One day I found him amid large packages from which spilled attractive, glossy paperbacks with mythical covers. He had tried to use, as a "generator of ideas" — for we were running out of them — those works of fantastic literature, that popular genre (especially in the States), called, by a persistent misconception, "science fiction." He had not read such books before; he was annoyed — indignant, even — expecting variety, finding monotony. "They have everything except fantasy," he said. Indeed, a mistake. The authors of these pseudo-scientific fairy tales supply the public with what it wants: truisms, clichés, stereotypes, all sufficiently costumed and made "wonderful" so that the reader may sink into a safe state of surprise and at the same time not be jostled out of his philosophy of life. If there is progress in a culture, the progress is above all conceptual, but literature, the science-fiction variety in particular, has nothing to do with that.
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I think this is just an application of the oft-repeated advice given to medical residents, "when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras".
Sure, the "hoofbeats" might be the traces of aliens, but like the winking lights seen by the Apollo 11 astronauts, it's far more likely there's a physical explanation that doesn't involve aliens, and there's enough strangeness in physics that you explore the much more likely reasons before resorting to aliens as an explanation.
posted by orthogonality at 8:53 AM on March 24