When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me
— Corinthians,13:11
Science fiction writer Ray Bradbury died on June 6, 2012 at the age of 91. I used to read his books—in high school. But once we move past high school, we should have other fish to fry. I say we should because most people never do move past high school. Although these people look like adults, and sometimes they even talk like adults, or God Forbid, act like adults, they never actually become adults who see the world for what it is, and come to mature judgments about it. And that's where I put Ray Bradbury.
Writer David Brin did me a favor by writing a eulogy in Salon called Ray Bradbury, American Optimist. So my job is pretty easy today in so far as all I've got to do is quote it. I'll start somewhere in the middle where Brin starts to say interesting things about Ray.
But I’m not here to write a biography. This is an appreciation and, hence, in keeping with Ray’s own style, let me give way to impulse. To passion.
Indeed, I referred earlier to Ray’s fervent dedication to love and hope and the power of words that yank at us, compelling empathy.
But there was another emotion that he would evoke, from time to time. One that always left a lasting impression on audiences, when he gave one of his popular lectures.
Onstage, Ray Bradbury could wax eloquently and vociferously angry at one thing, at one human trait — cynicism. The lazy habit of relishing gloom. The sarcastic playground sneer that used to wound him, and all other bright kids, punishing them for believing, fervently, in a better tomorrow.
Ray had one word for it. Treason. Against a world and humanity that has improved, prodigiously, inarguably, fantastically more than any other generation ever improved, and not just with technological wonders, but in ethics and behavior, at last taking so many nasty habits that our ancestors took for granted — like racism or sexism or class prejudice — and, if not eliminating them, then at least putting them in ill repute. Ray spoke of the way violence has declined, worldwide, long before Harvard professor Steven Pinker clarified the case, in his recent book “The Better Angels of our Nature.”
I commented on Pinker's book in recent post Thinking About The Nation State. Now, you can already see that Bradbury would consider writers lilke me to be committing treason against our species Homo sapiens. How can I be so cynical about the Human Condition when it should be so damn obvious to all of us that we've made all this unbelievable—in every sense of that word—Progress, not only in technological wonders but also in ethics and behavior?
David Brin then trots out some more eulogizing bullshit about Ray, noting that Bradbury would also write about the "dark side" of Human Nature. But not to worry, Ray's optimism was boundless.
Ray Bradbury saw optimistic progress and dark fantasy as partners, not opposites. On camera, during the moon landings, he could not stay in his seat! And he demanded that others get out of theirs. Long before Peter Finch did it in “Network,” Ray demanded that viewers stand up, step outside and shout! Only, instead of cynical resentment, he insisted that we “get” what had just happened, how we had – all of us – just become a bit more like gods.
Those who yawn at such achievements, he denounced, calling them “ingrates.” And ingratitude he deemed one of the lowest human vices.
Oh, OK. Let's add that one to the list. I am also an ingrate, besides being cynical and treasonous. But Ray was always grateful.
Ray was grateful, always, for what life had allowed a geeky youngster to do. I am thankful that he was my friend. And we who love both words and freedom of the mind should all feel gratitude today. For all those wonderful words.
My specialty is Reality. Ray's stock-in-trade was Fantasy. The "geeky youngster" never moved beyond high school. Ray was revered and celebrated to the end for his mindless, childish optimism, and his grandiose visions of humanity's unlimited future. For that adulation, he was ever so grateful. Typical. No surprise there. We would expect nothing else because humans hate Reality and love Fantasy.
Ray was clueless to the end about the world he lived in, which made him very popular here on Planet Stupid.
Have a nice weekend. There will be a Saturday Oil Report tomorrow.
Bonus Video — Mars Is The Future
His books weren't too complex either.
Posted by: Paul | 06/08/2012 at 10:42 AM