A CLOSE ENCOUNTER WITH ROBERT J. SAWYER

I had the privilege and fun of attending several lectures and readings by Robert J. Sawyer at the recent Kingston Ontario’s Writers Festival. He’s the author of twenty-one science fiction novels (including FlashForward, now a TV program) and winner of so many writing awards, it boggles the mind. But that’s not what moved me to write this little blog. Although I am impressed with these honors, so many people have heaped praise upon him I wouldn’t be adding anything new.

What I do want to comment on was how the content of one of his lectures helped me crystallize some philosophical thoughts as to how futuristic writing and science fiction fits into the greater scheme of things in the world of literature and culture. It’s something I’ve been thinking about as I’m finishing the last book of my futuristic History Camp trilogy. The clarified thoughts go like this:

For the most part, contemporary fiction reflects back to society where it is now and where it came from.

Science fiction, on the other hand, has the unique job of reflecting, not only where we are in society now, but also where we’re going with all the amazing technology we’re developing. Sure, there’s lots of schlock SF out there, but that’s the same with any category of any art form. But work, such as I see Mr. Sawyer’s, (and hopefully mine) is part of an important societal discourse about where we, as a species, is heading. Sure, sure, the writing has to be entertaining and must not preach overtly, otherwise you might as well write a polemic. And I concede that many people just don’t want to think and only be entertained. The really good stuff, like Robert J. Sawyer’s, can be read just as escapism. But then the joke is on the reader. Without knowing it, and against their will, they’ve learned something and been made to think.
I try to emulate that quality in my writing, integrating ideas into an exciting and entertaining adventure. Thank you Mr. Sawyer for leading the way.

Out of the MIND of Babes (I was so cute)

or,
Why It Was Fated I Become a Writer of Futuristic Fiction
by Lory Kaufman
23 September 2011

When children are young, there are often indications of what they will become as adults. An incident from my very early childhood came to mind the other week, which showed such a thing about myself. But the connection between that memory and what I am doing now never twigged. Let me tell you about it.

It was about 1954, sometime during the winter in Toronto, Canada. I was 3 or 4 years old. My teenage cousin, Marlene, put me on a sleigh and pulled me down Brunswick Avenue, which is a very long street, and then took me all around the block. It probably took close to half an hour.

When we got back to my home, at 484 Brunswick, my childish brain had a very strange thought, and I was actually frightened. I think that’s probably why I remember this so vividly. I saw my house and thought, ‘This looks like my house, but I’ve gone all around the block and maybe this really isn’t my house now. The people inside, my mother and father, sister, my grandmother and aunt. I bet they’re not the really the same people, even though they look the same.’ And when Marlene took me inside and my mother picked me up, I looked at her very intently, almost angrily, looking for some sign of . . . alienness?”

As an adult who writes futuristic fiction, my stories include time travel and, in my upcoming book, The Bronze and the Brimstone, alternate universes. And, back in the 1960’s, when I began to read, watch television and go to movies, I gravitated to science fiction and spiritual themes. But when I had this sleigh-ride experience, we didn’t have a television yet and my family didn’t read those types of things.

So, how in the heck did such fantastical thoughts get into the head of a young child? There are only two conclusions. Either my fertile dyslectic and ADD mind was starting to do its ‘thing’, or . . . somewhere on that sleigh ride around the block, we crossed through an inter-dimensional portal and I was raised by parents other than my own. Actually that would explain quite a lot.

Lory Kaufman
Kingston, Canada