Solaris

As I mentioned at the tail end of my last blog, I have been waiting to read Solaris for ages.  I think it’s got to the point where it has literally been years.  I read something about the 1972 film version back when I still read things about film instead of shaking my head and despairing of the entire industry, and it sounded fantastic but (me being me) I had to read the book version first.  It’ll probably be years again before I can track down the film.  Anyway, the book’s one of those slightly too obscure to get cheap in a charity shop but popular enough to always be checked out of the library types and I’ve only just managed to get my hands on it.  Naturally, after all the waiting, I read the entire thing in a day.  Needless to say, I really enjoyed Stanislaw Lem’s book. 

It’s about this sentient ocean on a distant planet (Solaris) and the scientists who, when they get no-where in studying it with standard science just x-ray the shit out of it and seem to piss of said sentient ocean pretty badly.  The novel starts with Kris Kelvin arriving to an angry sea, a recently dead colleague, and two paranoid scientists.  He quickly discovers that the ocean uses repressed memories as a form of attack and soon his dead wife starts visiting him.  I don’t really want to give too much more of the plot proper away.  It’s good, it doesn’t end well: spoilers over.

One of the great things about this book is the fact that it reflects the obsession of the scientists.  It does that proper sci-fi thing of building a great interesting world and Solaris is so different from Earth, so unknowable that it’s fascinating.  Lem provides the whole history of the study of the planet which, given that it’s essentially a century of “it might be like this; it might be like that, fucked if we know,” should be boring.  But it’s not.  Lem manages to make you both invested in the planet and the oceanic creature that inhabits it and lets you understand why the scientists can’t just leave well enough alone.  It’s a real feat.  On top of this, Solaris includes philosophy about the nature of living things and gods and it somehow all comes together in one coherent, fairly short, novel.  It’s great.

The only thing I didn’t like, and this feels like such a minor nit-pick, is Kelvin’s wife.  Harey (or Rheya, depending on which translation you’re reading), was nineteen when she died.  Now, Lem doesn’t actually mention the exact age of Kelvin and Harey has been dead ten years, but the novel still makes it feel like there was probably a super-creepy age gap.  I don’t know why, it’s just a vibe I got from the thing.  On top of that, Kelvin makes a throwaway comment about having lived with her for years, so there was almost definitely a time when things were questionable age-wise. 

To sum up: I like this book.  You should read this book.  It is a good book.  I really don’t want to write more of a summary than that, so have a quote about god instead; “That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not a redemption, who saves nothing, fulfils no purpose- a god who simply is.”  I think they took that part out for the George Clooney version.

I’m now moving on to Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys.