Deep Thoughts & Pronouncements

Gadget Malaise

One thing I always try to keep in mind when trolling the Internet, magazines, newspapers, and random cocktail napkins found in the gutters of the world for something to read while I drink my coffee in the morning is this: Writers need something to write about. Even I, sitting here in my secret underground bunker with crates full of cheap Canadian whisky stacked up around me, wake up every now and then and decide I need to update this blog (like, say, this morning) and stew for a few moments wondering what in the world I can write about. This makes me deeply suspicious of a lot of media; there’s a lot of doom and gloom and alarmism out there, but I suspect a lot of it has to do with the need for content and the fact that pessimism always sells better (IMHO – YMMV).

Recently, I was reading about the supposed “rapid generation gaps” we’re experiencing, wherein every set of kids learn a whole host of technologies that their older siblings, merely five years older, are completely unfamiliar with.  For example, people of my generation grabbed onto e-mail with gusto in the 1990s and haven’t let go since, but the generations that followed us view e-mail as a business thing for the old folks, and spend their time texting or IMing or, who knows, inserting their souls into cyberspace and interacting in The Matrix.

Sidenote: By using the words “cyberspace” and “Matrix” in that sentence, I have dated myself dangerously, and the kids are now cheerfully mocking me on IRC channels I’ll never hear about.

I don’t doubt the truth in that article: I’ve seen with my own eyes how people 10 years younger than me use technology differently, and people 10 years younger than them use it differently from them, and so on. Technology is evolving rapidly and kids will be in the forefront of it because unlike folks my age, its kids who by and large use these new technologies at first. When I was a kid, all technology trickled down from my parents. Today it’s the kids who want the new phones, the new media players, the new game systems. So, sure. By the time I’m old enough to retire, there will likely be a baffling array of technological gadgets I can’t comprehend.

But here’s the thing: So what?

Who cares if 10-year olds are communicating using gadgets I’ve never seen and probably couldn’t figure out how to use? They are ten. I will never wish to speak with them.

This is a general rule of thumb I apply to everything like this. If a group of people are using a technology or tool to socialize, I ask myself: Do I really want to hang out and communicate with them? If the answer is “no” (and it almost always is, as I am misanthropic) then I cease to care about whatever it is we’re talking about. This works out much better than you might imagine.

There is, I think, a general fear of growing old and becoming dumb, fueled by the rapid pace of change and the fact that people my age have vivid memories (possibly from yesterday, literally) of having to painfully show our parents or grandparents how to use what we consider simple technologies, like the television after the recent digital signal switchover. We’re used to being the smug hippies who know everything, and it terrifies us that we might one day be sitting in puzzled humility while a cretinous child who doesn’t know anything about good booze or classic pornography smugly teaches us how to use our Teleportation Stick or whatever. Of course, it’s entirely possible to live a full and happy life without knowing anything about the latest gadgets (hell, I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager), it’s just a fear of being left behind that drives this kind of insanity.

Which brings me to a gadget that makes me leaden with boredom despite what the marketing droids want me to believe: 3D Television. If there is a more useless upgrade in the universe, I am not aware of it. While 3D visuals are kind of fun, and I don’t mind wearing stupid glasses, say, once every decade, the fact is I can’t imagine anyone who wants 3D television. But the electronics industries fear nothing like the end of a constant upgrade-cycle; I’m convinced one of the reasons for the fierce resistance to MP3s as a standard digital music format had nothing to do with DRM or quality issues, but rather the simple fact that MP3s can be played on any device these days, so you may never have to purchase another music content delivery item (a CD, for example) or a content decoder (a CD player, for example). For the last 30 years there’s been a constant stream of upgrades that people have bought, and now, there’s little reason to. But I digress.

The point is, no matter how hard they try, no one will convince me that I must have 3D TV or risk being irrelevant to society. I already am irrelevant to society, in that sense of the term. I don’t need wacky glasses to prove that. And so it goes.

Lost: The End

My god, this actually happened:

The other night, after dinner, my wife was puttering down on the first floor with the TV on in the background, and the execrable show I Get That a Lot came on. If you have never encountered this, um, program, it goes like this: The producers find some celebrity – say, everyone’s favorite accused murderer Snoop Dogg – and have them pretend to work at some normal job, like gas station attendant or sandwich maker. When people tell Snoop that he looks like Snoop, Snoop makes a joke and says “I get that a lot.” Whoo, it sure sound funny, don’t it?

After a while I went downstairs to join her for some light television watching, and she casually unpaused the TV and sat down. I stood there for a moment, stunned.

“Wait,” I stuttered. “We’re watching this? That unpausing was serious?”

It was: To my horror, my wife thinks I Get That a Lot is hilarious.

This is one reason I can’t wait for Lost to return – so I can avoid moments like that. Lost ain’t a perfect show, but it’s an interesting one, and I’m personally very excited to have some smart SF back on TV. There’s more and more SF with big budgets on TV and on the movie screens these days, but a lot of it just isn’t very smart, in my opinion – sort of like the movie Avatar. There’s a science fiction concept there at the core, but it’s mainly used to tell a story that completely – you might say purposefully – ignores the implications and consequences of that concept in favor of telling a much more conventional story. The central SF ideas in Avatar, for example – the Avatar technology itself, Pandora, the ecologic, economic, and social situation on a future earth that drives everything else – are completely ignored. Completely. Basically, the movie says, hey, here’s avatar technology, where we grow an alien body with some human genes implanted and then a human gets in this tube and bam! the human can operate the alien body as if it’s his or her own. And you stop and start to ask a question about that and the movie makes a face and says “Moving on, here are some action sequences and romantic subplots and obvious villains whose demise you will get to cheer later when they are killed in poetic ways!”

Anyway. . .

This is the final season of Lost, and it’s going to be one of those rare TV shows that gets to have an actual, planned-for ending. Most TV shows in America, of course, limp along until absolutely no one is watching and then just turn off midstream like they never existed in the first place, and this is usually true even concerning serials with ongoing stories – which is one reason why the networks prefer shows like the Law & Order franchise, which has no ongoing arc plots and thus can be shown more or less randomly without eroding the audience. But Lost will escape that fate, which is good, but this also puts the show on the precipice, because despite six seasons of (presumably) intriguing plots, funny moments, delicious mysteries, and fine performances, the legacy of the show is going to hinge on its ending. In other words, if the ending sucks, that’s all anyone will ever remember about Lost.

When I was in college, my friends and I discovered the old TV show The Prisoner, which was recently desecrated by a new version no one wanted or watched. Originally aired in 1967 in the US (I think) we discovered it some decades later and it blew our minds. We were mildly obsessed with it for a while. But I’ll tell you: If you mention it in mixed company and anyone actually knows what you’re talking about, all you’ll hear about is the incomprehensible mind-trip of an ending, which outraged viewers at the time and continues to anger people to this day. The ending of The Prisoner is possibly the single most baffling climax of any TV show, ever, and it is the show’s main legacy at this point. As another example, consider St. Elsewhere; the only thing most people truly remember about that show is the bizarre ending (if you’re not familiar with it, you ought to be). The ending to St. Elsewhere has even sparked an ongoing theory about its narrative as related to other TV shows. No one talks about the show any more, but people are still talking about the ending.

So, Lost is up against it this year. The ending could be brilliant, it could be dull, disappointing, baffling, or simply weird. Who knows? I’ll be there, delighted to find out, and then we can begin discussing it. Or, in the worst case scenario, not discussing it. because the worst thing they could do with that show is have an expected, conventional ending that everyone watches, shrugs at, and walks away from searching for a snack.

The Entertainment. . .Will Wait

(Use of CAPS in this post courtesy of Dan Krokos).

Back home after some holiday family-visitin’. For some reason when I am travelling I don’t update my blog or twitter feed or anything very much. Part of this is sheer laziness. Part of it is the immense amount of whiskey my relatives pour into me. Part of it is the recovery time I require after flying everywhere and having TSA employees ask me, in perfect seriousness, if I have anything lodged within me that could explode under any conceivable circumstances. What, they don’t ask you those kinds of questions? Must be the protective body armor I wear whenever I fly. But I digress.

I’m an old cranky man (did I SAY I wanted my whiskey on the rocks?!?! I’LL KILL YOU!), so I accept that my childhood was vastly different from what kids today (or just in the “recent past”) experience. I remember when you had to rush out to see movies before they faded from the theaters, never to be seen again (unless you were lucky and they were run, edited and split by commercials, on TV) and had to make plans to be home at the right time in order to catch shows and specials on TV. That’s right: I remember life before VCRs, DVRs, Pay-Per-View, even the humble video rental. OH MY GOD I REMEMBER 1979. Hold me.

Anyway, I was thinking about this recently because someone asked me if I was going to see Avatar, and my answer was: Maybe, I have to think about it. And it struck me that there was a time when I wouldn’t have had the luxury. I can wait, now, and if I miss the movie in theaters I will have approximately one million more chances to watch it before I die. It’ll be on pay-per-view, or on HBO, to which I subscribe. It’ll show up on DVD. It’ll be shown on airplanes, eventually on network TV or basic cable, and I will likely shuffle from this mortal coil having seen the fucking thing 13 times whether I want to or not.

This revelation removes the sense of urgency. I can literally take all the time I want to decide if watching Avatar is something I want to do. For an old bastard like me who remembers the first time my father brought home a movie on VHS – well, it’s kind of cool. I can remember a sense of desperation when a movie was fading from the theaters and my chances of ever seeing it were slimming down towards none, and I had to make plans to hitch a ride across three states in order to attend the last showing. Nowadays I can just add it to my NetFlix queue, or buy it on 23rd street for $5. Actually, it was available on 23rd street back in November, somehow. HOT DAMN THEY HAVE INVENTED TIME TRAVEL! What a time to be alive, as Frostillicus would say.

The same is happening in slower motion with books, natch. Books have always had a greater sense of permanency than other media, seeing as they don’t require any special technology to view (or at least, they didn’t used to – DAMN YOU EBOOKS!) but they did in fact fade from the market after a while. Sure, some classics are always in the book stores, but the kind of books I read voluntarily as a kid, staying up until 4AM with a flashlight, were not always on the shelves – you had to pounce. There were libraries, of course, but libraries have budgets and have to make their best choices, and even if they do purchase a book they had to clear the shelves now and then for new stock (of course now they can has eBooks and keep every book they purchase forevers and evers – BLESS YOU EBOOKS!). So it was a similar process, just slower.

But now, even that limitation is lifting, because of the aforementioned eBooks and the fact that used books can now be tracked down on the Internet like fugitives and mailed to your house. So I don’t have to read books within the first year before they disappear – I can wait decades! This is good stuff.

Of course, life is transient and this new attitude might mean I’ll be lying in my death bed a hundred years from now (my robot body badly rusted from misuse) and I’ll suddenly realize there are 255 movies on my To-See list.  So maybe I should get up and see Avatar. Well, maybe after a sandwich.

Eternal, Unchanging, and Dumb

I’m often reminded of a quote from Douglas Adams’ Hitchhikers book that I will now mangle out of sheer laziness: The Universe is big. Really big. I’m reminded of this when I’m reading a particular type of mediocre SF/F fiction, not because of the size of the universe, but the size of time. Because there are a lot of books in the SF/F world that suffer from serious History Dilation in the pursuit of an “epic” feel.

Ah, epic. So many strive for epicness. For someone like me, for whom personal epicness comes so naturally, this is puzzling: Why not just go out and be epic, natch? Ah, but then I remember: Not everyone wakes up epic. Like me, would be my point. Epic is almost a requirement in Fantasy stories, and a lot of writers hit upon that overused shortcut for epicness: Time. As in, really huge loads of time. Is your magical kingdom feeling a bit flimsy? The traditions and faux culture you’ve sketched out not exactly compelling? Well, add several millenia and BAM! instant epicness.

Sigh. Sure, if you start going on and on about how a certain kingdom has existed for seven thousand years, if you spend 58 pages listing the unbroken line of kings from Day One, if you describe every building as “ancient”, then you do, in some way, achieve epicness. But this effect is then ruined when your reader scratches their head and wonders how in the world an entire world stays exactly the same for seven frickin’ thousand years. And don’t say magic, or I will burn your book on Youtube.

What’s even worse than a culture that is presented to you as static from the get go is when the universe stays static while you’re reading thousands of years of history in the damn story. You read book 1, and the universe is codified. You read book 2 and a thousand years have passed. . .but nothing’s changed. And then you read book 3, and five thousand years have gone by, and still nothing’s changed. Sure, things happen, the plot moves forward, but no matter how many wars, how many epic magical battles, no matter who dies, the universe stays the same.

That’s just lazy writing. The world doesn’t stay static for millenia, especially when the author is busily murdering characters, destroying cities, that sort of thing. This is just SitCom Normal, wherein everything about the premise must remain the same no matter what transpires, or else everything is ruined. Again, I’m not talking about thirty years, here. I’m talking about thousands of years. Thousands of years wherein nothing. Ever. Changes. Ever. It’s enough to make me hurl my copy of Fatal Revenant across the room at least once a day.

Solamente Jeff

Something Nick Mamatas says in a post at his journal about vanity publishing and the Harlequin debacle in general resonated with me:

“What is great about writing is that an ordinary working-class person can do it without substantial investment. Other art forms such as painting, photography, music, etc. require sometimes significant outlay and purchasing paintings and instruments and such also requires a pocketful of money. With writing, you can do it on the cheap.”

For me, this also means that it’s one of the few art forms where I don’t have to collaborate. I hate collaborating, and writing was instantly the way I could create something without having to deal with anyone else’s input. Writing is one of the few artistic venues where it’s just you. You don’t need any special training (really, you don’t), you don’t need any special tools (like an instrument), and you don’t need anyone’s help. I think most writers start out as kids, just sitting in their rooms or something and realizing they can tell an entire story, with special effects and trick shots, with just a stub of pencil and a piece of paper. That’s fucking amazing, if you think about it.

I’ve tried collaborating, and sometimes it even works. My friend Jeof Vita and I co-wrote a comic book and it went really well; we then co-wrote a TV script that didn’t sell, and started to co-write a movie treatment before we sort of drifted away from the project. Despite our success – and the fact that we had fun working together – I doubt I’d ever collaborate again. I just prefer to have complete control over the work, to be honest. I don’t like having to weigh other people’s opinions.

Of course, this may explain why I spend most of my waking moments with cats instead of people.

I am Not a Luddite

I’m not a Luddite – really – despite the fact that I continue to resist the lure of eBooks in general and Kindles and Nooks in specific. I started thinking about this again today because Fimoculous brought these “choose your own adventure” eBooks to my attention. That’s probably loads of fun, as I recall loving those kinds of books as a kid. Of course, computer games have really taken over that niche of infinite possibilities, but I think pick-a-path books are probably still  loads of fun, especially on an e-reader.

I’m not a Luddite – I’ve embraced plenty of digital formats. My entire music collection is a mass of throbbing MP3 files, backed up to infinity. I don’t even play CDs any more, except in the car where I don’t have any MP3 player hooked up, and I haven’t bought a physical CD in years. When DVDs replaced VHS tapes I never looked back. Yet eBooks still don’t pull me in, despite the fact that the physical space my books take up in the house is a huge pain in the ass. Putting aside the fact that I’m a book fetishest who simply likes the form factor of books, there are 2 basic reasons why I’ve embraced other digital formats but refuse the eBook:

1. Rights. Right now, eBooks take rights away from me. When I buy a physical book, it is mine forever unless I choose to sell it or give it away. I can do what I like with it. eBooks come with all sorts of restrictions – yes, you can “loan” a Nook book for 2 weeks to a friend. You can do this exactly once. This is, to use a scientific term, bullshit. The other formats I’ve embraced have either preserved existing rights or expanded them; I can loan, give away, or otherwise mess with an MP3 file or DVD once purchased. The legalities of giving away MP3 files are suspect, of course; I am not supposed to be giving away thousands of copies, but in practical terms that file is mine to do with as I please. I don’t object to having some legal restrictions on things – I can get behind the concept that you can’t mass produce copies of your songs or movies or books and sell them or even give them away en masse. That’s okay; those are reasonable restrictions that existed prior to the advent of easily copyable digital formats. But eBooks take away some of these basics, like loaning a book indefinitely or reselling the single copy you own. Until that gets cleared up, why in the world would I pay for something I won’t really own? Something that can be taken away from me at a corporation’s whim if we have a disagreement?

2. Technology. The other problem with eBooks is the fact that there’s no standard. MP3 files may not be the best format in the world for music, but it’s ubiquitous and supported in just about every device on the market. My MP3 files will play in anything. If I upgrade my computer, my stereo, whatever – the files will play. This means when I buy an album from Amazon, I know it will play years from now, decades from now, even after a superior format takes precedence, in the same way LPs and cassettes played even after the CD came out. In fact, it’s better, because it only requires software. I won’t have to hunt around for a dwindling supply of MP3-capable players like my Dad did when his 8-Track tapes went the way of the DoDo – someone is going to create an MP3 player for every future computer platform the same way someone created a web browser for the Commodore 64.

Right now, Kindle books don’t work on a Nook and vice versa. And who knows if Kindle 2.0 books will work with Kindle 3.0 or 4.0 or 5.0. If I buy a Kindle today and then decide the Nook is better in 2011, my Kindle books cannot travel with me (I know there are “ways” to crack DRM and make this happen, but I shouldn’t have to troll warez sites just to keep books I’ve paid for readable). This sucks. This is, frankly, an unacceptable situation. I know that for many people books are transient pleasures – you buy them, read them, and pass them on or discard them. But for me, I keep my books. Forever. The idea that the books I read in 2010 will not be readable in 2015 unless I rebuy them is fucking ridiculous, and I’ll have none of it.

Sure, you can argue that music and movie formats have gone through the same thing, because my old cassette player couldn’t play CDs and I had to rebuy a lot of music. That’s true, but the formats themselves were widely supported and open technology. You can still buy a cassette player. Two years ago I bought a cassette player for my computer and ripped my cassettes to MP3, for god’s sake – if there was a way to easily, legally, and routinely convert your eBooks from one device to another, that would alleviate the concern.

See, I think eBooks are a great idea. They bring a lot of added value to the table. I would probably use one for certain things (I still love my physical books, so I’d probably still buy printed books no matter what) like travel reading and periodicals and such; in fact, if companies started offering package deals where you could buy the digital copy and the physical copy automatically together, I’d probably start doing that regularly. But until an eBook offers me the same ownership rights (perpetual ownership of my copy, perpetual access to it no matter the device used, right of first ownership) as a physical book I won’t be buying them. Your mileage, of course, may vary.

In Defense of Slow Reading

And. . .we’re back. Hope no one died from food-related injuries.

Whenever I have some time off like that I make grandiose plans about how I’m not going to waste my vacation this year. These plans usually involve immense home improvement projects (“I can have that roof off and another floor roughed-out in three days, why not?”), immense self-improvement projects (“I will go 36 hours without taking a drink. . .starting right after this bottle.”), and serious writing goals (“Three days. 90,000 words. Pulitzer Prize. Easy peasy.”). Naturally, none of these things actually happen. I eat like a pig, am continuously drunk for three days, and the house is almost burned down six or seven times. Itdoes, however, serve as a reminder of what my life would be like if I didn’t have The Duchess and/or a job. It’s sobering, let me tell you. Well, not literally. You get the idea.

The other thing I always swear I’ll do is read more.

I don’t read books very quickly any more, and I am amazed sometimes at the rate others consume books. When I was a kid, I read a lot faster; I would stay up until 3AM in my room reading, and tear through several books a week, sometimes. I could barely acquire enough books to keep myself stocked. But as I’ve aged, I’ve slowed down, for a lot of reasons. One, I read several books simultaneously, mainly because I am forgetful and am always leaving books around and forgetting where they are, and then I never have a book on hand when I want one (say, in the bathroom). The subset of this is that I’m lazy, and if I am on the first floor of the house when I want to read a book and I have left my book on the second floor, I will not go get it. I will read cereal boxes instead. No, really.

Two, I actually get paid to do other activities and that eats into my reading time. Between working and writing and cleaning up after my shedding, vomiting, pooping, all-singing, all-dancing cats, there’s very little time for me to just sit with someone else’s thoughts for a while.

Finally, I have the attention span of a gnat. This didn’t used to be true. I used to be able to stare at walls for hours, thinking, but that was before The Internet. Now I have a hummingbird’s brain: Tiny and flitting from thought to thought. I start reading something, and before I know it something in the book about Day Laborers has set me off on a chain of tangents ending with me humming and trying desperately to remember the words to the All in the Family theme song. It’s days, sometimes, before I can safely pick up that particular book again.

I get self-conscious about this because most people you meet in the publishing biz read books at a startling rate – a rate so fast a more cynical man might not believe it possible. Granted, most of thwese folks are being paid, in some way, to read, but it’s still startling. It’s enough to make a man question his own intelligence. Man, if I turn out to be dumber than I’ve always thought, I’m going to be sooo mad.

Still, it occurs to me that in the wise words of Gary Coleman, it takes Diff’rent Strokes to move the world, so I shouldn’t be ashamed of my slow reading. I’m a Slow Reader, and I’m proud! Or, if not proud, I am at least no longer ashamed. Or as ashamed.

Filthy Lucre

Per the deliriously entertaining IO9.com, author Lynn Viehl has posted one of her royalty statements on the web for all to see. This is balls, if you ask me. This is America, for god’s sake, and what we earn at our vocations or avocations is sacred privacy, because that way the secret lizard aliens who secretly run the world can keep us down through collusion. Doubt me? Then you’ve been hit by the lizards’ brainwash ray.

Author earnings are strangely fascinating to folks. I think this is partly because authors have been traditionally portrayed in media as rich people who tap a keyboard for a few hours a day – usually in remote, luxurious locations – and all have bestsellers. Look at Castle for a current example of this trope. The other part of it, of course, is the wish-fulfillment of aspiring writers; believe me, when I was a kid pounding out 90-page rewrites of The Lord of the Rings, I wished fervently to believe that authors had status and riches. Sadly, we do not. Or at least I have not – I wonder if I need to sue somebody.

One thing to keep in mind about this stunt, of course, is that Lynn Viehl has more than one book out for sale, and unless her books literally vanish from the face of the earth she’s probably got a royalty stream from some of them in addition to this one book she’s posted about. Another thing to ponder is that she did get a sizeable advance (though of course in real-life terms, that got nibbled down, as she says, to near poverty-levels if that was your only income that year). Even assuming that the earnings drop considerably after the first year, put together she’s making more than this one statement shows. That’s part of the gig, too. If you publish one book and then decide to go all Salinger, you better hope that one book is a classic, bubba.

And no, I won’t be posting my own statements. One reason is, I don’t want you to know about all those paranormal-romance-selkie novels I wrote under pseudonym. Part of it is that I don’t see the upside. And the final part is, this way I get to keep pretending to be a millionaire playboy author who writes his novels during the 22-hour flight between here and my secret island kingdom.

Be Seeing You

I’m a huge fan of the 1967 TV showThe Prisoner, created, mostly written by, and starring Patrick McGoohan. In fact, The Prisoner remains the one and only fanfic I ever wrote, a novella penned in 1991 called Return of the King and no you cannot see it (although I was pretty proud of it at the time – and, to be honest, I posted it to alt.fan.prisoner back in The Day so you can probably locate it on teh Googler, though I used a pen name). Ah, the vagaries of youth!

Anyway: I was interested in the reboot/re-imagining/whatever on AMC, so I tuned in to the first episode. Sadly, I did not finish the first episode. Some folks seem to be enjoying this show, and that’s fine. For me it wasn’t so much that the show is terrible, it’s more that it’s boring as hell – or at least was for the first 30 minutes, and how much longer am I expected to give a show? None much longer, that’s what.

Still, plenty of television shows disappoint or don’t connect. What grates on me about AMC’s The Prisoner is the fact that they changed it so fundamentally and completely from the original I wonder why they didn’t just rebrand it and create a new show. Was it the name-recognition of the original? I dunno; while band geeks like me (and you, probably) are aware of the original and possibly still like using the phrase “Be Seeing You!” in cheerily ironic situations, I don’t think Prisoner-mania has swept the nation in the last 20 years. Probably it was somebody’s pet idea, to update the charming old cold-war concept, and that‘s fine too, but in that case they really should have pulled back a little. There’s almost zero 1967-era Prisoner in 2009-era Prisoner, aside from some cheeky visual and vocal references. They should have called it something else and tagged a “inspired-by” line on it, because aside from the most general description of the show – man wakes up in a mysterious Village after resigning his position, weirdness ensues – it’s completely different. Why bother?

On a possibly-loopy side note, I gave up on the first episode when Six looks up in the sky and sees a faint outline shimmering in what looked very much like the shape of the Twin Towers. I thought to myself, myself, he’s been pegged as from New York City – if this turns out to be everyone who was in the Towers when they fell living in purgatory or something, each numbered as a victim, I will set my own house on fire in rage.

I haven’t watched the rest of the episodes, so I don’t know if I’m anywhere near on that instinctive prediction, but the very thought of it was enough for me to change the channel. I think I watched House Hunters instead. Real Estate porn, activate!

Suds

I watched the season finale of Mad Men the other night, and really enjoyed it. While I don’t think Mad Men has done anything particularly new or groundbreaking, fiction-wise, it’s done everything – or almost everything – well. Which is really all it takes to be a classic piece of storytelling. However, over the course of three seasons I have put my finger on what I think Mad Men‘s weakness is: Frankly, it’s the plot. Some of the storylines are interesting, gripping, and laugh-out-loud funny. Some are dull, plodding, and hamfisted in their symbolism. I’ve realized that the division between these two sets of storylines is pretty obviously the office plots set in the Sterling Cooper offices and involving its employees (good), and the soapy storylines involving Don Draper’s home life (or anybody’s home life) (bad). Put simply, when Mad Men is in the Sterling Cooper offices and people are plotting against each other, or bickering, or trying to come up with a great pitch, I’m enthralled, and the characterizations and the things we know about the characters inform and improve the storylines. When we’re home listening to the loathsome Betty Draper (loathsome on purpose, and wonderfully written as a character, but loathsome nonetheless), I start thinking about mixing a fresh drink and checking my email.

Now, this is just part of the cost of doing business with a show like Mad Men. It is, at its heart, a soap, and part of the drama is supposed to be Don’s home life. However, something’s starting to happen in science fiction and fantasy television (and maybe in other mediums): The SF/F shows are starting to take on this model as well. You have the interesting, good stuff (SF/F), and then you have the soapy stuff that plods along. In shows involving aliens, spaceships, magic, flash forwards, mysterious islands, death rays, elves – whatever, we suddenly have all sorts of subplots about infidelity, unrequited love, terminal illnesses and every other soapy mainstays. SF/F shows used to be about action, about fantastic concepts, with a minimal amount of soapy stuff, but the balance has been inverted.

Consider Star Trek: The Original Series. You didn’t have scene of Kirk arguing with his girlfriend, or Chekov grousing about how his career is stalled. This was because they were too busy fighting aliens in desert arenas, firing phasers, and discovering that once again their forward shields wouldn’t hold. In today’s market, they’d have to make Kirk married or at least get him involved by season three.

I understand the impetous behind this: SF/F is spreading beyond its traditional confines. It’s getting a general audience, and general audiences like a nice soupy mix of storylines. These are the folks who really liked the “sexual chemistry” of Moulder and Scully on The X Files, and wanted more of that. The creators of these shows think the audience needs a mundane handle to grab onto. So, okay, you have the survivors of flight 815 getting deeper and deeper into a Weirdness Cavern, and maybe some viewers are worried about how weird its getting, but then you have a nice solid love triangle like Mom used to make, and if nothing else you can hold onto that.

Cynical? Maybe. I can’t help but wonder if something like FlashForward wouldn’t be better if they stopped worrying about who’s going to get married and who’s going to start drinking again and started worrying about why in hell everyone passed out for two minutes and saw a vision of the future. Just a thought.

But as SF/F keeps spreading, keeps building mindshare and keeps seeping into the mainstream I think this is going to get worse, until eventually SF concepts will simply be settings for soap operas. This will be right around the time they roll out Star Trek: Academy on ABC, where every episode will involve romances, betrayals, and hidden pasts, and every sweeps week mysterious aliens will invade and the Federation Academy kids will have to fight them off using wormholes or something. And then back to who’s boinking who.

Screw it, I’m going to mix myself a fresh drink.