visuwesh

Last Notes

2025-10-19 13:36:17 UTC

Scifi is the last genre I ever want to read because every scifi aspect feels like a cheat and this is the antonym of world building. So you end up with a sorry excuse of a plot with shoddy scientific backing.
Contrast this with the classic scifis (I've read)—Invisible Man, The Time Machine, and Frankenstein—there is something peculiar that make them far more engaging than the run-of-the-mill modern scifi where we are space traveling (who cares?), the robots have taken over (eye rolls), the modern technology has rotten us to our cores (were we ever rational beings?), and more space traveling. You would think Invisible Man with its basic title would be cheeky and quite boring, but that is the exact opposite. I still vaguely remember the time I read Invisible Man for "required" reading, and being absolutely pulled in—a rare event for someone who loathes scifi. The reason is quite simple: the scifi element does not involve magic-level technology, or fucked up science logic. It takes one idle passing thought and puts clear thought into it, and while doing so, it focuses the story on the (flawed) human being rather than making the story revolve around the scifi element. The protagonist being invisible is the spice that gives the nuanced flavour, it is the karuveppilai that gives the appetising smell to the rasam.
Frankenstein is one such monster. It takes the question "can we create a sentient being?" and pursues it in the most interesting way. It commits the taboo, and is unapologetic about it. The story does not revolve around the Frankenstein creating the monster throughout, no: it is about the human beings, and the monster, that surround Frankenstein in his wretchedness. Just because the story is based on a "scifi element," it does not stop admiring nature in all its beauty: quite the opposite, the appreciation of nature's bountiful handsome features become vibrant than ever as we see it from the lonely monster, and broken-down Frankenstein. The novel would have been half as engaging if it weren't for the dialogue that resembles everyday talk; there is no pretentious "I am a scifi book so I must sound smart." There was no need to spin the narrative like that back then, the romantics' affair was a whole lot different.
The sheer horror of Frankenstein, the chilly revelation of the monster's life to be on the eerie night, the confused monster learning what it even is, the revenge and the cold murders all jump out from the text. There is never a moment of boredom when these typical clichéd scenes come about, you don't roll your eyes at the text. There is no need to because ultimately no one is truly blamed for the chain of events, it is treated as an happenstance and rightly so: there is no villain, and no one is made out to be one to justify any action. The text is raw, the emotions of the characters alone justify the cascade of events. The chill that runs through your spine as you realise what the monster is up to, the sheer anger that boils within as you witness the murders, and the utter hopelessness as you realise nothing can be done to change the outcome is all one needs for the lines to come to life.
These scifi novels, if you can even call them, shine brighter than the modern works because there is no pointless justification of the plot, of the decisions that the characters make. The story unfolds naturally. The little scifi elements blend into the background, and they are never truly relevant. The ever-changing situation is what matters at the end. If modern scifi never change from focusing on kewl technology, then it is not even worth buying to kindle the winter fire.
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