kyraneko:

ciceqi:

littlepinkbeast:

jumpingjacktrash:

spaceshipoftheseus:

elucubrare:

here is a concept that I’m still trying to flesh out: medieval science fiction. 

not, of course, aliens land during the middle ages, though I’ve read and enjoyed that, but something much more difficult to execute, if it’s possible at all: space opera (exempli gratia) as written by Bede or Gildas or Geoffrey of Monmouth.  

The challenge is, of course, that you have to get into the medieval mind (ok, I know that talking about “the” medieval mind is fallacious) and figure out what they’d keep from their world and what they’d think to change – what is the analogue to ‘50s writers giving us faster than light travel & radioactive planets & psionics and still having gender and family politics that are identical to ‘50s middle class American politics? I have a feeling it’s the Church – it’s true that there are several books with Space Popes, but it tends to be a rebirth of the Papacy. I doubt a medieval science fiction writer would have the Church decline or even guess at the Reformation. 

Also, sci-fi tech tends to be, both aesthetically and functionally, an extension of tech the society it’s from already has – does a medieval space ship look like a siege tower? How do they envision the instant communication I’m sure they’d have to have as working? Would it be through magic (which is often the case in modern sci-fi)? 

And what would the spirit of it be? I would argue that, while you can’t really generalize over an entire field, and there is certainly some bleak sci-fi, the general tenor of American sci-fi is hopeful & enamored of the human spirit. Is the point of medieval space travel to find God*? Will leaving Earth leave behind Original Sin? Are we going to convert the Martians? 

DO they need instant communication? I mean, even star wars still has people carrying thumb drives around. There could be a pigeon analogue – sleek little machines flitting between the stars carrying messages, or perhaps creatures already native to the higher spheres suited to the task. Venusian swallowtails, mercurial spirits. 

I’d love to see the heavenly spheres as a setting for this all on its own, too. What’s the first moment a traveler hears the music like? 

I could see a lot of it through the lens of knights on impossible quests – why not ascend the sky? Knights riding on bright steeds of golden fire known as comets. Knights finding allegorical realms on the various planets, like the Kingdom of Love from Capellanus’ Treatise on The Arts of Courtly Love, but set in the golden mountains of Venus, and you could have a Kingdom of War and a Kingdom of Wit and a Kingdom of Time on Mercury and Mars and Saturn. Prester John could be from Jupiter! 

I’m not sure about the ways I would expect medieval scifi to be subversive, but I might look at Marie de France for ideas, she plays a lot with expectation and obligation and the implications of gender in her Lais, in very clever ways. 

medievals didn’t have the concept of vacuum, let alone know that space doesn’t have air. everything is open ships and space sails. gravity isn’t oriented to the planet, there’s a universal ‘down’. engines are driven by people or animals or wind or water, not burning fuel; your space chariot is pulled by cloud horses or sun lions.

other planets are not other earths, they’re allegorical locations populated by allegorical creatures. angels, demons, dreamers, cannibals, a planet of all women and a planet of all men – but not for 1950′s bikini shenanigans, more as a parable about how the sexes can’t get along without each other because men’s work and women’s work are both necessary. no concept that men could do women’s work and vice-versa, or at least do it competently. the men on the men’s planet would like, grow children in their fields, but wean them on burnt bread soaked in beer because they’re terrible at milking cows and kneading dough, or something like that.

there’s a Renaissance thing, Orlando Furioso, in which the knight Astolfo gets to the moon in Elijah’s burning chariot. (He goes to the moon because everything that has been lost on Earth can be found there, including Orlando’s sanity, because of course.)

I think I’d argue that theological allegory, like the Divine Comedy or the Vision of Piers Plowman, pretty much is medieval science fiction: speculations and warnings and encouragement, based on what is known-or-believed-to-be-known. As I understand it, the general opinion of medieval European scholars was that theology was THE most important thing to know about; studying the Creator more fervently than the creation was considered pretty much the same degree of Obviously Sensible as, say, studying birds doing bird things and being birds instead of just looking at empty nests and eggshells would be to us, like, why study mere side-effects when you can study The Entire Truth And Cause Of Everything? So I would argue that theology is the medieval version of twentieth century rocket science and atomic physics as The Coolest Thing To Know About, and thus spec fic based on it is the equivalent of science fiction.

You guys might enjoy a book I remember reading ages ago…Richard Garfinkle’s Celestial Matters.  I honestly can’t remember whether I liked it or not, but it’s basically “What if ancient astronomy was totally legit?  Okay, adventure time.”

And, going in the opposite direction, for a modern example of someone writing in the style of a medieval travelogue but as if it were true science, check out Umberto Eco’s Baudolino.  If you love history and sly wit, Eco’s your man.

I’m drawing a blank at how many people in Medieval Europe knew the Earth was round, and coming up with the possibility of a Universe shaped like an hourglass of sorts, with Earth as the flat plane through the smallest point in the middle, and the Infinite Heavens above and the equally-infinite Infernal Hell below, with “space travel” in two parts: man flying up to the realms of angels and heavenly spheres below the gates of Heaven, and man flying down to the realms of demons and diabolical spheres and, eventually, the gates of Hell.

These spheres would be I suppose something like the Death Star: round castles without an internal center of gravity, composed of layers on which people (or other entities) live and work. There would be spheres ruled by particular angels and demons, saints and noteworthy sinners, whose populace, society, and behavior are all based on that particular entity’s attributes.

The heavenly realms would have a lot of abundance and flying around on angels’ wings, and the infernal realms would have a lot of torture and riding on chariots of fire, and there would probably be a lot of stories focusing on what happens when a person from one side is displaced to the other, sometimes with them settling into (or succumbing to) their new environment, other times reshaping it into something more like themselves (an angel gets taken to hell, takes control of a sphere, and it rises into Heaven, full of rejoicing former-sinners filled with the Love of God, or a demon is brought to a celestial sphere by someone who wants to show off their power, and the demon carefully subverts the whole population and they rejoice as their sphere sinks down into Hell), and other times escaping back to their own place, or just travelling—perhaps there are Captain Jack Sparrow style characters that simply wander through and cause chaos through their “corkscrew in a world of straight lines” breezing through rules not meant to apply to them.

Dammit I want to write like six books’ worth of this now.