Scan barcode
blackoxford's review against another edition
5.0
Respecting the Eternally Dead
This is science fiction at its best. It is scientific because it employs technology that is not yet available but is nevertheless plausible in theory. It is fictional not because it proposes some strange physics in an alien galaxy-far-away but because it presents an alternative cosmology to the one that exists, unchallenged, in our own heads. This is a counter-fiction that is shocking and intriguing in equal measure; and it makes Fiasco a masterpiece.
Lem reveals and overturns an unrecognized presumption, a prejudice really, we make about the universe: the anthropomorphic conceit that life emerges from mere matter, when it does, as a sort of developmental triumph. Life represents progress; the more complex the life which evolves, the more advanced the world in which it occurs. Living things, we think, are special: they have purpose; they adapt to the world in order to achieve their purposes; in the case of humankind, they are even capable of choosing among purposes. In short, life is teleological. Even if we reject religious belief, we tend to accept that this apparent trajectory reflects the purposefulness of the cosmos which produced it.
But just suppose that we’ve got this narrative of cosmic progress wrong. Suppose that purposeless matter - not just lifeless matter but matter that has no potential at all to produce life, as on a moon of Saturn - is not only the dominant mass in the universe, but it is also a superior substance. It is superior because it is not subject to the laws of genetic evolution. It exists without having to conform to environmental vagaries. In fact, extreme environmental conditions allow this matter to express incredibly original, even creative, forms. Dead matter need not struggle for a place in the universe, nor need it prevail over other dead matter. To describe the situation succinctly: dead matter is free, liberated eternally from the “guillotine of evolution.”
The possibility of travel to other places in and beyond the solar system has perennially provoked speculation about the existence of dead matter. But we duck the issue of infinite cosmic ‘waste’. And we temporise about it until the scientific analysis is ‘complete’. We try desperately to give dead matter purpose. We search for life on Mars and Venus, even if it might now be extinct, because the thought of the dominance of dead matter is disturbing. We fantasize about mineral deposits on the Moon or travel to other planets, or even galaxies, to find places of refuge or needed resources for a depleted Earth. We look for intelligent signals from deep space in the hope of forging some kind of cosmic companionship. We may no longer consider ourselves the centre of the universe; nevertheless it is all for us - to use, to explore, to communicate with. If there is intelligent life elsewhere, it too is instrumental for our well-being. Either they can teach us or we them. The camaraderie of the living!
We thus give purpose to these places - but only in our imagination. They have no inherent purpose or at least none we could accept as such - for us, for any other form of life, but most importantly for themselves. If they consist of dead matter, they will never develop. They will never be used to become more than they are. They may be reduced to their constituent components of particles and energies in a super nova or black hole or in the nuclear engines of space craft, but by escaping genetic evolution they will forever evade the constraints of teleology. They exist immutably and only for themselves. In Christianity this is a definition of God.
If another intelligent civilization does exist, it too has been subject to the inscrutable, and debilitating, process of evolution. And evolution implies competition, conflict, and very un-Godlike action to overwhelm one’s living opponents. Recent anthropological findings confirm that the rise of primitive Homo Sapiens was at the expense of not only others in the genus Homo but most of the existing fauna in the areas Sapiens invaded. From Australia, to the islands of the Pacific, and into North and South America, humankind was a persistent serial killer of mammals, and marsupials, as well as the insects and flora which relied upon them. Why should any other intelligent species be ignorant of the reality of evolution. [See the recent Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind For a fascinating account of the natural destructiveness of our species: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23692271-sapiens?ac=1&from_search=true]
Such a conception is obviously problematic for Christian, as well as other monotheistic, beliefs for a variety of reasons. But Lem hones in on the central doctrine of Christian thought: resurrection from the dead. Resurrection is thrown into reverse; it is not a sign of divine mercy but an obscene curse. The resuscitation of a corpse, that is the reconstituting of life from dead matter, isn’t a divinely inspired miracle but a cosmically sinful tragedy. The corpse is forced from its liberated state of union with the divine back into the slavery of the genetically dependent world and straight back into the miserable competition among living things. The medical technology that Lem invents to allow such resuscitation is therefore clearly infernal, profoundly evil in its intent.
Lem’s cosmology isn’t Gnostic or nihilist. His heaven or nirvana or place of ultimate refuge is not somewhere else outside the universe that we see and experience; it is located within this very universe in its most perfect state, one of absolute internal stasis and contentment. What we call dead is really divine. What is not dead produces chaos. ‘Disordered’ is the theological term which the Dominican theologian aboard the space craft Eurydice might use. ‘Fiasco’ is the theatrical equivalent.
Lem uses his technology to get us as far away from ourselves as possible in order for his fiction to take effect. At such a distance, the fiction may not be fictional at all. "The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars... "
This is science fiction at its best. It is scientific because it employs technology that is not yet available but is nevertheless plausible in theory. It is fictional not because it proposes some strange physics in an alien galaxy-far-away but because it presents an alternative cosmology to the one that exists, unchallenged, in our own heads. This is a counter-fiction that is shocking and intriguing in equal measure; and it makes Fiasco a masterpiece.
Lem reveals and overturns an unrecognized presumption, a prejudice really, we make about the universe: the anthropomorphic conceit that life emerges from mere matter, when it does, as a sort of developmental triumph. Life represents progress; the more complex the life which evolves, the more advanced the world in which it occurs. Living things, we think, are special: they have purpose; they adapt to the world in order to achieve their purposes; in the case of humankind, they are even capable of choosing among purposes. In short, life is teleological. Even if we reject religious belief, we tend to accept that this apparent trajectory reflects the purposefulness of the cosmos which produced it.
But just suppose that we’ve got this narrative of cosmic progress wrong. Suppose that purposeless matter - not just lifeless matter but matter that has no potential at all to produce life, as on a moon of Saturn - is not only the dominant mass in the universe, but it is also a superior substance. It is superior because it is not subject to the laws of genetic evolution. It exists without having to conform to environmental vagaries. In fact, extreme environmental conditions allow this matter to express incredibly original, even creative, forms. Dead matter need not struggle for a place in the universe, nor need it prevail over other dead matter. To describe the situation succinctly: dead matter is free, liberated eternally from the “guillotine of evolution.”
The possibility of travel to other places in and beyond the solar system has perennially provoked speculation about the existence of dead matter. But we duck the issue of infinite cosmic ‘waste’. And we temporise about it until the scientific analysis is ‘complete’. We try desperately to give dead matter purpose. We search for life on Mars and Venus, even if it might now be extinct, because the thought of the dominance of dead matter is disturbing. We fantasize about mineral deposits on the Moon or travel to other planets, or even galaxies, to find places of refuge or needed resources for a depleted Earth. We look for intelligent signals from deep space in the hope of forging some kind of cosmic companionship. We may no longer consider ourselves the centre of the universe; nevertheless it is all for us - to use, to explore, to communicate with. If there is intelligent life elsewhere, it too is instrumental for our well-being. Either they can teach us or we them. The camaraderie of the living!
We thus give purpose to these places - but only in our imagination. They have no inherent purpose or at least none we could accept as such - for us, for any other form of life, but most importantly for themselves. If they consist of dead matter, they will never develop. They will never be used to become more than they are. They may be reduced to their constituent components of particles and energies in a super nova or black hole or in the nuclear engines of space craft, but by escaping genetic evolution they will forever evade the constraints of teleology. They exist immutably and only for themselves. In Christianity this is a definition of God.
If another intelligent civilization does exist, it too has been subject to the inscrutable, and debilitating, process of evolution. And evolution implies competition, conflict, and very un-Godlike action to overwhelm one’s living opponents. Recent anthropological findings confirm that the rise of primitive Homo Sapiens was at the expense of not only others in the genus Homo but most of the existing fauna in the areas Sapiens invaded. From Australia, to the islands of the Pacific, and into North and South America, humankind was a persistent serial killer of mammals, and marsupials, as well as the insects and flora which relied upon them. Why should any other intelligent species be ignorant of the reality of evolution. [See the recent Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind For a fascinating account of the natural destructiveness of our species: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23692271-sapiens?ac=1&from_search=true]
Such a conception is obviously problematic for Christian, as well as other monotheistic, beliefs for a variety of reasons. But Lem hones in on the central doctrine of Christian thought: resurrection from the dead. Resurrection is thrown into reverse; it is not a sign of divine mercy but an obscene curse. The resuscitation of a corpse, that is the reconstituting of life from dead matter, isn’t a divinely inspired miracle but a cosmically sinful tragedy. The corpse is forced from its liberated state of union with the divine back into the slavery of the genetically dependent world and straight back into the miserable competition among living things. The medical technology that Lem invents to allow such resuscitation is therefore clearly infernal, profoundly evil in its intent.
Lem’s cosmology isn’t Gnostic or nihilist. His heaven or nirvana or place of ultimate refuge is not somewhere else outside the universe that we see and experience; it is located within this very universe in its most perfect state, one of absolute internal stasis and contentment. What we call dead is really divine. What is not dead produces chaos. ‘Disordered’ is the theological term which the Dominican theologian aboard the space craft Eurydice might use. ‘Fiasco’ is the theatrical equivalent.
Lem uses his technology to get us as far away from ourselves as possible in order for his fiction to take effect. At such a distance, the fiction may not be fictional at all. "The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars... "
urbaer's review against another edition
2.0
There are parts of this I delighted in, but I think I have too many issues with this one.
The story starts us with the pilot Parvis who is making a delivery run to Titan and discovers that a few people have been lost on the moon, including his mentor Pirx (of the Pirx the Pilot stories). He takes a mech out to find them but ultimately must freeze himself in a cryo pod.
Jump to the future where Eurydice is heading to make first contact with a planet. On board they've taken aboard the missing people including two pilots who have been in cryo, both of whom have names starting with P, but they don't have any more information than that. They randomly choose one to bring out of cryo, using organs from the others, but also know that the one that the bring back will have amnesia.
"Oh. So this will be important then!" I think "whether it's Pirx or Parvis will be an integral part of this story". Dear reader, let me dispel you of this notion. It's not. He never learns or if he does, he doesn't reveal it. And given that Lem mentions the fact that they are pretty similar personalities I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting. Just something I guess.
Anyway the resurected pilot picks up a book which the doctor gave him. And reads it. It's not important to the plot, but there you go. Previously one of the scientest was telling a story about El Derado. It's also tangental to the plot, but goes for pages.
And so here's my actual issue with this book. Why has it been stuffed with stories that have no impact on the rest of the story? I may have read that these were drafts of other stories Lem had lying around and had used as the basis, but in my mind he's being paid by word count here. You could argue that he's used the stories about discovery to tell us something about how man has always sought out new worlds and blundered, but I'm not entirely convinced that he achieves this even if it was his intention.
It's slog for slogs sake.
Anyway, the Eurydice is heading for a planet designated Quinta and doing so in a way that means that the will return soonish after they left Earth. Lem tackled the issue of contact with other worlds and the pointlessness of it in [b:Return From the Stars|251648|Return From the Stars|Stanisław Lem|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1328875060l/251648._SX50_.jpg|457761] and here he goes to great lengths to prove that travel to other stars in this short time period is possible. Great lengths.
Here, let's stop and grumble about how often the action in this book stops in order to drop into research paper territory. A great deal of history is laid out as to how the ships drive was created and how it's scientifically possible and I really didn't care.
Later, he goes into dissecting the arguments of the characters. Not by y'know having the characters have a discussion, no, it's in third person. Urhgh. It ends up being so dry.
So the pilot has two goals. One to remember who he is (or decide he doesn't care) and two to learn enough to be selected as the second pilot on the team that will be travelling on the smaller ship to Quinta, the Hermes, while the Eurydice stays away. Great so I'm now having to learn what he learns.
So he gets selected to go on the Hermes. Yah! We're about halfway through the book and they're still not at the planet. But spying on the planet they realise that it's full of signals and interference with each other, the planet has a ring of ice in it's atmosphere that appears to have been put up there by the locals from the sea and in orbit around the planet are many probes or satellite like things. They aim to catch one and it turns out to be biomechanical but diseased and the eventual decided upon theory is that there's a war on and that the infection was deliberate from the other side of Quinta.
The ship has an onboard computer, DEUS. And there's sort of a weird hierarchy where the captain, but the onboard computer tracks the mental health of the crew and if there's an issue with any of the crew, lets the captain and doctor know and they then need to handle it.
So what if the virus that diseased the probe that they caught infected DEUS. Eh, it doesn't happen. But DEUS often behaves weirdly.
The crew try to contact the planet with no success. Eventually they decide that the planet is ignoring them instead of not being able to understand and then start threatening them and this is where the book just entirely lost me. Because they carry out those threats, by destroying the moon.
What gets me is that it presumes that the threats could be understood and also the time limit could be understood. Which really?
They get contact, but things escalate, they send a fake Hermes down, it gets destroyed, they destroy the ice ring, get agreeement from one of the sides of the conflict to send the pilot down to check on the destroyed fake Hermes and let the Quntians know that if they don't recieve a message from the pilot every x minutes that they'll destroy the planet.
So in the last twenty pages the pilot finally gets to the planet. And he misses the second call in and the planet is destroyed by the Hermes, THE END.
What?
I just don't by the idea in the book that things would escalate like this. Imagine going to a strangers house in a less developed country, because you want to be friends with them. You knock on their door. They don't answer. So you blow up their garage. They say "Please go away" so you smash in their windows. It doesn't make sense.
And I've come to this after reading portions of [b:Microworlds: Writings on Science Fiction and Fantasy|889430|Microworlds Writings on Science Fiction and Fantasy|Stanisław Lem|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1348193964l/889430._SY75_.jpg|874679] where Lem pulls apart stories about first contact from [b:The War of the Worlds|8909|The War of the Worlds|H.G. Wells|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320391644l/8909._SY75_.jpg|3194841] to [b:Roadside Picnic|331256|Roadside Picnic|Arkady Strugatsky|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1173812259l/331256._SY75_.jpg|1243896], but I can't see how Fiasco holds with those discussions (apart from the parts where he derides science fantasy for not giving full explanations of the tech).
Now I admit that I am often more to the whimsical stories of Ijon Tichy, but I really do enjoy the more serious tales of Pirx, but this one feels off. It feels hopeless and morose. As if the future is pointless, inevitable and not worth attempting.
Where I really land on this one though is that it could have been three different and good stories. but as is, it drags strangely and doesn't mesh well together at all and I don't like it.
I'm yet to read the last Lem novel which was published after this one [b:Peace on Earth|88313|Peace on Earth|Stanisław Lem|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1328874754l/88313._SY75_.jpg|1271753] and as it's a Tichy novel I was keen to, but now I'm worried that I won't like it as I did this one.
The story starts us with the pilot Parvis who is making a delivery run to Titan and discovers that a few people have been lost on the moon, including his mentor Pirx (of the Pirx the Pilot stories). He takes a mech out to find them but ultimately must freeze himself in a cryo pod.
Jump to the future where Eurydice is heading to make first contact with a planet. On board they've taken aboard the missing people including two pilots who have been in cryo, both of whom have names starting with P, but they don't have any more information than that. They randomly choose one to bring out of cryo, using organs from the others, but also know that the one that the bring back will have amnesia.
"Oh. So this will be important then!" I think "whether it's Pirx or Parvis will be an integral part of this story". Dear reader, let me dispel you of this notion. It's not. He never learns or if he does, he doesn't reveal it. And given that Lem mentions the fact that they are pretty similar personalities I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting. Just something I guess.
Anyway the resurected pilot picks up a book which the doctor gave him. And reads it. It's not important to the plot, but there you go. Previously one of the scientest was telling a story about El Derado. It's also tangental to the plot, but goes for pages.
And so here's my actual issue with this book. Why has it been stuffed with stories that have no impact on the rest of the story? I may have read that these were drafts of other stories Lem had lying around and had used as the basis, but in my mind he's being paid by word count here. You could argue that he's used the stories about discovery to tell us something about how man has always sought out new worlds and blundered, but I'm not entirely convinced that he achieves this even if it was his intention.
It's slog for slogs sake.
Anyway, the Eurydice is heading for a planet designated Quinta and doing so in a way that means that the will return soonish after they left Earth. Lem tackled the issue of contact with other worlds and the pointlessness of it in [b:Return From the Stars|251648|Return From the Stars|Stanisław Lem|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1328875060l/251648._SX50_.jpg|457761] and here he goes to great lengths to prove that travel to other stars in this short time period is possible. Great lengths.
Here, let's stop and grumble about how often the action in this book stops in order to drop into research paper territory. A great deal of history is laid out as to how the ships drive was created and how it's scientifically possible and I really didn't care.
Later, he goes into dissecting the arguments of the characters. Not by y'know having the characters have a discussion, no, it's in third person. Urhgh. It ends up being so dry.
So the pilot has two goals. One to remember who he is (or decide he doesn't care) and two to learn enough to be selected as the second pilot on the team that will be travelling on the smaller ship to Quinta, the Hermes, while the Eurydice stays away. Great so I'm now having to learn what he learns.
So he gets selected to go on the Hermes. Yah! We're about halfway through the book and they're still not at the planet. But spying on the planet they realise that it's full of signals and interference with each other, the planet has a ring of ice in it's atmosphere that appears to have been put up there by the locals from the sea and in orbit around the planet are many probes or satellite like things. They aim to catch one and it turns out to be biomechanical but diseased and the eventual decided upon theory is that there's a war on and that the infection was deliberate from the other side of Quinta.
The ship has an onboard computer, DEUS. And there's sort of a weird hierarchy where the captain, but the onboard computer tracks the mental health of the crew and if there's an issue with any of the crew, lets the captain and doctor know and they then need to handle it.
So what if the virus that diseased the probe that they caught infected DEUS. Eh, it doesn't happen. But DEUS often behaves weirdly.
The crew try to contact the planet with no success. Eventually they decide that the planet is ignoring them instead of not being able to understand and then start threatening them and this is where the book just entirely lost me. Because they carry out those threats, by destroying the moon.
What gets me is that it presumes that the threats could be understood and also the time limit could be understood. Which really?
They get contact, but things escalate, they send a fake Hermes down, it gets destroyed, they destroy the ice ring, get agreeement from one of the sides of the conflict to send the pilot down to check on the destroyed fake Hermes and let the Quntians know that if they don't recieve a message from the pilot every x minutes that they'll destroy the planet.
So in the last twenty pages the pilot finally gets to the planet. And he misses the second call in and the planet is destroyed by the Hermes, THE END.
What?
I just don't by the idea in the book that things would escalate like this. Imagine going to a strangers house in a less developed country, because you want to be friends with them. You knock on their door. They don't answer. So you blow up their garage. They say "Please go away" so you smash in their windows. It doesn't make sense.
And I've come to this after reading portions of [b:Microworlds: Writings on Science Fiction and Fantasy|889430|Microworlds Writings on Science Fiction and Fantasy|Stanisław Lem|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1348193964l/889430._SY75_.jpg|874679] where Lem pulls apart stories about first contact from [b:The War of the Worlds|8909|The War of the Worlds|H.G. Wells|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320391644l/8909._SY75_.jpg|3194841] to [b:Roadside Picnic|331256|Roadside Picnic|Arkady Strugatsky|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1173812259l/331256._SY75_.jpg|1243896], but I can't see how Fiasco holds with those discussions (apart from the parts where he derides science fantasy for not giving full explanations of the tech).
Now I admit that I am often more to the whimsical stories of Ijon Tichy, but I really do enjoy the more serious tales of Pirx, but this one feels off. It feels hopeless and morose. As if the future is pointless, inevitable and not worth attempting.
Where I really land on this one though is that it could have been three different and good stories. but as is, it drags strangely and doesn't mesh well together at all and I don't like it.
I'm yet to read the last Lem novel which was published after this one [b:Peace on Earth|88313|Peace on Earth|Stanisław Lem|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1328874754l/88313._SY75_.jpg|1271753] and as it's a Tichy novel I was keen to, but now I'm worried that I won't like it as I did this one.
carolined314's review against another edition
4.0
Lem is a favorite of mine, so I am biased. But the book has the tone you expect from a Polish sci-fi author: intent, serious, totally wry.
There are big robots in most of Lem's books, and this entire book is really just a set up to a punchline. You can almost hear him in the bar, telling his friends the story, and then deciding to write a novel about it.
It's got all the charm of that, plus the application and attention to detail that makes Lem eminently lovable.
There are big robots in most of Lem's books, and this entire book is really just a set up to a punchline. You can almost hear him in the bar, telling his friends the story, and then deciding to write a novel about it.
It's got all the charm of that, plus the application and attention to detail that makes Lem eminently lovable.
nelsonminar's review against another edition
2.0
This might well be the last Lem novel I ever read: I got a lot out of a couple of his books, but the ones I've read more recently have been lost on me. Fiasco was really difficult for me to finish: the plot was predictable, the characters uninteresting, and even the story itself was only vaguely compelling. Humans find another planet, and through a miracle of time reversal manage to travel there. Lem takes this as an opportunity to tell a story about how difficult it would be for humans to interact with a completely alien world. I think he made the point better in His Master's Voice, personally. Sorry to be such a downer about this.
linwearcamenel's review
challenging
dark
informative
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.5
iren_jsi's review
adventurous
dark
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
Old fashioned space exploration / first contact hard SF.
The only negative thing: no female characters.
The only negative thing: no female characters.
piccoline's review against another edition
4.0
Two things: 1) Lem is capable of really wonderful stuff. 2) This book has its problems. So why four stars then, David? Well, look, there's some great riffs sprinkled throughout, and its wanderings and doldrums along the way end up almost erased by the blistering pessimism it musters in its closing 50 pages or so. You keep wondering, as the end drifts nearer, whether he's really got the courage to take it all the way. Oh yes, oh, he does.
And can you really argue that he's misread us? That's the truly terrifying question that echoes as the steam and smoke still rises of your scorched brain when you close the book at last.
And can you really argue that he's misread us? That's the truly terrifying question that echoes as the steam and smoke still rises of your scorched brain when you close the book at last.
fabman's review
2.0
I really like the way Stanislaw writes in all his books, but this one is too boring. The introduction and creation of the plot is too damn long and slow, I felt aslep twice reading this book.
thecoffeebot's review against another edition
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
I am so sad to leave this book unfinished. This was once my favourite book and the first chapter still remains as one of the pieces of literature I love the most. But all after that point feels... Dull and unrealistic, filled with lengthy descriptions of just loosely founded speculative technology and ridiculous calls to force in long winded space meetings.
I am still fascinated by the premise of this book, but... I no longer believe Lem's style is worth all that much praise.
I am still fascinated by the premise of this book, but... I no longer believe Lem's style is worth all that much praise.