"HEINLEIN, Robert A. - The Worlds of Robert A.Heinlein" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

of water, too little and too much Ч we just finished seven years of drought with
seven inches of rain in two hours, and one was about as disastrous as the other
Ч I find a horrid fascination in Dune World, in Charles Einstein's The Day New
York Went Dry, and in stories about Biblical-size floods such as S. Fowler
Wright's Deluge.)
Most science fiction stories use both extrapolation and speculation. Consider
"Blowups Happen," elsewhere in this volume. It was written in 1939, updated very
slightly for book publication just after World War II by inserting some words
such as "Manhattan Project and "Hiroshima," but not rewritten, and is one of a
group of stories published under the pretentious collective title of The History
of the Future (!) Ч which certainly sounds like prophecy.
I disclaim any intention of prophesying; I wrote that story for the sole purpose
of making money to pay off a mortgage and with the single intention of
entertaining the reader. As prophecy the story falls flat on its silly face Ч
any tenderfoot Scout can pick it to pieces Ч but I think it is still
entertaining as a story, else it would not be here; I have a business reputation
to protect and wish to continue making money. Nor am I ashamed of this
motivation. Very little of the great literature of our heritage arose solely
from a wish to "create art"; most writing, both great and not-so-great, has as
its proximate cause a need for money combined with an aversion to, or an
inability to perform, hard writing offers a legal and reasonably honest way out
of this dilemma.
A science fiction author may have, and often does have, other motivations in
addition to pursuit of profit. He may wish to create "art for art's sake," he
may want to warn the world against a course he feels to be disastrous (Orwell's
1984, Huxley's Brave New World Ч but please note that each is intensely
entertaining, and that each made stacks of money), he may wish to urge the human
race toward a course which he considers desirable (Bellamy's Looking Backwards,
Wells' Men Like Gods), he may wish to instruct, or uplift, or even to dazzle.
But the science fiction writer Ч any fiction writer Ч must keep entertainment
consciously in mind as his prime purpose . . . or he may find himself back
dragging that old cotton sack.
If he succeeds in this purpose, his story is likely to remain gripping
entertainment long years after it has turned out to be false "prophecy." H. G.
Wells is perhaps the greatest science fiction author of all time Ч and his
greatest science fiction stories were written around sixty years ago . . . under
the whip. Bedfast with consumption, unable to hold a job, flat broke, paying
alimony Ч he had to make money somehow, and writing was the heaviest work he
could manage. He was clearly aware (see his autobiography) that to stay alive he
must be entertaining. The result was a flood of some of the most brilliant
speculative stories about the future ever written. As prophecy they are all
hopelessly dated . . .
which matters not at all; they are as spellbinding now as they were in the Gay
'Nineties and the Mauve Decade.
Try to lay hands on his The Sleeper Awakes. The gadgetry in it is ingenious Ч
and all wrong. The projected future in it is brilliant Ч and did not happen. All
of which does not sully the story; it is a great story of love and sacrifice and
blood-chilling adventure set in a matrix of mind-stretching speculation about
the nature of Man and his Destiny. I read it first forty-five years ago, plus
perhaps a dozen times since . . . and still reread it whenever I get to feeling