Richard XXX

Now is the summer of our discontent
Made inglorious winter by this climate change
And all the clouds that poured upon our houses
Endless rain and thunder's wrath. 
 

Earl vs. New York 2140

Despite my wavering ambivalence of Kim Stanley Robinson's work, I continue to read his books.

I purchased New York 2140 from the West Edmonton Mall Chapters in 2017. As with many of Robinson's books, I found my greatest enjoyment in his worldbuilding and theme while struggling to work my way through his baffling characterization and prose. (I will say that this time around some of his characters come close to resembling human beings.) But at last, after nine and a half years, I have finished the book. 

In Robinson's imagined future, the sea level in the vicinity of New York has risen some 50 feet. Its residents have adapted by creating a Venice-like existence, Manhattan's streets now waterways. 

Strangely, aside from the comeback of airships--for travel, shipping, and anchoring floating communities in midair--there's very little mention of technological change in this novel, such as details on adaptive mechanisms for the higher sea levels, resilience measures, computers, transportation, what's going on with space exploration, health care, and so on. Aside from the airships and the sea level change, this book feels like it could have taken place in 1988. 

Robinson's central concern here is economics. The novel is a critique of unfettered capitalism and the harm its done to the world and its people. And by the time we reach the end of this 600 page novel, there's a peaceful revolution wherein the people of the United States and elsewhere in the world force the trillionaires to pay their fair share of society's burdens. 

(So this is a science fiction novel, after all, ha-ha, as Robinson might write.)

There are two action scenes--a midair floating city rescue, and a whopper of a hurricane that precipitates the revolution near the novel's end. Robinson somehow manages to make both of these scenes boring. 

This isn't to say that I don't appreciate the novel. I think its message is important, and the solution the characters find at the novel's climax something we might apply to our current situation. Indeed. I think if I'd read this back before Trump, its impact would have been somewhat lessened. As history has played out in recent years, I find myself thinking that Robinson's prescription might be needed about 120 years earlier than predicted. 
 

Whitemud Flood

Pete, Jeff, Mike, and I enjoyed a hard-fought but ultimate futile battle against the forces of evil in a rousing game of Dark Tower Returns. 

I chose my route home poorly, for tonight's storm flooded the Whitemud, adding an extra 45 minutes to my drive home from Mike's place. 
 

Cranberry Portage Evacuated

Cranberry Portage has been evacuated as a wildfire closes in on the tiny community. My paternal grandmother and her partner Val lived in Cranberry Portage for as long as I knew them; it lies just a few kilometers south of Flin Flon, my birthplace. 

Cranberry Portage is barely a blip on the highway, home to just a handful of businesses and some dozens of homes; it's a peaceful, quiet, lovely corner of northern Manitoba. I hope it survives this latest crisis. 

Grandma and Val's house in 2006, demolished after their deaths a few years back. Warm memories. 

Command Z

Here's a neat idea: Steven Soderbergh has released Command Z, a series of interconnected shorts about time travelling to fight climate change. To watch, you pay 8 bucks, all of which goes to support Children's Aid and the Boston University Center for Antiracist Research. 

I've just finished the series, and while it's not peak Soderbergh, its heart is in the right place and there are some good laughs and thoughtful commentary on our present catastrophe. Plus, giving 8 bucks to charity to see what amounts to a feature-length film is a way better deal than most moviegoing opportunities. Three out of five stars, with a bonus half-star for trying to change the world for the better.

Generation X-tinction

Last night Sylvia was out visiting Norma, so I puttered around watering the plants and trying not to choke on the wildfire smoke. This photo doesn't really do justice to the terrible air quality.
 

This one comes closer, though. My frame of mind is pretty pessimistic these days, what with <gestures at everything>. As I was shooting some photos of the apocalyptic sky, I thought about my own privilege, and how Generation X seems to be the last generation to have had a shot at living prosperously--that is, a lot of us own our own homes, we have well-paying jobs, and (perhaps) a chance at a decent retirement. Aside from a very lucky few, the Millennials, Gen Z, and those following have the cards stacked against them in terms of career opportunities, relatively stable government, general affordability, and so on. 

The post-war boom of the mid-20th century gave us the illusion and the expectation that generation after generation would enjoy more prosperity than the one preceding it. That notion has fallen apart, thanks to a tiny minority of psychopathic billionaires and their political enablers working together to hoard the planet's wealth while destroying the biosphere in the process. 

And in the midst of all this, polls still suggest that this month's provincial election is still a 50-50 race between Rachel Notley's NDP and Danielle Smith's UCP, who are hell-bent on privatizing our public institutions and reviving the coal industry even in the midst of wildfires burning down communities and poisoning our air.

What a world we've made for ourselves. 

The Square of Zero

Just in time for COP27, here's one of the images Stable Diffusion created when I prompted it with "Times Square flooded by climate change." 
 

How Would You Replay Your Life?

Replay, Ken Grimwood's 1986 novel, keeps crossing my mind even a couple of decades after I first read it in the early 2000s. The premise is simple but utterly fascinating in its possibilities and limitations: Journalist Jeff Winston dies of a heart attack at age 42 in 1988, but awakens with all his memories back in his 18-year-old body while starting university in 1963. He lives his life with the tremendous advantage of his experiences and knowledge of the next 25 years to come, but no matter what, he dies at age 42 and starts the cycle all over again, with each "replay" growing slightly shorter. 

Winston occupies his replays in various ways. He finds a different love, he gets rich, he goes public with his knowledge of the future and winds up in the custody of the US government, all the while trying to understand why he's in this predicament and what it all means. 

A Replay with a Difference
I think anyone who reads this book has wondered what they would do in Jeff's situation. I've played out the scenario several different ways, but lately my hypothetical goal has changed, as have my parameters for my replay cycle. 

Imagine if whatever force of nature or diving being was behind the replays wasn't getting what it desired out of the cycles. Perhaps it was missing something fundamental. So he/she/it decides, or evolves, a different replay methodology. 

After my first death, I get a choice. Instinctively, I know that I'm going to be reborn in my own body at a younger age, but I have a fraction of time to choose the exact date. 


I choose April 5, 1976, the day after my brother Sean is born. I choose this death for two reasons: First, because my knowledge of the future and my inability to remember precisely what I was doing when I was seven years old mean that I might do or say something before my brother's birth that might affect his conception, delaying it or advancing it by the few crucial hours or days that would mean I'd likely wind up with an entirely different younger sibling. Second, because in a sudden explosion of near-death hubris, I decide I want to use my replay to save the world from climate change - and having the knowledge and experience of a, say, 60- to 80-year old man housed in the body of a seven year old would be startling enough to attract the attention of adults with enough influence to potentially do something about my warnings of future catastrophe. 

In this scenario, the later I die the first time, the better, because I can describe the worst effects of climate change to the people of the 1970s. But even if I died now (um, please no), I think I still have enough knowledge to convince the powers-that-be that the time to act is their "now." 

Strategy: Minimize Harm to My Circles, Maximize Chances to Halt Climate Change
My first concern would be to avoid traumatizing my parents, my new little brother, my friends and teachers at school, and my extended family, at least to the extent possible. I'm not a good enough actor to play myself at seven years old, but I might be able hide the sudden disappearance of the child that I was by growing even more introverted and thoughtful than I was. 

I'd do my best to act like the kid I remembered being in Leaf Rapids: I'd toboggan in the winter, play with action figures, read voraciously, play cops and robbers, watch Star Trek on CBC, one of two English television channels we had up there. But I'd also be spending (even more) time at the library. And I'd be writing letters. 

The First Outreach
First, I'd try Dr. Carl Sagan. Going strictly my memory, I believe that in 1976 he'd probably be working on either the Viking (or was it Mariner?) Mars lander and the Voyager 1 and 2 probes. My first letter might go something like this: 

"Dear Dr. Sagan, 

"My name is Earl J. Woods. I'm a great admirer of your work and your writing. As a scientist, you know that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. I have an extraordinary story to tell you, and I'm hoping we can talk about it. But first, I have to provide you with some extraordinary evidence, evidence that might take some months or years to come to light. 

"Sometime in 1980, you will write and star in a television series called Cosmos, based on your book of the same name. The show will air on PBS, and in it you'll tie human history and civilization to astronomy, astrophysics, and the great forces of nature that shape our evolution and possibly our destiny. The show will feature music by Vangelis; the first episode will be named "Heaven and Hell," which is also the name of one of the pieces of music by Vangelis composed for the show. The show will be hailed as a major work of education, and you'll become famous for your intonation of "billions and billions." (I don't remember if you actually said/will say this in the show, but it becomes an enduring meme.) 

"Voyager 1 and 2 will not only meet but greatly exceed their mission parameters. Or was it the Pioneer probes you worked/will work on? I don't remember the specifics, but rest assured Pioneer was also a great success.

"In the election of 1980, Ronald Reagan will defeat Jimmy Carter. The Iran Hostage Crisis will end shortly before or after Reagan's inauguration. There will be an assassination attempt on Reagan in 1980 or 1981; the would-be assassin will be John Hinkley, who had an unhealthy obsession with Jodie Foster, the young actress from Martin Scorsese's film Taxi Driver.

"Star Wars by George Lucas will be the highest-grossing film of all time in the summer of 1977, though Gone with the Wind will remain the true champion when adjusted for inflation.

"Director Alfred Hitchcock will die in 1980.

"A few years after writing Cosmos, you'll write Comet with your partner Ann Druyan.

"In 1983, the Soviets will shoot down Korean Airlines Flight 007 over, I believe, the Kamchatka peninsula. This action will precipitate a massive diplomatic crisis and is seen as one of the most dangerous events of the Cold War." 

"Conservative Joe Clark will become Prime Minister of Canada for a few months in 1979-1980, leading a minority government. His government will lose a vote of confidence and Pierre Trudeau will return from 'a walk in the snow' and lead the Liberals back to power in 1980.

"Dr. Sagan, by now you will think that I'm some kind of madman, or perhaps a stalker who's somehow discovered things you thought private, like your future plans. I'm hoping that my writing this letter will not cause the events I remember to unfold differently. My only hope of your belief is that at least a few of the events I've predicted come true.

"I'm writing to you because I want to share some very important future events with you. I believe you're one of a small percentage of people in the world who understand the existential threats our civilization faces. Currently I believe you're most concerned about nuclear weapons. Take some solace in knowing that in my experience, they have never been used as weapons of war since 1945. 

"The threat humanity faces is global warming caused by burning of fossil fuels. By 2022, scientists expect that the world could warm up by another 2.5 degrees Celsius or even higher by the year 2050. In my future, the impacts of climate change are already being felt in the form of more intense and more frequent natural disasters such as wildfires, hurricanes, flooding, drought, and so on. The world's glaciers are rapidly melting, and government and industry have failed to take the actions necessary to prevent the worst from happening.

"I am not a scientist. I'm just a reasonably well-read layman. If I can prove my knowledge of future events to you and other influential people, there's a chance that my warnings about climate change could cause human beings to act more decisively and far earlier than they have in my time, which by now you'll have surmised is the early 21st century. 

"If and when you meet me, you'll probably be shocked by my appearance. But that's a problem for another time. For now, I can only hope that you'll be curious enough to reach out and perhaps conduct some scientific tests to determine if I'm telling the truth or if I'm just another crafty faker.

"I'll continue to try and remember events of the late 1970s before they happen in an effort to convince you faster. I'll write more letters as I gather my thoughts; this experience is still very new to me, and very difficult to navigate. 

"I've enclosed my phone number and mailing address just in case you threw away the envelope. How I wish I had e-mail or a cell phone to text you, but those things won't be invented for decades. Would you believe there's more computing power in my phone than there is in your most sophisticated equipment of today - probably by a factor of thousands? I'll tell you about it sometime. 

"I hope to hear from you. Thank you for showing how science is a candle in the dark. You were and are an inspiration. 

"Regards, 

Earl J. Woods" 

Backup Plans
If Sagan failed to respond, I'd probably start writing similar letters to science fiction writers and the campaigns of national US and Canadian politicians. George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry might be good bets; I know enough about the production history of their creative efforts to boggle them. They don't have the benefit of 50 years of behind-the-scenes books and documentaries. 

Securing My Own Future
Somehow, I'd convince our family doctor to check my parents regularly for specific health issues I know they'll develop later in life. I'll be nicer to my brother and more forgiving and less clueless with people my age. I'd be tempted to direct my parents to invest a little money in sure stock hits, but boy, would I be wary lest I create enough of a butterfly effect to change the course of the future and make my predictions less and less accurate and therefore less convincing to the people in charge. 

I'd certainly avoid getting addicted to Coke, and I'd work harder in university. I'd pursue writing jobs more aggressively and start that career earlier, given my decades of subjective experience. I'd stay in shape; keeping weight off is a heck of a lot easier if you don't get fat in the first place. 

Success or Failure?
Even if my warnings were heeded, would industry and governments take action that was bold enough and early enough to save civilization? I have no idea now, and I'd have no idea as I aged from seven up. I might get an inkling by the 2020s; if things aren't as bad in that decade the second or third or fourth time around, I'd know my strategy was paying off. Maybe, as in the book, I'd survive my destined death once civilization was safe, and maybe I'd get enough extra years of life to enjoy the fruits of my efforts. 

It's a nice fantasy. How terrible that I need it. 

Hopes and Dreams for 2022

Number one, I hope we can arrange a really nice birthday celebration for Mom's 80th this summer. Number two, which, of course, has a large impact on number one, I hope we bring the COVID-19 pandemic under control. Number three, I'd love to hear some more good news in general, some hope that civilization can still save itself. 

Go big or go home, right? 

Books I Read in 2021

In 2021 I read 58 books, a personal all-time low. As you'll see from the list below, I didn't attempt to tackle anything particularly challenging. The stress of 21st-century existence leaves me with diminished capacity; escaping into film taxes me far less than slipping into a book these days, a truth that profoundly saddens me, but one I can no longer deny. Silver lining: for the first time, I read as many books by women as by men. 

In 2021 I sought out escapist fare, often re-reading old favourites that took me back to comfortable alternate realities and in some sense to a more vital past self. Somewhere between a quarter and a third of the books I read are non-fiction, mainly covering topics in popular culture. 

A couple of novels stand out. Severance, by Ling Ma, uncannily anticipates the COVID-19 catastrophe and, like the real disaster, reveals the silliness and futility of the ways we live and work in the modern world, how the systems we've built serve only a select few. Come Closer, by Sara Gran, is one of the scariest novels I've ever read, and one of the most heartbreaking. It's the internal monologue of a woman who is either going insane or is genuinely being slowly and methodically possessed by a demon, and Gran's touch is so deft and sure that the moments of terror come out of nowhere, seeming to slip between the sentences so that by the time you realize what's happening to you and the protagonist, it's too late to brace yourself for the abyss. 

Martha Wells continues to impress with her Murderbot diaries, and I'm still enjoying my journeys through the works of Jo Walton. I indulged in a couple of near-legendary works of dreadful fan fiction: Jim Theis' The Eye of Argon and Tara Gilesbie's My Immortal. Anyone who enjoys art gone wrong will love these. 

Thanks to Leslie, I learned that I'd fallen behind on Lois McMaster Bujold's Penric series. Catching up was like going on a short trip with an old friend, carefree and pleasant. Bujold remains a favourite, and I hope she keeps writing for a long time. 

Finally, I was delighted to discover that Ulrich Haarburste released his cycle of Roy Orbison in clingfilm stories, expanded to novel length. If you don't feel like buying the book, sample some of the stories. 

Here's the list of what I read this year: 

January: 10
Or What You Will (Jo Walton, 2020) 
Star Trek Adventures Quickstart Guide (Modiphius, 2017) 
Axiom’s End (Lindsay Ellis, 2020) 
The Vanished Seas (Catherine Asaro, 2020)
Lightning Strike, Book One (Catherine Asaro, 2014) 
Lightning Strike, Book Two (Catherine Asaro, 2020) 
Carrie (Stephen King, 1974) 
Way Station (Clifford D. Simak, 1963) 
The Wounded Sky (Diane Duane, 1983) 
My Enemy, My Ally (Diane Duane, 1984) 

February: 7
The Lightest Object in the Universe (Kimi Eisele, 2019) 
DC Comics Covers (Nick Jones, 2020) 
DC Comics Supervillains: The Complete Visual History (Daniel Wallace, 2014) 
Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian (Phil Szostak, 2020) 
The Big Lie (Julie Mayhew, 2015) 
Passage (Connie Willis, 2001) 
The Romulan Way (Diane Duane and Peter Morwood, 1987) 

March: 6
The Eye of Argon (Jim Theis, 1970) 
My Immortal (Tara Gilesbie, 2006) 
Later (Stephen King, 2021) 
Star Wars Complete Vehicles New Edition (Kerrie Dougherty, 2020) 
To Lose the Earth (Kristen Beyer, 2020) 
Severance (Ling Ma, 2018) 

April: 3
The World of Cyberpunk 2077 (Marcin Batylda, 2020) 
Classics Illustrated: A Cultural History, with Illustrations (William B. Jones Jr., 2001) 
Seduction of the Innocent: The Influence of Comic Books on Today’s Youth (Fredric Wertham, 1954)
 
May: 3
The Ten Thousand Doors of January (Alix E. Harrow, 2019)
Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory (Martha Wells, 2020) 
Fugitive Telemetry (Martha Wells, 2021) 

June: 2
Ulrich Haarburste’s Novel of Roy Orbison in Clingfilm: Plus additional stories (Ulrich Haarburste, 2019) 
Forbidden Knowledge: 101 Things No One Should Know How to Do (Owen Brooks, 2019) 

July: 3
Critical Failures (Robert Bevan, 2012) 
Living Memory (Christopher L. Bennett, 2021) 
Come Closer (Sara Gran, 2003) 

August: 5
The Physicians of Vilnoc (Lois McMaster Bujold, 2020) 
Masquerade in Lodi (Lois McMaster Bujold, 2020)
The Assassins of Thasalon (Lois McMaster Bujold, 2021)
Billy Summers (Stephen King, 2021) 
The Princess Saves Herself in This One (Amanda Lovelace, 2016)

September: 2
Then Everything Changed (Jeff Greenfield, 2011) 
The Stand (Stephen King, 1980) 

October: 2
Available Light (Dayton Ward, 2019) 
Knot of Shadows (Lois McMaster Bujold, 2021) 

November: 7
The Apollo Murders (Chris Hadfield, 2021)
Visiting Friends: Or, What I Did on My Summer Vacation (Jo Walton, 2021) 
Project Hail Mary (Andy Weir, 2021)
2034 (Elliot Ackerman and Admiral James Stavridis, 2021) 
Untold Horror (Dave Alexander, 2021) 
The History of Science Fiction: A Graphic Novel Adventure (Xavier Dollo, 2021) 
Forever and a Day (Anthony Horowitz, 2018) 

December: 7
The Steranko History of Comics, Volume One (Jim Steranko, 1970) 
The Steranko History of Comics, Volume Two (Jim Steranko, 1972)
All in Color for a Dime (Richard A. Lupoff and Don Thompson, 1970) 
Comix: A History of Comic Books in America ( Les Daniels, 1971) 
The Psychology of Time Travel (Kate Mascarenhas, 2018) 
The Grownup (Gillian Flynn, 2014) 
Hench (Natalie Zina Walschots, 2020) 

Fiction: 42
Nonfiction: 15
Poetry: 1

Genre
Fantasy: 8
Horror: 3
Mainstream: 11
Science Fiction: 14
Star Trek: 6

Top Authors
Lois McMaster Bujold: 4
Stephen King: 4
Catherine Asaro: 3
Diane Duane: 3
Jim Steranko: 2
Jo Walton: 2
Martha Wells: 2

Books by Women: 29
Books by Men: 29

Books by Decade
1950s: 1
1960s: 1
1970s: 6
1980s: 4
2000s: 4
2010s: 16
2020s: 25 

Sweat Gets in Your Eyes

Unhappy Canada Day

The Great Western Canadian Heat Wave of 2021 hit me hard last night, and the effects have lasted all Canada Day. Normally this would not be a big deal, except that I was really looking forward to today because it would have been the first social gathering Sylvia and I have attended since before the COVID-19 pandemic hit; and for that matter, the first time in years that we had decent plans for Canada Day. 

So I guess I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. And now I feel guilty, because hundreds of people in British Columbia are dead thanks to the heat wave, and there are probably more casualties around the world that I haven't heard of yet. 

And it scares me that this could be the new normal.

I'm glad that my friends were able to get together, though, and there will be other gatherings. 

Ugh, my privilege is leaking. 

JULY 4 UPDATE

Turns out my privilege really was leaking because in my heat-addled haze, I hadn't realized that there were calls around the country to cancel or at least tone down Canada Day celebrations to recognize the old wounds of Indigenous peoples in Canada freshly torn open by the discovery of mass graves at several locations across the country. To complain about a missed gathering obviously feels pretty tone deaf in retrospect, and if any Indigenous people ever read this blog, please accept my apologies for my insensitivity. For some great reflections on this topic, please see my friend Steve's blog: Oh . . . Canada. 

Heat Exhaustion vs Heat Stroke

The US National Weather Service created a handy infographic to help people learn the difference in symptoms between heat exhaustion and (much more serious) heat stroke. I know I've experienced heat exhaustion several times in my life, and I'm pretty sure that I've experienced heat stroke at least once, based on this chart. Luckily I survived even without medical treatment, but I'll never count on that kind of dumb luck again. 
 

Heat Wave 2021

Art by KC Green, 2013

Welcome to the coolest summer of the rest of your life. Edmonton is expected to enjoy (to varying degrees, pun intended) temperatures of 30 degrees Celsius and above every day this week, more +30 highs in just a few days than the region has experienced collectively in the last five years. Of course, weather is not climate and even outlier events like these cannot be definitively linked to global warming, but the problem is...when are extreme weather events like this no longer outliers, but the new normal? 

 

Where Is the Epic Put-the-Fear-of-God-into-Them Climate Change Film?

When nuclear holocaust was humanity's greatest fear, a handful of key films explored what effect a nuclear war might have on civilization. Dramatic pictures such as Threads and The Day After and documentaries like If You Love This Planet painted pictures so unbelievably grim that some people my age still shudder with dismay at the memories. It's hard to say how much films like these pressured the world's peoples into making nuclear arms less acceptable and therefore led to the nuclear arms reductions of the 1990s, but there was at the very least some subconscious impact on the public consciousness. 

The movies I mention above were released in the early 1980s, one of the heights of the Cold War, a time when nuclear war seemed to some not only possible, but perhaps inevitable. 

Why then, I wonder, has there not been a single big-budget, mainstream drama about the end of the world due to climate change? I'm not talking about farcical disaster films, but serious dramas that truly capture the existential threat.  

I suspect that one reason is the different natures of the catastrophes. Nuclear war happens suddenly, with worldwide devastation wrought in mere minutes. Climate change is, in human terms, more of a slow-motion crisis. Plus, it's easy to understand the immediate threat of big bombs; the threat of drought, crop failure, sea level rise, and a rising number of extreme weather events feels less like a disaster and more like something that might happen, sometime after I'm dead, in places far away from me. 

I won't be surprised when someone makes this movie, though; a sprawling epic told across decades, from the days in the mid-20th century when the danger was first recognized to the end of days when the world's societal and economic systems can no longer cope with the increasing rate of change and we collapse together into barbarism. 

I hope whoever it is makes it soon, though, because the general public and world's movers and shakers need the emotional gut punch of a Day After or Threads to push us back on track. It may already be too late, of course, but one can hope otherwise. 

One of Those Moments

 Last Thursday I experienced a moment of something close to despair. I stayed up far too late; I didn't come to bed until midnight, even though I had to get up at six to get ready for work. 

When Sylvia asked why I was up, the answer congealed immediately, and I spat it out in surprise: 

"I don't want to go to bed because waking up will bring doomsday another step closer." 

In the moment, I believed it. Generally I'm pretty good at seeing the abundance of good in the world, but the mounting evidence that we won't act quickly enough to prevent civilization from being destroyed by climate change, the world's democracies sleepwalking into fascism, the unsustainable gap between the rich and poor, mass extinctions, political polarization, and the rejection of science and expertise by so many...well, some nights it feels like the bad's catching up, to put one of my favourite Gowan songs in reverse. 

I felt better the next day, and I feel better now, even though nothing has changed. Except I remembered I still believe there's a chance civilization will pull through in the end, and that our better natures will prevail. 

Quick Takes: The Arrival

I avoided seeing The Arrival (David Twohy, 1996)  for literal decades because of its middling reputation, so perhaps it's simply my low expectations that informed my surprisingly positive response to what turned out to be, essentially, a 1950s SF film that was somehow inexplicably made in the 1990s. Sheen is about as believable as he needs to be as an astrophysicist, and the conspiratorial elements are suspenseful enough to maintain audience interest.

It's the terraforming/global warming aspect that gives The Arrival some additional interest, and gives the film extra relevance today. At one point, one of the aliens tells Sheen's character "If you can't take care of your planet, you don't deserve it." Unfortunately, I think this line will take on additional prescience with every passing year.

The Retirement Dream and the Waking Nightmare

Assuming I remain employed for the next 15 years and climate change hasn't quite destroyed civilization yet, I plan to retire at 65. Having now seen most of Canada, here's my short list of retirement possibilities:

Vancouver Island
Prince Edward Island
St. John's (or somewhere on the Avalon peninsula)
Some little hamlet in New Brunswick or Nova Scotia

All of these places offer natural beauty, lovely people, plentiful entertainment and relaxation opportunities, better weather than the Prairies, and proximity to larger cities should the desire for metropolitan experiences ever hit.

In all honesty, though, these feel like fantasies. For some time now I've felt a sense of impending economic doom on a personal level, perhaps because I feel like I've used up all the luck I have to get to where I am now. I've often told people how incredibly fortunate I feel to have enjoyed a comfortable living for the last couple of decades, but during that time I've survived several layoffs and I can't help but feel that eventually my number will come up. Sylvia and I have planned carefully enough that we should be able to avoid homelessness, but the pace of technological change, climate change impacts, and potentially catastrophic political upheaval over the next couple of decades make the future extremely uncertain.

I'm very aware that I live a life of incredible privilege compared to 95 percent of the world, and it feels incredibly selfish to worry about our personal destiny when the fate of billions is at stake.

I wish I had more of Sylvia's confidence that everything will be okay.  But I find it hard to be consistently optimistic.

On the other hand, there's always a chance that the forces of good will triumph over the sociopaths, or that the singularity will come and solve all our problems by means unimagined. Here's hoping...

Film Review: Monte Walsh

I turned 50 this year, it's been a few months since the death of my father, and the news of the world - our relentless march toward a jobless society at the same time collapsing in on itself due to corruption, greed, climate change, fear and ignorance - weighs down on me more with each passing day.

So perhaps tonight was the perfect time to watch Monte Walsh (William A. Fraker, 1970), a movie obsessed with literal death, spiritual death, and the death of a way of life - the world moving on and leaving so many behind.

Monte Walsh, magnificently portrayed by Lee Marvin, is navigating his twilight years, reluctantly learning that the West as he knew it is dying, along with a livelihood he loved. He tries to adjust, but circumstances rob him of any hope of happiness; his world collapses around him, and he rides off to an uncertain fate.

I feel like I'm just a few years away from sharing Monte's fate. Right now, I'm very lucky; I've enjoyed a comfortable life and a rewarding career for some 25 years now, and theoretically I have another 15 years to go before retiring comfortably. My colleagues are brilliant, my manager superb, and I work in a thriving industry.

But 15 years is such a long time. Already, software is automating aspects of my white collar job; it's primitive now, but how long before advances in this kind of technology make communications professionals like me superfluous? Five years? Ten? Can I possibly make it the full 15 to retirement? Or will societal collapse make the point moot?

Marvin, as Monte, never gives up. He keeps his dignity. He remains a sad but inspirational figure by the time the credits roll.

But his world has moved on, nonetheless. 

Apollo 11 Soars

That men in fragile ships crossed the gulf from the Earth to the Moon in an era when computers the size of bedroom closets could do little more than basic math seems astounding today. Apollo 11, the new documentary by Todd Douglas Miller, captures the awe and wonder of that incredible journey, 50 years in the past this summer and still, to my mind, the single greatest human achievement.

Using glorious high definition footage left neglected for years in storage, Miller covers the mission from launch to recovery--not only the ships and the astronauts, but the ground crew, and in some ways most compellingly, the vast audience of ordinary people who came in their multitudes to line the beaches of Florida for launch day. The excitement on these faces is palpable; they know they are witnesses to history, that they are watching a moment that will, if we are fortunate, live on in our collective memory for as long as our species lasts.

Miller thankfully eschews voiceover narration; he lets the images, the astronauts, the ground crew and the rumble of rockets speak for themselves. Music is used sparingly at key moments--the launch, the landing, the return to Earth--with superb effect.

Even though the mission went without a hitch, there are still many moments of high drama, particularly during the landing on the moon, when a countdown clock shows the lunar lander is rapidly running out of fuel and a computer program alarm goes off multiple times in the last seconds before landing. There are a few moments of self-effacing or near-gallows humour here and there--my favourite is probably when Buzz Aldrin reminds himself not to lock the lunar lander door on his way out to the Moon's surface.

Watching Apollo 11 now, especially on a giant IMAX screen that provides some of the scope and scale necessary to give audiences a sense of the magnitude of the story, is necessarily bittersweet. As a human being, I'm proud that hundreds of thousands of people worked together to make possible the exploration of a strange new world, an astonishing feat that proved what human beings are truly capable of. And yet, I struggle to name an accomplishment of the same spirit-lifting grandeur. Perhaps we'll find it if we manage to save our civilization from our own folly in the fight against climate change.

On the other hand, even if our species destroys itself before its time, we can remain proud of those shining days in 1969 when we took our first steps beyond the cradle of Earth and, ever so briefly, explored the universe beyond.