. I sigh at the ridiculousness of our situation that might as well be the target of mocking and satire of these works.

Our very own Big Brother (is he Ah Jib Gor?) proclaimed back when 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB) was established that the fund was the centerpiece to his transformation.

It would help to create a new financial center for Kuala Lumpur. It would help reform the power sector. It would push Malaysia into the dreamy First World list.

Drive by the long Jalan Tun Razak, you will read the pretentious phrase ”For a Greater Kuala Lumpur” printed on aluminum hoarding surrounding the prime land 1MDB bought so cheaply from the government. ”1MDB is strong,” the government said.

Today, financial troubles and corruption scandals beset the fund. The strong 1MDB now is in need of government support to survive. The financial center stands unbuilt. The power authority is scrambling to meet Malaysia’s future energy demand because 1MDB failed to build the necessary power plants despite winning the tenders. Amid all this, the government is trying to convince us all that 1MDB is too small compared to the Malaysian economy. ”The fund is inconsequential now,” they claimed.

It took four to five years to change the storyline from it’s-a-big-thing to it-doesn’t-matter. One should be forgiven for not noticing the changing deceit told over such a long period.

But another episode is more shocking. Only a person of dulled senses and soft mind would not notice it.

Remember when all of those corruption allegations backed by various leaked documents implicating 1MDB, the prime minister and several other individuals first came out? They were tampered documents, the government said. The implicit defense was that the allegations were untrue.

Now, as the official government story goes, the money transfer did happen and the accounts did exist. All that was an all-legal multibillion-ringgit donation from someone unnamed. Suddenly, it was all true. Meanwhile, everybody who seems to be trying to right the wrong is arrested.

So, what about those tampered documents? The government is silent on that, instead preferring to talk about political donation reform, which by the way UMNO the ruling party itself rejected while blaming the Opposition for the reform failure. Such is the prevalence of doubletalk in Malaysia.

That blatant defense change happened in the pages of Nineteen Eighty-Four. The fascist party said ”We’ve always been at war with Eurasia.” The masses nodded and they understood they had always been friends with Eastasia.

Suddenly at the same event, the party said ”We’ve always been at war with Eastasia,” The masses were oblivious to the switch in name and nodded dutifully.

We have already that one party, the volte-face, a hint of corrupt bureaucracy along with the inane rationale and excuses today. It is up to us Malaysians to not nod lest Malaysia becomes these dystopias tomorrow.

Mohd Hafiz Noor Shams. Some rights reserved Mohd Hafiz Noor Shams. Some rights reserved Mohd Hafiz Noor Shams. Some rights reserved
First published in The Malay Mail on August 7 2015.