30

NOEL GOUGH _ _ _ ____ _ ___ _ _ _ _ __ _

An Accidental Astronaut: Learning
with Science Fiction
Many of my favortte stories are lrnown popularly as -science
fiction" (sf), I and some of them have also become very sig-
nificant in my work as a teacher educator and curriculum
scholar. The value I place on certain sf stortes, and my fondness
for-the genre -as-awhole;--has-resulted from a succession of
fortunate accidents, each of which has predisposed me to take
advantage of the next.
Childhood Dreams
One of the more plausible stories of modern biological science
suggests that our inherited characteristics and the circumstan-
ces of our conception result from many chance occurrences. If
that is so, then chance has it that I was born a boy in England
in 1944 and that I have a brother six years older than me. A result
of the latter accident is that my brother's reading preferences were
an early influence on my own tastes. Thus, at the age of six I was
not only following the adventures of Rupert Bear (and other
favorites of my agemates) but also sampling books and comics
preferred by older readers. Among these was the boys' weekly
paper Eagle with its lead comic strip, "Dan Dare: Pilot of the
Future." Dan Dare's colorful exploits were the stuff of many a
boy's dreams in the drabness and depression of postwar Brttain.
He took the values of our heroic Royal Air Force into space and,
more importantly. his adventures were set in a future from which
science and technology had eliminated many of the most
demoralising aspects of our existence. When I embarked with
Dan Dare's Interplanetary Space Fleet to venture to Venus and
beyond I escaped from the food shortages and rations. the cold
and damp houses (coal was rationed too). and the runny noses
and congested lungs that were endemic to England's soggy,
smoggy atmosphere.
An Accidental Astronaut: Learning with Science Fiction 313
My brother and I were lucky to be acquainted \vith Dan Dare.
because in 1951, only a year after his comic strip debut. our
family emigrated to Australia. where Eagle was not widely dis-
tributed. This brief acquaintanceship was enough to whet my
brother's appetite for sf. which grew steadily in the ensuing years.
My own literary tastes were more diverse, but my brother's
collection of sf formed a large proportion of our shared library and
the Grand Masters of the genre- Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury.
Arthur C. Clarke, and Robert Heinlein-soon became familiar
names. However, my knowledge of their work and of sf in general
remained superficial for many years. Indeed. between 1950 and
1967 I read nothing which appreciably altered the impressions of
sf that I had formed on my flights of fantasy with Dan Dare. The
only value I attributed to sfbeyond that of escapist entertainment
was its celebration of the virtues of science per se. -
During my high school years I began to reject qUite conscious-
ly the Christian theology of my parents and to put my faith in
science. By the time I had completed my undergraduate degree
in biology I was confident that the meaning of life resided in
neo-Darwinian evolutionary theory. Had I been asked to do so, I
could have defended assiduously the SCientific optimism of my
Dan Dare daydreams. But I had no reason to articulate such a
defence, and I certainly did not recognise the complementarities
between my faith in science and my childhood dreams.
,-
Childhood's End
One day in 1967, when browsing in the Education library at the
University of Melbourne. I came across a small collection of novels
on educational themes - The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Black-
board Jungle, To Sir With Love and the like. Among them was
Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke (1953). I had read and
enjoyed several of Clarke's short stories in the anthologies of sf
that I occasionally had borrowed from my brother, and I thus
recognised the incongruity of his novel in this collection.
Childhood's End is not about schooling, and I suspect that it came
to be in the Education library by accident. perhaps on the
strength of its title alone. Whatever the reason for its presence,
my curiosity was aroused and I took a chance on reading
ChilElhood's End. It is no exaggeration to say that doing so
changed my life.
30
NOEL GOUGH ________________________________ _
An Accidental Astronaut: Learning
with Science Fiction
Many of my favortte stories are lmown popularly as -sCience
ftction- (sf}, l and some of them have also become very sig-
nificant in my work as a teacher educator and cUrriculum
schola r. The value I place on certain sf stones, and my fondness
for - the genre "as- a-whole;--fias -resulted from a succession of
fortunate accidents. each of which has predisposed me to take
advantage of the next.
Childhood Dreams
One of the more plausible stones of modern blologtcal science
s uggests that our Inherited charactertstlcs and the circumstan-
ces of our conception result from many chance occurrences. If
that is so, then chance has it that I was born a boy in England
in 1944 and that I have a brother six years older than me. A result
of the latter accident Is that my brother's reading prefer ences were
an early influence on my own tastes. Thus , at the age of six I was
not only following the adventures of Rupert Bear (and other
favorites of my agemates) but also sampling books and comics
preferred by older readers. Among these was the boys' weekly
paper Eagle with its lead comic s trip, ~ D a n Dare: Pilot of the
Future.
M
Dan Dare's colorful exploits were the stuff of many a
boy's dreams in the drabness and depression of postwar Britain.
He took the values of our heroic Royal Air Force into space and,
more importantly, his adventures were set in a future from which
scien ce and technology had eliminated many of the most
demoralis ing aspects of our existence. When I embarked with
Dan Dare's Interplanetary Space F1eet to venture to Venus and
beyond I escaped from the food shortages and rations, the cold
and damp houses (coal was rationed too) , and the nmny noses
and congested lungs that were endemiC to England's soggy,
smoggy a tmosphere.
An Accidental Astronaut; Leamlng with Science Fiction 3 13
My brother and I were lucky to be acquainted \vith Dan Dare.
because in 195 1. only a year after his comic strip debut. our
family emigrated to Australia, where Eagle was not widely dis
tributed. This brief acquaintanceship was enough to whet my
brother's appetite for sf. which grew steadily in the ensutngyears.
My own literary tastes were more diverse, but my brother's
collection of sffonned a large proportion of our shared library and
the Grand Masters of the genre- Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury.
Arthur C. Clarke, and Robert Heinletn-soon became familiar
names. However, my knowledge of their work and of sf in general
remained superllclal for many years. Indeed, between 1950 and
1967 I read nothing which appreciably altered the impressions of
sf that I had fonned on my flights of fantasy with Dan Dare. The
only value I attributed to sf beyond that of escapist entertainment
was Its celebration of the virtues of science per se. .
During my high school years I began to reject qUite conscious
Iy the Christian theology of my parents and to put my faith in
science. By the time I had completed my undergraduate degree
in biology I was confident that the meaning of life reSided in
neo-Darwinian evolutionary theory. Had I been as ked to do so, I
could have defended assiduously the scientifi c optimism of my
Dan Dare daydreams. But I had no reason to articulate such a
defence, and I certainly dJd not recognise the complementari tles
between my faith in science and my childhood dreams.

Childhood's End
One day in 1967, when browsing 10 the Education library at the
UniversityofMelboume, [ came across a small collection of novels
on educational themes-The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Black
board Jungle, To Sir With Love and the like. Among them was
Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke (1953). I had read and
enjoyed severa] of Clarke's short stories in the anthologies of sf
that I occasionally had borrowed from my brother, and I thus
recognised the Incongrui ty of his novel in this collection.
Childhood's End Is not about schooling, and t suspect that it came
to be in the Education library by accident, perhaps on the
strength of its title alone. Whatever the reason for its presence,
my curiosity was aroused and 1 took a chance on reading
ChiLEfhood's End. It is no exaggeration to say that do1og so
changed my life.
30
NOEL GOUGHL-______________________________ _
An Accidental Astronaut: Learning
with Science Fiction
Many of my favort te stories are lmown popularly as -science
ftction- (sf), l and some of them have also become very sig-
nificant in my work as a teacher educator and cUrriculum
schola r. The value t place on certain sf stones, and my fondness
for the genre 'as- a whole;-has-resulted from a succession of
fortunate accidents. each of which has predisposed me to take
advantage of the next.
Childhood Dreams
On e of the more plausible stories of modern bIological science
suggests that our inherited characteristics and the circumstan-
ces of our conception result from many chance occurrences. If
that is so, then chance has it that I was born a boy In England
in 1944 and tha t I have a brother six years older than me. A result
of the latter accident is that my brother's reading preferences were
an early influence on my own tastes. Thus, at the age of six I was
not only following the adventures of Rupert Bear (and other
favorites of my agemates) but also sampling books and comics
preferred by older readers. Among these was the boys' weekJy
paper Eagle with its lead comic s trip, Dare: Pilot of the
Dan Dare's colorful exploits were the stuff of many a
boy's dreams in the drabness and depression of pos twar Britain.
He took the values of our heroic Royal Air Force Into space and,
more importantly, his adventures were set In a future from which
science and technology had elimina t ed many of the most
demoralising aspects of our existence. When I embarked with
Dan Dare's Interplanetary Space F1eet to venture to Venus and
beyond I escaped from the food s hortages and rations, the cold
and damp houses (coal was rationed too) , and the nmny noses
and congested lungs that were endemiC to England's soggy,
smoggy a tmosphere.
An AccidentaJ Astronaut: Leamlng with Science Fiction 3 13
My brother and I were lucky to be acquainted \\rim Dan Dare.
because in 1951. only a year after his comic strip debut. our
family emigrated to Australia, where Eagle was not widely dis
tributed. This brief acquaintanceshJp was enough to whet my
brother's appetite for sf, which grew steadily in the ensulngyears.
My own literary tastes were more diverse, but my brother's
collection of s f fonned a large proportion of our shared library and
the Grand Masters of .he genre - Isaac Asimov. Ray Bradbury.
Arthur C. Clarke, and Robert Heinlein-soon became familiar
names. However, my knowledge of their work and of sf in general
remained superficial for many years. Indeed, between 1950 and
1967 I read nothing which appreciably altered the impressions of
sf that I had formed on my flights of fantasy with Dan Dare. The
onlyvaJue I attributed to sf beyond that of escapist entertainment
was Its celebration of the virtues of science per se. .
During my high school years I began to reject quite conscious-
ly the Christian tileology of my parents and to put my faith in
science. By the time I had completed my undergraduate degree
in biology I was confident that the meaning of life reSided in
neo-Darwinian evolutionary theory. Had I been asked to do so, I
could have defended aSSiduously the scientific optimism of my
Dan Dare daydreams. But I had no reason to articulate such a
defence, and I certainly dJd not recogruse the complementarities
between my faith In science and my c,hi1dhood dreams .
Childhood's End
One day in 1967, when browsing 1n the Education library at the
UrtiversityofMelboume, I came across a small coUection of novels
on educational themes-The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Black
board Jungle, To Sir With Loue and the like. Among them was
Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke (1953). I had read and
enjoyed severaJ of Clarke's short s tories in the anthologies of sf
that I occasionally had borrowed from my brother, and I thus
recognised the incongruity of his novel in this collection.
Childhood's End Is not about schooling, and t suspect that it came
to be in the Education library by aCCident. perhaps on the
strength of its title alone. Whatever the reason for its presence,
my curiosity was aroused and 1 took a chance on reading
Chilflhood's End. It is no exaggeration to say that doing so
changed my life.
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314 GOUGH
Childhood's End begins just as humans are about to take their
first steps into s pace. The space race and the anns race are halted
by the arrival of extraordinarily powerful alien beings who become
known the At first the Overlords are a mysterious
presence. and they hide their physical form from humans for fifty
years (it turns out that they resemble medieval conceptions of
Satan). During tha t time they take benevolent control of the world
and eliminate ignorance. poverty. disease. crime. and the fear of
war. But the children of this new golden age are strange. They
begin to dream of floating among distant SWlS and wandering on
alien planets and, eventually, all they seem to do is dream. The
Overlords reveal that their purpose on earth can be likened to
midwives attending a clifficult birth, - theLr duty being to super-
vise and protect the children through a metamorphosis which will
-brtng something new and wonderful into the world. - Eventually
the children are all that remain of humankind and, in the book's
powerful metaphysical climax, they dematenalise -along with
the earth Itself-to become what their dreams prefigured: the
children are at one with an omnipresent cosmic "Ovemtind. - The
Overlords observe this final stage of human evolution with a
deeply ambiguous sense of loss: for all of their technological
sophistication, tlley are incapable ofJo1n.ingthe Overmind. As one
of their number says: "'Yes, we are the mitlwtves. But we ourselves
are barren- (Clarke 1953. 153).
I recall befng fascinated and oddly exhilarated by my first
reading of Childhood's End.. I was s urprised by the apparent
paradox that a story about the end of the world could seem so
hopeful. but 1 felt myself empathlslng with Clarke's aspirations
for what humankind might become. I was also surprised that a
story founded on the mystical concept of human transcendence
could remain within the bounds of scientific plausibility and,
moreover, be told u s ing such stereotypical props of sf as extrater-
restrial beings and spaceships and other wonderful machines.
I have r evisited Childhood's End many times since that first
reading, and its literary flaws have become more apparent.
Hwnan characterisation is minimal and the dialogue Is often
stilted, but I am still moved by the predicament of the Overlords
and share Clarke's sense of wonder as he 1maginatiVely docu-
ments the marvels of the universe and dramatises his beliefs in
the possibility of human transcendence. Clarke is at his best
when his mind's eye Is on the big picture, as It is in his depictiOn
An ACCidental Astronaut: Learning with Science Fiction 3 15
of the last moments of the earths existence (as seen by the
departing Overlords);
In a soundless concussion of light. Earths core gave up ilS
hoarded energies. For a llttle while the grav1tat..ional waves
crossed and re-crossed the Solar System. disturbing ever so
slightly the orbits of the planets. Then the Sun's remaining
children pursued their ancient paths once more, as corks
floating on a placid lake ride oul the tiny ripples set In motion
by a falling stone. (Clarke 1953, 188-1891
It is not just the metaphoI1c reference to water that reminds me
of the climactic lines of Herman Melville's Moby Dick r ... then
all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it r oUed
five thousand years ago-I. Clarke's lines may lack Melville's
nmdity- and economy, but both writers know how to put
humankind into perspective-against vistas of such magnitude
and magnificence that events like the sinking of the Pequoo and
the dematerialisation of the earth appear as InfinitesimaJ fluctua-
tions in vast sweeps of time and space. However, through their
respectlve central characters, each writer also demonstrates that
such events are by no means trivial. Thus , the sombre tone of the
conclud1ng passages of Childhood's End does not invite us to
mourn for the earth but r eflects the tragic meaning of its destruc-
tion for the Overlord Karellen:
There was nothing left of Earth. They had leeched away the last
atoms of its substance. It had nourished them, through the
fierce moments of their inconceivable metamorphOSiS, as rbe
food stored in a grain of wheat feeds the tnfant plant while It
climbs towards the SWl . .
Six thousand million kilometers beyond the orbit of Plulo.
Karellen sat before a suddenly darkened screen. The record was
complete, the mission ended; he was homeward bound for the
world he had left so long ago. The weight of centuries was upon
him, and a sadness that no logic could dJspel ...
For all their achievements, thought Karellen, for all their
mastery of the phYSical unJverse. his people were no better than
a tribe that had passed its whole existence upon some [] at and
dusty plain. Far off were the mountains. where power and
beauty dwell, where the thunder sported above the glaciers and
'the air was clear and keen. There the sun still walked, trans-
figuring the peaks with glory. when all !.he land below was
316 GOUGH
wrapped in darkness. And they could only watch and t'.1)nder.
they could never scale those heights. (Clarke 1953, 189)
Child.hoOC:fS End altered my conception of what science fiction
could be and stimulated my curiosity about the place of SCientific
rationality in the human imagination. I began to read more widelv
in the literature of only sf but other stories
scientific inquiry and the history and philosophy of science that
lay claim to being MnonfiCtion". I also began to use sf In the courses
I taught in teacher education, particularly studies in teaching
biology and science. After Childhood's End my cosmological
explorations were no longer accidental. though it took yet another
chance occurrence to forge the links that now bind my affection
for sf with my work in curriculum stuclies. .
A Chi ld In Tlme
In search of further revelatory experiences I returned to mv
brother's coUection of classic and contemporary sf. At first I was
disappointed by the scarcity of such revelations in the stories told
by the most popular sf authors. Fortunately. some of Arthur C,
Clarke's best work appeared in the years that immecliately fo l-
lowed my first reading ofChildhood's End.. The 1968 movie 2001:
A Space Odyssey (for which Clarke coauthored the screenplay
with director Stanley Kubrick), the short story MA Meeting with
(1971), the noVel Rendezuous wilh Ramo. (1973) were
every bit as awe inspiring as Childhood's End, and each in some
ways surpassed It. Thus sensitised. r could hardly fail to noUce
that one ofCJarke's nonfiction books, Profiles oJthe FUture (1973).
was lis ted in 1975 as a s uggested text for an elective course,
-Educating for the within the teacher education program
I was then coordinating. The course was about to lapse because
the staff member who was responsible for it had suddenlv
reSigned, Shortly thereafter, I took the opportunity to teach and
to further develop thIs course, now known as MFutures in Edu-
catlonM. and It has remalned an important focus for mv work to
this day. -
Since Childhood'sEnd r have encountered the works of several
sf authors whose artistry with the written word totaUy ecUpses
Clarke's, Of these, Ursula Le Guin has done most to nurture the
genn of personal consciousness that was planted by Clarke. the
realisa tion that imaginative journeys into vast reaches ofUme and
An Accidental Astronaut: Learning with Science Fiction 317
space can be much more than escapist fantasies. We can return
from such journeys genuinely moved, Le Guin provides a useful
analogy In her novel. Always Coming Home (1985. 10-11): a girl
is on ajoumey from which she makes a short detour to visit her
family in a nearby town. She recalls. -I had been to Madidinou
many times. of course, but this time the town looked altogether
different. since I was on a journey beyond Ie. The best sf has a
similar effect: it makes the present - and particularly the moral
chOices and judgments that we perceive within it-look -al-
together dillerent.
M
This appUes as much to the stories we tell in
curriculum study as to any other aspect of our lives.
Le Guin sets novels like The Left Hand ojDarkness (1969) and
The Dispossessed (1974) In the far future, in carefully con-
structed fictional universes. In each of these stories Le Guin
creates unfamiliar yet magnillcently realised.enmonm_ents which
are integral to the interplays among her characters
may not be human but who are always characters and not mere
ciphers). The haunting clarity of Le Guin's prose allows simple
visual images and s hadow on snow, Uw play of sunlight
in a be woven almost imperceptibly into complex
metaphors which resonate with the actions and existence of her
subjects. The wholeness ofLe Guin's vision of alien worlds invites
us to accept them as familiar and subtly alters our perceptions
of olllSelves and our own times and places. I certainly believe that
r returned from Gethen, the wintry setting of Th.e Left Hand oj
Darkness, and from Le Guin's vividly personalised account of a
solitary human envoy's interactions with Its androgynous in-
habitants, with a more sensitive and enlightened view of the
politics of human sexuality and gender.
An added attraction of Le Guin's sf is that it has a1so been a
source of questions for my own curriculum inquiries, For ex-
ample, in Always Coming Home. she teUs stories of the Kesh, a
people who -might be going to have lived a long. long time from
now in Northern California M and whose stories are written as
translations of thelr voices speaking for themselves. R One brief
story is told by the grandchild of a man called Fairweather. We
are told that during Falrweather's adolescence -he learned ar-
boriculture with hls mother's brother, a scholar of the Planting
Lodge. , . and with orchard trees of all kinds. M Fairweather lived
in a 'time and place when Mnone of the Valley pears was very good.
all were subject to cankers. and most needed irrigation to bear
-
318 GOUGH
well. ~ He asked people in the north for help in obtaining different
varteties and, by crossbreeding northern seedlings with a pear
tree he found growing wild above the oak forests, ~ h e came upon
a strong, small, and drought-hardy tree with excellent fruit... This
is the brown pear grown in most orchards and gardens, and
people call it the Fairweather pear. M There is much more to this
deceptively simple story, which occupies less than two pages of
a long novel. than can be examined here. But one of the story's
chief delights is Le Guin's postscript to it:
TRANSlATOR'S NOTE:
... he leamed arbonculture with his mother's brother . .. and.
with orchard trees oj all kinds.
We would be more likely to say that he learned from his uncle
about orchard trees;-but this would not-be a fair-translation of
the repeated suffix oud, with, together with. To learn with an
uncle and trees implies that learning is not a transfer of some-
thing by someone to someone, but is a relationship. Moreover,
the relationship is considered to be reciprocal. Such a point of
view seems at hopeless odds-with the distinction of subject and
object considered essential to science. Yet it appears that
[Fairweather'sl genetic experiments or manipulations were tech-
nically skillful, and that he was not ignorant of the theories
involved, and it is certain that he achieved precisely what he set
out to achieve. And the resulting strain of tree was given his
name: a type case, in our vocabulary, of Man's control over
Nature. This phrase, however, could not be translated into Kesh,
which had no word meaning Nature except she, being: and
anyhow the Kesh saw the Fairweather pear as the result of a
collaboration between a man and some pear trees. The dif-
ference of attitude is interesting and the absence of capital
letters perhaps not entirely trivial. (Le Guin 1985, 274-275)
The difference in attitude is indeed interesting; moreover, it is the
diJference between the Kesh view of learning and our own that
gives the story a critical edge. Fairweather's story, and Le Guin's
translation of it, questions the taken-for-grantedness of existing
conceptions of curriculum and leanling, and it matters little
whether the Kesh exist "in face or that they are a speculative
fiction of Le Guin's imagination. The facts of the story's existence
and of our critical responses to it are more than enough to provide
questions for curriculum inquiry. As Le Guin says in a preface to
Always Coming Home:
An Accidental Astronaut: Learrling with Science Fiction 319
The difficulty of translation from a language that doesn't yet
exist is conSiderable, but there's no need to exaggerate it. The
past. after all, can be quite as obscure as the future. The ancient
Chinese book called Tao teh ching has been translated into
English dozens of times, and indeed the Chinese have to keep
retranslating it into Chinese at every cycle of Cathay, but no
translation can give us the book that Lao Tze (who may not have
existed) wrote. All we have is the Tao teh ching that is here, now.
And so with translations from a literature of the (or a) future.
The fact that it hasn't yet been written, the mere absence of a
text to translate, doesn't make all that much difference. What
was and what may be lie, like children whose faces we cannot
see, in the anns of silence. All we ever have is here. now. (Le
Guin 1985, xi)
Le Guin thus reminds us that the value of a narrative excursion
to other times has little to do with its status as historical or
scientific 'fact' or speculative fiction. What matters is the wisdom
and virtue that may grow in us as we respond critically and
creatively to such stories here and now, in the present within
which our pasts and futures are enfolded.
The essence of what I have learned from the stories of Arthur
C. Clarke. Ursula Le Guin, and other writers of sf is that I am a
child in time. They have helped me to understand that I am at
the centre of my own history and have helped me to locate this
history somewhere -and somewhen - radically indeterminate in
any conception I might have of the evolving universe. The stories
of science-astronomy, geology, ecology, and evolutionary biol-
ogy - opened my mind to vast perspectives of space and time past.
but in those stories I seemed to be situated at the edge of reality,
or uncomfortably perched on the-tip of time's arrow, with a narrow
and restricted view. The stories of science fiction have helped me
to realise the vast imaginative perspectives of space and time
future. It is a humbling experience to sense oneself as a child in
time-as a small. wondering, growing, and purposeful speck of
consciousness-indeterminately and ambiguously located (but
not lost) within an infinite timescape. And here, now, it feels like
a good and useful metaphor for what I hope I am being and
becoming as I tell my own stories of curriculum, teaching, and
learning with my own children, colleagues, and colearners.
320 GOUGH
NOTE
1. Most connoisseurs. critics. and creators of science fiction prefer
the abbrE'<iation Msf". to Msci-fi." An advantage of Msf" is that it can also
be taken 1:0 denote fiction" (an all-embracing term which
includes any stories set in the future, regardless of whether or not they
are furnished with the scientific or technological hardware of conven-
tional science fiction) and/ or Mscience fantasy" (stories which are osten-
sibly set in the future but which are characterised by magic and fantasy
of the faery sort).
REFERENCES FOR CHAPTER TI-IIRTI
Clarke. A C. 1953. Childhood's end. New York: Ballantine. (Page refer-
ences are to the 1956 edition published by Pan Books. London.)
- --.1971. A Meeting with Medusa. In ThewindJromthe SWl. London:
Victor Gollancz.
- - -. 1973. Rendezvous with Rama. London: Victor Gollancz.
-- -1973. PiofilesoJ-theFi.iiUre. revised London: Victor
Gollancz. -
Le Guin. Ursula 1969. The Left Hand oj Darkness. New York: Ace.
- - -. 1974. The Dispossessed. New-York: Harper and Row.
- - -. 1985. Always Coming Home. New York: Harper and Row. (Page
references are to the 1986 edition published by Victor Gollancz.
London.)

320 GOUGH
NaTE
1. Most connoisseurs. critics. and creators of science fiction prefer
the abbre'\iatlon sf". to sci-fl. - An advantage of sf" is that it can aJso
be taken to denote fiction (an aU-embraCing term which
Includes any stories set in the future. regardless of whether or not they
are furnis hed W1tb the scientific or technological hardware of conven
tional science fiction) and/or science fantasy (stories which are osten-
Sibly set In the future but which are characterised by magic and fantasy
of the faery sort).
REFERENCES fOR CHAPTER TIUR1Y
Clarke, A. C. 1953. Childhood's end. New York: BaUantine. (Page refer
ences are to the 1956 edltlon published by Pan Books. London.)
- - -. 1971.A Meeting with Medusa. In Thewindfrom the sun. London:
Victor GolIancz.
- - - . 1973. Rendezvous with Rama.. London: Victor Gollancz.
-- - ..:.. ""T973. Projii"e:s- oj Victor
GoUanc:z. .
Le GUin. Ursula 1969. 171e Left Hand oj Darkness. New York: Ace.
-- - . 1974. 171eDispossessed. New'York: Harper and Row.
---. 1985. Always Comfng Home. New York: Harper and Row. (Page
references are to the 1986 edition published by Victor GolIancz,
London.)
320 GOUGH
NCYrE
I . Most connoisseurs. critiCs. and creators of science fiction prefer
the abbre\1aUon sr, to -sdfi. - An advantage of -sr Is that It can also
be taken tD denote fiction- (an all-embracing tenn which
includes any s tories set In the future. regardless of whether or not they
are furnished wtth the scientific or technological hardware of conven-
tion aJ science f!:ctlon) and/or -science fantasy- (stories which are osten-
Sibly set in !.he future but which a re characterised by magic and fantasy
of the faery son.).
REFERENCES FOR CHAPfER TIiIRIT
Cla r ke, A. C, J 953. Childhood's end. New York: Ballantine. (Page refe r-
ences are to the 1956 edWon pubUshed by Pan Books. London.)
- --. 1971. A Meetlngwtth Medusa. In ThewindJrom the sun. London:
Victor GoUancz.
- - - . 1973. Rendezvous with Rama. London: Victor Coliana.
-- - -. 1973. Profiles edition. Victor
GoUano::. -
Le Guill. Ursul a 1969. The Left Hand oj IJa.rlmess. New York: Ace.
---. 1974. T1teDispJSsessed. New"York: Harper and Row.
---. 1985. Always Coming Home. New York: Harper and Row. (Page
references are to the 1986 edition publlshed by Victor Coliancz.
London.)