 |
| What is DNA, but lines in the narrative of our lives? |
But that’s a busted flush I now realise.
This one (curses!) is totally due to the Mighty Algorithm, following as it does a book about British political arrogance and spite, Irish nationalism and sectarian violence, which was chosen on the back of relentless subliminal (and also liminal and super liminal – Hey, you two, join the Navy!) advertising by my current podcasts/podcasters of choice. In terms of how this follows my recent sci-fi picks, I am fully invested in the idea that it’s something to do with comparative cover design as, post-Southern Reach Trilogy, the industry of sci-fi cover design has embraced the near abstract new weird and loves deep purples and blues, and therefore I am suddenly attuned to those colours and shapes given they adorn the covers of other books I have purchased through the MegaCorp. Intertextuality be damned.
Back to the matter at hand, then, and although it galls me to say it, “In the beginning was the word.”
Yes, although biblical references are scarce, Hur’s novel comes down to the simple idea that words are not merely symbols to communicate ideas, but can write identity, forge futures, create life.
Abiogenesis is for suckers.
From a far-future world where remnants of humanity, and other artificial (with a question mark here, more of which later) beings, circle the Earth on massive arks created by variously gently benign, possibly disinterested or positively nurturing nanites, preparing for space travel perhaps, we read the historical thoughts, recorded in a black A4 notebook, of key figures in the development of a technology which has sought to eradicate redundants, biological humans, in pursuit of the pure, that is perfect copies of Eve, themselves harvested from the miscarried progeny of Panit. Panit, meaning ‘Beloved’, is an instantiation of the physical form of Patient One, a human named Yonghun Han, whose entire body was replaced by nanites in an attempt to cure a form of cancer, but whose mind is an AI created by Yonghun as an attempt to prove sentient intelligence could be created using 19th century poetry.
You following so far?
In any case, Hur seems to propose a solution to the Hobbesian thought experiment prompted by the Ship of Theseus paradox, namely that if something is replaced piece by piece, can the result still be considered the same thing as the original (think Trigger’s Broom, kids). Hur says no. And therefore if all the replaced and discarded parts were to be gathered together and used to create another of the same thing, could that be considered the original? Still no. Panit knows they are not Yonghun, and Yonghun no longer exists per se, despite his memories remainng. However, confusingly, Ellen, a cellist who underwent the same procedure and whose nanites choose to randomly manifest millions of copies of her (where if two copies make eye contact one of them ‘raptures’) which roam the Earth, never seems to know who/what they are originally, despite memories seeming to come back slowly over time. Eves are raised to be super soldiers by the AI of the JANUS Corp so shouldn’t be interested in the practical application of this experiment, spoiler spoiler spoiler zip my lips are sealed.
Did I clear that up?
Where was I? Oh yes, language and identity. Hur himself is an acclaimed translator of other’s work and his characters discuss how the machine of the human understands the input of the universe, whether we are creators or interpreters. It’s not just the word that Hur investigates – his musician claims to be interpreting and representing the hidden music of the universe which underpins all and could be an analogue of mathematics, itself a circumscribing of meaning using symbols. But poetry features heavily, particularly Christina Rosetti and, I’m told, Emily Dickinson (whose work I inverted commas studied close inverted commas at university so me missing this is probably unforgiveable and a dead giveaway of my thoughts on the value to me of poetry), and his scientist poses the questions, “Are scientists the poets of the natural world? Or are poets scientists of the imagined world?” As a *cough* writer myself this sort of thing is inspirational gold dust, even if it does often send me down imagined rabbit holes to the rotten bloated rabbit corpses of other people’s ideas and a fetid stagnant pool of shadow artist depression decay fluid. However, language, which may or may not be essential to sentience, is not always a positive thing – the Panit AI was consuming the militaristic Empire-building poetry of Great Britain (as evidenced by an expositional section which includes a lecture by Panit’s love-interest on Milton); is it any wonder that the JANUS AI decided on all-out war? Language is also a virus, it is used to corrupt and obfuscate. Take this blog, for example….
Alfred Adler said we all seek to belong and to feel significant and that this is fundamental to the human condition. By that token, the Eves and Ellens and Panit are all arguably human, and the permanence of the human condition despite the transience of the human medium is on show throughout the novel. And yet there is not much joy on offer here; Hur has produced what is a desperately sad, if worthy and beautifully written novel, prefaced with loss, and with an epilogue which suggests we won’t find the resolution or completion of a life’s love on this plane or planet. I might be tempted to propose that this feeling lead me to choose the novel collaborative novelization of Keanu Reeves' bleak BRZRKR comics as my next book, but in all honesty, I'm just afraid of falling off the wave of the current literary and cultural zeitgeist, and the cover has violently pink lettering which is hard to ignore.
Busted flush.
Where was I? Oh yes, language and identity. Hur himself is an acclaimed translator of other’s work and his characters discuss how the machine of the human understands the input of the universe, whether we are creators or interpreters. It’s not just the word that Hur investigates – his musician claims to be interpreting and representing the hidden music of the universe which underpins all and could be an analogue of mathematics, itself a circumscribing of meaning using symbols. But poetry features heavily, particularly Christina Rosetti and, I’m told, Emily Dickinson (whose work I inverted commas studied close inverted commas at university so me missing this is probably unforgiveable and a dead giveaway of my thoughts on the value to me of poetry), and his scientist poses the questions, “Are scientists the poets of the natural world? Or are poets scientists of the imagined world?” As a *cough* writer myself this sort of thing is inspirational gold dust, even if it does often send me down imagined rabbit holes to the rotten bloated rabbit corpses of other people’s ideas and a fetid stagnant pool of shadow artist depression decay fluid. However, language, which may or may not be essential to sentience, is not always a positive thing – the Panit AI was consuming the militaristic Empire-building poetry of Great Britain (as evidenced by an expositional section which includes a lecture by Panit’s love-interest on Milton); is it any wonder that the JANUS AI decided on all-out war? Language is also a virus, it is used to corrupt and obfuscate. Take this blog, for example….
Alfred Adler said we all seek to belong and to feel significant and that this is fundamental to the human condition. By that token, the Eves and Ellens and Panit are all arguably human, and the permanence of the human condition despite the transience of the human medium is on show throughout the novel. And yet there is not much joy on offer here; Hur has produced what is a desperately sad, if worthy and beautifully written novel, prefaced with loss, and with an epilogue which suggests we won’t find the resolution or completion of a life’s love on this plane or planet. I might be tempted to propose that this feeling lead me to choose the novel collaborative novelization of Keanu Reeves' bleak BRZRKR comics as my next book, but in all honesty, I'm just afraid of falling off the wave of the current literary and cultural zeitgeist, and the cover has violently pink lettering which is hard to ignore.
Busted flush.
(Paid link)
Comments
Post a Comment