The best TV show, hands down, currently showing on any network, cable, or pay-per-view platform is a show called “The Expanse”. The first four seasons are available on Amazon Prime. Based on a great series of novels by James S.A. Corey (the pseudonym of writing team Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck), “The Expanse” is an epic science fiction series that extrapolates life in the distant future, a future that is vastly different than our own time and yet, strangely, eerily similar. While billed as a “space opera”, the show is as far from the familiar space operas, like “Star Wars”, as one can get. It is more akin to shows like “The West Wing” and “Band of Brothers” than “Star Trek” or “Firefly”, the two shows to which it is most often compared.
I understand that there are a lot of good to great TV shows out there. We are living in a time where TV viewers have an amazing selection of choices, and the quality of those choices is outstanding, so I realize that my singling out of one show among thousands is a bit subjective. That said, if you call yourself a real fan of science fiction, and you haven’t seen “The Expanse” (or read the books), you are definitely doing yourself a disservice. It is, in my opinion, up there with “The X-Files”, “Lost”, and “Fringe”.
What does this have anything to do with my review of James P. Hogan’s 1983 novel “Code of the Lifemaker”? Nothing, actually. Other than, perhaps, the recognition of excellence in a genre that is often dismissed as infantile, silly, or mediocre. Based on the myriad of books, movies, and TV shows calling themselves “science fiction” or “sci-fi”, the dismissal is occasionally, sadly, justifiable.
It reminds me of Theodore Sturgeon’s famous law: “Ninety percent of science fiction is crud.” This is true, and yet people almost invariably forget---or never knew that there ever was---an addendum to that law. Sturgeon went on to say, “But then ninety percent of everything is crud, and it’s the ten percent that isn’t crud that is important.”
Hogan’s “Code of the Lifemaker” is nothing like “The Expanse”. At least, in terms of story, themes, tone, and attitude. If the two have anything in common, it is the sense that talking about metaphysical and spiritual topics as it relates to science and technology is not only perfectly okay but actually necessary.
In “CotL”, an alien race sends a robotically-controlled spaceship into deep space, billions of years ago. It finds an acceptable home on one of Saturn’s moons, and the robots onboard form a landing party that immediately sets up cities of factories designed to reproduce more robots and other machines. At some point in the billions of years between landing and the evolution of humans on a nearby planet called Earth, something has gone wrong with the robots. Humans would say that it was a malfunction or a computer software virus, but to the robots, it is evolution. Over time, these robots become self-aware, individualized, thinking, feeling beings. Despite the fact that they are made of metal with microchip processors instead of organic brains, these beings are, technically, alive. They have families, live in communities, argue with each other about God, the afterlife, and what exists beyond the gas-filled skies.
Enter Earthlings: who have reached the technological stage of traveling to planets within their own solar system. Responding to anomalous readings emanating from Titan, Saturn’s moon, a small group of terran scientists are sent to the surface to investigate.
Hogan’s novel could have gone in so many different directions, and the joy in reading it is figuring out where he goes next. There is a pleasure in reading science fiction that is not suffocated under common tropes or genre cliches. Not that Hogan doesn’t employ some (he loves ridiculous tech-speak, the kind that Geordi LaForge always babbled on “Star Trek: The Next Generation”, the kind that my pre-adolescent virgin-nerd brain got hard-ons listening to but that I find completely useless and distracting now), but, for the most part, Hogan spends a good chunk of the novel philosophizing. Intelligently.
He is also not afraid to incorporate issues of spirituality, religion, and theology in a non-judgmental, non-dismissive way. Hogan clearly follows the Arthur C. Clarke playbook, and “CotL” is reminiscent of some of Clarke’s best work, such as “Childhood’s End” and “2001: A Space Odyssey”. It is also reminiscent of Mary Doria Russell’s superb 1996 novel “The Sparrow”, which also overtly dealt with spiritual and theological issues.
Hogan’s novel is a reminder that science fiction isn’t just about space battles, ray guns, and alien invasions. It’s actually about ideas, big ideas that simply aren’t talked about in other genres. For this reason, alone, Hogan’s novel is important.
Hogan published a sequel to this in 1996 entitled “The Immortality Option”.
*post-script: A heavy dark cloud of controversy hovers over Hogan, who died in 2010. Besides being an early climate change denier, Hogan was also a strong Holocaust denier. Admittedly, that is awful, and I certainly don’t condone or endorse such views in the least. It is unfortunate that I discovered all of this after reading this book, but it doesn’t necessarily change my opinion of the book’s value and significance. I didn’t get any hint of anti-Semitism in the book. This is one of those weird situations in which a good book was written by a man who held abominable worldviews. I am, however, of the (now seemingly looked-down-upon) belief that appreciation of art is, or should be, separate from the artist. I’m pretty sure that if I refused to read books by authors who personally believe horrifyingly awful things or hold political views that run counter to mine or have committed stultifyingly immoral acts, then I would have very few authors to read. I’m also a big believer in the idea of “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone”. Some crazy dude said that 2,000 years ago.