Just finished reading a book of short articles by Stephen Baxter called "Omegatropic", which is actually the title of one of two stories also included in the book. Several of the articles have to do with an overview of a particular planet or moon (Mars, Titan, our moon) as it's been represented in sf over the years, which is very interesting (Baxter appears to have read most of the hard sf ever written), although his brief critiques of the stories outside of their basic plot should be taken with a grain of salt (most of the works he refers to are "flawed", but the source of the flaw is only rarely divulged. Personally, I thought "The Time Ships" was flawed, too).



The more interesting series of articles deals with manned space flight, and how it changed sf, particularly once we'd been to the moon and discovered it wasn't really all that interesting of a place. What we had in the '50's with can-do pioneer type stories like Heinlein's "The Man Who Sold the Moon" were gradually replaced after Apollo with either more dystopic or utilitarian approaches to the other planets. As we speak, the current Mars rovers also tend to highlight that, sense of wonder notwithstanding (or as Baxter calls it, "sensawunda", which sounds like a town in upstate New York), while it's pretty spectacular to be able to get to Mars, it sure would be great if we could actually find something remotely exciting there. So far about the only thing of significance the various Mars missions have encountered was the "face", which I think goes back to Pioneer, and still seems to crop up in the tabloids once in a while. When the Pathfinder mission landed several years ago, the Doctor Who group on usenet had some thread going that said, "Who fans vindicated", as the pictures returned from the surface of Mars proved that other planets really do look like rock quarries. Many of the prominent features of Mars probably are spectacular from a distance, but they're so huge that the sense of scale would be lost, robbing them of much that makes them special. And unmanned spacecraft have to land in relatively boring places to increase their chances of surviving the landing. We didn't expect Barsoom, but even just one spectacular vista would be welcome.



Baxter is somewhat contemptuous of the American space program, both during Apollo and in the present, and while some of it might be imperialist sour grapes, he also acknowledges that the drive to get to the moon was not fueled by science, and that any future plans of that magnitude wouldn't be either. It's all very well for Bush to announce a spectacular long-term program to build a moon base and then go to Mars, but he'll be out of office before it would even get going, and the sheer number of consecutive political leaders that would have to fall into lockstep behind it in order to see it through is large enough to seem pretty impossible.



With the lack of a significant threat to space here on earth, it would seem the most likely impetus to return to the moon and beyond would come from that direction, say if astronomers suddenly noticed a big ol' asteroid heading right for us, or some other large-scale but still fixable impending disaster that would give us an immediate and broadbased reason to get back into space in a big big hurry, one that wouldn't peter out at the next change of administration in Washington. With the technology of the '60's we went in less than a decade from blasting one guy at a time into low earth orbit all the way to sending men to land on the moon and come back a couple of times a year. All it took was the threat that the Russians would get there first. Big things can happen fast, but there has to be motivation other than just pure science, the "gee, maybe there's some salt in that rock over there" that they're trying to get us excited about with the Mars rovers right now.



Baxter is only a little older than me, and I feel his pain when says he feels robbed by the fact that we grew up with Apollo, and then as adults have had nothing since even come close. When Spirit is brought back online in the next week or two, I, for one, hope the first picture its camera sends back is an up close and personal shot of the monolith. From that moment on, our future in space would be guaranteed.

So no sooner do I declare that I've now seen every extant Doctor Who episode there is to see, but somebody comes along and returns some film canisters to the BBC, one of which contains the missing episode 2 of The Daleks Master Plan. And I thought nobody was reading this thing.



Here's Laura's summary from the classics reading group 10 days ago on Elizabeth Gaskell's Wives and Daughters:

Despite the cold, we had a pretty normal turnout - 12 people - and Borders thoughtfully invited us to use the cafe for our meeting because it was much warmer than downstairs. Like the air outside, the conversation was brisk, with discussions about the characters the most frequent topic. Most of the people in the group really liked the book (although many didn't quite finish it...but it's a little hard to feel guilty about not quite finishing the book when the author didn't quite finish it either!). A lot of the appeal seemed to come from the more realistic and interesting depiction of the various characters, many of whom we talked at length about. For example, we talked of Molly's growth as she adapted to life with a new stepmother and stepsister, and about how life had actually been harder for Osborne than for Roger because of the high expectations his parents had for him. We made the expected comparisons between Gaskell's style and Jane Austen's. We debated whether some of the actions (or proposed actions) of the characters were realistic for their time - Dr. Gibson giving Molly so little notice before marrying her stepmother, the Squire actually thinking that Osborne's wife might be willing to return to France without her son, etc. Although the conversation was quite lively, it wasn't as long as some others - it kind of wound down naturally before 8:30.

The conversation could have kept going except we had to vote on the next six books. But since hardly anyone, including myself, had finished the thing, there was no problem with stopping a little early. When this happens I'm more inclined to skip the group because I don't want to hear what happens, but I wanted to get in on the voting so I decided to make an exception. As it was I didn't finish the book until today, nearly three weeks after I started. Some thought the book was a little short on action for being so long, but, putting aside it's original publication in serialized form, I thought it moved along pretty well. There isn't the diversity or number of characters that you have in Dickens, but unlike much Victorian-era fiction people actually say what they think, which I thought was rather refreshing.



Roger and I both liked the book for its dissimilarities to Jane Austen, in that stuff does actually happen, and the characters and author both aren't nearly so circumspect at relating what's going on or what they're thinking. The book ends a bit abruptly as Gaskell didn't live to finish it, but it seems like it would've taken several more chapters to wrap things up if she'd continued at the same pace, so maybe it's just as well, or I'd still be reading it for another week. Although much can be read into it about gender and the role of women and so on, I don't think that was the main intent of the story, and I could recommend this to people that don't normally read the classics as just a good tale well told. It was adapted for Masterpiece Theater a couple of years ago, and reads as though it were written expressly for that reason.



I'm skipping next month because it's Alice in Wonderland, which we've read before, and I've got too much other stuff piling up anyway. Some good ones were voted on for the next six though, and none of them as long as Wives and Daughters, so it should be a good run coming up.

The last few weeks locally have seen a lot of people focused on one issue, the prospect of having a charter school open up in Marlborough this fall. To be honest, I've never paid that much attention to the issue of charter schools, what their function is, etc., but this one required taking a closer look, since everyone in town seemed up in arms about it. On the surface, the idea of an "Advanced Math and Science Academy" sounds promising enough, giving local residents the option of sending their 6th or 7th grader tuition free to a school with an intensive focus on science and math. In practice, however, the proposal as advanced by this group of predominantly eastern European transplants, most of whom don't live in Marlborough, sounds more like an opportunity to cash in, while at the same time providing their supposedly gifted offspring with a set-up that they claim can't be found in the public schools (although I'm sure if they were willing to just pony up the cash they could get pretty close at some of the private schools around).



The school district here was up in arms about it primarily because it would take money away from them. For every child from Marlborough that's accepted into the charter school, the public school loses a pro-rated fraction of their state aid. The formula used to determine how much each pupil is worth is overly simplistic to begin with, and the school system, which isn't exactly flush with cash at the moment anyway, has cause for concern, as this creates a great unknown for future budgetary preparation. The state supposedly thought of this when dreaming up the charter school idea, and is required to kick back any money lost to the public school for the first year to give them a chance to adjust. But the state doesn't have any money either, so there's not much hope being held out that they'll actually make good on their promise.



But the monetary aspect aside, the whole point of charter schools is that they are supposed to be more of a grass roots effort from members of the community to put together a new school that can provide some sort of specialized education that the public school can't or won't provide. Beth went with some of her friends to a public hearing in Worcester last week, and there were a number of representatives there from another proposed charter school, this one in Springfield, that had been organized by parents with kids in the school system with the participation of the school system, and there was no one at the hearing to represent any opposition. Meanwhile, here we have a group with virtually no ties to Marlborough who put together a proposal without even telling the city or the school committee about it, never mind soliciting their input or participation, which goes contrary to the whole point of charter schools in the first place.



At first I was bit skeptical about all the angst being vented against their proposal, figuring it was just another case of nimbyism, but some further reading about it showed that the way these people went about it was just plain sleazy, and that alone is enough to raise a red flag for me. The more you read what they propose, it's hard to believe it would even work as they describe anyway, plus all the questions about handicapped access and special needs students and student safety. Most people just seemed to be miffed that the charter school "founders" were dissing Marlborough, saying the public schools were weak and professionals didn't live here because of it, which has no basis in fact and is just the usual case of those town to the east looking down on their more diverse neighbors.



The review period has just ended and the department of education is supposed to make their final decision public at the end of next month. Rumor has it only one charter school proposal has ever been defeated, but it sounds like similar circumstances to this one, so based on public sentiment if there's any attention paid to the facts at all you have to think there's a good chance this one will fade away too. But where politics are concerned, facts are never given much consideration, so anything could happen. Whether the consequences would be as dire as the public school officials claim it's hard to say, but there's no reason to think it wouldn't have some negative impact (less money for special education and other programs that affect Chloe and/or Justin). These are difficult times already for the schools, why do something that stands a good chance of making them worse?

Something made me think of an article I wrote for the Gazette way back when in 1981 about New year's Day, so I dug up the reprint from the Virginia Sesquecentennial book and thought I'd transcribe it here (minus the typos). When I worked there it was always fun to go trawling through the old papers looking for stuff to write about, and this was one thing that I came upon that sounds kind of neat even now.



They called on New Year's Day

"Complaint is sometimes heard that Virginia is very dull, and perhaps not without reason," lamented a Gazette article from December 22, 1882. "Let the coming New Year's Day inaugurate a new era in Virginia Society." Whether that new era came to pass or not, the next few issues don't say, but back then, every January 1st, Virginia residents had the opportunity to get the year off to a good start.



In the early 1880's, it was the custom on New Year's Day for the ladies of the town to open up their houses for receiving guests, and the men would travel from house to house making formal visits. "In this country, men who are past their first youth generally have little time and less inclination for much visiting," the Gazette explained in the December 20, 1882, paper. "On the new year's day most men are less occupied with business than at other times, and find it possible to call at the houses of their friends with little trouble to ceremony."



New Year's Day, 1882, saw the biggest response to this custom which apparently had been going on for several years. Nine groups of ladies announced that they would be receiving callers from 2 to 6 p.m. Those in charge at the houses included Mrs. George L. Warlow, Mrs. S.H. Petefish, Mrs. E.T. Oliver, Misses Eva Payne and Molly Cosner, Miss Annie and Miss Lennie Turner, and Miss Nellie Cosgro. Mrs. S.F. Allard's house received such comment by the Gazette as "time flies here, and before we knew it we have eaten enough to feed a small army." At Mrs. J.A. Epler's, the ladies apparently had a running joke going of presenting to their guests a banana with an ear of popcorn inside. The ninth house was that of Misses Emma and Kate Gatton, who knew nothing about the event until gentlemen started knocking at their door at 8 o'clock.



For those first few years, this was quite an occasion. The houses were elaborately decorated, everyone dressed in their Sunday best, and large amounts of food were served. However, everyone insisted that it was an entirely informal affair. "If 'an entirely informal affair' means an occasion when everybody is to be made happy and at ease - provided that they don't make themselves uncomfortable by overfeeding - then receiving of new year's callers by the ladies was 'an entirely informal affair'," the Gazette concluded.



After the calling had finished, everyone met for a "phantom party", the "social" event of the season, where thirty couples dressed up as ghosts at a dinner served by the Virginia House and danced to the music of Professor Fero. To the Gazette, at least, it marked "an epoch" in social life in Virginia.



"Let every door be open," the Gazette urged the following year, citing more interest in participating than the previous year. This information proved faulty, as only four homes announced in advance that they would be open, and Mrs. F.E. Downing added her name to the list New Year's morning. "We doubt if any gentlemen left this place willingly," the Gazette said of Mrs. Downing's group.



Because of the small number of houses, the callers expected to take only half an hour to make the rounds, but at each place "found the ladies so numerous and so pleasant that they extended their formal calls into a social visit," and calls were still being made at 7 p.m.



By 1884, interest in the custom was waning, mostly because of the trouble and expense the ladies were going to, so a different idea was proposed. "Some of the ladies of our city announced their intention to provide suitable refreshments only," the Gazette reported. "This is as it should be. Were it not for the fact that receiving New Year callers required so much elaborate table preparation, many more houses would be open on that day."



One week later, December 23, 1883, the Gazette carried the news that "It will now seem that the ladies of this city will not keep open house on this day," without saying why, ostensibly because everyone already knew. However, the following week, five houses were listed as planning to receive, and because of the small number, the callers again made longer visits.



A heavy snowfall made traveling on foot difficult, so that "closed carriages, single cutters and bob sleds, and even buggies were flittering about our streets carrying their occupants."



At each house the callers were given a little souvenir as they left, generally consisting of a ribbon with a brief saying and a list of the ladies receiving attached, which was pinned to the caller's lapel. "By the time all the places were visited the callers were more decorated than a Foreign Prince or a prize winner in the numerous pedestrian matches," the Gazette reported. At one house, an "old maid cake" was to be awarded by "chance circumstance" to a caller, who would receive the cake and, they said, the old maid who baked it. Interestingly enough it was won by the Gazette editor and publisher Charles Tinney.



The following year, 1885, apparently the custom was on the way out. The Gazette did not print a list of those who were receiving and the gentlemen didn't know where to go. However, since houses were open, [some calls were still made], although the Gazette had apparently lost interest in the matter and gave the event only a couple of paragraphs. No mention of receiving callers was made in the following year, so one can assume the custom had died out.



But while the custom didn't survive, the reason for initiating the event still exists today, and one can't help but think that maybe it's not such a bad idea. As the Gazette of January 6, 1882, put it: "Social life in Virginia has received an impetus that promises well for the future. The Gazette felicitates itself upon that fact, then that the social life for the New Year had been successfully inaugurated, and can only hope that all those who added so materially to the pleasures of the day may live long, and by their continued presence contribute to the happiness of all with who may come in contact."

Amen to that, here's to a fabulous 2004!