Poe’s influence on world literature is profound and far reaching. He inspired many writers, including H. P. Lovecraft, Stephen King, and Ray Bradbury, and also defined modern horror, science fiction, and crime fiction.
Fans of Robert E. Howard know the timeless appeal of his greatest creation, Conan the Barbarian. As David Smith puts it, Conan is “the natural man, ourselves begun again, reborn in a world as we secretly know our own world to be beneath its layers of hypocrisy and pretense.”
In my latest guest post at the DMR Books blog, I examine the parallels between recurring themes in the Conan stories and the works of dramatist and science writer Robert Ardrey.
In African Genesis and subsequent books, Ardrey examines the anthropological evidence for what “the natural man” actually is, as opposed to the myths we are told, or worse, tell ourselves. Ardrey’s works provide a deeper understanding of Howard’s tales celebrating the heroic, enduring qualities that make us human.
Ron Rash, the Parris Distinguished Professor in Appalachian Cultural Studies at Western Carolina University (my alma mater), has been recognized once again for his outstanding contributions to Southern fiction. From Western Carolina Stories:
“We are thrilled that Ron Rash is being inducted in the NC Literary Hall of Fame, a well-deserved honor,” said David Kinner, dean of WCU’s College of Arts and Sciences. “Like WCU, Ron’s work is tied to our region, its history and its people, and through his writing, he has entertained us, moved us and made us think. Ron is a prolific author, an integral part of our community and our students benefit from being able to learn from him.”
Rash said he was grateful to be placed among authors who impacted his journey as a writer.
“What makes this honor so meaningful is that previous inductees, especially Thomas Wolfe, Fred Chappell, Lee Smith and Robert Morgan, are writers who have inspired and influenced my own work,” Rash said.
The books I’ve read by Rash include The Cove and Serena, haunting, lyrical works that will certainly contribute to the legacy of Southern fiction.
I’m happy to see that more publishers won’t accept works created by AI. For the life of me, I can’t understand why someone would stick their name in the byline of something created by a computer program, but after all, plagiarism is nothing new. If people will take credit for something somebody else wrote, why not claim an AI product?
This issue isn’t going away. In Ray Kurzweil’s latest book, The Singularity is Nearer: When We Merge with AI, he claims AI will match and even surpass the writing of the best authors. These programs, he argues, will be “familiar with virtually every kind of human writing. Users could prompt it to answer questions about any given subject in a huge variety of styles — from scientific writing to children’s books, poetry, or sitcom scripts. It could even imitate specific writers, living or dead.”
Can it? I don’t think so. Ray Kurzweil is a transhumanist who advocates merging humans with AI as well as enhancing human ability with genetic engineering. Kurzweil believes we can upload our minds to a computer and live forever. Transhumanism despises the body, traditional culture, and humanity in general. Worse, it doesn’t understand any of the things it wants to replace.
First of all, human beings are notghosts in a machine. The notion that our minds ride around in a meat robot that can be ditched without changing who we are is hopelessly simplistic. What we call the mind is the sum of the functions of the brain, which is a physical organ. And the brain interacts with the rest of the body. In fact, the field of Embodied Cognition tells us the body is central to our thought processes.
There’s solid research to back this view. Mirror neurons fire when we perform an action or when we observe someone else performing that action. Embodied Cognition also tells us that language is metaphor, and the building blocks of metaphor are physical sensations. Magnetic resonance imaging scanners reveal that when we read about a physical action, we activate the same areas of our brains as when we actually perform those actions. That’s the mirror neurons at work.
The bottom line is that disembodied machines cannot think, feel, or write the way humans do. And never will.
There’s a powerful and alluring line in Haruki Murakami’s novel Norwegian Wood I’ve always loved: “I don’t want to waste valuable time reading any book that has not had the baptism of time.”
The character meant that in a limited sense; he felt only old books that had endured for generations were worth reading. But I would add that works that acknowledge and explore the deep and often inscrutable influence of the past are also “baptized of time” and make the most moving and inspirational reading. William Faulkner captured that insight perfectly in Requiem for a Nun: “The past is never dead. It’s not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity.”
I’ve long believed the healing power of literature rises from its ability to let us see our deep connections to others, the world around us, and the cosmos. Rachel Carson once wrote that “To understand the living present, and the promise of the future, it is necessary to remember the past.”
Growing up around Civil War and American Indian sites, I absorbed a deep appreciation of the past, and that is reflected in the stories I write. My latest is “Making a Ton,” featured in the Minstrels in the Galaxy anthology, The protagonist, a pilot in the Asteroid Belt, reflects on his connections to the trailblazers who led humanity into space:
Ray stepped towards the window. “We got to this moon on the shoulders of giants,” he announced. “Pioneers, heroes, every one of them. Giving up would be an insult to their memory. They were men and women who roared into space in ships powered by chemical fuel that could’ve exploded and turned them to space dust. But they did it anyway. They were people with backbones, muscles, and scars, and courage. That’s what space travel is about, not technology. I feel like I’m with them when I’m piloting.”
Riveting adventures, echoes of lives lived well, and guideposts for discovering what makes us what we are — that’s the goal of all good stories.
Alpha Mercs has published Minstrels in the Galaxy, their latest anthology, and I’m pleased to say it includes my story “Making a Ton.” Editor Sam Robb was very kind in his acceptance letter: “Loved your story. Definite Larry Niven / Known Space vibes.”
The music of Jethro Tull is the theme for this unique anthology of twelve romping tales. I’ve always loved “Too Old to Rock ‘n’ Roll: Too Young to Die!” so it was a natural choice for my story “Making a Ton.”
And that cover art is truly a thing of beauty. Cedar Sanderson outdid herself.
The action in my piece unfolds at an ice mine on Saturn’s frozen moon Enceladus. (Yes, I’ve been there before. I find Enceladus endlessly fascinating.) Ray, an aging pilot who can’t find work, bets his life savings on a race against an alien who not only has a state-of-the-art ship, but an inborn talent for speeding through the Asteroid Belt.
What is Ray thinking? Does he plan to go out with a bang? Could this be the final take?