Yestermorrow: Obvious Answers to Impossible Futures
Ray Bradbury
Science fiction has always been, at its heart, a thinking person's genre, basically by definition, and it is no surprise that one of its most prominent authors, Ray Bradbury, has penned a number of thoughtful essays throughout his working life. What is most astonishing about Yestermorrow is its longevity; though published in 1991 with essays dating all the way back to 1953, many of Bradbury's thoughts seem relevant all the way into 2012, truly a remarkable feat given their focus on human interactions and, occasionally, technology. While there is the occasional dated complaint about portable cassette players and the nod to the possibilities of the VHS format, the most important aspect of these references is not, in fact, the technology, but rather the capabilities that live on in thoroughly modern iPods and movie streaming services. This makes these essays, written by a more than capable writer and thorough thinker, seem fresh even two decades after they were written. Likewise, pieces on the accomplishments of Walt Disney and his army of magical Imagineers are a pleasant tribute, if a bit self-congratulatory, to the importance of science fictional forward thinking. With their mixture of memoir and extrapolation, these and a small series about the author's relationship with Renaissance scholar Bernard Berenson are pleasant glimpses into the life of one of 20th century literature's most important contributors. Much of the collection, however, wanders into the nearly absurd, and there are far too many essays that focus too closely on the same theme, making much of the collection inexcusably tedious. While Bradbury's complaint that modern America, and particularly Los Angeles, has turned into a strip-mall landscape of car-powered isolation is certainly timely and poignant, he can only design so many plaza-based solutions before the reader will grow irksome. The first essay on this theme is thought-provoking, but the repetitions grow so entirely stale that the whole point of the exercise is lost in the end. These, sadly, comprise the group's backbone, and as a whole the collection seems to muddle about without any real purpose. Its jewels, such as they are, are not particularly world-shattering and pass quickly enough, and the problem with Yestermorrow is not its writing, or age, but rather its repetitious forays into self-importance; a few gems are waiting, but may not be worth the tedium.
Grade: B
Ray Bradbury
Science fiction has always been, at its heart, a thinking person's genre, basically by definition, and it is no surprise that one of its most prominent authors, Ray Bradbury, has penned a number of thoughtful essays throughout his working life. What is most astonishing about Yestermorrow is its longevity; though published in 1991 with essays dating all the way back to 1953, many of Bradbury's thoughts seem relevant all the way into 2012, truly a remarkable feat given their focus on human interactions and, occasionally, technology. While there is the occasional dated complaint about portable cassette players and the nod to the possibilities of the VHS format, the most important aspect of these references is not, in fact, the technology, but rather the capabilities that live on in thoroughly modern iPods and movie streaming services. This makes these essays, written by a more than capable writer and thorough thinker, seem fresh even two decades after they were written. Likewise, pieces on the accomplishments of Walt Disney and his army of magical Imagineers are a pleasant tribute, if a bit self-congratulatory, to the importance of science fictional forward thinking. With their mixture of memoir and extrapolation, these and a small series about the author's relationship with Renaissance scholar Bernard Berenson are pleasant glimpses into the life of one of 20th century literature's most important contributors. Much of the collection, however, wanders into the nearly absurd, and there are far too many essays that focus too closely on the same theme, making much of the collection inexcusably tedious. While Bradbury's complaint that modern America, and particularly Los Angeles, has turned into a strip-mall landscape of car-powered isolation is certainly timely and poignant, he can only design so many plaza-based solutions before the reader will grow irksome. The first essay on this theme is thought-provoking, but the repetitions grow so entirely stale that the whole point of the exercise is lost in the end. These, sadly, comprise the group's backbone, and as a whole the collection seems to muddle about without any real purpose. Its jewels, such as they are, are not particularly world-shattering and pass quickly enough, and the problem with Yestermorrow is not its writing, or age, but rather its repetitious forays into self-importance; a few gems are waiting, but may not be worth the tedium.
Grade: B
No comments:
Post a Comment