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(WARNING: The following is in direct violation of my “No Politics” policy.)

The nice thing about self-imposed policies, like my “no political discussion here” rule, is that I can violate it whenever I wish, pretty much with impunity. The occasion today is this interesting article in which Eric Raymond details the top ten reasons why he is not a liberal and the top ten reasons why he is not a conservative. I disagree with a lot of the assertions here (primarily the ones about liberals), but the one that really gives me pause is Number Nine, his assessment of Bill Clinton. In Raymond’s words:

“Sociopathic liar, perjurer, sexual predator. There was nothing but a sucking narcissistic vacuum where his principles should have been. Liberals worship him.” (italics mine)

There’s a lot to process here, and I’m not going to comment on all of it. Clinton is an amazingly dishonest man, but frankly that’s to be expected. Honesty in politics has never been in large supply. The legal question of whether or not he actually committed perjury is simply not as clear-cut as many would like to believe. And I have difficulty calling Clinton a “sexual predator”, especially given the shenanigans that a depressingly large number of Catholic priests have apparently been perpetrating. Clinton’s morality, with regard to marital fidelity, is certainly questionable (“nonexistent” might be a better term), but using such hyperbole as “predatory” to characterize behavior that was, in every instance, committed between two consensual (if stupid) adults seems to minimize the amount of outrage we can therefore claim for the pedophile priests and such. But that isn’t what gives me pause here, either. It’s Raymond’s last clause: “Liberals worship him.”

Which liberals would those be?

I have read a great deal of liberal commentary on Clinton, both during and after his Presidency. This includes authors like Molly Ivins, Joe Klein, Helen Thomas, Michael Moore, George Stephanopolous, Michael Kinsley, the editorial department of The New York Times, and so on. Many of these commentators defended Clinton against what they saw to be personally motivated attacks on him, up to and including the impeachment trial; many of them argue that Clinton accomplished a fair number of substantive goals while in office; many of them are thankful that he was able to block many of the Republican more draconian measures and policy goals once that party took control of Congress in 1994; and many of them admire Clinton’s political skill and ability to survive setbacks that would have crippled other presidents. If that were the only tone present in these people’s writings — and to my mind, these people constitute much of the prevailing opinion amongst the American left — then Raymond’s charge that “liberals worship Bill Clinton” might be well-taken.

But that’s not the only tone present. Also notable is a keen sense of disappointment in Clinton, both as President and as a man. Just about every liberal commentator and writer I’ve ever encountered has expressed sadness that Clinton achieved much of his success by relentlessly moving to the center, in many cases co-opting issues that had for years been safe, Republican issues. They are disappointed by Clinton’s pro-death penalty stance. They are disappointed that Clinton’s work on the environment basically amounted to creating a large number of national monuments by using the Antiquities Act, and they suspect that he did this more to gall the Republicans and frustrate his successor than out of any real concern for the environment. They are disappointed that Clinton allowed the Kyoto protocols to twist in the wind. They are disappointed in his bungling of the health care plan. They are disappointed in Clinton’s renegging on many of his original campaign promises, most notably his backtracking on gays in the military. They were keenly disappointed by his version of welfare reform. They were galled when Clinton turned his back on the liberal base and instead adopted the “triangulation” strategy formed by Dick Morris, a man who is not near-and-dear to anyone of a liberal persuasion. They were disillusioned when the last two-and-a-half years of Clinton’s Presidency was consumed with the spectacle of impeachment and a disgraced President trying to salvage something of a historical legacy. It was liberal dissatisfaction with the Clinton years that made Ralph Nader a force to be reckoned with in 2000. If liberals really worshipped Clinton, Al Gore would be in the White House.

As far as I can tell, the prevailing liberal view on Bill Clinton is this: “He did OK, and if he hadn’t been there things might have been a lot worse, but he could have done so much more.” That, frankly, doesn’t sound like “worship” to me. If you want to see “worship”, look at the conservative love affair with Ronald Reagan. As far as I know, no liberal has suggested putting Clinton on Mount Rushmore — a suggestion which has seriously been advanced on Reagan’s behalf. No liberal has said of Clinton, “The nation owes this man a debt that it can never repay” — which Rush Limbaugh has said of Reagan. Liberal books on Clinton tend to be almost apologetic; contrast that with the fauning tone of Peggy Noonan’s When Character Was King: A Story of Ronald Reagan.

William Jefferson Clinton is many things, but an object of “liberal worship” is not one of them.

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I woke up this morning, and it came to me in a flash, as if my subconscious mind had been processing this particular problem for a day or two. The revelation?

They omitted Say Anything!!!

Yes, I’m still stuck on the AFI’s Top 100 Movie Romances, the subject of earlier comment by me. I promise to get off this rut eventually, but I now believe that Say Anything has to be the most egregious omission from The List. After all, it’s nothing more than the finest teen romance ever filmed, capturing perfectly the awkwardness of first love and the uncertainty of life after high school and teen angst and all the rest of it. One of the greatest romantic images of all time, from any movie, has to be Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) holding the boom box aloft, Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” blaring for Diane Court (Ione Skye) to hear. Roger Ebert even saw fit to name Say Anything in his biweekly “The Great Movies” column (read that article here).

That should be my final word on the matter. Until, of course, another film occurs to me like a bolt from the blue. (Seven Brides For Seven Brothers? The Music Man? How about Shrek? Oh, somebody, make it stop….)

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I’ve added a permanent link (see “Other Shores” at left) to a Webzine called The Infinite Matrix. In the words of the zine, this is “a journal for people who love science fiction as a literature of ideas”. They carry fiction, reviews, and a daily journal by SF author (noted for his cyberpunk novels and stories) Bruce Sterling. Check it out.

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Military Science Fiction is a potent and growing sub-genre of SF in general these days. Prominent authors of military SF are John Ringo, Eric Flint, David Drake, and David Weber. Military SF is just that: SF stories generally involving violent, bloody wars fought by grunt soldiers wearing immense spacesuits that would dwarf Darth Vader’s and weilding blaster-cannons the size of bazookas against horrible, detestable alien enemies. This isn’t Space Opera, a la Star Wars or Lensmen; think of Starship Troopers. The focus in military SF tends to be on how a military unit would function in a futuristic war, with futuristic weaponry; tactics are paramount and a badge of honor among authors of this type of SF is how clearly they can write a very complex battle. I actually don’t read much military SF; I find that a little of it goes quite a long way. I did enjoy On Basilisk Station, the first of David Weber’s series of novels detailing the adventures of Captain Honor Harrington (initials HH….not unlike another famous literary Captain, albeit a seafaring one), even though Weber’s characterizations aren’t very complex and he demonstrated a strange tendency to break off in the middle of a fairly tense action-filled sequence to provide a lengthy infodump of some sort. Military SF is related to Space Opera, but it doesn’t tend to have the galactic scope, the grand sense of wonder, and the Eternal-Battle-of-Good-Versus-Evil thing that attracts me so strongly to Space Opera. But Military SF is very popular these days.

The book I finished yesterday, The Forever War by Joe Haldeman, can be considered military SF, but having been initially published in 1975 (with portions appearing three years prior to that in Analog), it is quite different from the military SF of today. Haldeman’s book is told first-person by William Mandella, who at the outset is a Private in a military strike force that is training for a war that has just begun against the Taurans, a race of beings encountered in a system a number of lightyears from Earth. The enemy is extremely distant, and some might not even consider them much of a threat, but the war goes on — and on and on, for years and years. Also complicating things is the nature of space travel itself: transit between star systems is accomplished via “collapsar jumps”, which accelerate the ships to something like .9c (nine-tenths of the speed of light), meaning that the soldiers spend years moving from one battle to the next — while, in keeping with relativity, the time progressing from their perspective is measurable only in weeks. The effect is that when the soldiers finally do get their chance to return home, they are returning to a home that has changed drastically from the one they left, a home which doesn’t welcome them with open arms (or even welcome them at all). The Forever War, then, becomes a SF-based allegory on the American experience in Viet Nam.

Private Mandella gets to know his comrades only by very broad strokes, and many of them are killed horribly and in ways that are surprising for their timing and mundane nature. He rarely has any idea (and thus, neither do we) of the military strategy at work behind the actions of the troops, and he at times suspects that there is no strategy per se, other than “Lose no more territory than has already been lost”. Haldeman also employs his science very well: in addition to time marching on for Earth while grinding to a near halt for the soldiers, he makes us realize that this same fact of spacetime means that the enemy and the humans may at times be fighting with one side or the other at a clear advantage. In this way Haldeman captures the uncertainty that made the Viet Nam War so harrowing for the soldiers who fought it, that feeling that one not only knows when the enemy may attack but where he may attack from. During the military scenes there is a constant sense that the Taurans may arrive at any second, and they often do.

Equally effective are the scenes on Earth, when Mandella returns home after his service is up. He discovers what seems to him a world gone mad. The Earth that Haldeman shows us is rather dystopic, but what is interesting isn’t so much the Earth as Haldeman shows it as Mandella’s response to that Earth, as he attempts to carve out a niche where he can live his life and, maybe, enjoy love.

The Forever War suffers a bit in its third act, which felt a bit perfunctory. Mandella is re-drafted into service, this time as a commanding officer. I think that Haldeman is trying to show that the war was just as choatic and horrible for commanders as it was for the “grunts”. A bit of this comes through, and the trials-and-tribulations that Mandella experiences in his first command post — for which he really isn’t cut out — are interesting, but this part of the book still seems to be striving too hard toward the massive Final Battle, which is almost obligatory in stories like this. Haldeman’s ending, too, seems a bit too easy and a bit too happy after such a harrowing book. But it does work, though, being based as it is squarely on the science that forms the basis of Haldeman’s entire enterprise. Even though I’m not sure if things should work out the way they do, I’m glad that they do.

The Forever War is a very impressive work.

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In my post yesterday about the AFI’s top 100 romantic films, I commented that I found it bizarre that Jennifer Love Hewitt provided commentary on the listed films that starred Audrey Hepburn. I have now been informed that Miss Hewitt played Miss Hepburn herself in a biopic recently, which probably explains it. OK, but I still think it’s weird — not unlike that ABC interview with Bill Clinton (while he was President) that was conducted by Leonardo DiCaprio. But I concede that it’s not completely inexplicable.(Thanks for the tip, Meg!)

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The American Film Institute has spoken. In a special that aired on CBS tonight, they revealed the top 100 romantic films of all time. Number Three was West Side Story. Number Two was Gone With the Wind. And number One?

Casablanca.

I can live with that.

The list was fascinating. I love these shows, not just for debating their choices but also for the trip down memory lane for wonderful films that I may not have seen in quite a while (I really want to watch From Here to Eternity right now) and the reminder of films that I really do need to see (The Quiet Man and The Goodbye Girl leap to mind). I didn’t even have as many quibbles with this list as I have with the previous AFI “Lists” (the 100 greatest movies, the 100 funniest comedies, the 100 most exciting action films). I am convinced that Kevin Costner has starred in two of the finest cinematic love stories of all time: Dances With Wolves and Bull Durham, which were not on the AFI’s list. One of my favorite cinematic love stories, believe it or not, is the Bond film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service — the one Bond film in which Bond actually falls in love. I’ve also always had something of a soft spot for Somewhere in Time. And there’s the wonderful suspense-mystery-reincarnation-dual love story starring Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson, Dead Again. I’m sure I could come up with a few more, given time.

As for films the AFI named which I would omit from their list, there weren’t a whole lot of these. I really don’t consider It’s a Wonderful Life a love story (and, to be frank, I don’t much like the film in the first place). If they had to include two Gene Kelly movies, Brigadoon or For Me and My Gal would have been a better choice than the colossally-overrated An American In Paris, an overlong film that suffers greatly in the love department because Leslie Caron is, to my eyes, completely uninteresting. She and Kelly have no chemistry together. I also can’t stomach Love Story, which I’ve always found treacly and overly manipulative. But my heart soared to see my single favorite musical, My Fair Lady, on the list. (One confusing thing about the show, though: why did they feel the need to have Jennifer Love Hewitt comment on every Audrey Hepburn film that was on the list? Were they symbolically trying to anoint Miss Hewitt as the next Miss Hepburn? Good lord, I hope not….)

I wonder if the AFI will do another list for next year. I’m not sure if there are any topics left that lend themselves to 100 films; perhaps a series of specials devoted to specific genres? I’d tune in to see the AFI’s Top 25 SF films, Top 25 Westerns, Top 25 Film Noir’s, et cetera.

(By the way, according to the AFI’s website the next recipient of the AFI Lifetime Achievement Award will be Tom Hanks.)

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My new issue of WIRED Magazine came in the mail today….thus reminding me that I never read last month’s issue, which is now online at the WIRED website. I found several articles particularly notable:

:: An interview with Steven Spielberg on the eve of Minority Report, his new film based on a short story by Philip K. Dick. What I found most interesting is Spielberg’s rejection of purely digital cinema. He really feels that something will be lost when celluloid is a thing of the past, and judging by the mixed reviews I’ve seen of the digital projections of Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, I have to wonder if maybe he’s right.

:: This article on the upcoming LucasArts game, Star Wars Galaxies. This game will create the Star Wars universe in an online environment that could involve as many as millions of gamers whose actions will create and shape the ongoing mythology of Star Wars once the films are complete. I’m wondering: suppose one user becomes as powerful and as charismatic a figure, in the game, as the fictional Dark Lords of the Sith? Will Lucas allow the Empire to rise again in his creation, once it’s in the hands of the gamers?

:: A profile of Stephen Wolfram, the at-times megalomaniacal genius behind Mathematica and the new book, A New Kind of Science, which — according to its author — is just that, a grand new paradigm that may be the most important development in science since Einstein or Newton, or — according to its critics — merely repackages some old ideas in unscientific fashion, a sin doubly compounded by Wolfram’s decision to forego the traditional mechanism of peer review in science in favor of self-publishing and self-promoting.

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I’ve finally figured out why I’ve been writing so much horror recently: because I want to win one of these. If this isn’t the coolest trophy out there, I don’t know what is. Who wouldn’t want a Bram Stoker Award on the mantelpiece?

Congratulations to all the winners. (Neil Gaiman took the Stoker for Best Novel of 2001, for American Gods.)

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The New York Times has this interesting article about blogging and, specifically, a rift that is apparently developing between “war bloggers” and “regular bloggers”. (I suppose that’s what you’d call them.)

This seems a good time to discuss my stance just a bit, perhaps violating my own “no politics” policy. In the menu to the left, there is a quote from one of the characters in Guy Gavriel Kay’s magnificent novel The Lions of Al-Rassan. Stripped of its context, the quote probably seems anti-war, almost pacifist in nature. The novel, though, is a fantasy inspired by the fall of Moorish Iberia and the rise of Catholic Espana; war is one of the book’s central themes. The words of this particular quote are spoken by a man who is one of the great poets of his day, in Kay’s world; this same man, though, is one of the most dangerous men in the world. He is extremely skilled with a number of weapons, and he kills a number of men in the course of the novel. War, for this man, is a necessary evil, a part of the world that must be accepted — but must not be allowed to become everything.

That, I suppose, is the reason for what I am doing with this blog. The current war is extremely important and will be for a long time to come; but it is not everything. There is still a world full of books and music and art, and I offer my oft-inadequate musings here as a reminder of that. I am not a pacifist; I generally support the war, although I am troubled by a number of aspects of it. It worries me, for example, when we are told by the Vice President that “The war will not be over in our lifetime”; I worry that this is simply a means for rescusitating a formerly-shaky defense industry. I am disturbed by the idea of military tribunals. I wonder just what our plan is for all those detainees at Guantanamo Bay. I question whether or not we should go after Saddam Hussein (my opinion on this changes daily). All this is irrelevant, though, to my writing here.

When we are asked why we fight, so often we answer, “Freedom”. Art — be it great art, shallow art, or junk-food art — is born of Freedom. What do we fight for? Freedom. But what do we want to produce as a result of our freedom? I recently read a comment by some historian — whose name I cannot recall — that went something like, “Every epoch is known for two things: its art and its wars.” I’m glad we have warbloggers to write about the wars. I prefer to write about our art.

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