Raymond Chandler on science fiction

[Mark Asher]

Heh:

"Did you ever read what they call Science Fiction. It's a scream. It is written like this: 'I check out with K 19 on Aldabaran III, and stepped out through the crummalite hatch on my 22 Model Sirus Hardtop. I cocked the timejector in secondary and waded through the bright blue manda grass. My breath froze into pink pretzels. I flicked on the heat bars and the Brylls ran swiftly on five legs using their other two to send out crylon vibrations. The pressure was almost unbearable, but I caught the range on my wrist computer through the transparent cysicites. I pressed the trigger. The thin violet glow was icecold against the rust-colored mountains. The Brylls shrank to half an inch long and I worked fast stepping on them with the poltex. But it wasn't enough. The sudden brightness swung me around and the Fourth Moon had already risen. I had exactly four seconds to hot up the disintegrator and Google had told me it wasn't enough. He was right.'

"They pay brisk money for this crap?"

[Gundaliro]

Where's that from? That mention of "Google" messed me up for a second.

[Mark Asher]

It's from one of his letters. Google's a math term, isn't it? Oh wait, it only sort of is:

googol - The number 10 raised to the power 100 (10100), written out as the numeral 1 followed by 100 zeros.

I'd guess that Google was based on the above. That Chandler used the at then nonsense word back in the early '50's was just a coincidence.

[Peter Frazier]

I just want to know how the story ended. It's got me hooked!
I'm not really a 'hard' science fiction reader myself. As long as there is a consistency in the logic I don't mind any amount of Brylls being stepped on.
I think it funny that a writer of hard-boiled crime fiction is pissing on a relatively similar genre though. Both styles depend on the cleverness of the author to create the suspension of disbelief.

[Miramon]

If you read Chandler's essay on mysteries, he is even harder on them.

He kind of gives Hammet the nod, but just goes half-way in praise of him, and flames pretty much all his other contemporaries and predecessors. I have to admit I think he was right to do so too. Chandler was a great writer, but he never pulled any punches. Also during his time there was an awful lot of crap proton-blasters-blazing pulp out there, and precious little good stuff.

[Miramon]

Oh, googol hadn't been invented yet at the time Chandler was writing. Google is just a silly name there...

[Anonymous]

I think it funny that a writer of hard-boiled crime fiction is pissing on a relatively similar genre though. Both styles depend on the cleverness of the author to create the suspension of disbelief.

Huh? Not at all I think. Chandler is all about character, both in the sense of having it and being one. And he tries to be honest--he exaggerates and pushes things, but not like most sci-fi does.

I think the unfortunate problem with most sci-fi is that it tries to think of something clever and then writes a story around that--characters and plot be damned, just gotta show off the tech. I think Chandler, and other good hardboiled writers, use the plot to show off characters and their problems, and just use the story as a McGuffin for them to play with. And talk hard. And drink hard. And slap some ladies around, 'cause they need that once in awhile.

So yeah, a lot of them get too obsessed with clever dialogue. Ok, ok, apostasy isn't a crime here, you might have a good point. But Chandler was acutely aware of bad hardboiled fiction--check out "The Simple Art of Murder", in which he skewers most of it for being too clever, either in plot or language.

So we're agreed then? Good hardboiled and good sci-fi is good, and bad sci-fi and hardboiled is bad?

Sorry if this is somewhat incoherent, but I cracked the label on the office bottle of Old Forester and had a party with me a couple glasses. I was going over a Chomsky opening that I had played out last night when in walked a doctor, calling on ten million dollars. I made quiet and waited for him to make his play.
"Smart. Dr. Smart. I would like to employ you."
I wanted to continue the party, but Mr. Forester didn't seem to be in the mood anymore. I waited. He might change his mind. The good doctor sniffed at the acrid smell of stale cigarettes and booze and fidgeted while he awaited acknowledgement. He got tired of waiting before I did and cleared his throat and spoke.
"I believe a certain website, google, has linked me to some unsavory business..."
"I'm sorry, googol..."

[Anonymous]

Oops, that was me.

[Anonymous]

I made quiet and waited for him to make his play.
"Smart. Dr. Smart. I would like to employ you."
I wanted to continue the party, but Mr. Forester didn't seem to be in the mood anymore. I waited. He might change his mind. The good doctor sniffed at the acrid smell of stale cigarettes and booze and fidgeted while he awaited acknowledgement. He got tired of waiting before I did and cleared his throat and spoke.
"I believe a certain website, google, has linked me to some unsavory business..."
"I'm sorry, googol..."

It should be, "He said he was smart. Derek Smart." Or, "He said he was a doctor. A smart doctor. So smart that that's what they called him: Doctor Smart."

[balut]

. . . As I sat back and mulled over the doctor's proposition, he reached down and hefted a shiny steel briefcase up onto a corner of my desk. Worn oak creaked and groaned under the weight of its burden.
"Wait - I have more information that might be important," he declared, shifting the case around and popping open its three combination locks.
Instinct told me to be on guard, and I reflexively reached for the nickel-plated .45 Magnum strapped to the underside of my desk. Curiosity quickly won over caution, this time, so I eased up and leaned forward as he opened the case.
The light from the flickering 40-watt bulb overhead was dim at the best of times, so it took a few seconds for me to realize just what the doctor was showing me inside this case. When realization finally dawned on me, I didn't know what to think.
Screenshots. Stacks and stacks of screenshots. . . .

[Kyle Wilson]

I don't think the world is ready yet for Derek Smart fan fiction.