From nothing are we born, to nothing do we go; the universe we know is but the void looped back upon itself, and form but illusion's final veil.
The Void Captain's Tale is a delightful chimera of a novel: Science fiction, comedy of manners, social satire. Romance, farce, tragedy. Space opera buffa blending comedy, melodrama, sex, spirituality. Completely tongue-in-cheek yet completely sincere, it's funny, daring, thought-provoking, and eminently readable - a great example of boundary-pushing sci-fi.
The conceit behind this bizarre romp is simple: What if the Enterprise were powered not by dilithium crystals but by orgasms? Norman Spinrad is a sci-fi writer who delights in taking big chances, and this novel is a huge gamble that ultimately pays off handsomely and leaves an indelible impression. What in lesser hands could have backfired and turned into buffonish farce, Norman Spinrad spins into a clever and coherently layered mashup of western physics and eastern philosophy.
Taking a hint from historical pleasure barges ranging from Caligula's giant ship to Cleopatra's Thalamegos to modern cruise ships, the spaceship that is the setting of this novel is a world of extravagant social pageantry, sumptuous feasts, and decadent debauchery. Warp drive exists, but pleasure-seekers choose to spend months drifting between the stars, devoting their life to the pursuit of wanton carnal indulgence. The spaceship is thus a microcosm of humanity, a bubble in space where humanity is boiled down to its frothy essence - literally a floating world or ukiyo, as in the pleasure quarters of Edo Japan, a term that alludes to the earthly plane of death and rebirth from which Buddhists sought release. "The bubble world of human culture was but a shadow parade through timebound space." The Hindus have the similar concept of "maya": that which exists, but is constantly changing and thus is spiritually unreal.
There is no time in the Great and Only; therefore, within it, there is all time. There is no space, and so there is all space. Nothing is contained, and so the spirit contains all.
Spinrad details an intricate waltz of social obligations and conduct that evoke the ossified world of the aristocratic bourgeoisie of 17th-century France. It's a world free of all social and moral restraint, where maintaining one's status depends on ostentatious displays flaunting the external trappings of nobility. Affairs are the principal pastime, and are described in an atmosphere of comically exaggerated baroque ritualization of act and word that evokes French novels of the Age of Enlightenment, in particular Les Liaisons Dangereuses (1782) by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, with its driving themes of seduction and revenge. This is mirrored by the self-consciously florid writing style and declamatory manner of speaking. Just as 19th century Russians liberally sprinkled their prose with French as a mark of culture, so this sophisticated intelligentsia sprinkles their badinage d'amour with the sprachs of different cultures, mon cher liebchen. The novel has a self-consciously bouffant prose aesthetic that works quite well and makes for very fun reading.
The crack in this facade is the arrival of an idealistic pilot who seduces the captain into embarking on a quest of self-discovery and spiritual awakening, abandoning his duty to his passengers. The captain follows in the footsteps of the protagonists of Siddhartha (1922) by Herman Hesse and The Razor's Edge (1944) by W. Somerset Maugham, the early 20th century novels that introduced the west to eastern spiritualism. The captain is everyman, caught between two poles, a cipher for the reader who has to decide which is real and which is maya: the ideal or the physical.
I had passed over to a realm of perception where all that could be said to have objective existence was the conundrum of unknowable chaos out of which our quotidian relativities spring.
The beauty of the novel is its elegant simplicity. The ending is outlined on page 1. The rest of the novel simply shows how we got there. Everything can be broken down into dualities: The duality between the frivolous world of the 'floating cultura' (ukiyo) and the spiritual quest of its pilot. The duality of male and female, or, in the parlance of tantra, Shiva's lingam and Shakti's yoni: source and destination, creative force of the universe, beginning and end of all things. Although never explicitly mentioned in the novel, tantra clearly must have been part of the inspiration behind the concept. Tantra is in essence about fostering the divine within one's body: attempting to unify the masculine-feminine, the spirit-matter duality, and thereby attain a "primal blissful state of non-duality" (Goudriaan).
The book itself has a deliberate and ambiguous duality: it lionizes a classic rebel figure who shatters antiquated customs for a greater truth, while simultaneously questioning the notion of belief itself, and the moral repercussions of applying beliefs to others. It cleverly lures us into accepting a fantastical narrative conceit so as to allow us to vicariously experience the eternal moral dilemma of its protagonist: Is true morality to live the life epicurean and carnal and revel in the physical? Or is it to repudiate this world as the plane of maya and aspire towards some ephemeral beyond? The Jonestown massacre was in 1978, only four years before the novel's publication, so might have been on the novelist's mind. The secret to what makes the novel so satisfying is perhaps that it doesn't have a clear and pat resolution. We're left troubled and pensive about the actions taken by the captain, if empathetic.
This was a superb book. I can see why Spinrad is considered one of sci-fi's best writers, and I'll be coming back for more.