Starship Troopers, by Robert A. Heinlein

Here you see the full-body
suit and the spider
creatures.

Heinlein strikes again with a compelling first-person narration of the training and maturation of a space warrior. Starship Troopers (1959) tells the story of Johnnie Rico, who enlists in the military on a whim. In this world, only veterans of the military who serve two years or more can become full citizens with the right to vote, but that isn't Johnnie's prime motivation. He just goes along with a friend and then gets caught up in it.

As Johnnie moves through his basic training and then begins service in the mobile infantry (ground fighters who are transported by spaceship), he gains a deeper and deeper understanding of the the role of a warrior and finds that he is maturing into one. I liked Johnnie. I felt like I knew him.

The main enemy Johnnie is fighting is a spidery creature with an ant-like social organization. The infantry drops from the spaceship in multi-layered spheres. As they fall through the atmosphere, layers burn off one by one until finally there is a parachute and then free fall. Each soldier is encased in a huge armored fighting suit that allows him (they are all hims) to jump or bounce, so the final drop to the ground is cushioned by a firing of the bounce thruster--you hit the ground moving. The suit is fitted to the soldier and enhances all of his senses and physical prowess. Pretty cool.

In the movie, the full body armored suit
gives way to mere physique. The spider
is highly exaggerated.

Heinlein really is the master of first-person narration. The style is conversational and self-disclosing, like reading someone's journal or letters home or hearing them tell their story around a campfire or something. I was hooked almost immediately. The book opens with a scene of action and then flashes back to Johnnie's enlistment. The opening action made me eager to read on and find out how this character came to be in this predicament. So, within a few paragraphs, I knew I would finish this book and, truly, I could hardly put it down.

Now, I know I am a science fiction geek, but nothing in the description of Starship Troopers would indicate that I would particularly like it. Indeed, much science fiction writing is bad, bad, bad. But I've loved every Heinlein book I've read (see earlier posts). I attribute to this to Heinlein's terrific writing.

Heinlein justifies restricting the vote to military veterans by citing their willingness to put the needs of the many above their own needs. That places them above the regular everyday Joe. They also have a fantastic desire for survival--after all, dead soldiers don't vote. In the context of this book, that made some sense. Other of Heinlein's ideas for successful government were harder to swallow. He really does think that most people should not vote, for example. I skimmed through most of those sections of the book. However, you can see the author's ideas moving toward Stranger in a Strange Land. Interesting.

I have one more Heinlein book coming in through inter-library loan. I can't wait to get it. Another boost and cheerlead for Robert A. Heinlein.

Someone is grimacing in
almost every image from
the movie.

The 1997 Movie Starship Troopers
The same day that I finished this book, I scrolled through the TV listings and found that the 1997 movie of the same name was being shown that afternoon. The movie was loosely based on this book, but the movie was terrible, an adolescent nightmare of hormones and bravado. The magic of the book was its exploration of one soldier's response to his experiences; the book is not even very action-oriented. Not so the movie. Action was front and center. Every character was beefed up on steroids. Everyone overacted. There was none of the quiet camaraderie of the book. Alas.

The Year 1959

Paul Drake from the TV show Perry Mason
--no hair oil on top, but the sides are
plastered.

I was interested to find that this book was written the same year I was born. However, being set in the future, none of it takes place in 1959. I don't know what insight I might gain about my own life, the mindset into which I was born. If I use Heinlein as a guide, voting rights are not very high on the priority list. Everyone is white, although Johnnie is of Hispanic origins. Surprisingly, women are permitted in the military in Starship Troopers, but only as pilots--they have particular skills in this area, apparently. So, I guess this pretty much sums up 1959. Military solutions are in vogue, as is (as usual) dehumanizing (or buggifying) your enemies. Poor people are invisible.

Danish modern

I am fascinated right now by movies that were filmed in the years my parents were born or got married or the year I was born. I love looking at the fashions and the themes. Earlier in this blog, I reviewed a Perry Mason novel by Erle Stanley Gardner and became re-enamored of this TV series that was set in the very early 1960s and was considered to be somewhat fashion forward. I know that whatever is fashionable NOW seems like reality, so it's fun to see what the reality of my parents and their parents looked like. In the early 1960s, it seemed that we would all always smoke, we would all always have large cars (with running boards!), and Danish modern would prevail. Men would always have their hair oiled (except for Paul Drake) and women would have permanent waves and wear shirtwaists. Perry Mason was ahead in technology, using reel-to-reel tape recorders and other gadgets. My mom liked this TV show. I'm sure it influenced her.

Love the love beads, Janis,
but not the drugstyle.

The expectations of that world also shaped me. We were just coming out of the "man in the gray-flannel suit" period. Retail was everything and my dad managed a shoe store. Conformity was good, but not mandated. Maybe this toe in the 1950s is what makes me think that even if I had been a bit older and therefore qualified to be a hippi, I wouldn't have done it! I just wouldn't buy in to the lifestyle (drugstyle--another new word), even if I bought into the beliefs and the fashions. Who knows?

Today, my expectations are moderate. I no longer worry too much about the fate of the world. I try to practice "here-and-now-ism." What am I doing right now? Where I am I right now? What is happening at this time in this place and what role am I playing? Those are my questions.

A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The ultimate Little Princess,
Shirley Temple (colorized photo)

I am happy to announce that I loved A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I'm happy because my expectations were low. From other Burnett works (namely, Little Lord Fauntleroy) I worried that the book was another slice of overly sweet and over-decorated stale cake, if you can imagine that. The counterpart of the boy-grows-up book is the girl-saves-everyone book, such as another Burnett work, The Secret Garden. Little Lord Fauntleroy is an oddity because in it the boy saves everyone emotionally--it's almost always a girl.

[Please note that my reviews of The Secret Garden and Little Lord Fauntleroy will comprise my next blog entry.]

But, A Little Princess turned out to be much more sophisticated than either of the other two books. It really was about a girl's character development; how a person faces adversity is the key issue addressed. Our heroine, Sara, has been somewhat spoiled and pampered, treated truly like a princess. And her idea of being a princess involves being kind and likable, taking care to spread happiness, being courteous, and helping others, especially "the populace," as she calls her poorer subjects. It's the ultimate in noblesse oblige, with an emphasis on noble.

Sara's one remaining treasure from
her better days was a doll given to
her by her father.

So, where does this leave Sara when her fortunes take a downward turn? How does a princess act when she's on the bottom instead of the top? Sara decides that when the chips are down is when a princess really steps up. It's her behavior in times of trouble that truly determines whether a girl is a princess. Thus, Sara does not allow her behavior to change even when her circumstances do.

Sara is a delight to be around (ok, a bit unrealistic) and she does help many people, but this book is about how she is helped, rescued really, from poverty and servitude. She learns much from her experiences--mainly about how "the populace" really lives. In a particularly awful sequence, we see that Sara is starving to death--she does not have adequate food. (I clarify because "starving to death" is such a cliche.) I was desperate for her situation to be resolved.

And I cried, yes, hard-hearted reader that I am. (But I'm a soft-hearted person.) I was totally engaged by Sara and by what was happening to her. I couldn't put the book down until I saw that she was going to be all right, even though I already knew the ending from seeing several movie versions of this story.

Here's Frances herself, a fashion
conscious woman who started
a boys' fashion rage from Little
Lord Fauntleroy's clothing.

There are also some truly magical plot points, especially when Sara's cold and barren attic room is mysteriously transformed. It feels almost like death, like she has died and this is what heaven is like. There are also times when she looks through people's windows and sees normal happiness, people who don't have to fight to keep their chins up. Great poignancy. The rooftop scenes are also wonderful--another world.

Sara is an orphan, as are so many child-heroes in children's literature. It seems to take the child out of context, give him or her more interesting problems to solve. Think of Anne Shirley of Green Gables fame. The heroine of The Secret Garden is also an orphan, I believe, or at least out of contact with a parental unit. The children in the Chronicles of Narnia are off on their own, too. The other message here is that parents tend to keep magic from happening! Those who dare much risk much!

The animal companion role that often features in these developmental novels is in this case a rat named Melchisidec. Sara makes friends with him and his "family" in the attic. A true princess can always spare a few crumbs for a rat.

This book most reminded me of Dickens' David Copperfield, of all books. David, too, undergoes many swift changes of fortune, from cherishment to disparagement (nice rhyme!). He, too, has to rub elbows with and comes to respect the underclasses of his society (the Micawbers!). And somehow, his inner prince wins out and attains a good life. If you waved a sex-change wand over David Copperfield and then added pink frosting, you would have A Little Princess.

High recommend for this book.

Was I Ever a Princess?

The first man I really WANTED--but
I wanted to sing, too.

No, I didn't usually go with the royalty fantasies. I was a modern girl, a mid-century modern girl growing up in the 1960s and 1970s. My vision of royalty was to be a rock singer, or, better yet a rock singer and also the girlfriend of a rock singer. Or I would be an actor. Somehow, though, I would be popular and known around the world. I would struggle for my privacy. I would have secret sufferings that no one knew about but would turn a brave face to the world. Men would love me but I might have to leave them behind for my art.

An image of my hippi
rock singer self--it's a
future I thought might be
waiting for me, alas.

In my family, we always joked that my oldest sister would be the woman ultimately chosen by Prince Charles as his wife (yes, he was considered to be a hot bachelor, if chinless). And, yes, we were only half joking. My sister was certainly worthy of royalty, even if Prince Charles wasn't. And when I think about how Charles's marriage to Diana finally turned out, I thank the stars for my sister's narrow escape.

Musicians and actors were my royalty, which is fitting for my time and place. And, although I was about 10 years too young, I wanted to be a hippi and I believed in hippi-ness. I bought the package--so much so that I still work for peace and justice in my own way and expose the odd bit of bullshit here and there.

This was my vision of Daniel Boone--
also pop-culture based

One of my poems talks about being Daniel Boone and whether or not I would have dared what he dared, and the poem concludes that "I'm still a Daniel Boone--of a kind." I like that. And maybe it's just an egotistical illusion, but I at least hope Daniel Booneism is at the core of my identity. Keep your fingers crossed!