Author Topic: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY  (Read 47595 times)

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scallop

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #250 on: 20-11-2014, 18:54:12 »
Ako želite da saznate šta užasava Ghoula čitajte "Rašane" Radmila Anđelkovića.
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

Ghoul

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #251 on: 20-11-2014, 20:17:30 »
Ako želite da saznate šta užasava Ghoula čitajte "Rašane" Radmila Anđelkovića.

eto blurba!
taj bi možda i pomogao da se proda neki primerak!

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #252 on: 21-11-2014, 14:21:52 »
Čekaj, Gul je popljuvao "Rašane"? Mislio sam da je nešto drugo.

Inače, moram priznati da je to veoma efektivan blurb. Recimo, Goranovu zbirku o apokalipsi kupio sam (ali ne još i pročitao) isključivo zbog Gulove negativne kritike Nešićeve i Lazovićeve priče.
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varvarin

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #253 on: 21-11-2014, 14:25:12 »
Kad pročitaš, napiši kako ti se čini ta priča.

scallop

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #254 on: 21-11-2014, 14:27:24 »
S obzirom na književni komentatorski ugled, sve što Ghoul popljuje je poziv na čitanje.
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #255 on: 21-11-2014, 14:29:29 »
Obavezno hoću. Naročito pošto mislim da od Ivana mogu mnogo toga da ukradem u spisateljskom smislu - premda mi je, prema pričama ljudi oko mene, tvoj spisateljski manir bliži. A u poslednje vreme trpim prilične pritiske da pišem više i obimnije. Moj problem je što me kratka priča nimalo ne privlači kao forma, a ne privlači me ni čitalački. Između ostalog, zbog toga toliko željno iščekujem ta tvoja sabrana dela u jednom tomu.
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
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varvarin

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #256 on: 21-11-2014, 14:31:28 »
Toj priči posvetio je Gul veliku pažnju: Pisao je prikaz u nastavcima... :)

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #257 on: 21-11-2014, 14:38:52 »
S obzirom na književni komentatorski ugled, sve što Ghoul popljuje je poziv na čitanje.

Tu već nisi u pravu.

Pokušaću da obrazložim svoj stav.

Ni Gul ni, recimo, ja nismo kritičari. Književna kritika je žanr za sebe, takoreći, i ima svoja pravila. Ni Gul ni ja ta pravila ne poštujemo. Posmatrajući naše tekstove, mi stavljamo na papir svoje utiske i merimo svojim, krajnje subjektivnim aršinima. Naš nekakav ugled zasniva se na broju čitalaca koji su pročitali tu i tu knjigu, pa se njihov utisak u većoj ili manjoj meri poklopio sa našim utiscima. Onda ti ljudi kažu "Čekaj, ova dvojica idiota nemaju život, pa čitaju dvesta puta više od mene. Zašto bih se ja mučio da probiravam kroz hrpu knjiga, kada mogu da se (relativno) pouzdano oslonim na njihovo mišljenje i tako sebi uštedim vreme?"

E, sad - prema Gulovom ukusu duhovito nazvani "Šarani" nisu za čitanje, pa će zato vernici u njegovom hramu/kultu da preskoče taj roman. Ali Gulovo mišljenje o fantaziji je vrlo verovatno malo gore nego moje mišljenje o gotskom hororu. Zato su čitaoci mog bloga pročitali "Šarane" i mahom se saglasili sa mojom ocenom tog romana. (Da obsetim, dao sam 3/5, što je po merilima Goodreadsa "dobra knjiga").

Opet, ako se na Gudridsu pogleda u kojim se naslovima Gul i ja poklapamo, videće se da iste naslove u oblastima u kojima nam se interesovanja poklapaju ocenjujemo vrlo slično. Dakle, nije po sredi pitanje kritičke verodostojnosti već isključivo pitanje čitalačkog ukusa.
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
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Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #258 on: 21-11-2014, 14:39:25 »
Toj priči posvetio je Gul veliku pažnju: Pisao je prikaz u nastavcima... :)

Znam. Zato sam i kupio knjigu. :)
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
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Ghoul

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #259 on: 21-11-2014, 15:27:21 »
Toj priči posvetio je Gul veliku pažnju: Pisao je prikaz u nastavcima... :)

nekima su traume proizvedene ovom kritikom, izgleda, izazvale neku vrstu halucinacija, jer OVAJ prikaz nikada nije izlazio u nastavcima: sve što sam o tome imao, kazao sam u ovom jednom textu -
Vladimir Lazović i Ivan Nešić, "U temeljima"



http://cultofghoul.blogspot.com/2011/06/vladimir-lazovic-i-ivan-nesic-u.html

kako čudno/zabavno radi povređeni/uvređeni um! :)
za godinu ili dve počeće da pričaju da sam knjigu o njima piso!  :-D

uostalom, i skalop to isto savršeno ilustruje ovim projekcijama sopstvene povređenosti i uvređenosti jer njegove su tlapnje utemeljene samo i jedino u njegovoj glavi, i nigde izvan nje:

S obzirom na književni komentatorski ugled, sve što Ghoul popljuje je poziv na čitanje.

Meho Krljic

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #260 on: 09-02-2015, 13:30:23 »
Ovo nije za ovaj topik a ne znam gde da ga stavim, pa evo ovde a neka neko pametniji od mene razvrsta:

Ian Ballantine Made Paperbacks Required Reading


Quote
As a Columbia University student in the 1930s, Ian Ballantine wrote a paper on the economic prospects of paperback publishers.
Two years later, he was one.
Called by many the father of the mass-market paperback, Ballantine (1916-95) produced novel ideas that helped change American reading habits in the 1940s and '50s.
Along way, he sparked the publishing industry.
At a time when America had only 2,500 bookstores, the restless New Yorker turned to other venues — distributing 25-cent books to newsstands and drugstores accessible to the general public.
Ballantine and his wife, Betty, founded no fewer than three prestigious paperback houses — Penguin USA, Bantam Books and Ballantine Books — during pioneering careers spanning nearly 60 years.
"The idea was to produce a book that could be read for the price of a pack of cigarettes," Paula Rabinowitz, a University of Minnesota English professor and author of "American Pulp: How Paperbacks Brought Modernism to Main Street," told IBD. "It was an invitation to a literary life to working people, to regular people."
Lofty Authors

Ballantine was one of the earliest publishers of science-fiction paperback originals, with writers including Arthur Clarke ("2001"), Ray Bradbury ("Fahrenheit 451") and Frederik Pohl ("The Space Merchants"). During the 1960s, Ballantine published the first authorized paperback editions of J.R.R. Tolkien's books.
"These were great classics of world fiction," said Loren Glass, a University of Iowa English professor. "He published in original form some of the greatest works in the golden age of science fiction. One of the interesting things about Ballantine is that he was not only a businessman trying to make money in books; he was a student of literature and publishing, and something of an intellectual."
Ballantine grew up in New York with a father, Edward, who acted in the first Broadway production of George Bernard Shaw's "Pygmalion" in 1914. Also in the mix was playwright Eugene O'Neill, a friend of Ballantine's parents.
Ian had ties to publishing through his uncle, Saxe Commins, an editor at Random House.
"My uncle, a marvelous guy ... edited William Faulkner and Eugene O'Neill at Random House," Ballantine told the Chicago Tribune in the 1980s. "In 1935, a firm called Modern Age started doing paperbound books. My uncle said it would never work. I, with the glorious arrogance of youth, said it would work but that they were doing it wrong."
There was nothing new about paperbacks. In America, James Fenimore Cooper was writing frontier stories published in paper-like format as far back as 1823.
Dime novels soared in popularity during the Civil War.
Near the end of the 19th century, paperbacks mostly disappeared as the economy soured.
Then came the 1930s and Ballantine's paper, which called paperbacks publishing's greatest hope.
Impressed by Ballantine's research, Penguin Books' Allen Lane tapped Ballantine to launch a U.S. branch of Penguin in 1939, making the 22-year-old London School of Economics graduate a junior partner in the newly formed American Penguin. The Ballantines were married the day before they sailed for America that June to set up a New York office.
"Ian's stated objective was very simple: He said he wanted to change the reading habits of America, and by golly, that's what we proceeded to do," Betty said years later.
Within two months of their launching Penguin USA, World War II erupted, causing huge import problems. As many as 50,000 books at a time were being lost to German subs.
With the London-based Lane unable to cross the Atlantic, Ballantine started publishing books as well as importing them.
As it turned out, the war helped sales. The demand for books among soldiers was enormous, so Ballantine collaborated with other publishers to produce armed service editions of popular titles.
According to Rabinowitz, they published nearly 1,200 titles in these editions and distributed 123 million copies, at a cost to the U.S. government of 6 cents a copy.
Peace And Pages
And after the war ended in 1945, returning service men and women expected to find books.
"They developed a habit of reading," Rabinowitz said. "By the time the war was over, the paperback industry was well established and exploding. In a sense, the modern paperback is a product of the war."
After a power struggle at Penguin in 1945, the Ballantines quit to begin a reprint house, which they named Bantam Books.
When the first paperbacks rolled off the presses, the 20 titles included "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinbeck and "Life on the Mississippi" by Mark Twain.
All the books sold for 25 cents and had initial printings of 200,000 copies that could soar above 500,000 if demand warranted it. They were the first books widely available in drugstores, cigar stores, bus stations and other nontraditional outlets.
"Ballantine and others were aware there was a high level of literacy in the U.S. but extremely poor distribution mechanics for books," Glass said. "He was aware there was an untapped market. Part of it was a realization that Americans were ripe for this kind of innovation. Americans were spread out over an enormous continent, plus there were surprisingly few bookstores. The book industry had been centralized in New York and New England."
In 1952, after losing another power struggle, Ballantine quit Bantam. In a stunning move, he announced that his new imprint, Ballantine Books, would begin simultaneous publication of original fiction and nonfiction in hardcover and paperback editions.
At the time, most paperbacks were merely reprints of books originally in hardcover versions.
Hard To Change
Older, conservative publishers harshly attacked the move, claiming that hardcover sales would falter because of the cheaper editions.
Instead, sales of both hard-bound and paperback books were impressive, letting Ballantine shift his focus to overlooked genres.
"He is known for being incredibly innovative," Rabinowitz said.
Turning serious science fiction into a literary genre ranks among his greatest feats. Prior to Ballantine Books, science fiction barely existed in novel form. He changed that with the 1953 publication of "Fahrenheit 451," the firm's 41st book. "That was obviously a key moment in the history of science-fiction publishing," Glass said.
In 1965, when Tolkien's rights to his "Lord of the Rings" trilogy lapsed, Ace Books published his books without paying royalties.
Ballantine quickly bought the rights and included Tolkien's back-cover note: "Those who approve of courtesy (at least) to living authors will purchase it and no other."
Tolkien fans honored the author's request, and sales were huge for the Ballantine version.
Ballantine also published a "Lord of the Rings" calendar, a mock travel poster and a map of Middle Earth.
In 1974, Random House bought Ballantine Books for $6.4 million, and Ian and Betty Ballantine rejoined Bantam.
The couple had one child, Richard, a noted author of books about cycling, who died in 2013.
In 1986, Consumer Reports included the paperback book in a list of 50 products — along with the birth control pill, color TV and the air conditioner — that significantly changed American lives in the last half of the 20th century.
As a 20-year-old college student, Ballantine saw it coming.


Antrfile:


 Ballantine's Keys
  • Called the father of the mass-market paperback, he founded both Bantam Books and Ballantine Books, and laid the groundwork for the modern paperback industry.
  •   Overcame: Skepticism and establishment opposition to paperbacks.
  •   Lesson: If it looks great on paper, ignore conventional wisdom.
  • "I intend to change the reading habits of America."

Nightflier

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Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
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tomat

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #262 on: 06-05-2015, 23:54:04 »
na Courseri prvog juna počinje kurs Fantasy and Science Fiction: The Human Mind, Our Modern World, gde će se čitati i analizirati 10 dela fantastične književnosti. spisak je sledeći:


    Grimm — Children's and Household Tales
    Carroll — Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass
    Stoker — Dracula
    Shelley — Frankenstein
    Hawthorne & Poe — Stories and Poems
    Wells — The Island of Dr. Moreau, The Invisible Man, "The Country of the Blind," "The Star"
    Burroughs & Gilman — A Princess of Mars & Herland
    Bradbury — The Martian Chronicles
    LeGuin — The Left Hand of Darkness
    Doctorow — Little Brother

kurs vodi Eric Rabkin sa univerziteta Mičigen. više informacija na

https://www.coursera.org/course/fantasysf
Arguing on the internet is like running in the Special Olympics: even if you win, you're still retarded.

Father Jape

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #263 on: 04-06-2015, 11:38:55 »
http://www.newstatesman.com/2015/05/neil-gaiman-kazuo-ishiguro-interview-literature-genre-machines-can-toil-they-can-t-imagine

Čojs kvout za Gula:

NG Genres only start existing when there’s enough of them to form a sort of critical mass in a bookshop, and even that can go away. A bookstore worker in America was telling me that he’d worked in Borders when they decided to get rid of their horror section, because people weren’t coming into it. So his job was to take the novels and decide which ones were going to go and live in Science Fiction and Fantasy and which ones were going to Thrillers.

KI Does that mean horror has disappeared as a genre?

NG It definitely faded away as a bookshop category, which then meant that a lot of people who had been making their living as horror writers had to decide what they were, because their sales were diminishing. In fact, a lot of novels that are currently being published as thrillers are books that probably would have been published as horror 20 years ago.
Blijedi čovjek na tragu pervertita.
To je ta nezadrživa napaljenost mladosti.
Dušman u odsustvu Dušmana.

https://lingvistickebeleske.wordpress.com

Father Jape

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #264 on: 04-06-2015, 11:56:35 »
I ovo, Gejmen o Kini:


I took aside one of the Party organisers, and said, “OK. Why are you now in 2007 endorsing a science-fiction convention?” And his reply was that the Party had been concerned that while China historically has been a culture of magical and radical invention, right now, they weren’t inventing things. They were making things incredibly well but they weren’t inventing. And they’d gone to America and interviewed the people at Google and Apple and Microsoft, and talked to the inventors, and discovered that in each case, when young, they’d read science fiction. That was why the Chinese had decided that they were going to officially now approve of science fiction and fantasy.
Blijedi čovjek na tragu pervertita.
To je ta nezadrživa napaljenost mladosti.
Dušman u odsustvu Dušmana.

https://lingvistickebeleske.wordpress.com

Irena Adler

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #265 on: 04-06-2015, 12:01:59 »
Moj glavni utisak iz tog razgovora je da je Britanija leglo marksista. :)

Гражданка Шульц

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #266 on: 04-06-2015, 12:30:00 »
Ovo oko trilera i horora, cesto ces cuti od horor fanbejsa da im triler otima zanrovske filmove, tj da se (mejnstrim?) hororima lepi etiketa trilera ne bi li se bolje kotirali kod kritike i mejnstrim publike.
Moguce da se smatra kako je horor lowbrow zanr, pa i u knjizevnosti (vec sam imala raspravu na ovu temu sa Batom, cini mi se), te otud ovo odumiranje i prelazak pod triler okrilje. Koje je, jelte, 'intelektualnije'.

A za Kineze, haha Partija je odlucila da dozvoli fantasy i sf, majko mila. :P

scallop

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #267 on: 04-06-2015, 12:35:03 »
I ovo, Gejmen o Kini:



I Gejmen je Amerikanac pa može da se bez reakcije nalupeta.
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #268 on: 04-06-2015, 12:36:38 »
Moj glavni utisak iz tog razgovora je da je Britanija leglo marksista. :)

Ne baš leglo, ali fantastičari su uglavnom levičari i anti-tolkinisti, za razliku od SAD.
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
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Irena Adler

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #269 on: 04-06-2015, 12:40:51 »
To je sasvim moguće, ali na mene nije toliko ostavilo utisak levičarenje, koliko smrtno ozbiljno shvatanje klasne podele (što pretpostavljam da jeste karakterističnije za Britaniju nego za neka druga mesta).

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #270 on: 04-06-2015, 12:47:02 »
To bi sada trebalo pitati nekoga ko je makar boravio tamo i družio se sa Britancima, ali moj je utisak da je kod njih ta podela i dalje na snazi, pa makar bila tek kozmetičke prirode. Doduše, podela na klase U VB jeste važeća pravna kategorija... bmliga.
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
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Гражданка Шульц

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #271 on: 04-06-2015, 12:52:28 »
Da se nadovezem na svoj prethodni post, neki fanovi cak smatraju da triler kao zanr i ne postoji, sto je po meni nerazumno, ali ces cesto na imdb-u videti da je horor film zaveden kao 'mystery/thriller'.
S druge strane, smestiti, npr Klajv Barkera u triler sekciju je jos nerazumnije. To je punokrvni horor pisac, tu nema mesta interpretacijama.

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #272 on: 04-06-2015, 14:05:45 »
Nije triler zaklao horor, već urbana fantastika. Uz ogradu da ne treba mešati filmove i knjige, meni je sve što nema elemenata natprirodnog - u čemu sam saglasan sa Lavkraftom - triler. Ako ima elemenata natprirodnog, fantastika je. Ako me ta fantastika plaši, horor je. Međutim, devedesete su za horor bile reformativne kao recimo sedamdesete za epsku fantastiku, pa je tako čitav niz antiheroina najpre promenio horor, pa ga skroz napustio i stvorio novi žanr. Tu pre svega mislim na romane Nensi Kolins i te ekipe, ali i Pola Vilsona, Melani Tem, pa čak i Gejmana i Barkera - Barkerov "Utkani svet" je po svim sadašnjim definicijama urbana fantastika. Jednostavno, kako je čitalaštvo bivalo izloženije tim motivima mraka, čudovišnosti i gadosti, tako je to bivalo prihvatljivije i prihvatljivije sve dok se nije u potpunosti izgubila odbojnos prema onom drugom i čudovišta prestala da žive u getoima poput Barkerovog Midijana, počevši da dele svet barabar sa nama. Sad, siguran sam da bi Gul mogao da se ubaci i prokomentariše moju analizu, pošto on svakako više od mene prati taj žanr - ali mislim da sam u grubim crtama u pravu.
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
First 666

Гражданка Шульц

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #273 on: 04-06-2015, 14:22:33 »
 
Quote
Jednostavno, kako je čitalaštvo bivalo izloženije tim motivima mraka, čudovišnosti i gadosti, tako je to bivalo prihvatljivije i prihvatljivije sve dok se nije u potpunosti izgubila odbojnos prema onom drugom i čudovišta prestala da žive u getoima poput Barkerovog Midijana, počevši da dele svet barabar sa nama.

Nisam sigurna da sam razumela; hoces da kazes da duze izlaganje i navikavanje na motive, elemente horora utice da publika prestaje da percipira taj zanr kao horor, te se ovaj pretvara/preimenuje u nesto novo? Kad horor postane prihvatljiv on prestaje da bude horor nego se pretvara u urbanu fantastiku, na primer? Ali to je i dalje izmastan, natprirodan i cudovisan svet kakav je i ranije bio.
Huh. Volela bih i ja da cujem Ghoulovo misljenje.
Nisam strucnjak, i zainteresovana sam za misljenja onih koji jesu. Ispraticu temu, hvala.

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #274 on: 04-06-2015, 14:44:26 »
To je otprilike moja teza. Odnosno, ako užas prestane da nas užasava, da li je to i dalje užas? A tu je i stav čitalaštva, koje je u nekom trenutku prestalo da se identifikuje sa lovcima na čudovišta i počelo da se identifikuke sa čudovštima. Recimo, Nightbreed je sjajan pokazatelj trenutka kada se taj preokret odigrao.
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
First 666

Гражданка Шульц

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #275 on: 04-06-2015, 17:15:56 »
Quote
Odnosno, ako užas prestane da nas užasava, da li je to i dalje užas?
Jeste. Verujem da jeste. Jer postoje objektivni kriterijumi po kojima je to i dalje - uzas. Nas subjektivni, izmenjeni, desenzitizovani stav ne menja prirodu nekog dela. A i autorov motiv i dalje ostaje isti. Da prenese i podeli taj uzas sa citaocima.

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #276 on: 04-06-2015, 17:30:57 »
Kako užas može da bude objektivan kriterijum? Da li jednako horor ako me vampirica davi ili pruža oralni seks? Doduše, Den Simons je imao priču u kojoj kombinuje ta dva motiva :) Ali ako ovo drugo (na primer) prevagne, nema tu mnogo horora.
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
First 666

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #277 on: 04-06-2015, 17:43:19 »
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Da li jednako horor ako me vampirica davi ili pruža oralni seks?
Da, to je erotski horor, rekla bih.

Quote
Kako užas može da bude objektivan kriterijum?
Nije uzas nego ono sto ga izaziva eventualni kriterijum:
Ti si rekao 'uzas', ja sam to shvatila u smislu horora, strasnog scenarija, ako 'uzas' razumemo kao reakciju tj strah, onda nije objektivan, ali stvari koje strah izazivaju mogu biti univerzalne. Cudovista, demoni, ubice, nasilna smrt, natprirodne i pretece pojave itd.


Irena Adler

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #278 on: 04-06-2015, 20:33:21 »
Doduše, Den Simons je imao priču u kojoj kombinuje ta dva motiva :)

Zašto o zašto me neko podseti na tu priču svakih par godina...  :cry:

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #279 on: 04-06-2015, 21:34:44 »
It's a good story :)
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
First 666

Irena Adler

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #280 on: 04-06-2015, 21:38:31 »
Jeste, i ja se besomučno divim svakom muškom biću koje ju je pročitao do kraja. Al' svejedno pokušavam (bezuspešno) da je potisnem iz pamćenja.

Father Jape

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #281 on: 05-06-2015, 14:46:35 »
Gul vas ignoriše. :cry:

Još Išigura i Gejmana malo:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02sc1rf
Blijedi čovjek na tragu pervertita.
To je ta nezadrživa napaljenost mladosti.
Dušman u odsustvu Dušmana.

https://lingvistickebeleske.wordpress.com

Nightflier

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #282 on: 05-06-2015, 16:13:27 »
Mnjah. Nije kao da bih promenio stav :)
Sebarsko je da budu gladni.
First 666

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #283 on: 05-06-2015, 16:17:44 »
I to sto kazes, isti slucaj  :)

Father Jape

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Blijedi čovjek na tragu pervertita.
To je ta nezadrživa napaljenost mladosti.
Dušman u odsustvu Dušmana.

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Meho Krljic

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #285 on: 06-07-2015, 08:52:44 »
Dune, 50 years on: how a science fiction novel changed the world

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It has sold millions of copies, is perhaps the greatest novel in the science-fiction canon and Star Wars wouldn’t have existed without it. Frank Herbert’s Dune should endure as a politically relevant fantasy from the Age of Aquarius


In 1959, if you were walking the sand dunes near Florence, Oregon, you might have encountered a burly, bearded extrovert, striding about in Ray-Ban Aviators and practical army surplus clothing. Frank Herbert, a freelance writer with a feeling for ecology, was researching a magazine story about a US Department of Agriculture programme to stabilise the shifting sands by introducing European beach grass. Pushed by strong winds off the Pacific, the dunes moved eastwards, burying everything in their path. Herbert hired a Cessna light aircraft to survey the scene from the air. “These waves [of sand] can be every bit as devastating as a tidal wave … they’ve even caused deaths,” he wrote in a pitch to his agent. Above all he was intrigued by the idea that it might be possible to engineer an ecosystem, to green a hostile desert landscape.
About to turn 40, Herbert had been a working writer since the age of 19, and his fortunes had always been patchy. After a hard childhood in a small coastal community near Tacoma, Washington, where his pleasures had been fishing and messing about in boats, he’d worked for various regional newspapers in the Pacific northwest and sold short stories to magazines. He’d had a relatively easy war, serving eight months as a naval photographer before receiving a medical discharge. More recently he’d spent a weird interlude in Washington as a speechwriter for a Republican senator. There (his only significant time living on the east coast) he attended the daily Army-McCarthy hearings, watching his distant relative senator Joseph McCarthy root out communism. Herbert was a quintessential product of the libertarian culture of the Pacific coast, self-reliant and distrustful of centralised authority, yet with a mile-wide streak of utopian futurism and a concomitant willingness to experiment. He was also chronically broke. During the period he wrote Dune, his wife Beverly Ann was the main bread-winner, her own writing career sidelined by a job producing advertising copy for department stores.
Soon, Herbert’s research into dunes became research into deserts and desert cultures. It overpowered his article about the heroism of the men of the USDA (proposed title “They Stopped the Moving Sands”) and became two short SF novels, serialised in Analog Science Fact & Fiction, one of the more prestigious genre magazines. Unsatisfied, Herbert industriously reworked his two stories into a single, giant epic. The prevailing publishing wisdom of the time had it that SF readers liked their stories short. Dune (400 pages in its first hardcover edition, almost 900 in the paperback on my desk) was rejected by more than 20 houses before being accepted by Chilton, a Philadelphia operation known for trade and hobby magazines such as Motor Age, Jewelers’ Circular and the no-doubt-diverting Dry Goods Economist.


Though Dune won the Nebula and Hugo awards, the two most prestigious science fiction prizes, it was not an overnight commercial success. Its fanbase built through the 60s and 70s, circulating in squats, communes, labs and studios, anywhere where the idea of global transformation seemed attractive. Fifty years later it is considered by many to be the greatest novel in the SF canon, and has sold in millions around the world.
***
Dune is set in a far future, where warring noble houses are kept in line by a ruthless galactic emperor. As part of a Byzantine political intrigue, the noble duke Leto, head of the Homerically named House Atreides, is forced to move his household from their paradisiacal home planet of Caladan to the desert planet Arrakis, colloquially known as Dune. The climate on Dune is frighteningly hostile. Water is so scarce that whenever its inhabitants go outside, they must wear stillsuits, close-fitting garments that capture body moisture and recycle it for drinking.
The great enemy of House Atreides is House Harkonnen, a bunch of sybaritic no-goods who torture people for fun, and whose head, Baron Vladimir, is so obese that he has to use little anti-gravity “suspensors” as he moves around. The Harkonnens used to control Dune, which despite its awful climate and grubby desert nomad people, has incalculable strategic significance: its great southern desert is the only place in the galaxy where a fantastically valuable commodity called “melange” or “spice” is mined. Spice is a drug whose many useful properties include the induction of a kind of enhanced space-time perception in pilots of interstellar spacecraft. Without it, the entire communication and transport system of the Imperium will collapse. It is highly addictive, and has the side effect of turning the eye of the user a deep blue. Spice mining is dangerous, not just because of sandstorms and nomad attacks, but because the noise attracts giant sandworms, behemoths many hundreds of metres in length that travel through the dunes like whales through the ocean.
Have the Harkonnens really given up Dune, this source of fabulous riches? Of course not. Treachery and tragedy duly ensue, and young Paul survives a general bloodbath to go on the run in the hostile open desert, accompanied, unusually for an adventure story, by his mum. Paul is already showing signs of a kind of cosmic precociousness, and people suspect that he may even be the messiah figure foretold in ancient prophecies. His mother, Jessica, is an initiate of the great female powerbase in an otherwise patriarchal galactic order, a religious sisterhood called the Bene Gesserit. Witchy and psychically powerful, the sisters have engaged in millennia of eugenic programming, of which Paul may be the culmination.


This setup owes something to the Mars stories of Edgar Rice Burroughs and Isaac Asimov’s Foundation books, as well as the tales written by Idaho-born food chemist Elmer Edward “Doc” Smith, creator of the popular Lensman space operas of the 1940s and 50s, in which eugenically bred heroes are initiated into a “galactic patrol” of psychically enhanced supercops. For Smith, altered states of consciousness were mainly tools for the whiteous and righteous to vaporise whole solar systems of subversives, aliens and others with undesirable traits. Herbert, by contrast, was no friend of big government. He had also taken peyote and read Jung. In 1960, a sailing buddy introduced him to the Zen thinker Alan Watts, who was living on a houseboat in Sausalito. Long conversations with Watts, the main conduit by which Zen was permeating the west-coast counterculture, helped turn Herbert’s pacy adventure story into an exploration of temporality, the limits of personal identity and the mind’s relationship to the body.
Every fantasy reflects the place and time that produced it. If The Lord of the Rings is about the rise of fascism and the trauma of the second world war, and Game of Thrones, with its cynical realpolitik and cast of precarious, entrepreneurial characters is a fairytale of neoliberalism, then Dune is the paradigmatic fantasy of the Age of Aquarius. Its concerns – environmental stress, human potential, altered states of consciousness and the developing countries’ revolution against imperialism – are blended together into an era-defining vision of personal and cosmic transformation.
Books read differently as the world reforms itself around them, and the Dune of 2015 has geopolitical echoes that it didn’t in 1965, before the oil crisis and 9/11. Remember that European beach grass binding together those shifting dunes? Paul Atreides is a young white man who fulfils a persistent colonial fantasy, that of becoming a God-king to a tribal people. Herbert’s portrayal of the “Fremen” (the clue’s in the name) owes much to TE Lawrence and Wilfred Thesiger’s enthusiastic portrayals of the Bedouin of Arabia’s Empty Quarter. Fremen culture is described in words liberally cribbed from Arabic. They go on “razzia” raids, wear “aba” and “bourka” robes, fear a devil called “Shaitan” and so on. They are tough, proud and relatively egalitarian. The harshness of their environment has given them an ethic of fellowship and mutual aid. They are what Kipling would have termed “one of the martial races”: absolutely to be admired, possessing none of the negative “oriental” traits – deviousness, laziness and the like. They are, however, not carbon-copy Bedouin: Herbert freely mixes elements of Zen into their belief system, and also, intriguingly, suggests that their messianic eschatology – the sense in which they were “waiting” for Paul – may have been seeded in previous millennia by the Bene Gesserit order as part of its murky eugenic plans. Herbert, whose female characters are consistently strong and active, has also ditched the strict sexual divisions of actually existing Bedouin culture. Thus Fremen women do their share of fighting and fearlessly contradict their menfolk, though there is still a fair amount of child-bearing and housework to be done while the men are off riding worms.


What makes Dune more palatable than, say, the gruesome spectacle of a blonde-wigged Emilia Clarke carried aloft by ethnically indeterminate brown slaves in Game of Thrones, is the sincerity of Herbert’s identification with the Fremen. They are the moral centre of the book, not an ignorant mass to be civilised. Paul does not transform them in his image, but participates in their culture and is himself transformed into the prophet Muad’Dib. If Paul is one-part Lawrence of Arabia, leading his men on to Aqaba, he is also the Mahdi. Dune glosses this word as “in the Fremen messianic legend, The One Who Will Lead Us into Paradise”. In Islamic eschatology, the honorific Mahdi has a long and complex history. Various leaders have claimed or been given it. Most Shia identify the Mahdi with the 12th or Hidden Imam, who will imminently reveal himself and redeem the world. To the British, it will always be the name of the warrior prophet who swept through the Sudan in the 1880s, killing General Gordon on the steps of the palace in Khartoum and inspiring a thousand patriotic newspaper etchings. As Paul’s destiny becomes clear to him, he begins to have visions “of fanatic legions following the green and black banner of the Atreides, pillaging and burning across the universe in the name of their prophet Muad’Dib”. If Paul accepts this future, he will be responsible for “the jihad’s bloody swords”, unleashing a nomad war machine that will up-end the corrupt and oppressive rule of the emperor Shaddam IV (good) but will kill untold billions (not so good) in the process. In 2015, the story of a white prophet leading a blue-eyed brown-skinned horde of jihadis against a ruler called Shaddam produces a weird funhouse mirror effect, as if someone has jumbled up recent history and stuck the pieces back together in a different order.
***
After Dune was published, Herbert, the consummate freelancer, kept a lot of irons in the fire. He wrote about education for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer and lectured at the University of Washington. In 1972, during the American push to extricate itself from the south-east Asian quagmire, he worked in Vietnam, part of a project called “Land to the Tiller”, aimed at cutting Viet Cong recruitment by enacting land reform. He built a family home on the Olympic peninsula which he thought of as an “ecological demonstration project”. He built his own solar collector, wind plant and methane fuel generator. In a 1981 interview he described himself a “technopeasant”. As the cult of Dune took off during the 1970s, he wrote a series of increasingly convoluted sequels, following Paul’s descendants as they fulfilled the cosmic destiny of the Atreides line. Since his death in 1986, his son and another writer have produced a further 13 books.


By rights, Dune ought to have become a big movie. An attempt by the visionary Chilean film maker Alejandro Jodorowsky to bring it to the screen became one of the great “what if” stories of SF cinema. Jodorowsky had extraordinary collaborators: visuals by Moebius and HR Giger, spaceships designed by the English illustrator Chris Foss. Orson Welles was to play Baron Harkonnen, Salvador Dali the Emperor. Pink Floyd and Magma were on board to do the soundtrack. But Jodorowsky’s prog-tastic project was strangled in the crib by risk-averse Hollywood producers. After a period of film industry bloodletting, David Lynch shot a version in 1984, only for Universal to release a cut that he hated so much he had his name removed from the credits. Lynch’s film is actually much better than its terrible reputation, but Sting in a codpiece and a Toto soundtrack will never match the potential greatness of Jodorowsky’s unmade epic.
 AdvertisementActually, the great Dune film did get made. Its name is Star Wars. In early drafts, this story of a desert planet, an evil emperor, and a boy with a galactic destiny also included warring noble houses and a princess guarding a shipment of something called “aura spice”. All manner of borrowings from Dune litter the Star Wars universe, from the Bene Gesserit-like mental powers of the Jedi to the mining and “moisture farming” on Tattooine. Herbert knew he’d been ripped off, and thought he saw the ideas of other SF writers in Lucas’s money-spinning franchise. He and a number of colleagues formed a joke organisation called the We’re Too Big to Sue George Lucas Society.
Though in his later years he enjoyed huge success, Herbert, the man who dreamed of greening the desert, had mixed feelings about the future. In Dune, he has Kynes, the “First Planetologist of Arrakis” (and hero of the novel’s first draft) muse that “beyond a critical point within a finite space, freedom diminishes as numbers increase. This is as true of humans in the finite space of a planetary ecosystem as it is of gas molecules in a sealed flask. The human question is not how many can possibly survive within the system, but what kind of existence is possible for those who do survive.” Gloomy Malthusianism was much in vogue in the 1960s and 70s. In 1968 Paul Ehrlich’s The Population Bomb became a runaway bestseller, predicting mass starvation unless population growth was restricted. The flip side of the green movement’s valorisation of small scale and self-reliance is an uneasy relationship with the masses, and with the idea of economic growth more generally. Herbert’s libertarian politics reinforced this worry. In Dune, Paul knows that if the desert planet is made to bloom, it will support a larger population, and the ethic of individualism will be eroded. He himself, as he is transformed from aristocrat to messiah, loses his individuality and begins to dissolve into myth, becoming part of a Jungian collective unconscious. But perhaps Herbert would take heart from the thought that history does not appear to be teleological and some long-term plans do not take on the character of destiny. Fifty years after Dune’s publication, the US Department of Agriculture is still at work on the Oregon Dunes, rooting out European beach grass, an “invasive non‑native species”. They want to return the dune processes to their natural state.

Meho Krljic

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #286 on: 24-09-2015, 10:10:51 »
The Author of Our Best SF Military Novel Explains the Future of War



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For my money, the best novel to read about the future of war today, in 2015, was published in 1974. Joe Haldeman’s The Forever War is an all-time science fiction classic, but it hasn’t quite enjoyed the same degree of mass cultural saturation as other war-themed SF staples like Ender’s Game or Starship Troopers—maybe because it hasn’t been made into a film or TV show, maybe because its politics are too thorny and complex.
Either way, it’s too bad. As William Gibson notes in the blurb on the front of my paperback copy, “To say that The Forever War is the best science fiction war novel ever written is to damn it with faint praise.” It’s one of the best books about war, period, and it’s telling that the other accolades listed come from literary lights like Jonathan Lethem and Junot Diaz, who calls it “perhaps the most important war novel written since Vietnam.”
Haldeman was a veteran of that conflict—“I was drafted against my will, and went off to fight somebody else’s war,” as he put it—and the book projects the contours of his duty and subsequent return to civilian life into a future marked by what is almost literally forever war. Its power lies in the expert co-mingling of hyperbolic allegory with gritty speculation. It’s about a war that literally damn near never ends, one that spans the furthest reaches of space and time; the fighting can happen anywhere and is potentially everywhere. The protagonist, an almost-anagrammed stand-in for Haldeman named Mandella, is hurled across far reaches of the galaxy to fight a poorly understood, apparently undefeatable foe.
Since the powers commanding Earth’s army send him to the front lines of interstellar war at warp speeds, it’s not long before he becomes disconnected from the slice of reality he grew up in—once he goes back to Earth, the place has evolved without him; new customs, new social order, new governance, new technologies, new decline. It is mostly unrecognizable, and Mandella is totally unable to fit in. The book does what good science fiction does best: offers the audience a brand new mode through which to process universal truth; in this case, the uniquely extreme alienating power of war.
It’s about as pitch-perfect a metaphor for what it’s like to go to war a civilian can ever hope to absorb—not only is the organized violence of the battlefield interminable, but the dislocation brought about to those subjected to it is total and unrelenting, too.
About now, we’re in need of more such metaphors. The Vietnam War may have ended decades ago, but our military adventuring hasn’t. Our moment can somehow feel simultaneously like a crossroads for the technological future of combat and another arbitrary point on its dully predictable, incessantly conflict-laden trajectory. We’re relying more on drones and proxy soldiers to fight our far-off wars, in theaters far from the conscionable grasp of homelands, we’re automating robotics for the battlefield, and we’re moving our tactics online—so it seems like an opportune time to check in with science fiction’s most prescient author of military fiction.


Haldeman is a thoughtful, generous interview; he's witty and funny, even when discussing grim prognostications of a violent future. In fact, when we begin our discussion in earnest, and I tell him his book has seemed to have proved prescient, that all signs seem to point to a perpetual state of forever war, he laughs.
“That’s a dismal outlook for humanity, to say that war is never-ending,” he says. “I think there are ways we can outgrow it, but I don’t know that we will.” Haldeman taught fiction for many years at MIT, and he’s devoted considerable amounts of his fictive firepower to questions of war—Forever War spawned two sequels—so I was eager to hear his thoughts on what has and hasn't changed in terms of how war is waged over that time.
“The central danger in the Forever War's universe was that two powers who possessed futuristic weapons misunderstood each other's motives and actions at a fundamental level: when the dust settled, the dialogue was ‘Why did you start the war?’ "We didn't start the war—you did!’ Even a pre-emptive strike can be rationalized as an action designed to prevent destruction on a larger scale, a maneuver America has used,” Haldeman said. Which leads to a nexus of intertwining and perpetuating blame—the US, for instance, justifies its longstanding presence in the Middle East as filling a void or as doing peacekeeping work; but it’s indubitably a signal as well, to our allies as well as enemies that the war is stretching on. In Forever War, the conflict ends, after what is literally a thousand years, when both sides are exhausted, and both finally agree that they never really understood what they were fighting about in the first place.
“In that respect, I don't think anything has changed, and you can assert that without any reference to national ‘character’ or ‘identity.’”
Yet the frequency of smaller, but still-deadly bouts of lethal violence has changed. “That’s the scary thing,” he says. “There won’t be another WW II, there won’t be another major land war. But there will be lone actors with access to all sorts of technology. Science fiction has been imagining this scenario for three-quarters of a century.”
Now, it’s becoming closer to reality—3D printers may soon allow anyone with the right hardware to manufacture deadly weaponry at home. Obscene weapons are increasingly obscenely easy to find. “Once we have that access to abundant materials, and anyone can print out a hydrogen bomb, we’re about an hour away from total destruction,” he says. “We are just a hair’s thread away from a large disaster.” The future of war is distributed, in other words. But we are just as ill-equipped to deal with our violent impulses now as we were four decades ago, Haldeman says.
“I don’t think we’ve learned any fundamental thing about solving the problem. We’ve learned more about why people do seek violent solutions,” he says. “That doesn’t mean we have the social mechanism to address it.” His words resonate, depressingly, when you consider that the US now averages one mass shooting per day, and that the trend is only accelerating upwards.
“We have people who just go down to the K-mart and just buy ammunition, and they could kill a few dozen people before we can do anything,” he says. “[M]ore brute force is available to individuals, with no obvious improvement in the individual's ability to responsibly apply that force. Or decide not to use it.” War, it seems, has been distributed.
Hence the forever warring, in smaller theaters.
"You can’t have absolute freedom with absolute danger," he says. "We live in an unstable and dangerous environment, and we like it. We don’t want to change it."

“I don’t know what we do about that," he adds. "I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable taking away that freedom, and I don’t even have guns.”
Beyond that there are, well, situations like you see in North Korea, where massively destructive technologies are under the control of a small group of deluded or mentally unstable authoritarians. And that technology’s only improving, too.
“A schizophrenic teenager can't wander in off the street and push the button that launches a nuclear weapon. But there are political processes in the world bizarre enough to put that schizophrenic teenager in a charge of a country with nuclear capability. If the world were a novel, the novel might be about all the people who are between that kid and that button, and what they do to prevent Armageddon. At the last minute, of course.”
I’d read that.


Haldeman wrote Forever War over the course of six years, during “a time when my life was changing pretty profoundly,” he says. “I was living in a pretty turbulent time.” When I ask him about his influences, and the best works of fiction that focus on war today, he gives the same answers: Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage, Tolstoy, John Dos Passos, and Joseph Heller’s Catch-22.
Robert Heinlein famously wrote the genre’s standard-bearing pro-war novel, Starship Troopers, as an explicit piece of political theater—without ever having served in a real war. It’s telling that Joe Haldeman, who was friendly with Heinlein, wrote the genre’s classic anti-war book, after having been in the trenches. (And look, I know plenty of people will vote Starship Troopers as the genre's best war book, but to me, it's just too two-dimensional, too flagrantly propagandic—Heinlein would've admitted as much, I think. Forever War is not without issues too, of course; the bits concerning Earth's population control policies, which center around encouraging homosexuality, while not malicious, seem dated now.)
“People say that I wrote Forever War in response to Starship Troopers, which isn’t true,” he says. “But it’s one of the best didactic novels in science fiction. Though its didacticism works against it for the mature readers. I think if you were 16 years old and thinking about joining the army, and you read Starship Troopers, you might think ‘I can’t wait until I’m 18 to go out and kill some aliens.”
The Forever War is the polar opposite: Mandella sinks into himself, eventually becoming physiologically alienated from his fellow troops, an effective killing machine forced into awkward despair. The book was noted then, as it is now, for its depiction of mental health issues amongst returning soldiers—another thread that’s sadly still present, with continuing reports of PTSD in Iraq war vets and even drone pilots who never travelled further than New Mexico to do their killing in the Middle East. When Haldeman criticized Vietnam, he focuses his blame on the government, and the Americans who ignored and abandoned the soldiers they’d shipped abroad, often against their will. And, despite the Veterans’ Affairs bureau’s myriad recent scandals, Haldeman actually thinks the situation for soldiers has improved.
“I think the military has become more responsive to veterans' needs, as the public becomes more aware of them,” he says, flagging a hulking caveat. “But those needs are pretty distant from the military's primary objective: the use of deadly force to bring about political ends. As long as veterans don't get in the way of that, everything's cool. (But note President Truman's sensitive response to veterans' needs in the fifties—mounted troops and tear gas. That could happen today—and would, if vets organized and marched on Washington.)”
Still, he’s worried the news cycle won’t keep PTSD in its sights for long. “The public seems to be pretty sympathetic to PTSD, but I do sense a weariness. Vets aren't news anymore. And the wars conventional soldiers fight seem less relevant as "the enemy" is more and more characterized as individual crazies acting out of personal hatred.”
The despondency and mental illness on display in Forever War makes for some of the most melancholy sci-fi ever put to page. In fact, the only part of Forever War that I’ve always felt was a bit incongruous in that regard was the relatively light part, in what I considered at least a bittersweet ending—in which Mandella, our sullen, war-wearied hero, who has been unplugged from the rest of his life, discovers that his lover took pains to stay on the same time-wavelength as him, and that he might meet up with her to live out the rest of their days. It had always felt a bit of a copout; offering a deus ex machina-esque silver lining to an otherwise crushed, doomed soul. But Haldeman doesn’t see it that way.
“I don’t think the ending’s happy at all,” Haldeman says. “It’s grim. They’re going to carry on, but they’re alone and lost.” He adds that the publisher told him, after it was a bestseller, “we wouldn’t have published it without a happy ending.”
For the record, he also thinks the interstellar combat scenarios described in the novel would never, ever happen in real life, in any future.
“I think the idea of an interstellar war is absolutely impossible, given the restrictions on space and distance,” he says. “Even a planetary-sized conflict just requires too much energy and resources to be feasible.” He thinks future space-conflicts will be resolved more amicably. “I think they’ll be solved with diplomacy or just wither away. I guess ‘withering away’ is the nature of diplomacy sometimes,” he says, laughing.



The Forever War is, thankfully, poised for a renaissance. Channing Tatum is leading the drive to get the book translated onto the big screen, picking up where Ridley Scott left off. The complicated, uneasy book is perfectly suited to the age of endless warfare, and what better way to start a genuine debate about the sensibilities of the perpetual war machine than to get Haldeman’s ideas into the cineplexes.
Which leaves only one question. And yes, the man who wrote Forever War believes that one day, far into the future, war might end.
“The idea of abolishing war has been with us for thousands and thousands of years,” he adds. “I think we’re more likely to invent the speed of light.” But, if it happens, it will come about from abundance, from the end of violence over scarce resources.
“I guess I'm being reductive or simplistic by saying ‘economic’ reasons, if only because I can't see peace happening because people want to be reasonable or kind or admired,” he tells me. “And of course peace itself doesn't happen; it's just the opposite, or obverse, of war happening.”
“You might try to eliminate war by eliminating the conditions that cause it, like poverty and racial hatred and religious animosity. This is kind of la-la land, but it really may be the only stable long-term solution.” It’s what Haldeman calls “the inescapable tautology.”
“When war is unthinkable, it will stop.”
All Fronts is a series about technology and forever war. Follow along here.

tomat

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #287 on: 08-04-2017, 17:34:29 »
Quote
Dole škole

Naslov teksta pozajmio sam od čuvenog protivnika škole Ivana Illicha. U stvari, uzeo sam naslov ovdašnjeg prevoda njegove knjige iz 1980.1 U originalu iz 1970, naslov Illicheve knjige zapravo je još oštriji: Deschooling Society, što bi u prevodu moglo da glasi i ovako: Ka društvu bez škole. Reč je o jednoj od verovatno najrazornijih kritika nacionalnih sistema obaveznog školovanja, kako su oni na talasima prosvetiteljstva i modernizacije uspostavljani širom (zapadnog) sveta negde od sredine 19. veka nadalje. Kao takva, ova knjiga svoje daleke odjeke imala je naravno i kasnije, recimo u (znatno slabije argumentovanoj) knjizi iz 1987. Učitelj neznalica Jacquesa Rancièrea.2 Ali, ovde uglavnom nećemo govoriti ni o Illichevoj ni o Rancièreovoj knjizi. Na njih ćemo se vratiti pri kraju teksta. Pre toga, kako smo na ovom mestu navikli, biće reči o fantastici, konkretno o – epskoj fantastici. Iako se u mnogo čemu podudaraju, naučna fantastika i epska fantastika u jednome se bitno razlikuju. Tamo gde u delima naučne fantastike stoje naučna otkrića i na njima zasnovana napredna tehnologija, u epskoj fantastici nalaze se – vradžbine. Vrlo grubo govoreći, naučna fantastika nastoji da predvidi kako će izgledati svet oblikovan i uređen razvojem nauke, te kako će taj razvoj uticati na ljudsku prirodu; svet epske fantastike okrenut je ka prošlosti, gde se traži izlaz iz ćorsokaka progresa. Naravno, to ne znači da se ta dva izmaštana sveta ne mogu preklopiti i naći u jednom istom delu, kako je to, recimo, uradio reditelj James Cameron u svom velikom naučnofantastičnom blockbusteru „Avatar“ iz 2009 (koga kritičari zbog pomenutog ukrštanja žanrova klasifikuju i kao epska naučna fantastika). Osvrnućemo se kasnije nakratko i na Cameronov film.

Epska fantastika

Dakle, pre svega toga, pažnju ću skrenuti na jedno uzorno delo epske fantastike – Hronike Šanare Terryja Brooksa. Dva su razloga za to. Prvi je nedavna ekranizacija druge knjige iz Brooksovog serijala o kraljevskoj lozi Šanara. Počevši od januara, tokom 2016. na kanalu MTV prikazana je prva sezona od deset epizoda snimljenih po Brooksovom proznom predlošku. Nedavno je MTV počeo da prikazuje i nove epizode iz druge sezone, što je obično potvrda uspeha jedne serije. Taj uspeh ne bi trebalo da nas čudi, jer su i Brooksove knjige veoma čitane, o čemu govore tiraži od par desetina miliona odštampanih i prodatih primeraka. Drugi razlog je nešto načelniji: hoću da kažem nešto uopšteno o žanru epske fantastike i to iz jednog posebnog ugla – ideološkokritičkog. Za to je moglo poslužiti bilo koje delo iz ovog žanra jer sva ona dele neka osnovna ideološka obeležja; a Hronike Šanare izabrao sam zbog njihove moguće trenutne popularnosti među srednjoškolcima. Preporuka je, naravno, da epska fantastika uđe u učionice i bude predmet razgovora sa učenicima pošto se u njoj odslikavaju neka bitna pitanja oko kojih se danas vode sveobuhvatne političke debate. Odgovori na ta pitanja presudno će uticati na društva u narednim godinama i decenijama.

Za utemeljitelja žanra epske fantastike uzima se, bez mnogo sporenja o tome, J.R.R. Tolkien, autor romana o Hobitima i družini prstena. Među istaknutim predstavnicima sa sredine i iz druge polovine 20. veka nalaze se još i autor Letopisa Narnije C.S. Lewis, neizbežni George R.R. Martin, autor serijala Pesme leda i vetra (poznatijeg po naslovu prve knjige Igre prestola), te naš Terry Brooks. Reklo bi se da je do sada žanr epske fantastike imao dva života, jedan književni i drugi na filmskim i TV ekranima. Koliko god da su romani o Hobitima, Narniji ili lozi Šanara bili čitani, to se ne može uporediti sa njihovom popularnošću pošto su ekranizovani. Preokret je, kao što znamo, nastao sa uspehom „Gospodara prstenova“, tri filma (prvi je iz 2001) reditelja Petera Jacksona. Ovaj uspeh pokrenuo je talas sličnih komercijalnih dela, u kome se posebno izdvojila jedna struja po svemu sudeći namenjena pre svega tinejdžerkama. Pečat na taj tok udario je takođe komercijalno izuzetno uspešan niz od četiri filma „Igre gladi“ po predlošku trilogije o Katniss Everdeen autorke Suzanne Collins. Ako svim ovim delima dodamo i sagu o Harryju Potteru koja se, kao i „Igre gladi“, rubno dodiruje sa epskom fantastikom, zaključićemo da se u svetu popularne kulture i komercijalne zabave za tinejdžere fantastika uopšte, a epska fantastika posebno profilišu kao ključni žanrovi za mlade, čiji se jedan podžanr, obeležen time što umesto junaka, kao glavne aktere imamo junakinje, obraća upravo devojčicama.

Sva je prilika da je popularnost Katniss Everdeen otvorila put i za ekranizaciju Hronika Šanare. Iako je Brooks prvu knjigu o članovima loze Šanara napisao sedamdesetih, a sledeću početkom osamdesetih godina 20. veka, dakle mnogo pre nego što je Suzanne Collins pred čitaoce izvela svoju Katniss, trebalo je da prođe trideset godina da bi se producenti poduhvatili ekranizacije njegovih romana. Zanimljivo je dalje da su u tom poduhvatu oni preskočili prvu knjigu, i sa pričom u seriji krenuli od druge.3 Razlog za to je, izgleda, jednostavan: tek u drugoj knjizi Brooks uvodi dve junakinje koje zajedno sa muškim likovima nose radnju. Povrh toga, scenarij za seriju još više insistira na glavnoj ulozi junakinja, sledeći uzor „Igara gladi“ (jedna od dve glavne glumice u seriji Ivana Baquero i fizički podseća na Jennifer Lawrence, filmsku Katniss). Nije ni uspeh serije „Igre prestola“ bez zasluga za snimanje epizoda o članovima loze Šanara: prvi kritičari su „Hronike Šanare“ odmah okarakterisali kao verziju „Igara prestola“ prilagođenu (čitaj: upristojenu) za tinejdžere. Pored ova dva nesumnjiva uticaja, treba navesti i treći, u vezi sa samim kanalom MTV. Godinama je MTV insistirao na rijaliti programima pravljenim za tinejdžere. Ti programi mahom su se ticali partnerskih odnosa među mladima: dopadanja, biranja partnera, stupanja u vezu, seksa – a sve to u krajnje provokativno nameštenim situacijama. S vremenom, MTV menja svoju koncepciju, polako napušta rijaliti i okreće se pravim igranim serijama, ali i zadržava nešto od ranijih sadržaja. Za razliku od romana Vilovnjačko kamenje Šanare, u scenariju za prvu sezonu serije insistira se na ljubavnom trouglu između glavnih junaka – mladića i dve devojke, koje se gotovo bukvalno otimaju o njegovu naklonost.

Vilovnjačko kamenje

Zaplet drugog po redu romana iz Brooksove serije sasvim je očekivan i u skladu sa žanrom, onako kako je te obrasce postavio već Tolkien. Svetu preti uništenje. Jedna mala grupa naizgled običnih karaktera dobija od moćnog čarobnjaka – druida Alanona – zadatak da spasi svet. Nevoljno, pod njegovim vođstvom, oni se upuštaju u tu avanturu i, naravno, spase svet. Paralelno sa tom pričom, pratimo i kako se njihovi sunarodnici spremaju za konačni obračun. Rat je, naime, neizbežan, pored ostalog i zato da bi se junacima dalo vremena da ispune svoju misiju. Čarobnjak će se, naravno, u jednom trenutku pridružiti ujedinjenim narodima (rasama) koji biju odsudnu bitku protiv zlih demona, i ostaviti junake da se snalaze sami. Sve nam je to već poznato još iz Gospodara prstenova. Ni glavni akteri priče o spasavanju sveta vilovnjak Wil Ohmsford, vilovnjakinja Amberle Elessedil, kao i mala razbojnica Eretria (daleki popularni odjek slavne pikarske junakinje iz 18. veka Moll Flanders Daniela Defoea) ne odskaču od uobičajenih mustri za junake epske fantastike. Oni na početku sebe ne vide kao junake, ali ih sticaj prilika tera na ogromne napore i žrtve što otkriva i njima i nama njihove izuzetne osobine. Svet koji njih troje treba da spase, kako to obično u ovom žanru biva, nastanjen je vilovnjacima, ljudima, patuljcima, gnomima i trolovima. Inače u neprijateljstvu, ovi narodi (rase) prinuđeni su da se udruže protiv nadmoćnog neprijatelja što preti da ih istrebi. Ponovimo sad to nešto preciznije, u tom drugom toku priče pratimo kako se u nevolji kuje prijateljstvo između ranije međusobno krajnje nepoverljivih grupa.

Tu naravno nije kraj poštovanja obrazaca epske fantastike. Osnovni motiv u knjizi, a isto tako i u seriji (u tom smislu scenarij verno sledi glavnu misao autora romana) jeste mirenje sa sudbinom (u podnaslovu prevoda stoji sasvim primereno: „Prigrli svoju sudbinu“). U vezi sa tim, međutim, treba naglasiti jednu crtu po kojoj Vilovnjačko kamenje Šanare ipak odskače od sličnih dela: vilovnjakinja Amberle pozvana je da umre, da se dobrovoljno žrtvuje kako bi spasila svet. Od jednog trenutka, priča nam pokazuje kako Amberle postepeno i nevoljno prihvata da bude žrtva. Istina, i svi drugi junaci u romanu nemaju mogućnost izbora: pojam slobodne volje nepoznat je u svetu Šanara. Alanon će to jezgrovito objasniti: nije ponašanje aktera razlog za događaje u svetu, njima se taj svet događa a oni to ne mogu, a da ne prihvate. Treba odmah reći, u nekim drugim delima iz istog žanra, fantastični svet može biti pozornica na kojoj glavni junaci odrastaju i spoznaju i sebe i svet. Tokom priče oni se menjaju i sazrevaju. U svetu Šanara to nije slučaj: junaci mahom ostaju isti, dok svet tutnji preko njihovih leđa. U liku Amberle taj aspekt doveden je do krajnosti. Naposletku će se ispostaviti da je karakter junaka zapravo nebitan: njima su uloge unapred dodeljene a događaji, čarobnjak ili sam svet pobrinuće se da ih oni dosledno odigraju. Stoga pitanje nije kakvi su oni, pa priča i ne mora da se kreće oko njihovog, recimo, odrastanja: glavni zaplet vrti se oko otkrivanja prave prirode uloge koja im se namenjuje. Nimalo neočekivano, uloga za vilovnjakinju i malu razbojnicu sastoji se u produžetku vrste. Zbog različitih mesta na hijerarhijskoj lestvici sveta Šanare – vilovnjakinja je princeza a mala razbojnica je neuglednog porekla, pa zato i nema prezime – biće različite i njihove prokreativne uloge: vilovnjakinja će dati život čitavom svetu; mala razbojnica će izroditi Wilove potomke. Ali, i jedna i druga će morati da se odreknu svojih života, želja i planova, i podrede se interesima zajednice o kojima ih niko ništa nije pitao niti su one o tim interesima odlučivale. I to bi, kada se sve sabere, bila glavna zamisao priče o članovima loze Šanara.

Antimodernizam epske fantastike

Naravno, epska fantastika ne čita se samo zato da bi se iz nje posle čitanja izvukla neka poruka ili pouka. Čitalačko zadovoljstvo tu izvire iz napete priče, neočekivanih obrta, maštovitih prikaza, jakih gestova i velikih dela aktera u priči; ali, bilo bi naivno zanemariti ideološku potku ovog žanra. O tome je ubedljivo pisao zagrebački profesor književnosti Zoran Kravar (1948-2013) u više svojih knjiga.4 On je s dobrim razlozima zaključio da se žanr epske fantastike ne može razumeti ako se ne uzme u obzir i jedna jaka svetonazorska struja, nastala u okrilju modernizma, upravo kao odgovor na promene koje je sa sobom donela moderna – antimodernizam. Nadalje ćemo se osloniti na Kravarove uvide o vezi između ovog žanra i antimodernizma.

Za antimodernizam karakteristična je sumnja u progres, te u racionalne sposobnosti ljudi da na najbolji način urede svoj život i svoju zajednicu. Antimodernisti uglavnom preziru sve demokratske ustanove, ne veruju u jednakost i ličnu slobodu. Odbacuju prosvetiteljsku emancipatorsku ideju o obrazovanju. Nauka i tehnologija, smatraju oni, ne donose nikakvu dobrobit; naprotiv, one nas samo udaljavaju od prvobitnog, idealnog stanja. Stoga se rešenje ne vidi u daljem razboritom razvoju civilizacije (koji uostalom i nije moguć), već u povratku na prethodna stanja. Promene su nepoželjne, a svet je nezamisliv u boljem stanju od onoga u kome je nastao kao kreacija božanskog stvoritelja. Iz ovakvih antimodernističkih, antidemokratskih i antiprosvetiteljskih stavova izvedene su i karakteristike svojstvene žanru epske fantastike. O njima Kravar ovako:

„… svijet kakav je izvorno zamišljen… ili kakav je sačuvan u zdravim enklavama… biva ugrožen i okrnjen djelovanjem moćnih antagonista, što pozitivne likove potiče na otpor i na restaurativne protupoteze. Teme i motivi koji tu paradigmu utelovljuju (prostori, vremenski okvir, likovi, radnje, norme, običaji, naznake društvenosti) fantastične su naravi, pri čemu je njihova fantastika predrealistička, tj. oslonjena na tradicije starije od prosvjetiteljstva i realističkih književnih stilova: na mit, na folklor, na srednjovjekovnu epiku, a donekle i na soteriološku literaturu, na koju podsjeća lik antagonista (sličniji palom anđelu nego epskim negativcima) i univerzalnost sukoba, o čijem ishodu ne ovisi samo sudbina pojedinaca ili zajednica, nego opstanak čitava sekundarnoga [fikcionalnog – primedba D.I.] svijeta, s njegovom prošlošću i sadašnjošću, s kopnom i morem, rijekama i gorjem, s nebom i nebeskim tijelima.“5

Kada je konkretno reč o svetu Šanara, Amberle mora otići do izvora sila što postoje od početka sveta i svet su zapravo stvorile, da se posveti u tom izvoru (u obredu sličnom krštenju, praktično da zaroni u taj „krvavi oganj“), primi u sebe njegovu iskonsku snagu i onda se žrtvuje za spas sveta. U 12. poglavlju romana Vilovnjačko kamenje Šanare, na samo nekoliko strana (112-115), čitalac će dobiti svetonazorsku esenciju epske fantastike:

„Pre nego što je vreme počelo da se meri, on [Kralj Srebrne reke – primedba D.I.] je bio tu. Pre nego što su postojali muškarci i žene, pre stvaranja naroda i vlada, pre bilo kakve istorije čovečanstva, bio je tu. Čak i pre nego što se vilinski svet podelio u ratu između dobra i zla, nepromenjivo odredivši karakter života posle toga, bio je tu. Bio je tu u ono vreme kada je svet bio Edenski vrt, a sva živa bića živela zajedno u blaženom miru i harmoniji.“

Iz tih sila preostalih s početka sveta, sadašnji svet priče crpe snagu za obnovu i povratak u prvobitno stanje. U takvom svetu napredak se razume kao podudaranje prošlosti, sadašnjosti i budućnosti. Sraz između loše sadašnjosti i idealne prošlosti upečatljivo je dat u filmu „Avatar“ kao sukob između Zemljana sa naprednom tehnologijom i „primitivne“ zajednice na planeti koju Zemljani hoće da kolonizuju i eksploatišu. Savršena „blažena harmonija“ otelovljena je u filmu u snažnom magičnom drvetu preko čijih korenja su povezana sva živa bića na planeti, što im omogućava da se složno i efikasno odupru invaziji. Ovakvo poimanje sveta, Kravar će, ponovimo to, povezati sa otporom modernizaciji, to jest sa svojevrsnim jakim razočaranjem i ogorčenošću (Kravar će napisati – ressentiment) zbog slabih a često i pogubnih učinaka modernizacije i prosvetiteljske emancipacije. Ima autora, Jan-Werner Müller6 je jedan od njih, koji razloge za ovo raspoloženje prema modernizaciji pronalaze u onim delovima elite čije su pozicije bile ugrožene stupanjem velikih masa ljudi na istorijsku i političku pozornicu. Odbacivanje emancipatorskih demokratskih načela egalitarizma u ime stroge hijerarhije i staleškog poretka bio je odgovor pojedinaca na gubitak privilegija koje su do tada, kao pripadnici viših slojeva, uživali. Ali, to je važilo za drugu polovinu 19. i prvu polovinu 20. veka. Danas vidimo da se slični, ranije elitistički stavovi plasiraju kroz popularnu kulturu namenjenu mladima u najosetljivijim formativnim godinama. Komercijalni uspeh tih dela govori o njihovoj opštoj prihvaćenosti. Sama priroda popularne kulture sprečava nas da u tome vidimo neki novi elitizam. Naprotiv, kao da svedočimo volji „naroda“ da odbaci sve one emancipatorske poluge zamišljene da pomoću njih poboljša vlastiti položaj – počevši od demokratskih ustanova i procedura, pa do samih škola.

Gore škole

Zašto je to tako – možemo samo da spekulišemo. Ali, to nagađanje ne mora biti neutemeljeno. Ne verujem da bismo pogrešili ako kažemo da je ovaj antimodernizacijski, antiprosvetiteljski i antidemokratski talas takođe posledica razočaranja i ogorčenosti, to jest svojevrsne besperspektivnosti. Društva u kojima živimo obeležena su velikim socijalnim razlikama, bedom i siromaštvom, s jedne strane, i neumerenim bogatstvom, s druge. Veliki broj ljudi isključen je iz dogovaranja i odlučivanja o društvenim aranžmanima. Demokratske ustanove kao da su dizajnirane da štite interese povlašćenih na štetu svih ostalih. Konačno, na sličan način kao da rade i same škole. Takvi ishodi poljuljali su veru, ako je nisu i sasvim kompromitovali, u mogućnost demokratskog odgovora na krizu i novog dogovora o zajedničkom dobru. Ni škole se uglavnom više ne vide kao mesta emancipacije. Ako je suditi po porukama iz popularne kulture namenjene tinejdžerima, odgovor na to stanje sastoji se u preziru ili odbacivanju ovih ustanova. Pošto su izneli sličnu kritiku na račun škola, Illich, a za njim i (mnogo manje ubedljivi) Rancière, ponudili su i sličan odgovor.

Pitanje i za nastavnike i za učenike moglo bi da glasi: da li je to ispravan i da li je to jedini odgovor na krizu društva uopšte i škola posebno? I nastavnici i učenici bi morali znati da to nisu jedini odgovori. Ove kritike ne vode nužno ka zaključku da su škole bespotrebne. Naprotiv, uprkos tim kritikama, ima autora koji škole i dalje vide kao ključne poluge emancipacije. Među njima, ističe se, recimo, Paulo Freire.7 Umesto da se odrekne škole, on je osmislio drugačiju, bolju školu, i taj je model ponudio državi. Na tom tragu razvijeni su prosvetni modeli sasvim drugačiji od onoga što priželjkuju Illich i Rancière. Sa podrškom države, u raznim sirotinjskim kvartovima megalopolisa u Brazilu stvorene su škole kao centri zajedničkog života i učenja. Te škole su praktično jedini izlaz za decu što odrastaju u bedi i siromaštvu. O tome kako su te škole nastale, kako rade i čemu služe, argumentovano pišu, pored ostalih, i Luis Armando Gandin i Michael Apple.8

Sličan odgovor može se dati i za demokratske ustanove. Na tome bi trebalo insistirati kada bi se rešilo da se u nastavu književnosti uvede epska fantastika, kao u ovom trenutku dominantni žanr za tinejdžere u polju popularne kulture. Učenici bi trebalo da budu u stanju da iščitaju ideološke poruke koje im se posreduju preko popularne kulture, da ih osveste i preispitaju. To ne mora umanjiti čitalački užitak, ali se mora naglasiti da je to ipak samo književnost, a da je život nešto drugo.

Školegijum, 19.03.2017.

Peščanik.net, 07.04.2017.

http://pescanik.net/dole-skole/
Arguing on the internet is like running in the Special Olympics: even if you win, you're still retarded.

zakk

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #288 on: 08-04-2017, 19:30:36 »
Mnogo on ovde bira uzorke da bi generalizovao zaključke.
Why shouldn't things be largely absurd, futile, and transitory? They are so, and we are so, and they and we go very well together.

Pizzobatto

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #289 on: 24-04-2017, 17:41:56 »
Confronting Dystopia
The Power of Cognition in Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash and The Diamond Age

Jonathan Lewis


Extrapolation Volume 58 , Issue 1 > DOI: 10 .3828 / extr .2017 . 4

Abstract
Neal Stephenson’s novels are typically labeled “dystopic,” but such marketing offers little use-value for understanding his significant contributions to contemporary science fiction. His work breaks with traditional definitions of dystopic fictions at nearly every turn by offering scenarios where human creativity and cognition offer real hope against such potential disasters.
Snow Crash and The Diamond Age ’s protagonists build cognitive responses to the dystopic wastelands they inhabit, but Stephenson’s terrifying novelistic premises and conceptions for future technologies and their myriad uses should be properly characterized as constructive and optimistic Jamesonian anti-utopias. Stephenson’s work certainly does not suggest that innovation alone can be our panacea, but he does put forward throughout his work that cognition just might.

http://online.liverpooluniversitypress.co.uk/doi/abs/10.3828/extr.2017.4
Better a witty fool than a foolish wit

scallop

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #290 on: 24-04-2017, 17:44:22 »
SF je po definiciji distopičan. Nada je samo uverenje pisca da postoji.
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

Boban

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #291 on: 24-04-2017, 21:39:43 »
U svakom društvu, od vajkada, dešava se da manjina, a često ubedljiva manjina, živi dobro na račun ostaka, tako da se može reći da je naša stvarnost u manjoj ili većoj meri distopična, te da nema mesta optimizmu za sve, tj. utopiji. Uvek će biti nekoga ko neće da radi i ko želi više nego što mu pripada i koga ne zanimaju pravila većine. Utopija je pojam usko povezan za stadom ovaca, nikako sa stvarnom prirodom čoveka.
Put ćemo naći ili ćemo ga napraviti.

Džek

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #292 on: 24-04-2017, 21:53:34 »
Sad mi se nameće pitanje da li je utopija satrana od te manjine u samom začetku ili je satrana zarad čovekove prirode, tj, nezrelosti da je dosegne i uživa u njoj. Mislim da su oba odgovora tačna, ali u kom omeru?
Naravno, pričam o komunizmu, onom super zamišljenom, a ne o socijalizmu. Sve su to samo termini, imam sasvim jasnu predstavu o savršenom društvu tj, utopiji.
Moj imaginarni drug mi govori da sa tvojom glavom nešto nije u redu.

scallop

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #293 on: 24-04-2017, 22:22:10 »
Utopija je dosadna. Otprilike kao i raj. Napiši kratku priču "Jedan daj u raju" i sigurno ćeš iskliznuti. Literarno, utopija je - boooooring. Kako bi zamislio zaplet, a da ne bude distopičan? Kako prelomnu tačku? Horor sa srećnim krajem, a sve zlice nesrećne?
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #294 on: 24-04-2017, 22:27:11 »
Pada mi na um Asimovljevo Golo sunce. U utopiji se desi ubistvo, prvi put, nesposobni su da ga reše zarad (da li) hendikepa i neiskustva u tome, pa zovu majstora - islednika sa distopijske Zemlje da im to odradi, koji opet ima svoj (da li) hendikep. Ali verujem da nisi imao to na umu.
Moj imaginarni drug mi govori da sa tvojom glavom nešto nije u redu.

scallop

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #295 on: 24-04-2017, 22:39:46 »
I, nema utopije. Cvrc.
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #296 on: 24-04-2017, 22:49:29 »
Dobro što je Asimov ubio nekog, inaće bi bilo onako kako ti kažeš, dosadan roman. Ali setovao ga je u utopiju. I raj beše utopija dok se Adam nije napalio. Dobra priča može da se dešava u utopiji ako je malo prodrmamo. I obavezno, da se drmanje smiri i utopija ponovo uspostavi, ništa bez dobrog hepi enda!
Moj imaginarni drug mi govori da sa tvojom glavom nešto nije u redu.

scallop

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #297 on: 24-04-2017, 23:38:05 »
Patetičaru! Gori si od mene.
Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. - Mark Twain.

hidden

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #298 on: 25-04-2017, 00:09:43 »
Pada mi na um Asimovljevo Golo sunce. U utopiji se desi ubistvo, prvi put, nesposobni su da ga reše zarad (da li) hendikepa i neiskustva u tome, pa zovu majstora - islednika sa distopijske Zemlje da im to odradi, koji opet ima svoj (da li) hendikep. Ali verujem da nisi imao to na umu.

A ja se pre neki dan pitam, odakle meni ovo Golo sunce....

Džek

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Re: FANTASTIKA, SERIOUSLY
« Reply #299 on: 25-04-2017, 07:23:01 »
Patetičaru! Gori si od mene.

Naravno.

Pada mi na um Asimovljevo Golo sunce. U utopiji se desi ubistvo, prvi put, nesposobni su da ga reše zarad (da li) hendikepa i neiskustva u tome, pa zovu majstora - islednika sa distopijske Zemlje da im to odradi, koji opet ima svoj (da li) hendikep. Ali verujem da nisi imao to na umu.

A ja se pre neki dan pitam, odakle meni ovo Golo sunce....

Ja se već decenijama pitam gde mi se dade jedno od najboljih (rekao bih najbolje ali time rizikovao inkviziciju zadužbinaca) dela Asimova
Moj imaginarni drug mi govori da sa tvojom glavom nešto nije u redu.