I Owe My Soul to the Ballybran Store

 Anne McCaffrey is best known for her Dragonrider series, but a far more intriguing series in the Crystal Singer trilogy, composed of The Crystal Singer, Killashandra, and Crystal Line. This series takes place in the same FSP universe as Dinosaur Planet, the Ship Who series, and others. The protagonist of the series of the series is Killashandra, whose unpredictable temperament and a singular vocal flaw result in the abortion of her career as a singer. Her perfect pitch, however, makes her a candidate for residence on the planet Ballybran, source of the eponymous crystals. The crystals are magic space crystals, the spice of the FSP universe. If the original inspiration were dilithium, it would not be surprising. These crystals, in addition to their exclusive origin, cannot be mined in a conventional fashion – they must be sung out of their formation with precision. The value of crystals drives a constant competition among the singers, who need to prospect for the next vein; but one cannot sing and drive the sled, so cooperation is also necessary. A land of crystal mountains, as one might suspect, is not particularly conducive to human life, even with the modifications available in the FSP, but the fantastically high prices which crystal commands ensures food imports. 

Potential singers are exposed to the environment of Ballybran, which is, at best, long-term incompatible with human health and at worst a harbinger of impending mental death; but those crystals are very valuable! Of the candidates to become crystal Singers who gather on Ballybran’s moon, some recuse themselves from the trial, some are immediately invalided by the fever from adjusting to the environment of Ballybran, some are disabled in a lesser manner, and a few survive intact with enhanced senses – for now. All who descend to Ballybran cannot leave the world for too long; the Singers are the only ones allowed to leave in order to install the crystals in the infrastructure of the FSP – the rest of the world does not need to see the human price paid for the crystals. Even the singers, however, ultimately succumb to the toxicity of the environment of Ballybran. If a Singer stays away too long from Ballybran, she dies because her body is adjusted for Ballybran; if a Singer is on Ballybran, she is slowly going mad because “adjusted” is a relative term; if a Singer does not find new veins, she accumulates debt; if a Singer errs while prospecting, she goes mad. Ballybran is a company planet; it is surely no accident that rarest and most valuable color of crystal is black.

The actual plot of The Crystal Singer is relatively simple: it is a story of vicious claim wars spiced up with romance. Many McCaffrey series feature a romance between a female protagonist and a high-status male, with varying degrees of consent. In this case, Killashandra aims as high as she can, successfully attracting Lanzecki, the head of the Heptite Guild. The nature of Ballybran, however, makes all romances doomed ones; Lanzecki’s years of service to the Guild have exacted a toll on him that Killashandra has yet to suffer. Killashandra must prove her worth while becoming increasing isolated from her less successful guild members. Much like the original Lost in Space movie, Killashandra proved too popular to remain dead.

The second book, Killashandra, is also a romance and an intrigue on a planet where ‘everyone is happy’. The new love interest is Lars, a name which also begins with L. Unless Killashandra has a pseudo-Kryptonian L-fetish (she is stronger, faster, better than non-Singers living in a sterile crystalline world), this is either an oversight on the author’s part, or an indication that the original script featured Lanzacki. The paradise planet is, of course, not a paradise. The false paradise, a love doomed to fail, and trial by computer give this book a feel reminiscent of Star Trek. It nonetheless has a happy ending.

The final book, Crystal Line, begins as more grounded, but its ending could be seen as cheap way towards a happy ending. The cost of maintaining essentially immortal brain-damaged Singers is ruinous, and Killashandra is well on her way to joining them. An unethical doctor discovers a way to circumvent the duty to care for such Singers. The discovery of a possibly sentient being named the Jewel Junk in ranges hitherto believed to be lifeless further imperils the status of the Heptite Guild, but the Jewel Junk could also be the solution to the Guild’s problems, or at least a way to avoid them becoming worse. The happy ending to this book suggests that the author has succumbed to the desire of a happy ending for the main character and her world even against the rigorous world-building – especially when the original novel did not end so.

The Crystal Singer trilogy is worth reading. Its world-building is excellent and contains many real world parallels for book club discussion. It has a strong protagonist, utilizes the author's larger universe well, and series has an arc with an adequate conclusion. It would make a wonderful miniseries. The only problem is that the ending is a deus ex machina in a series that hitherto had been grounded in realistic politics.

Foundation's Fruits: Prologue

 

                Before I start to analyze the Apple TV Foundation series, I think it only fair to lay out my own perspective as a long-time fan of the Asimov Foundation and Robot novels. I am a fan of Golden Age science fiction, with all its flaws. I enjoy exposition, which is why I could read most Stephen Baxter novels once. I was introduced to the Foundation, Empire, and Robot series (by which I mean the novels, not the short stories) as separate series. My favorite Asimov, however, has always been The End of Eternity. All three had the same author, and therefore used similar themes, but because they were separate series, their timelines and technologies did not need to line up perfectly. Eventually I had read all the originals and moved on to the novels which tied things together, both the Robot and the Foundation series. When Foundation’s Edge brought the conclusion of The End of Eternity into the Foundation series as a legend, at first I thought it might just be an Easter egg, since time travel is not a feature of the Foundation, Empire, or Robot series. The incorporation of the critical character of the Robot series suggested otherwise. Nonetheless, I understood the unified timeline as one of the many that could arise from the conclusion of The End of Eternity rather than the exclusive one. The limiting factor in The End of Eternity was the limitation to Earth, which in turned limited the possibilities of Humanity’s development; the galaxy is orders of magnitude larger, and therefore contains commensurately more opportunities. Multiple timelines would allow not only for the divergent dates for the formerly independent series, but also timelines in which the other Asimov stories could live – particularly the ones with alien species, which are conspicuously absent in the Foundation series, both original and expanded. At the time, I was under the influence of Heinlein’s later works, whose multiverse is wild and chaotic (and a bit creepy), but I had hoped that the unification of Asimov’s popular series would at least leave room for his lesser stories in other universes. (I’m not sure where I should put this, but I had these thoughts before Nemesis was published).

I thought the unification was a mistake, like the continuation of the Pern series past the recovery of AI, but Asimov had written it and it was therefore canonical. It was a long time until I read Prelude to Foundation and Forward the Foundation because I had confused it with the Second Foundation trilogy. I am a bit of a purist in the sense of favoring the original author and perhaps his successor if he had worked with him long-term, such as Christopher Tolkien and (originally) Brian Herbert. After I had read all five Dune novels, I read the immediate prequels and found them a decent if not necessary addition to the Dune canon, but the prequels set during the Butlerian Jihad felt like a betrayal. I had become wary of sequels and prequels not written by the original author. Once I realized that Asimov had written Prelude to Foundation and Forward the Foundation, I read them. The expansion on Trantorian society was welcome, but the reason for humanity not encountering aliens was disturbing. The reason for humanity’s lack of innovation was even worse, and absolved, at least in part, the Empire itself of the sin of stagnation. Sometimes the unrealistic elements in a story are best left unaddressed in canon for fans to speculate upon; look what happened to the simple statement about Klingon foreheads and Worf’s refusal to elaborate. I did eventually read the Second Foundation trilogy, whose authors I respect greatly, but each book felt less and less like the Foundation universe. Newer additions are Nemesis and Mark Tiedemann’s Robot series, both of which would have benefitted from a multiverse or at least a looser canonicity akin to that of Le Guin’s Hainish Cycle; thus I have always thought of the unified series as one possibility among many.

The inevitable truth is that a TV adaptation of the Foundation series would have to change and elaborate even more than the later published books. The chronologically books have slightly more actions, but the chronologically earlier books are conversations and interrogations, devoid of actions and (thankfully) Heinleinian sexuality. Much like the Hobbit, the extant text was not designed to carry live action of the length necessary for modern television. There are other Golden Age texts that could sustain more action but lack the intellectual depth; there are others that have even less dialogue and more monologue. This denseness is not solely a thing of the past; Stephen Baxter’s Xeelee novels can be dense in this way. A well-timed and well-delivered speech, on the other hand, can be entrancing; this was a strength of the (original) Babylon 5. 

            The necessity of change is not just a matter of a change of medium, but of time and influence. I like to call this the “John Carter” problem. An influential work inspires imitators, or perhaps plagiarists in a less generous interpretation. If the imitators become popular in a separate medium, or the originals fade from memory, then when the originals enter that medium as a second work, many people assume that the older work is stealing from the later one. The older work then does not do well in the new medium, and the fans of the older work are annoyed at fans of the younger work who proclaim the originality of the younger work in the second medium. Even worse, the anti-creative nature of intellectual property often prevents the older work from a second, better thought-out adaptation.

I realize that I have said nothing about the Foundation Apple TV series yet, but I am around the thousand-word limit, and that seems sufficient for today.