at is so fascinating about science fiction? Whyo so many feel an attraction to its subjects, and apersistent few continue to think of it as (on the whole) worthlessgarbage?
The answer, I think, lies in a basic American dichotomy.
America has always been a land set firmly not in the past, but inthe future. On a recent visit to England, I found dozens ofwonderful bookstores chock full of the past–ancient history,rooms full of it, and great literature in such monumental stacksas to be overwhelming. In the usual American bookstore,history might occupy a few bookcases; gte.at literature has itshonored place, but this year’s paperbacks dominate. The past is
not disregarded, but neither does it loom so large and run sodeep in our blood.
America is suspended in a continuous grand jetg into thefuture. People who live in the future have different sophisticationsthan those who are ever looking backward. But manyAmericans seem to feel this is a disordered way of living andthinking. They yearn for the relatively unchanging pleasures ofhistory, of stories familiar and well told, of nuance over broadsweep; they yearn for an investigation of the problems of thepast, still far from solved, but at least giving the appearance ofbeing solvable.
