Anyone who’s even dipped a toe in the immense waters of science fiction literature is no doubt aware of Frank Herbert’s seminal masterpiece Dune. Those who have read the book will have recognized the theme of ecological conservation central to the plight of the Fremen (David Lynch’s film, while lovingly rendered and massively entertaining, does little justice to this aspect of the novel). The reciprocal shaping of each other by sentients and their environment is also a major thread throughout many of the stories in this collection of Herbert’s short fiction.
Because of the antics, posturings, and outright lies of the environmentalist movement, many of us have developed a knee-jerk reaction against anything that smacks of any sort of hippyish tree-hugging. This is unfortunate, because the core issues driving the debates behind conservationism and sustainability are becoming more vitally important with each rotation of this amazing orb we call earth, and here, as in, well, just about everything, the right has made just as much a mess of things as the left. Thus prose like Herbert’s, with its careful consideration, multifaceted viewpoints, and obvious passion, is not only refreshing but necessary. Case in point: the short story Seed Stock, which the back cover of the book tells me is Herbert’s own favorite. A group of planetary colonists struggles to survive on their new homeworld; their imported livestock has sickened and died, and the transplanted earth produce isn’t fairing much better. What does grow is ugly and barely edible; the native plants are mildly poisonous and must be chemically treated before consumption. The bizarre biochemistry of the native environment wreaks havoc on windmills, turbines, generators. The colony is reduced to subsistence living, stunted and sickened by the combination of unseen forces. The collection of scientists is at a loss; their carefully laid plans come to naught and their former methods useless. If the colonists are to survive, they must come to realize that they cannot create another earth. They must adapt their plants, and themselves to their new environment, not seeking to fight the changes the new planet forces, but embracing and cultivating them, integrating their needs with those of the ecosystem as a whole while keeping the guiding hand of reason firmly on the tiller. Now of course, an epiphany of this sort won’t stop the environmental debate, as the outworkings thereof are more than a little complicated, but as most of the major players haven’t even gotten this far it’d be a good start.
The conservationist theme is at its most overt in the aforementioned story, and is strong in a few others as well, but this is far from the only issue Herbert tackles. His most consistent thread in this collection is to study how entities (usually human, but this is still sci-fi) react to challenging situations and pressures. These take all forms, from the struggle to survive in a harsh environment to the subtle but consequential nuances inherent in everyday conversation. Indeed, language and the ways we use it provide the plot impetus in Try to Remember, the only story in the collection that I found too heavy-handed. The message, that truly communicating is more than just saying words, is again an important one, but Herbert’s handling of the resolution seems forced and a little trite.
Herbert’s study of humanity might be more properly termed a study of identity, a theme very thoroughly probed in both Murder Will In and The Tactful Saboteur, the latter a well-dialogued courtroom drama and one of my favorites of the bunch. Other standouts include the tense but ultimately optimistic By the Book, and the poignant but ultimately optimistic Death of a City. If you’re noticing another theme here, it’s because a sense of hope and being able to change one’s life and surroundings for the better pervade most of the stories here. This is nowhere more evident than in my favorite story in the collection, Passage for Piano. In it Herbert is not delving into the depths and limits of the human psyche, nor constructing elaborate worlds and intricate plots. The characters are rather stock and the plot resolution comes off exactly as expected; in fact the whole thing is wholly unremarkable except for the satisfying sense of shared humanity it leaves with the reader, a sense that there is beauty in the things that we humans craft and create, a beauty that compliments that of our natural environment and is both ubiquitous to our species and unique to each individual, a beauty that changes from moment to moment with each new experience, and yet stands as a timeless monument. Let this volume of Frank Herbert’s work stand among the vast pantheon that bears testimony to this fact.
This is a must-read for fans of Herbert’s other work, especially the Dune series, and should be entertaining for any sci-fi fan. Some of the stories set on earth are a bit dated, as our concept of what the future might entail has shifted somewhat, but that doesn’t detract at all from their central themes. I’d also recommend this collection to anyone who’s passionate on either side of the environmental debate; closed-minded, one-sided idealism is antithetical to critical evaluation, and Herbert’s thorough, open searching of the matter will provide to the careful reader a much-needed antidote.