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July 17, 2008
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This site is updated Thursday afternoon with a new article about an artistic pursuit generally considered to be beneath consideration. James Schellenberg probes science-fiction, Carol Borden draws out the best in comics, Chris Szego dallies with romance and Ian Driscoll stares deeply into the screen. Click here for their bios and individual takes on the gutter. Our Guest Stars shine here

While the writers have considerable enthusiasm for their subjects, they don't let it numb their critical faculties. Tossing away the shield of journalistic objectivity and refusing the shovel of fannish boosterism, they write in the hopes of starting honest and intelligent discussions about these oft-enjoyed but rarely examined artforms. Contact us here.


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There’s a girl sitting on the subway. She’s 16 or so, in a brown corduroy jacket and a pair of faded sneakers, her feet propped on the seat across from her. She’s absently brushing on lipstick, absorbed by Bryan Lee O’Malley’s graphic novel Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life: Volume 1.

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The New Frankenstein

by James Schellenberg
frankenstein-small.jpg
Frankenstein was probably scary at one point, but the whole story has been worn down by repetition, robbed of its power and relegated to status as not much more than a pop culture gag. What would it take to resuscitate the cautionary note in the tale of a scientist? After looking at Scott Bakker's terrifying new book Neuropath, I would say: a few hints of what modern science is taking away from us.

In Mary Shelley's original conception, Frankenstein the scientist's worst sin was trying to take on godlike powers while remaining as human and frail as the rest of us. Nearly 200 years ago, that was a fairly prescient take on the kind of powers that science would take for itself. The story of the book has become a cliche though.

Another famous cautionary tale is Orwell's 1984, probably the fictional take that is closest to life in our modern surveillance society (maybe less so for us in Canada than in the States? is that another example of wishful thinking?). While 1984 feels like it cuts too close to the bone, it's more of an intellectual thing than a visceral jolt.

What if the next advance of science - rather than reanimating corpses or supporting a matrix of control - is an attack on our very notion of self?

That brings me around to Scott Bakker's Neuropath, a book which focuses on the implications of recent research about the human brain. Strangely enough, we're at the point in our research in this area that new developments essentially add up to a horror story. Every cherished delusion is stripped away. Throw into this mix a serial killer who wants to teach society a lesson about living in the Great Illusion, and Neuropath is one hell of a depressing book.

frankenstein-big.jpgTo briefly explain: the main character of Neuropath, Thomas, is a professor whose colleague, Neil, worked for the American government in a black ops capacity then went rogue. Neil seems determined to prove that human consciousness is an illusion, a Great Illusion, and that manipulating the brain (with the tools supplied to him by the NSA) can trick the so-called "mind" into believing just about anything. For example, Neil kidnaps a porn star, removes the top of her skull, inserts various wires into her brain matter, then stimulates her pleasure centres (all of this broadcast to the FBI of course). Then he switches her pleasure and pain circuits, gives her a piece of broken glass, and watches her "pleasure" herself... while the camera is still rolling. Other victims do other unspeakable things, but when the specific signals are activated, they have no choice. What does that say about about personal choice or free will? Not much flattering, that's for sure.

So, sure, this is chilling stuff, along the lines of Dexter but with a very pointed message of showing how science can potentially tear down our sense of self. All that said, I'm not sure what to do with this material. If you know that, for example, your love for your children is biologically programmed in by years of evolution, that it's not love in some platonic sense but the workings of a meat machine, easily turned on or off by a burst of electricity to a deep segment of the brain, what does that mean? Does it change anything? Should it?If knowing the "truth" about human behaviour leads to despair, how do you still get up in the morning?

Strangely enough, I was just thinking about this: what's the appropriate response by someone in a creative field to a pressing issue? More fiction of an escapist nature? That doesn't make much sense. I've mentioned 1984, but at least Orwell's cautionary tale was springing from a considerable collection of non-fiction writing and personal activism. As another modern example: is writing a book about climate change a good response? Science fiction fans sometimes like to pretend that they are preparing themselves for the future by reading their fetishistic little ditties about exploding spaceships and robot babes, which seems like a ghastly charade to me. Likewise Wall-E. In that particular movie, the evil Buy N Large corporation has turned Planet Earth into a giant landfill. Wall-E is of course produced by Pixar and Disney, and the merchandise spigots don't turn off there either. Bakker mentions in his afterword that we should prepare ourselves for the way that science will strip away our sense of free will and consciousness. Sure, sure, but is that even possible? (This review makes the case that Bakker's point is pretty much impossible in fiction anyways.)

Neuropath is a bit of a departure for Bakker. I previously reviewed the conclusion of his Prince of Nothing fantasy series here on the Gutter. It seems to me that authors stick closer to one type of story than they used to - or if anything, switch from science fiction to fantasy, or from any of the above to young adult. Bakker goes in the opposite direction, from epic fantasy to science fiction thriller, with a chilling, disturbing work. Neuropath gets a lot of comparisons to Peter Watts' Blindsight: that's fairly apt as far as I can tell, and as I've said about Peter Watts in my review of Blindsight, I'm glad that someone has written this kind of a pure story, with no concessions for the audience. That's not to say a book like this one has becomes my personal favourite!

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the book you mention, neuropath, reminds me of exploitation films and the very serious narrative frames they have. you know, the creators ostensibly aren't creating anything titillating, but just educating and warning the public who need to know what science is taking from us. and the audience is there not out of titillation, but out of an assumed and unquestionable sense of duty. but, still, we end up watching or reading about a woman "pleasuring" herself with broken glass.

and who can blame us-- or the author-- if we're just "meat machines?"

—Carol Borden

I'm seeing an Eli Roth directed film adaptation...

mirajebomba

Weirdly, I didn't see the exploitation angle while I was reading it. The cover of "science" is pretty strong all the way along. I wonder if there is any way to tell this story at all?

—James Schellenberg


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Weirdly, I didn't see the exploitation angle while I was reading it. The cover of "science" is pretty strong all the way along. I wonder if there is any way to tell this story at all?

—James Schellenberg

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Of Note Elsewhere
Wicked posters for Raleigh, North Carolina's Cinema Overdrive film series.
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Here are some pictures of the ladies reading comics for Read Comics in Public Day. As Gail Simone writes, "Take note everybody in comics!"  (For the record, Carol read Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service 5 on a sidewalk bench, but there's no photo).
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48 vs. 61 in Rintaro and Katsushiro Otomo's excellent bicycle racing short where the racers look kinda like Rintaro and Otomo. Also, damn fine music and possible steampunkery.
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Klingon opera has finally happened. Get an earful at Cinematical. (The musical part begins at about 2:15).
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Makiko Itoh has translated Satoshi Kon's farewell.
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