Posts tagged ‘science fiction’
THE STRAIN by GUILLERMO DEL TORO AND CHUCK HOGAN
In the past I wrote about the FX series, The Strain, and indicated that I intended to read the novel. Well, I kept that promise and am now well into, The Fall, the second of the three book series.
The TV series closely follows the novel, with a few alterations and new characters that have little or no impact on the storyline. What I enjoyed about FX series, which will continue in the future, I found reinforced in my reading of the book, i.e. the science. We’ve all grown up with Bram Stoker’s classic novel, Dracula, and watched film presentations beginning with Nosferatu and on to movies starring Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee. Vampire movies still popup, usually during the summer movies season focusing more on the scantily clad, or more commonly unclad, maidens, and less on the traditional legend. What makes The Strain unique is, for the first time, there is a detailed scientific explanation for the vampire condition. Low and behold, and I don’t think I’m giving too much away, the condition is the result of a virus, a virus that has been around for hundreds or more years. Other vampire characteristics are also explained scientifically; I love it. There are also hints as to the origin of the malady and I’m looking forward to that revelation.
As a former scientist, I enjoy playing with scientific fact in my writing to make the storyline plausible and to pack a little punch. For instance, my as yet unpublished novel, The Beast Awaits, has a terrifying beast produced from mishandling stem cells, and I rely heavily on my tissue culture experience to make the story believable.
In this day and age of daily scientific breakthroughs, I feel the reading public wants and demands substance behind the terror.
Here are some links where you may purchase my work.
Melange Books
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/index.html
Barnes & Noble. Com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/walt-trizna?store=book&keyword=walt+trizna
Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=walt+trizna
FICTION USING FACT
When writing science fiction, I enjoy including knowledge gained during my former career in science in my stories to give them an air of realism and draw the reader into a world where the borders between fact and fiction blur.
I have had the pleasure, of late, to view that approach adopted, to some extent, by some recent TV shows. I also appreciate the new approach these outlets are using in presenting their programs. More on that appreciation will follow in another post.
One program I have been following, and I hope you fans of horror have also, is The Strain, based on the novel of the same name written by Guillermo del Toro seen on Sunday nights on FX. Vampires are the beasts in question and for the first time, to my knowledge, an explanation is given for the condition and its spread. Also detailed is a reason for the monster’s primary weakness – sunlight.
Ever since Bram Stoker penned his classic novel, Dracula in 1897, horror fans have been fascinated by this lustful amoral sucker of blood. Beginning with the classic film, Nosferatu, seen in 1922 followed by vampire movies starring Bela Lugosi and on to Christopher Lee we have witnessed countless young maidens come under the spell of these heartless fiends through their bite. But how is this evil trait passed from one victim to the next? The Strain has answered that question.
A virus is the culprit.
More and more we are becoming aware of the horror viruses can weak. From polio to the appearance in the western world of AIDS in the early 1980s to the recent Ebola outbreak in Africa, viruses have left their mark on mankind. I find it fascinating that a virus is now being used in the formation of vampires. Granted, the vampires in The Strain do not follow the classic manner in neck bites seen in days of old. These current vampires have a much more dramatic method. Also cleverly explained is their weakness to the sun, nicely tied into their propagation by a virus.
Those who have worked with tissue culture I’m sure have do so in a biological safety hood. When the hoods are not in use a UV lamp is illuminated to destroy any bacteria or viruses lurking within. In The Strain scientist fighting the disease are caught in a convenience store which, in addition to selling the usual fare of magazines, soda and beef jerky, has a well-stocked supply of UV lamps. And vampires are susceptible to UV rays such as those found in sunlight.
I love it!
The scientist use the UV lamps the combat the vampires when leaving the building. They also mention that the lamps are useless while they are inside for the rays do not penetrate glass, which is true.
I find this show entertaining not only because of the horror but also for the use of correct science. I also now know the answer to another burning question I have pondered: Why are nubile bikini-clad women never attacked by vampires in the dead of night while using tanning beds? It’s the UV rays.
Another program I’ve been following is Falling Skies broadcast also on Sunday nights by TNT. Aliens have attacked earth and are powering their ships using electricity beamed from the moon. One of the characters says, “Just like Tesla predicted.” He’s right.
Back when the use of electricity was in its infancy, a debate began between Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla as to what form of electricity should be provided to customers. Edison was for direct current (DC) and Tesla for alternating current (AC). Fortunately Tesla won, AC being a safer product. Tesla also wanted to transmit electricity without the use of wires, solely through the atmosphere just as the aliens are doing in Falling Skies.
Finding science fact in science fiction and horror makes the genre all that more interesting.
REFDESK.COM, AN AWESOME WEBSITE FOR WRITERS AND NEWS JUNKIES
,’Refdesk,com is a website I check on a daily basis. It overflows with connection to other sites of varying interests and links to newspapers to name of few of the rewards it offers.
Here’s the link.
As a science fiction writer and also a reading addict, I thought I’d share three sites I always check.
The first is ‘Today In Literature’ which serves to provide a wealth of literary background.
http://www.todayinliterature.com/
The same can be said for ‘Writer’s Almanac’ hosted by Garrison Keillor.
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/
Finally, there’s ‘Science Daily’ chock-full of articles on up-to-the-minute scientific findings. I use this site as a source of ideas for stories. If the lead story in Top Science News generate a story idea for someone I’ll eat all my Arthur C. Clarke novels.
NEED A BEACH READ?
Need that book for the beach you won’t be able to put down?
Give New Moon Rising a try!
Here’s a taste.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pasadena
A phone ringing in the early morning hours is seldom a harbinger of good news. When Wade’s phone rang at two thirty-five in the morning, he came out of a peaceful sleep and with dread, reached for the receiver.
“Wade, this is Jeff at the lab.” The excitement in the young graduate student’s voice spoke of disaster before he revealed the reason for his early morning call. “It may have started. We have seismic activity along the whole Hawaiian chain. We have earthquake activity measuring 8.6 on the Richter scale. It’s the strangest earthquake, associated with the islands, anyone here has seen. The earthquake occurred at 4:20PM Hawaiian time. We cannot pinpoint the origin. It’s a series of earthquakes occurring simultaneously beneath the whole island chain. There have already been reports of tsunamis from Midway Island, the Marshall Islands, and the Samoan Islands. New Zealand, Australia, Central America, and China are all bracing for a giant wave. No one knows if the tsunami will be as bad as 2004.”
Jeff responded, “This is amazing! Earthquakes like this have never been described before. No one will know what to expect.”
“Jeff, try to calm down. Juliet and I will be at the lab as soon as we can.
Have the proper authorities been notified?”
“Are you kidding? Every lab in the world recorded this event. Damage reports are already coming in from Hawaii and the damage is widespread.”
“We are also getting signs of volcanic activity around the dormant volcano you instrumented on the island of Hawaii. There have been reports of ash spewing from several volcanoes on some of the islands that haven’t had activity for hundreds, or in some cases, thousands of years.
Wade’s thoughts instantly went to Foster on Oahu. “Is there any report of activity of Oahu?”
“Koolau volcano on Oahu is reported to be putting out ash and smoke.” Wade finished by saying, “We’re on our way, Jeff.”
Wade tried to control his own emotions as he turned toward Juliet. She had propped up her pillow and was listening to the conversation. Just from hearing Wade’s end, she knew that the news was not good.
With fear in his voice, he said, “It looks like it’s begun.” He went on to tell her all that he knew from Jeff as they hurriedly dressed and set out for the lab.
As they approached the Geology Building, every window was illuminated. Wade noticed that the parking lot was already half full as they pulled into his
organized and assigned specific tasks.
A group was told to keep track of earthquake damage and aftershocks. Another was told to track tsunamis, and a third group was told to monitor the Hawaiian Islands for volcanic activity. Constant contact was established with labs in Australia, New Zealand and their colleagues in Japan. There was an attempt made to contact the lab in Hilo at the University of Hawaii—but the lines were out.
With all the phones and computers manned, order began to emerge from the chaos. Wade had a chance to inspect the seismic tracings from the earthquake beneath the Hawaiian Islands. They represented not a single quake, but a long series of overlapping quakes. The location was difficult to determine. The earthquakes occurred at a series of points beneath the Pacific Ocean surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. The character of these quakes fit into the scenario along with the other events that occurred, supporting Professor Humphries’ theory. They were unprecedented in modern time.
Wade stood in the lab, holding the tracings, and wondered about his brother and all the rest of the population of Hawaii, people in love with their paradise. So in love were the residents, that it may have cost countless lives to enjoy heaven on Earth just a little longer.
* * * *
Oahu
Foster continued to work at the surf shop and Heather at the bed and breakfast although each had little to do. Heather took her baby to work with her and found time to feed and care for him while she accomplished her tasks. The working conditions were ideal for caring for the baby. In fact, Lulu gave him so much attention, that if it weren’t for the fact Heather was breast-feeding; he would need no care at all.
Although life went on, there was a pall hanging over the islands knowing that its days might be numbered. Foster had become close friends with most of the surfers who congregated on the beach and shopped at the store. A few that were originally from the mainland returned home but all the native surfers chose to stay. For the most part, they were young men who loved the surf and sun and little else. When asked about their future, almost to a man, they talked about quality of life—not quantity.
Foster was working behind the counter one day while Joe was grabbing some lunch when his friend Rich Loana entered the shop.
“What can I do for you, Rich?”
“Just wanted to see if you’d be interested in doing some surfing later this afternoon. The waves are supposed to be great today.”
“I should be able to get away around four. I’ll meet you on the beach in back of the shop.”
“Sounds like a plan, Foster. I’ll see you then.”
After Rich left, Foster thought about a conversation he had with Rich months earlier, when the news of what might happen to Hawaii was released.
He had had similar conversations with a lot of the surfers he had gotten to know. One conversation with Rich stuck in his mind.
He’d asked Rich, “What will you do now, Rich?” “What do you mean—I’m going to surf.”
“No, you know what I’m talking about. When are you leaving?” “I’m not.”
“You can’t stay here, it’s not safe.”
“Listen Foster, I was born on this island, it’s my home, the only place I’ve ever lived. And surfing is the only thing I know how to do. I don’t have an education. I don’t have a skill. If I moved to the mainland, what would I do? I’d be a bum the rest of my life. I’m a bum here, but at least I have a chance to do what I love. If this theory is wrong – no harm done. If its right, I’ll be doing what I love doing right to the end.”
Foster found that most of the native-born Hawaiian surfers he talked to had a similar attitude. They were determined to embrace their ‘hang loose’ attitude of life right to the end.
* * * *
Traffic through the shop was light, had been for months. Three-thirty arrived and Foster told Joe he was thinking of riding some waves until Heather came home. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle this crowd all alone,” Joe said as he looked around the empty store. “Go ahead; get your butt on the beach.”
Foster got a couple good rides before Rich showed up. They rode together for a while until Rich caught a wave that Foster missed. Foster paddled back out to deeper water turned toward the beach and was preparing to get up on his board
It was 4:20.
He could see Rich on the beach taking a breather, when his friend suddenly fell to the sand. Foster thought to himself, “What the hell is he doing now?” Then he noticed branches falling from the palm trees. In quick succession, the roof of the shop caved in leaving a pile of rubble where the shop and apartment had been. He quickly paddled to shore, and as soon as his feet made contact with the sand, he fell to his knees in the shallow water. He looked up and down the beach and the few people still standing were holding onto a tree or other stabilizing object with looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.
The trembling lasted minutes, but it seemed like hours. Time slowed as the Earth shook. The violent shaking subsided, settling down to series of lesser and lesser ripples of movement. Foster ran around front and found Joe sitting on the grass clutching a blood-soaked towel to his head.
“Is this what we’ve been waiting for?” asked Joe. Foster pointed to the south. “What’s that Joe, a fire?” “If it is, it’s one hell of a fire.”
Then they noticed pillars of smoke dotting the horizon.
“I think some of our dead volcanoes have come to life. Come on, we need to get to the B&B. Although the trembling had ceased, the trembling of both
men had not. A mixture of adrenaline, fear, and awe fed emotions waiting for months to be released. Both men knew in their hearts THIS WAS IT.
They hopped into Joe’s jeep and began the short drive to the bed and breakfast. A drive that should have taken minutes, took nearly an hour. The narrow road was littered with tree branches and debris from collapsed buildings and clogged with people walking, stumbling in a state of shock, and not knowing where to go or what to do. Screams could be heard from some of the partially collapsed structures, but for now, aid was nonexistent.
Joe could see the column of smoke issuing to the sky before his business came into view. As they turned the last bend in the road, there stood the B&B, or at least what was left of it, engulfed in flames. The men felt relief when they saw Lulu and Heather standing in the parking lot holding the baby. Their clothes were torn and they were both covered in soot, but they were safe.
They parked the jeep a safe distance from the fire and approached the women. Lulu was in hysterics, sobbing and could not be consoled.
“Thank God you’re all safe. It’s only a building,” Joe said as he embraced his frantic wife.
All Lulu could say over and over was, “Oh no, no, no.”
Foster noticed Heather was also crying. He hugged her and his son. Through choked-back tears, she explained what had happened. “Lulu and I were in the kitchen. Thank God we had the baby with us. We were preparing tomorrow’s breakfast when everything began to shake. Things fell off the shelves and the ceiling started coming down. We made it out just in time before the whole place came crashing down and began to burn.”
Lulu stood listening, clutching herself and moaning.
“A few hours ago we had the first guests we’ve had in a long time check in, a young couple from California, along with their five year old son. They went upstairs to get some rest before they began their tour of the island. They never came out.”
They all watched the burning structure as it caved in further. As the flames singed the nearby palms, they knew it was also a funeral pyre. Both women sobbed as the men stood helpless. Oahu and the rest of the Hawaiian Islands were also helpless, caught in the grasp of a power that was no longer a theory.
Here’s where you can buy it.
Thanks.
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/triznanewmoonrising.html
A NEW GENRE
While reading the May, 19 issue of Time over breakfast this morning, I came across an article which proved quite exciting for me. The article discussed movies released or soon to be such as Godzilla, Into the Storm and Snowpiercer.
In discussing these movies, a new genre was mentioned, at least new to me, cli-fi. This is a story of science fiction or fantasy dealing with a climate or environmental factor.
My novel, The Beast Awaits, which I sure you are all getting sick of hearing about, is about stem cell research gone bad leading to global warming. Is that a fit or what?
I plan to start working on a new query letter and will share it with you soon to see what you think.
THE BEAST AWAITS, AN UPDATE, SORT OF
Still sucking up library WiFi.
In reference to the last piece, The Beast Awaits, a novel I often refer to is written and already made the rounds to agents with a 100% rate of rejection, so far.
I had one publisher show interest in publishing the novel but, upon doing my homework, found they did not have a good reputation, so I declined.
You have to watch your ass, no one else will.
DISASTER IN REAL-TIME
In my novel, The Beast Awaits, I try to convey the atmosphere of impending doom which exits for populations thousands of mile away from the initial incident. As with everything I write it needs editing. I find that even to be true with work I have published. The process never stops. I recently had an experience which brought to mind the atmosphere I tried to create. I must go back and see if I can now find better words.
The incident I am referring to is the recent rash of tornadoes our country has experienced. I’ve always been a weather junkie and during the tornado outbreak I tuned to the Weather Channel. The meteorologists were following the storms in real-time, analyzing the radar and issuing warnings. A strange feeling crept over me as they recorded evidence of debris circulating in the air picked up by the tornado. These debris clouds were people’s lives being changed forever, perhaps the people themselves being destroyed, all as it actually happened.
Occasionally they would have people on the ground right after the storm passed and, together with the residents, survey the damage left behind. I sat in the comfort of my family room watching up to the minute changes in people’s lives.
In The Beast Awaits, I deal with events such as this and the emotions they create, the ‘I’m glad it’s not me’ feeling and try to convey the atmosphere that ‘your turn is coming soon’.
Car accidents also come to mind, how everyone slows down to survey the damage, mostly I’m sure glad with the ‘glad it’s not me’ feeling. In The Beast Awaits that emotion is short-lived, for just down the road will be your turn.
MY WRITING STYLE
Presently, I’m in a quandary about the subject of this piece, my writing style.
Every writer has his or her own style, the way of expressing in word the thoughts they are trying to convey. How does this characteristic of the author originate? Is it some deep-seated voice that represents your essence, or is it merely a manufacture of all the authors whose works you have read?
My reason for pondering this question is that I am in the process of editing my novel, Sweet Depression, and in this endeavor I am attempting to cure what others have pointed out to me as a major fault – my brevity. I tend to concentrate on the core of the story and leave out details that would give the story more life. But where is the line you must be careful not to cross when that life would morph into a boring existence?
Take a look at your bookshelves. If you’re as voracious a reader as I and share my fault of not being able to part with a book once read, those shelves are overflowing. Science fiction and horror are my writing genres, but lately some of my stories have spilled into the murky boundaries of the thriller. But back to science fiction. I look at the science fiction novels of fifty or more years ago and those of today and see a distinct difference. Older science fiction is more concise, more to the point. Of course, you have the epic series Dune written by Frank Herbert and continued by his son which are massive in length, tomes of a complex series. But I look at H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds which is little more than a novella and see the more typical length of science fiction of a bygone era.
Recently I have talked to writers whose work are massive and needed to be cut for publication. My work doe not require deletion but rather addition. But how much to add without diluting down the story or slowing the action, that’s the quandary.
While thinking this piece through I may have come up with the answer to my problem. It is not the length that is important, rather the content and the skill of the writer. Talent is the bottom line. The writer must take the readers by the hand and lead them down a path without detours causing them to lose their way. And when the readers reach the end of that path, if the writer has been successful, they are left with a treasure.
THE STARS MY DESTINATION by ALFRED BESTER
I’m trying to include in my science fiction reading some of the classic works by some past authors in the genre. Science fiction has been with us long enough that it has a history we can follow and chart the progress of the genre incorporating prediction of the future and science fact, observing when fact becomes fact.
The book I presently wish to discuss is The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester copyrighted in 1956.
In this work we find the main character, Gully Foyle, marooned on a derelict spaceship, its sole survivor. He thinks he is about to be saved when he spies an approaching spacecraft. He signals, but they just pass him by. Able to read the name of the craft, Vorga – T – 1339, his mind is consumed with the desire to revenge this abandonment. This becomes the overwhelming theme of the book.
Through the remainder of the book he survives by the twists and turns of fate and ultimately discovers why the spacecraft passed him by. The ship was about to dump 600 refuges into the blackness of space on the orders of the woman he falls in love with once he returns to earth, not knowing that she was the cause of his abandonment.
An interesting process introduced in this work is ‘jaunting’. This is the ability to think yourself to another location discovered by an individual caught in a precarious situation. He thinks of the safety of another location and suddenly finds himself there much to his surprise. However, this ability is limited by the fact that you must know the coordinates of the location you want to go to. You cannot go to the unknown, but Foyle somehow can.
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