Author Archives: Abalieno

For me the show lost steam and interesting things to say with the end of Season 3. The end of a great show. The rest is watchable, but average TV that wouldn’t really deserve attention if it wasn’t for what came before (and Season 1 only is good because how it fits on the bigger picture revealed in Season 2/3).

So I kept watching until the end knowing it would disappoint. The finale did really nothing for me. The plot moved EXACTLY as it was described, with zero surprises or interesting development. The “emotional” moments seem well received from the internet, but they also were repetitions of everything the show already said before, and better.

Now SPOILERS.

Pretty much everyone who saw the finale thought it didn’t really make sense. A twit summarizes what I think was the common reaction. The problem everyone noticed is the following:

– How it is possible that Observers only get erased with the invasion, and not instead through the whole timeline, so preventing September to distract Walternate from the cure, causing Walter to cross universes, kidnap Peter, September again saving Walter & Peter from the lake, and then all the cascading of effects? Everything that happens in seasons 1/2/3 happens as direct consequence of the Observers’ intervention. If you erase the Observers then you remove the WHOLE story. So why is it only from the scene in the park onward that the timeline is affected? Why that arbitrary point? It is a good excuse to give the show the Happy End scene everyone wanted, but it is otherwise a huge plot hole that makes zero sense.

That’s the big problem. I saw the finale and I thought the writers just went with a something the public would enjoy, without giving much thought to the fact it made no sense. It may work for TV, but it’s actually even less consistent than what we got with LOST.

But after a while I realized that my memories of the show aren’t accurate about what ACTUALLY happened, and that with a little bit of hammerin’ one could manage to square this round peg into the square hole, maybe:

– Remember season 3 finale? Peter steps in the machine, ends up being erased. With the beginning of season 4 we got a rebooted universe. Peter only exists in phantom form, Walter lives in the lab and so on. The universe in seasons 1/2/3 was ALREADY erased. What happens then is that Peter is brought back by the Power of Love. It’s a horrible plot point, but it’s what we’ve got. The old universe is NOT restored, and only continues to exist for three people:

1) Peter. Because after he’s back he still has his memories of all that happened.
2) Olivia. Due to drugs and Peter she starts to have mixed memories and finally becomes the Olivia Peter remembered (this was a big plot in season 4, if you remember).
3) Walter. He’s touched by the Observer kid who gives him back all the memories he lost due to the reboot.

Those three, and all of us who watched the show, “witnessed” and remember those events. No one else. It’s a way the show has to tell us we got something somewhat private and exclusive to share with those characters.

When we deal with the erasure of the Observers from the timeline then we only deal with this rebooted universe in seasons 4/5, NOT the universe we got used to in previous seasons, which now continues to exist in memories only. So whatever effect the erasure of Observers will have, it will have in THIS new context.

I don’t have a good memory of how this reboot worked, but as far as I remember the Observers didn’t play a big role in season 4, and only seemed to actually affect the timeline with the invasion itself. So it *may* be possible that the total erasure of the Observers in this timeline doesn’t have other consequences, beside the invasion itself. Filling that plot hole that everyone noticed.

(Late edit: it seems I was wrong and there’s some deep involvement of Observers even in season 4. See episode 14. What I explain below could also give an excuse to why everything went as it should, but I have to admit it’s quite a LEAP. So thee finale may not make sense, after all.)

There are a few things left to explain, though. How was Walter able to send the white tulip to Peter? Well, do you really think that Walter would live happily and quietly in the future? It’s actually a powerful device, if you think about it. It’s an omnipotent Deus Ex Machina that’s entirely plausible in the logic of the show:

I’m being told that there’s a part of my explanation that does not work. They tell me in the reboot universe September STILL distracts Walternate from the cure. The only divergence is that Peter dies in the lake. I actually am not so sure about this, because I remember there was lots of speculation during season 4, so I’m thinking that this may be more a byproduct of speculative deduction than something the show has *shown* explicitly. In any case, the “logical” Deus Ex Machina I was talking about would fix both the problem of the White Tulip AND the problem of the necessity of Walternate being distracted so that things would work the way they worked. How? Do you really think that Walter goes in the future to start a luddite movement and abhor science? The “plan” was NOT to go in the future to obliterate current Observers, but to create BETTER observers. The kid Observer was needed to demonstrate how to achieve that betterment, not simply stop Observers as a destructive evolutionary trend and be done with it. Which means that what we got this: far future technology + Walter at their disposal = UTTER OMNIPOTENCE. Including time travel.

Hence, it would be in the realm of possibilities that Walter and the future at large have plenty of handy tools to make sure that everything that needed to happen would happen, minus the Observers invasion. Handcrafting the past so that Peter & Olivia would have the best life possible.

The White Tulip: the sign that God/Father (Walter) sends his child (Peter). To tell him he’s being taken care of:

When I take his hand
and I lead him…

he’ll know that I love him.

A quick summary of my two main objections to Bakker’s Blind Brain Theory. That’s essentially all I was repeating this past two months on comments on his blog. There are lots of implications, but I think these two points are at the origin. Besides, I largely accept the theory, and what I’m actually arguing are the consequences and implications of that theory.

1) Formal error. I think this is evident to Bakker already, but he may underestimate it. His intent with the Blind Brain Theory is to reverse the approach to how we can explain consciousness. Inverting the frame of reference. So he believes that if we posit that “consciousness” is a perceptive fraud/illusion, then you could explain consciousness from the “outside”. Starting from the natural world. That way, in his intention, the consequence is that consciousness should be “explained away”. In the sense that he should be able to describe how consciousness comes to be, how it works, and why it is perceived in the way it is (and why this is only a sort of hallucination).

The formal error, I think, is evident. We know the concept of “turtles all the way down”. The problem is that, even more specifically when you deal with consciousness, we know exactly the “origin”. It’s the brain/mind. The postulate is that everything begins in the brain, and so every consequent observation and description need to start from the brain. The switch Bakker makes from an internal self-description, to a “scientific” description from the outside is a formal violation. It’s like in a book switching from first person into third. So this is why I called it a literary trick. It’s a magical handwaving, and so negates exactly the possibility of what you were doing (that is: the possibility to have a description from the outside, looking in).

2) The second objection has roots in the first. I wrote this on Bakker’s blog:

I’m going to ask all of you a question.

We could postulate that all characters in fiction live deterministic stories. There is a god who supposedly knows everything and creates every small bits that becomes material substance in that story. If it’s a book, then a writer writes every single word, then is then made into thought and then projected as a world.

Have these characters free will? Obviously not, as consequence of living in a deterministic world. But what makes a “good story” is the fact that the system is closed to the god. The rules are clear and not continuously violated. And that the characters are true to themselves and the world, as they are set up from the beginning.

But does it matter to us? Does it matter that we know those characters have no free will? Do we stop reading simply because we already know “who did it” (the writer)? Or maybe we still feel compelled to continue, because we are trapped in that first person, and that’s all that matters?

So, knowing the first person is an illusion, does empty it of all its value?

The first point explains that you can’t transcend the limited point of view. Hence the formal violation. Even in science we could posit that there’s a god as a first mover. An entity that sits right outside the system of the world. Science, however advanced, CAN’T disprove this. It’s always possible, however improbable. Being this god “external”, it means the god has no power once the system is in place and starts. Everything moves accordingly to its rules. This system is deterministic, which is what science tells us. This means that if you knew a single moment at any point of the lifetime of this system, you could be able to deduce/reconstruct all its history, past and future. Because deterministic means a cascading of consequences, each having always the exact same outcome, like a very complex domino.

The question is: do people living within a deterministic system have free will? The answer is: no. Because deterministic system means that the choices people make are direct and sole consequence of the environment (where the person is itself undifferentiated part of it). But this leads to a false perception. A deterministic world doesn’t mean that there’s someone with a joystick outside the system that pilots us around. It simply means that we are bound to the environment, not independent from it. The “illusion” of free will is simply due to the limited capacity of our brain, that can’t remotely grasp the totality of reality (and if it did it would break the system, because would break the inside/outside rule, and so automatically make it non-deterministic since the system wouldn’t properly “close”, and closure being the necessary condition of a deterministic system), and so is limited to know one perspective. And that’s the key to solve this riddle.

This is a problem of relativity. A deterministic system can both have free will, and then deny it. If you had the capacity to exit the system, and looking in from the outside, then the system is made deterministic, and so free will vanishes. But if instead you are caged in one perspective, bound to it, then this makes free will something true. Whether free will exists or not depends on who’s asking. This is not just a philosophical abstraction, but a concrete thing. The discovery that the system is deterministic (if such a discovery was possible) can have no effect on the first person point of view (neither in abstract nor in concrete, since “effect” implies choice and so free will). It makes a difference if you were able to exit the system completely. But that would mean changing the perspective. It’s the perspective itself that gives or takes free will.

So my conclusion is that it makes no difference no matter how you spin the paradox. Observations are only “legal” if they don’t violate your perspective, and at the same time you know that having one perspective means that this perspective has “authority”, which means it defines what is true for you. In this case, free will is true. As long we have an identity, we have free will. Breaching the system, would still mean we have free will. Free will would be denied only if we were able to depart from ourselves, and then see us in a picture, but losing entirely the possibility to return.

This post will be short. I seem to see the Kabbalah everywhere, but it must be because those patterns are quite powerful and universal, that they they end up being reused in some form no matter the mythology you’re dealing with.

Yet I was still surprised that at the core Tolkien’s mythology is a redress of Kabbalah fundamental idea. There are reflections here and there, but what is unmistakable is the concept of “desire” that evolves with the evolution of civilization. Creating a need for “more”. In Kabbalah this need is transcendental, the need for spirituality, while in Tolkien’s mythology it becomes a need for “Art”. But these two are intimately similar, because in Kabbalah the ultimate desire, stimulated by spirituality, is about “becoming like god”. Equivalence of form. And the idea of Art in Tolkien’s mythology is also intimately the love for Creation, or sub-creation through art. So it’s the Creation made manifest, which, as explained in the story of Númenór, can even become blasphemy and a threat.

But that’s not all. Even more, Tolkien’s “excuse” for why mortality is a “gift”, and his explanation of its purpose, coincide perfectly with the reasons given by Kabbalah:

The view is taken (as clearly reappears later in the case of the Hobbits that have the Ring for a while) that each ‘Kind’ has a natural span, integral to its biological and spiritual nature. This cannot really be increased qualitatively or quantitatively; so that prolongation in time is like stretching a wire out ever tauter, or ‘spreading butter ever thinner’ – it becomes an intolerable torment.

Which corresponds exactly to how Kabbalistic “hierarchies” work.

More like an update to the previous post, especially after I read that long letter where Tolkien himself writes a summary of his whole “legendarium” and explains what he truly intended to do with it.

The Elves aren’t actually those responsible for the ultimate demise of Morgoth. They simply realize that they spent a book trying to win the war and there’s no end in sight. So they decide it’s a better idea to suck it up and return home to knock on daddy’s door to call for help. You see, there’s a sort of hierarchy that works like this: gods -> Elves -> men. Gods are westernmost, literally off the page. There’s even a physical boundary that restrains Elves and men to cross. In the origin myth the Elves decide to come living in the eastern world and that brought consequences, since they were meant to stay in the city of the gods. Safe. But they decide to go, and so are banished (Tolkien literally describes this as “have a cake and eat it”).

So it’s ultimately those western gods that answer the Elves’ call for help and decide to “invade” the eastern world (Middle-Earth) and put an end to Morgoth. It was almost a smooth ride. But after this happened they returned to their own land, and left men and remaining Elves once again alone and to their own devices. That’s also why Sauron was spared. He was told to go back to the god’s land (where he actually belonged) but he was too ashamed, and so he disguised himself and lingered among men. His rise to power is almost a consequence of the gods “refusing responsibilities” and abandoning the world. And so Sauron took charge and actually started to resent the gods. And manipulate those feelings of legitimate resentment.

At some point, seeing no one in power around, Sauron declares himself King of Kings or something silly like that. This span of time, between the end of Morgoth and the “breaking of the world”, marks the rise of a fourth entity. Númenór and the Númenóreans. These were some sort of middle ground between men and Elves. They were actually men, so mortal, but they developed great knowledge and great technology. Númenór represents Atlantis in Tolkien’s myth, and geographically this island lies exactly between Middle-Earth and the god’s land to the west. When they hear about Sauron’s boisterous claims they face him. This happens after Sauron made the rings, started to take control of everything, but ended up waging war to the Elves that wouldn’t submit. When Númenór decides for intervention they already had known civil war. This internal war they had was caused because of a main theme that will then be exploited by Sauron and will cause the demise of Númenór itself. But when Númenór faces Sauron there’s no war. At its apex Atlantis was a too huge power, and so Sauron doesn’t try to resist, actually submits himself to them. He’s taken as prisoner into Númenór, but what he finds (the remains of their civil war) is fertile soil to root his subversion.

The causes of Númenór’s civil war and that will lead to the destruction of that civilization are embedded into Tolkien’s myth and seem to have a pivotal role in its central philosophy. So I’ll reprise Tolkien’s own explanation:

Anyway all this stuff is mainly concerned with Fall, Mortality, and the Machine. With Fall inevitably, and that motive occurs in several modes. With Mortality, especially as it affects art and the creative (or as I should say, sub-creative) desire which seems to have no biological function, and to be apart from the satisfactions of plain ordinary biological life, with which, in our world, it is indeed usually at strife. This desire is at once wedded to a passionate love of the real primary world, and hence filled with the sense of mortality, and yet unsatisfied by it. It has various opportunities of ‘Fall’. It may become possessive, clinging to the things made as ‘its own’, the sub-creator wishes to be the Lord and God of his private creation. He will rebel against the laws of the Creator – especially against mortality. Both of these (alone or together) will lead to the desire for Power, for making the will more quickly effective – and so the the Machine (or Magic). By the last I intend all use of external plans or devices (apparatus) instead of developments of the inherent inner powers or talents – or even the use of these talents with the corrupted motive of dominating: bull-dozing the real world, or coercing other wills. The Machine is our more obvious modern form though more closely related to Magic than is usually recognized.

Tolkien also explains the the magic of Elves expresses itself through “Art”, so realizing that ideal of sub-creation, opposed to “domination and tyrannous reforming of Creation”. The implicit conflict is brought up when men show up in Middle-Earth, especially with Númenór, representing men at the apex of their civilization and technology. A triumph of splendor (“Númenóreans grew in wisdom and joy”). Tolkien underlines how this desire for the creative side goes beyond biological functions, and it becomes a craving to be like god. Art as the ideal of sub-creation, but that feeds hostility toward death and the rules of the natural world. That’s the conflict that started the civil war (“the more joyful was their life, the more they began to long for the immortality of the Eldar”) and that Sauron grasps, convincing Númenór to wage wars against the gods themselves. That it was their right to defy death, demand immortality from those gods, and build their own heaven, on Earth. Tolkien explains clearly all this too:

The Downfall is partly the result of an inner weakness in Men – consequent, if you will, upon the first Fall (unrecorded in these tales), repented but not finally healed. Reward on earth is more dangerous for men than punishment! The Fall is achieved by the cunning of Sauron in exploiting this weakness. Its central theme is (inevitably, I think, in a story of Men) a Ban, or Prohibition.

They [Númenóreans] became thus in appearance, and even in powers of mind, hardly distinguishable from the Elves – but they remained mortal, even though rewarded by a triple, or more than a triple, span of years. Their reward is their undoing – or the means of their temptation. Their long life aids their achievements in art and wisdom, but breeds a possessive attitude to these things, and desire awakes for more time for their enjoyment. Foreseeing this in part, the gods laid a Ban on the Númenóreans from the beginning: they must never sail to Eressëa, nor westward out of sight of their own land. In all other directions they could go as they would. They must not set foot on ‘immortal’ lands, and so become enamoured of an immortality (within the world), which was against their law, the special doom or gift of Iluvatar (God), and which their nature could not in fact endure.

Sauron is brought in, but uses those desires to increase Númenór enmity toward the gods, he becomes counselor of the king and convinces him to build the greatest army ever, sail toward the west, and defy the ban of the gods to grasp immortality as it is in their rights.

But the Valar (those western gods) are pissed by all this and so they break the world. Atlantis sinks, and with it their threat as well as Sauron himself. The off-the-page west is removed from the world. The world becomes round and so the link to the gods’ world is severed, even if it’s said that the remaining Elves, being immortal and so still belonging to the old mythical world, would be able to find a way were they to set sail westwards. The survivors re-settle on Middle-Earth, and Sauron, in spirit form (the physical form sank with Atlantis), moves into Mordor.

The rest is known (in the previous post).

Yesterday I found an old copy of The Silmarillion and skimmed a bit through it. I was mostly interested in the transition between Morgoth and Sauron and how it was handled. So here’s a little summary I use for myself.

The main Bad Guy in this mythology is Morgoth, the antagonist through almost the whole Silmarillion. But I was surprised to find out that Sauron didn’t simply took Morgoth’s legacy, but was actually there from the very beginning. He was the first that Morgoth seduced and corrupted. The difference between the two is that while Morgoth liked the great armies, great wars, the monsters and all that blunt, tangible stuff, Sauron instead was the sorcerer, the one more subtle, cleverer, who played with perceptions and tried to twist the will of the people. Yet, for as long Morgoth is around Sauron acts as something like a war General.

Then there’s this big war where Morgoth is finally taken and then tossed literally out of the page into some no-world. In that last battle I didn’t see Sauron’s name coming up even once, but then when his story is resumed it is explained that Sauron was found too but ended up oddly spared since he explained he was sorry for all he had done and had nothing left to believe in. No one wanted to handle him and it’s said that Sauron was even honest now that he lost pretty much everything. So he ends up vanishing again. He could take different forms and appear as a beautiful man who could speak wisely. While the Elves usually didn’t buy this disguise and his deceiving ways, the men instead completely fell for it. It wasn’t even complete bullshit because Sauron indeed had great powers and knowledge and so the merchandise he was offering was truly appealing. And that’s how he gets one of the most telling names: “Lord of Gifts”.

Alas, that’s the principle of troubles. Sauron’s knowledge leads to the creation of the rings. He offered power, and at the same time he made sure he kept the Master Ring for himself so that he’d properly control the gifts he generously distributed. But since he still couldn’t fool the Elves, Sauron grasped his power, which means seizing all rings but those that belonged to the Elves, and started a war. For all the bluster on display, at the time the Elves were still too strong and even managed to capture Sauron once again. They bring him into their home and yet again Sauron does his thing, which is creating discontent among people till another war sparks up that somewhat creates some kind of cataclysmic event. Wikipedia makes all this slightly more plausible:

Hundreds of years later, the Men of Númenor decide to capture Sauron to demonstrate their might, unaware of the One Ring and the power Sauron wielded when he wore it. As it is described in Akallabêth, Sauron is brought to Númenor as a hostage and appears to show remorse for his deeds. However, he has taken on a beautiful appearance and his seeming goodness and persuasive tongue soon corrupts most Númenóreans and he becomes the chief adviser to the King. Sauron encourages the Númenóreans to cast aside their traditional reverence for Eru Ilúvatar and to take up the worship of Melkor, or Morgoth, Sauron’s former master, and make human sacrifices to him.

The world is torn apart and even Sauron is caught in the apocalypse. His pretty disguise is lost too, but Sauron’s spirit lives on.

He flies over to lava-land Mordor and builds his fortress called Barad-dûr. Here he starts gathering new power and makes himself a new body that this time is not pretty and deceiving, and more like the dark, twisted thing that you can see at the beginning of the LOTR movies. At this point Sauron decides it’s a good idea to launch a counter-attack before the other side gets too strong again. At first it seems to work and he makes some progress, but then the Elves organize themselves and once again show Sauron that they are too strong for him. They arrive at Mordor and keep it under siege for some seven years, also taking some great losses themselves, since fighting amidst lava wasn’t a good idea after all. In the end Sauron gets bored with these guys drumming on his door and comes out for a last stand. Here’s the battle shown at the beginning of the movies. Isildur manages to cut Sauron’s fingers, get the One Ring for himself, and Sauron crumbles into ashes while his spirit flies off towards sunset once again.

Here starts the Third Age and long years seem to pass. Isildur loves the ring, but he’s eventually ambushed by orcs, and uses the ring to make himself invisible so that he can flee. He doesn’t make too far, though, because while he’s swimming away the ring “betrays” him, slipping from his hand, and so making him visible to the orcs, who proceed to pin arrows in him. Isildur dies and the ring is lost in the river. Not much of Sauron’s power is left and there’s a period of relative peace beside some minor wars started from Sauron’s leftovers (like the Nazgûl). In the meantime Sauron prepares a temporary base in Mirkwood. During these years pre World War 2 the USA in the west of Middle-Earth decide to send over some secret agents, two of which codenamed Gandalf and Saruman. Their task is to keep an eye on how things develop, since they suspected that Sauron would eventually reappear, and, anyway, men weren’t really able to handle themselves without some guide. So these agents starts to scour the land for sensible information, and eventually Gandalf takes notice that Mirkwood is murky, finds Sauron, and Sauron is scared by the white beardy man and flees away once again. More peace. In the meantime the secret agents discover about the magic rings and take bets about whether or not Sauron will retrieve his own.

This is where Saruman starts having a different plan from Gandalf. He figures out that as long Sauron is hidden and his power unrevealed, the ring won’t find its way to him. But were Sauron allowed to rise and manifest, the chances to retrieve that ring of power would grow. Eventually Sauron returns to Mordor and rebuilds his tower. And Gandalf finds out the story about Gollum, Bilbo and the ring. Sauron too, and sends his agents. Here starts LOTR proper.

The rest, I guess, is known.

The interesting part was to realize that Sauron has always been there with Morgoth and while Morgoth had more direct power and control over everything, eventually Sauron compensated that through his subtleties and deceiving ways. Exploiting implicit weaknesses more than simply starting wars. The main theme, I guess, is that power corrupts. Even the secret agents belonging to the higher race are susceptible to the same corruption of power (see Saruman). And the moral is the one anticipated by Gandalf, that help shall come from the hands of the “weak”. The Hobbit, who are not immune to the corruption of power either (see Bilbo). Eventually Frodo makes the right choice, that is renouncing that power and banishing it. Which means not falling to the temptation of using that power. So also a theme of selfishness and personal gain.

The other theme running in parallel is some kind of mythology coming in layers. Tolkien explains that his myth is not “anthropocentric” since it focuses on the Elves, and men only come after, this is the running theme. His mythology doesn’t end because the LOTR books end, but because when that era closes it’s also the end of Elves. They sail off toward a mythical west, and the mythical west is once again off the page (and off the map). It does not exist. In the Silmarillion it’s actually explicit that the decline of the Elves is unrelated to Sauron’s deeds. And whether or not Sauron returned with his ring, the destiny of the Elves would have been exactly the same.

Yet many voices were heard among the Elves foreboding that, if Sauron should come again, then either he would find the Ruling Ring that was lost, or at the best his enemies would discover it and destroy it; but in either chance the powers of the Three must then fail and all things maintained by them must fade, and so the Elves should pass into the twilight and the Dominion of Men begin.

So this is a story of legacy and transition, between Elves and men. Between immortality and life, between myth and reality. Giving the Elves this lingering nostalgic aura of something that is vanishing, and maybe that dream-like apparition that Frodo has of the Elves is meant to put emphasis on this idea of Elves as if blurring out of reality. In the beginning of the Silmarillion the mythical “west” isn’t just the place where Elves dwell, but where the city of the gods lies. Off the page, so outside of the world (consider also that the world is “flat”, like a page, and it only becomes round in modern times, so again when history exits myth, and so a “west” was an absolute location compared to the relative one we have nowadays). So Gandalf and Saruman, as emissaries from the west, mark the last direct intrusion and meddling by the gods into the real world. I say this comes in layers because the more you move toward the “origin” the more things are mythical and unexplained. Wars are cataclysmic events that reshape the world. Ships can be flung up in the air by the waves, reach above the clouds and then fall back. There are dragons and Balrogs. The more instead you move toward the recent years, and the more the mythology is detailed, the more it becomes realistic and somewhat plausible. These two points, the origin, more fluid and magical, and the modernity, fixed, known and rather materialistic. I guess this is a theme that carries over to Malazan own mythology. After all, there are points in common.

P.S.
It should be noticed that Gandalf is a cheat. He actually kept one of the Elves rings (the ring of fire) for himself, even thought it’s never explicitly used and has probably only a metaphoric value:

For this is the Ring of Fire, and herewith, maybe, thou shalt rekindle hearts to the valour of old in a world that grows chill.

Anyway, he never told anyone he had that ring.

P.P.S.
I’ve just discovered that in the new edition of the book there’s a long letter by Tolkien where he explains pretty much all his mythology, right from when he started. Including that particular flavor of consistent worldbuilding. In fact, it seems it all started with the languages themselves:

To those creatures which in English I call misleadingly Elves are assigned two related languages more nearly completed, whose history is written, and whose forms (representing two different sides of my own linguistic taste) are deduced scientifically from a common origin. Out of these languages are made nearly all the names that appear in my legends. This gives a certain character (a cohesion, a consistency of linguistic style, and an illusion of historicity) to the nomenclature, or so I believe, that is markedly lacking in other comparable things. Not all feel this as important as I do, since I’m cursed by acute sensibility in such matters.

As the high legends of the beginnings are supposed to look at things through Elvish minds, so the middle tale of the Hobbit takes virtually a human point of view – and the last tale blends them.

Anyway all this stuff is mainly concerned with Fall, Mortality, and the Machine.

It seems you can read the whole letter through the Kindle preview. It’s very good.

P.P.S.
I guess one could see the evolution of this mythology as the adding of dimensions:
– Starts from a monodimensional whole -> then moving through the two dimensional, flat world of the Silmarillion -> moving into the three dimensional, somewhat “real” (and mortal) world of The Lord of the Rings -> to the fourth dimensional world, the fourth wall, the distinction between the story and reality, and between myth and history.

A couple of days ago Mark Charan Newton wrote on Twitter about “Dune”,

Why did no one tell me that DUNE was this good? I blame you all.

The ebook has a good 6,000 pages… Could be a while!

Of all the things about Dune, what strikes me as most impressive is Herbert’s then avant garde ecological thinking. Amazing for the time.

Systems theory, deep ecology, self-regulation; and as the basis for a narrative, too.

And in 1965!

The science is really sound and advanced for its time. More the philosophy of the science, but still ahead of the curve.

so that was enough to spark my interest. I added the series to my wordcount page (it’s 860k overall) and started looking for the usual stuff, like dates, structure (it’s two trilogies, with an open end and the “mother of all cliffhangers” because of the author’s death) and reviews.

It was quite interesting. I actually had a copy of Dune for a very long time, but never read it because I saw the movie and that for me always takes back something from the fresh experience reading a book. I guess now I’ll read Dune at some point if the world doesn’t end (I actually already started, but the italian translation I have is a bit lacking in prose). As typical of me I’m more interested in the sequels to Dune more than Dune itself, and I notice how pretty much every review complains about Herbert indulging too much in dense philosophy, making the books a struggle to read.

If you remove all the specific references they would work perfect as Malazan reviews. And I know that Erikson is a big fan of Dune and that it was a source of inspiration.

I post here a short essay by Herbert, because the link up on the wikipedia is actually dead, but I was able to retrieve it anyway through google cache. And because vaguely related to what I was writing in comments over at Bakker’s blog (continues up and down).

P.S.
All the other sequels and spin-offs that his son and the other writer have published, as far as I’m concerned, do not exist.

When I was young and my world was dominated by indestructible adults, I learned an ancient way of thinking that is as dangerous as a rotten board in a stepladder. It told me that the only valuable things were those that I could hold unchanged: the love of a wise grandfather, the enticing mystery of the trail through our woodlot into the forest, the feeling of lake water on a hot summer day, the colors (ahh, those colors) when I opened my new pencil box on the first day of school…

But the grandfather died, a developer bulldozed the woodlot, loggers clear-cut the forest, the lake is polluted and posted against swimming, smog has deadened my ability to detect subtle odors, and pencil boxes aren’t what they used to be.

Neither am I.

There may be a quiet spot in my mind where nothing moves and the places of my childhood remain unchanged, but everything else moves and changes. There’s dangerous temptation in the nostalgic dream, in the expertise of yesteryear. The nameless animal that is all of us cannot live in places that no longer exist. I want to address myself to the survival of that nameless animal, looking back without regrets at even the best of what was and will never be again. We should salvage what we can, but even salvaging changes things.

The way of this change is called “process” and it requires that we be prepared to encounter a multiform reality. Line up three bowls in front of you. Put ice water in the one on the left, hot water in the one on the right, and lukewarm water in the middle one. Soak your left hand in the ice water and right hand in the hot water for about a minute, then plunge both hands into the bowl of lukewarm water. Your left hand will tell you the water of the middle bowl is warm, your right hand will report cold. A small experiment in relativity.

We live in a universe dominated by relativity and change, but our intellects keep demanding fixed absolutes. We make our most strident demands for absolutes that contain comforting reassurance. We will misread and/or misunderstand almost anything that challenges our favorite illusions.

It has been noted repeatedly that science students (presumably selected for open-mindedness) encounter a basic difficulty when learning to read X-ray plates. Almost universally, they demonstrate an inability to distinguish between what is shown on the plate and what they believe will be shown. They see things that are not there. The reaction can be linked directly to the preset with which they approach the viewing of a plate. When confronted with proof of the extent to which preconceptions influenced their judgment, they tend to react with surprise, anger, and rejection.

We are disposed to perceive things as they appear, filtering the appearance through our preconceptions and fitting it into the past forms (including all the outright mistakes, illusions, and myths of past forms). If we allow only the right hand’s message to get through, then “cold” is the absolute reality to which we cling. When our local reality has attached to it that other message: “This is the way out,” then we’re dealing with a form of “holy truth.” Cold becomes a way of life.

More from “Forge of Darkness”. It is frustrating, because extrapolating quotes can diminish their power.

Haut nodded. ‘Listen well. You are right to not conflate the symbol with the meaning; but you are wrong in thinking that to do so is uncommon.’

‘The older you get,’ she said, in a tone that made her seem eye to eye with his grandmother, ‘the more you discover the truth about the past. You can empty it. You can fill it anew. You can create whatever truth you choose. We live long, Orfantal – much longer than the Jheleck, or the Dog-Runners. Live long enough and you will find yourself in the company of other liars, other inventors, and all that they make of their youth shines so bright as to blind the eye. Listen to their tales, and know them for the liars they are – no different from you. No different from any of us.’

‘But dear, we are its eyes. Here atop the Old Tower. We are the city’s eyes just as we are the world’s eyes, and that is a great responsibility, for it is only through us that the world is able to see itself, and from sight is born mystery – the releasing of imagination – and in this moment of recognition, why, everything changes.’

A promise of depth and distance, yet one in which the promise remained sacred, for neither depth nor distance could be explored.

to look upon oneself in this mirror-world was to witness every truth; and find nowhere to hide.

‘A will crumbled helpless to the assault of revelation. When we are driven to our knees, the world shrinks.’

Behind them T’riss spoke up, her voice carrying with unnatural clarity. ‘In ritual you abased yourselves. I saw it in the courtyard, many times. But the gesture was rote – even in your newfound fear, the meaning of that abasement was lost.’

‘Please,’ growled Resh, ‘explain yourself, Azathanai.’

‘I will. You carve an altar from stone. You paint the image of waves upon the wall and so fashion a symbol of that which you would worship. You give it a thousand names, and imagine a thousand faces. Or a single name, a single face. Then you kneel, or bow, or lie flat upon the ground, making yourselves abject in servitude, and you may call the gesture humble before your god, and see in your posture righteous humility.’

‘This is all accurate enough,’ said Resh.

‘Just so,’ she agreed. ‘And by this means you lose the meaning of the ritual, until the ritual is itself the meaning. These are not gestures of subservience. Not expressions of the surrendering of your will to a greater power. This is not the relationship your god seeks, yet it is the one upon which you insist. The river god is not the source of your worship; or rather, it shouldn’t be. The river god meets your eye and yearns for your comprehension – not of itself as a greater power, but comprehension of the meaning of its existence.’

consider this: it is only when opposed that some things find definition. Few would argue, I think, that Darkness is a difficult thing to worship. What is it we seek in elevating Mother Dark? What manner of unity can we find circling a place of negation?