Snow and Science Fiction

SNOW AND SCIENCE FICTION

“I think you should read this book.”  

Marvin attempted to hand a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird to Renee, who was seated at the island in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone.

“I’ve seen the movie.”

“Granted it is an excellent movie, but the book is so much better,” he said, looking down at the book in his hands, remembering. “There’s more character development which allows you to understand what motivates the main characters. The descriptions of the settings are so well-done that you can imagine what Maycomb, Alabama, was like during the Depression. It’s an amazing book.”

Renee looked up from her phone. “Will it take me longer than one hundred and twenty-nine minutes to read?”

Marvin looked confused. “Yes. For sure.” He thought for a second. “It’s over one hundred thousand words, so it’ll take you at least four hours if you’re a really fast reader. More likely, about six to eight hours.”

“How do you know that?” asked Renee, weirded out by her dad’s knowledge of reading rates.

Marvin shrugged.

“Then, I’d rather watch the movie. It’s runtime is one hundred and twenty-nine minutes. That’ll give me four-and-a-half to six-and-a-half hours to do something fun that’s not reading a book.”

Marvin was getting exasperated with Renee. At seventeen, she was the youngest of his four children, and the only one who eschewed reading as if all books were radioactive. But she’d never met a screen she didn’t like.

“What is it about reading that you don’t like?”

“Uh, well, for one thing, it’s boring as hell. You just sit there reading. It is completely non-interactive. I could be doing something interesting, like streaming something on Netflix, instead of staring at a bunch of words on a page.”

The irony of the last part of the statement was not lost on Marvin, but he opted to keep that observation to himself.  

“Renee, give it a chance.”

“I have to read crap books at school. I’m not going to read crap books at home, as well. Besides, all the good books are already movies.” She looked down at her screen, again. “I’d much rather watch the movies. At least there’s something to keep me occupied, like the action, the people, the dialogue, the scenery.” She pointed at To Kill A Mockingbird that Marvin had placed on the granite island, and looked back at Marvin. “If I’m reading, it’s up to me to imagine what everybody looks like, what the scenery’s like, figure out what’s happening. That’s too much work. I’d rather let Stephen Spielberg or Quentin Tarantino or Martin Scorsese or even Roman Polanski, but he’s a perv, so maybe not … Anyway, I’d much rather let someone else figure out the details for me. Then I only have to sit back and enjoy.”

Marvin could understand Renee’s love of movies. She felt about movies the way he felt about books. Add to that, the fact that he had her heart set on going to film school once she was finished high school. She’d already made three “shorts” for school which had been widely received, and her last short, A Day Without … had placed second at the USC competition for high school students. Her life was film — the antithesis of books.

“But what about your imagination, Renee? Your imagination can take you to so many new places when you read a book.”

“Okay, how ‘bout this — when you re-read To Kill A Mockingbird, in your mind, does Atticus Finch look like Gregory Peck?”

Marvin thought about it for a few seconds. “Yes, he does. But even before I saw the movie, I imagined him quite similar to Gregory Peck.”

“Okay, but did his voice always sound like Gregory Peck when you first read the book?”

“Actually no. Before I saw the movie, I thought of Atticus Finch’s voice with more of a southern drawl, but still deep and resonate.”

“So, then, why not save your time — don’t read the book, just watch the movie. The movie’s what you’re going to see in your mind when you read the book anyway, so skip the book.” She looked at her father, and shrugged, as if there was no need for any more discussion.

“But there are so many fantastic books that were never made into movies.”

Renee shrugged her shoulders again. “If they’re so good, why aren’t they made into movies? I’m betting maybe they’re not that great.”  

“Conversely, there are so many books that are made into movies that are not nearly as good as the books.”

“Like …”

“Well, off the top of my head, the Jack Reacher movies. With Tom Cruise.”

“They were kinda fun to watch. Cruise did a great job.”

“True, but Tom Cruise is five foot seven, and the Jack Reacher character in the books is six foot five. Cruise is fit, but he’s no Jack Reacher — a hulking, super strong giant. When I was watching the movie, I was distracted by Tom Cruise because he was not physically anywhere close to the Jack Reacher character.”

“But, if I’ve never read the book, then I wouldn’t be disappointed, would I?” She smiled at her father.

“How about Stephen King? His descriptive voice is one of the things that make his books so scary. And haunting. I had to put Pet Sematary down for about a week because it was so disturbing.”

“I don’t like horror movies.”

“Not the movie, Renee, the book. The movie fell well-short of the book — the book was frightening, the movie was gratuitous.”

“Like I said, Pops, I don’t do horror.” She looked at her father, and shrugged again. “So, I’m not going to be reading any Stephen King books.”

Renee thought for a moment.

”How about the Harry Potter series — which did you like better, books or movies?” Renee squinted up at her father and smiled with an “I win” look on her face.

“That’s a tough one. I think, in this case they were both very well done. JK Rowling did an amazing job of world-building, and without her attention to detail, the movies would never have been so strong.  Her books were the blueprint.”  

“See? Movies can be as good as the books. For instance, Mom’s fav, The Princess Bride — she’s said more than once that it’s the truest book-to-movie she’s ever seen. Why would I read the book, when I’ve got a perfectly good representation in the movie?”

“Both the book and the screen play were written by William Goldman. That made all the difference because of the continuity of his vision. Not all book-to-movies productions are as lucky.”

“You’re making my point for me, Pops!” Renee said, smiling broadly at her dad.

“But for me Mandy Patinkin will always be Inigo Montoya, Robin Wright will always be Princess Buttercup, and Cary Elwes, Wesley. In my mind, they were very different.”

“But it was still good?” asked Renee.

“Still good”

“See!” said Renee, “All movies are not the devil.”

Marvin raised his eyebrow and gave his daughter “the face” as she called it.

“I never said that movies were the devil, Renee. I’m just saying that books are different. When you read for pleasure — not because you have to like you do for school — it can be enjoyable. Relaxing. I love being transported to another world, with people that I don’t know and places I’ve never been. Getting to know the characters’s personality and quirks is part of the fun. Being able to take your time when reading a book, trying to figure out what’s going to happen next is the best. Just thinking about what you’ve read is fun. Sometimes the book is so great that you can’t put it down, and you end up reading all night. There’s something exciting about a book that captures your imagination so completely.”

Marvin was such a lover of books, that he couldn’t understand why anyone would watch a movie instead of reading the book. He did watch movies, especially when the family was all together, and he enjoyed them. But if the movie was adapted from a book, he always sought out the book after watching the movie.  

But he wasn’t a bibliophile snob. There were some who refused to read a book on an electronic device, who insisted on having the physical book in-hand. Not Marvin. In fact, he liked nothing more than reading a book on his Kindle — you could have one or one hundred books on your device, and it would weigh the same. He remembered the old days, when you had to decide whether you were going to bring books or clothes when you went on vacation. 

Now, this was not to say that he didn’t have physical books at home. If a book was particularly well-written, Marvin would buy the book and add it to his collection. His most recent purchases had been Where the Crawdads Sing and The Apollo Murders. And, he wasn’t just a fiction aficionado, he also loved a good non-fiction or memoir. His latest acquisition was Invisible Child.  

“I can understand why you don’t like some of the books that your have to read at school—“

“I don’t like any of the books I have to read at school,” said Renee, interrupting her father.

“I can understand the textbooks. Nobody likes textbooks. But,” he continued, “what about the books you read in English class?”

“They suck.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, looking at her father as if he had just dropped in from another planet, “Not only do I have to read the book, but I have to analyze it as well. And write a paper about the analysis.” She looked angry. “Even if I liked the book, like Nineteen Eighty-Four, having to analyze the crap out of it ruins it for me.”

She slapped her hand on the granite, for emphasis, getting worked up.

“And, they ask the stupidest questions, like ‘what was the author really saying when he or she wrote blah, blah, blah?’ Who cares? Why can’t the author have written the book for the enjoyment of writing the book? Why is there always an allegorical subtext?” She sighed heavily. “All that analysis ruins books. And don’t get me started on poetry.” She sat back and crossed her arms. 

“You know you’re going to have to take at least one English course in university.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t have to like it.” Renee picked up her phone, and looked at the screen — her way of saying that the conversation was over.  

Marvin didn’t take the hint. 

“Speaking of university, we have our tour of Columbia University in two weeks.”

“I know.” She still looked peeved, but was lightening up. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “Film school!”

*****

Two weeks later, Marvin and Renee were driving through western New York, heading for New York City. The weather was turning rotten, with a late spring snowstorm hitting the Catskills, slowing down traffic and making the roads treacherous. It was Monday, and they weren’t due at Columbia until Wednesday afternoon.  They had planned to take a couple of days in NYC and do some touristy things before the school tour, but it appeared that Mother Nature had other plans.  

As the weather quickly deteriorated, Marvin started looking for a place to to stay. He had expected to be out of the Catskills and heading south towards New York City by now; instead they were up in the mountains, with the storm raging. The radio blasted warnings of an unprecedented “bomb cyclone” — up to two feet of snow, blizzard-like winds, and frigid below-zero temperatures. The storm was expected to last two or three days. Everything from the Great Lakes to the east coast was shut down. There were warnings of wide-spread blackouts. People were warned to seek shelter. Travel of any type was strongly discouraged.

Marvin took the warnings to heart, and stopped at the first motel with a vacancy — the White Pines Motel — a fifties-style motel with a giant neon sign with three pine trees outlined in black on a white background. They entered the main door, stomping snow off of their boots. Instead of the cramped office of many motels of the era had, this one opened into a dining room/common area, with couches and armchairs arranged around a giant fieldstone fireplace. The registration desk was to the left just inside the door.

“Howdy!” said the man behind the desk. “I’m Dan, the owner. I betcha you’re looking for a room!”

“We are,” said Marvin. “I’m Marvin Stanger, and this my daughter Renee.” Marvin reached across the desk to shake Dan’s hand.  

“Well, Marvin, you’re in luck. I happen to have a few rooms available.”  

Dan checked them in. Once they were finished, he handed them two keycards, and a flashlight.

“In case the power goes out,” said Dan, “Which it probably will. If it does, come back in here, where we have the fireplace. If it’s out too long, we can have a sleepover in the lounge area — the fireplace will keep us all warm. If you want some dinner, the kitchen opens at five o’clock.”

As a bonus, there was also an interior hallway, so they could still park outside their room and access the car, but didn't have to go out in the storm. Marvin went out to move the car, and Renee opted to use the inside hall. The room was pretty rustic, with wood panelling and a strong outdoorsy vibe. After they got settled in, it was almost five, so they headed to the dining area. It was cozy, with eight tables, each with a lit pillar candle in a glass hurricane lamp in the centre of the table. They were the only people in the dining room.

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Marvin had soup and a hot chicken sandwich, and Renee soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. About half way through dinner, the lights flickered a few times, then went out.

A few people wandered into the lobby, carrying their flashlights.

“You’re welcome to pull up a seat, and keep warm by the fire,” said Dan. “Also, I’m sorry to say, there’s no internet, and the cell towers seem to be down. Sorry ‘bout that.” He smiled. “Hopefully it’ll all be back up and running soon.”

Renee looked at Marvin, horrified.

“What am I supposed to do? My phone’s dead, there’s no power, and no internet! I can’t even listen to music!”

“You could read a book,” said Marvin, trying not to look smug.

Renee said nothing, shooting her dad the evil eye.

After hey had finished eating, they each grabbed an armchair close to the fire. Renee sat in her chair, with her arms crossed, sighing loudly. Marvin grabbed the flashlight, and headed for the room.

“Be right back.”

When he returned, he had two Kindles in his hand. He handed one to Renee.

“There’s a really good, really short, series of books called the Murderbot Diaries. I think you’ll enjoy them. Start with the first book, All Systems Red.”

“Murderbot Diaries? That sounds super lame.”

But she powered up the Kindle, and looked skeptically at the title page.

“Give it a chance, Renee. You might just be surprised.”

“Yeah, I’d be surprised if I like it.”  But she tapped the right arrow, and started to read.

Two and a half hours later, Renee, looked up at Marvin.

“That was really good! I love SecUnit! He’s so cranky. And sarcastic! And the story was super exciting. Good choice, Pops!”

Marvin was smiling, ear to ear. “I’m glad you liked it. I love these books. Martha Wells does a really good job. They were so much fun.”

“I agree!”

She picked up the screen, and started the next book in the series, Artificial Condition.

The power didn’t come back on all night, and most of the guests slept close to the fireplace to keep warn. When Marvin woke up close to dawn, Renee was still curled up the chair with a blanket over her lap, reading.

“Did you sleep?” he asked, yawning.

“Yeah,” she said not looking up. “For a couple of hours after Rogue Protocol, before I started Exit Strategy.” 

Around noon, Renee got up and stretched, and went to the room to brush her teeth. When she came back she had lunch (while reading), and then returned to her chair, to curl up, still reading. The storm raged outside. A couple of hours later, Marvin looked over at Renee, and she was sound asleep, the Kindle clutched to her chest — if she wasn't sleeping, she was reading. Marvin was so happy.

The storm broke that night. The power was restored around six Wednesday morning. By eight that morning the roads had been plowed, and the radio said it was safe to travel. Marvin and Renee had a four hour drive to New York. They packed up their bags, and headed for the Big Apple.

“I only have one more book in the series, Fugitive Telemetry. It’s short compared to Network Effect.” She settled in with the Kindle.

They made it to Columbia University just in time for the tour. Renee was really impressed with the film program. And they were interested in her as well. The short films that she made had impressed the people in charge of admissions — scholarships were offered, and tentatively accepted. 

 Renee was on cloud nine. She was so excited. She texted her mom and all her friends. Her phone was blowing up, congratulations pouring in from everyone. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Someday I’ll be able to make the Murderbot Diaries into a movie! Or a series!” she said to Marvin, a twinkle in her eye.

Marvin started to laugh, her excitement contagious. Renee laughed along with Marvin.

They settled into the car, getting ready for the return trip home.

“So, Pops, what’s your next recommendation for me to read?”

“Well,” said Marvin, still smiling, “How about … “