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Conceptual Fiction
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His Master's Voice
by Stanislaw Lem
Reviewed by Ted Gioia
Science fiction was created mostly by bright-eyed optimists
intoxicated with the potential of technological progress. A
grand new universe was, it seemed,
only a hyper-drive leap away. Yet
many of the most memorable writers
in the field adopted a pessimistic tone
The dystopian visions of George Or-
well and Aldous Huxley drew on the
potential of the sci-fi genre to generate
scathing cultural critiques. Technolo-
gy might progress, these authors
warned, but its benefits were fragile,
compromised by our corrupt institutions.
Stanislaw Lem also belongs in the
pantheon of these pessimists. He once
summed up his philosophy in a nut-shell: "People are terrible
and the future is bleak." But Lem (unlike Orwell or Huxley)
extended his critique beyond the psychological and
sociological spheres. Even the pure nuts-and-bolts of science,
he argued, was often suspect and unable to meet its stated goals.
The scientists in Lem’s work, are often dazed and confused.
We are struck as much by their errors as their successes. The
story behind the story is now what they know, but what they
have failed to comprehend.
When Lem depicted the grand moments when humans confront
intelligent life from another planet – the impetus for two of his
finest novels, Solaris and His Master’s Voice--he avoids all of
the clichéd scenes. His aliens are neither the hostile war-
mongers of H.G. Wells, nor the peace-loving visitors of
Spielberg’s E.T. They neither threaten nor cajole. They do
not dominate or placate. No little green visitor proclaims
“Take me to your leader.”
In Lem’s world, the struggle is merely to comprehend. Lem has
discarded all of the anthropomorphic assumptions that have
long permeated our imaginary encounters with the unknown.
In his universe, an alien life form might look like part of the
landscape, or communicate to us in patterns that we barely
recognize.
His Master’s Voice describes one such encounter. A repeating
signal has been picked up from the cosmos, and its structure
suggests that the source may be an intelligent life form. The
government sets up a top secret task force, akin to the
Manhattan Project, in an isolated section of the Nevada desert,
and enlist a team of 2,500 scientists to decipher the signal and
understand its significance. Here are gathered physicists,
linguists, engineers, psychoanalysts, mathematicians,
chemists, humanists, anthropologists and other specialists and
sub-specialists.
In the hands of another author, this would be the springboard
for a conventional thriller. But Lem operates at a much higher
level. In his hands, this story works at multiple levels. He
forces the reader to question our epistemological certainties,
reconsider our assumptions about the objectivity of science,
and gain new appreciation into the compromises and ethical
blind spots inherent in technological progress.
But even when Lem is most philosophical, he never lets the plot
lag. The team deciphering the alien message slowly makes
progress in unlocking the meaning of this possible signal from
beyond, and Lem brilliantly conveys the tensions and rivalries
that rise from their work. To give these proceedings a
necessary veil of realism, Lem dishes out judicious doses of
scientific concepts and hypotheses, and the skill and finesse
with which he mixes in these ingredients is almost breathtaking
at times. I’m not sure how much research a writer needs to
undertake to achieve this level of believability, but I am
astonished by the end result.
One of the most memorable passages in the book is a mere
tangent to the plot. Peter Hogarth, the scientist narrating His
Master’s Voice, encounters one of his colleagues reading
science fiction novels--which he uses, he claims as a “generator
of ideas.” Hogarth responds with his own view (which we can
assume represents Lem’s own opinion): “The authors of these
pseudo-scientific fairy tales supply the public with what it
wants: truisms, clichés, stereotypes, all sufficiently costumed
and made ‘wonderful’ so that the reader may sink into a safe
state of surprise and at the same time not be jostled out of his
philosophy of life. If there is progress in a culture, the progress
is above all conceptual, but literature, the science-fiction
variety in particular, has nothing to do with that.”
It is to Lem’s credit that he writes science fiction that is
immune to these criticisms. In the place of truisms, clichés,
stereotypes,” he offers us an open-ended vision of the universe
that defies our best efforts to simplify and sterilize its
meanings. In a genre that is too often constrained and
demeaned by conventions, Lem offers us powerful examples of
a type of sci-fi that can stand comparison with the finest
literary fiction of our time.
by Stanislaw Lem
Reviewed by Ted Gioia
Science fiction was created mostly by bright-eyed optimists
intoxicated with the potential of technological progress. A
grand new universe was, it seemed,
only a hyper-drive leap away. Yet
many of the most memorable writers
in the field adopted a pessimistic tone
The dystopian visions of George Or-
well and Aldous Huxley drew on the
potential of the sci-fi genre to generate
scathing cultural critiques. Technolo-
gy might progress, these authors
warned, but its benefits were fragile,
compromised by our corrupt institutions.
Stanislaw Lem also belongs in the
pantheon of these pessimists. He once
summed up his philosophy in a nut-shell: "People are terrible
and the future is bleak." But Lem (unlike Orwell or Huxley)
extended his critique beyond the psychological and
sociological spheres. Even the pure nuts-and-bolts of science,
he argued, was often suspect and unable to meet its stated goals.
The scientists in Lem’s work, are often dazed and confused.
We are struck as much by their errors as their successes. The
story behind the story is now what they know, but what they
have failed to comprehend.
When Lem depicted the grand moments when humans confront
intelligent life from another planet – the impetus for two of his
finest novels, Solaris and His Master’s Voice--he avoids all of
the clichéd scenes. His aliens are neither the hostile war-
mongers of H.G. Wells, nor the peace-loving visitors of
Spielberg’s E.T. They neither threaten nor cajole. They do
not dominate or placate. No little green visitor proclaims
“Take me to your leader.”
In Lem’s world, the struggle is merely to comprehend. Lem has
discarded all of the anthropomorphic assumptions that have
long permeated our imaginary encounters with the unknown.
In his universe, an alien life form might look like part of the
landscape, or communicate to us in patterns that we barely
recognize.
His Master’s Voice describes one such encounter. A repeating
signal has been picked up from the cosmos, and its structure
suggests that the source may be an intelligent life form. The
government sets up a top secret task force, akin to the
Manhattan Project, in an isolated section of the Nevada desert,
and enlist a team of 2,500 scientists to decipher the signal and
understand its significance. Here are gathered physicists,
linguists, engineers, psychoanalysts, mathematicians,
chemists, humanists, anthropologists and other specialists and
sub-specialists.
In the hands of another author, this would be the springboard
for a conventional thriller. But Lem operates at a much higher
level. In his hands, this story works at multiple levels. He
forces the reader to question our epistemological certainties,
reconsider our assumptions about the objectivity of science,
and gain new appreciation into the compromises and ethical
blind spots inherent in technological progress.
But even when Lem is most philosophical, he never lets the plot
lag. The team deciphering the alien message slowly makes
progress in unlocking the meaning of this possible signal from
beyond, and Lem brilliantly conveys the tensions and rivalries
that rise from their work. To give these proceedings a
necessary veil of realism, Lem dishes out judicious doses of
scientific concepts and hypotheses, and the skill and finesse
with which he mixes in these ingredients is almost breathtaking
at times. I’m not sure how much research a writer needs to
undertake to achieve this level of believability, but I am
astonished by the end result.
One of the most memorable passages in the book is a mere
tangent to the plot. Peter Hogarth, the scientist narrating His
Master’s Voice, encounters one of his colleagues reading
science fiction novels--which he uses, he claims as a “generator
of ideas.” Hogarth responds with his own view (which we can
assume represents Lem’s own opinion): “The authors of these
pseudo-scientific fairy tales supply the public with what it
wants: truisms, clichés, stereotypes, all sufficiently costumed
and made ‘wonderful’ so that the reader may sink into a safe
state of surprise and at the same time not be jostled out of his
philosophy of life. If there is progress in a culture, the progress
is above all conceptual, but literature, the science-fiction
variety in particular, has nothing to do with that.”
It is to Lem’s credit that he writes science fiction that is
immune to these criticisms. In the place of truisms, clichés,
stereotypes,” he offers us an open-ended vision of the universe
that defies our best efforts to simplify and sterilize its
meanings. In a genre that is too often constrained and
demeaned by conventions, Lem offers us powerful examples of
a type of sci-fi that can stand comparison with the finest
literary fiction of our time.
