Four books, one twist: reviewing a few classics

It is in everyone’s best interest that I start this post with a warning: MAJOR SPOILER ALERT for the following books: The Stars My Destination, Ender’s Game, Fahrenheit 451, and Flowers for Algernon.

You still here? Good. Let’s get on today’s topic: I’m going to nitpick at a particular trope I’ll call “The Final Enlightenment.”

What do the four books I mentioned before have in common? I’ve noticed a pattern in these classic science fiction books, and I thought it would be fun to dissect it through personal reviews of these four different novels.

The pattern goes as follows:

1. Main character has a misguided belief and hastily acts according to it;

2. It leads to wrongdoings and/or terrible choices for the whole duration of the story;

3. In the last pages, it happens “The Final Enlightenment,” an event that prompts them to reevaluate the whole story, hinting at a redemption arc that often is left for the reader’s imagination.

Does this structure sound familiar?

This is precisely the plot arc of Alfred Bester’s The Stars My Destination, Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, and Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. With this structure in mind, I will review these three books, highlighting instances where this pattern worked for me and cases where it fell short. As a bonus, I’ll talk about a story that subverted this trope: Daniel Keye’s Flowers for Algernon.

The Stars My Destination (1956)

First published in June 1956 under the title Tiger! Tiger!, later The Stars My Destination, this story is a violent tale of revenge. It is often referred to as the sci-fi version of The Count of Monte Cristo (although I’ve never read Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel to attest to this comparison).

The story is set in a future where humans colonized the Solar System. Some people have developed mental abilities, such as telepathy and “jaunting,” a form of physical teleportation triggered by thought. The most unfortunate ones are those who can only ‘telesend,’ that is, broadcast their thoughts to everyone without ‘listening’ to their minds.

In terms of worldbuilding, the setting of The Stars My Destination is quite extraordinary. Too bad it’s wasted in the plot.

Our main character, Gulliver Foyle, was a simple man left to die on a stranded spaceship by his employers. He miraculously survived, and, as the story goes, he was left with an unwilling face tattoo in the shape of a tiger mask and embarked on a journey of revenge, seeking to destroy those who had abandoned him.

In his quest for vengeance, Gully Foyle committed several felonies, including (but not limited to) robbery, rape, and murder. The bulk of the story is about Foyle going around in this violent rampage, trying to figure out a reason and find out the one person responsible for his near encounter with death.

The finale has Gully Foyle falling in love with his foe and regretting his crimes. When he pleaded for atonement, he learned that he had escaped his death sentence by jaunting into outer space, through a distance previously considered to be impossible. 

The enlightenment comes when Foyle understands how to jaunt through time and space and becomes a holy man in the eyes of others, revered for his skills and respected as a prophet.

Blegh.

I think this story, in particular, is a perfect example of why I have an issue with this narrative structure. We, the readers, are asked in the very last pages to forget the whole story because supposedly there’s something more urgent to consider, in this case, the jaunting through space and time. 

That’s not how it works. I cannot empathize with the character. I cannot buy the underlying idea that Foyle’s enlightenment will lead him to become a better person, deserving of his new role as a spiritual leader. To atone for these crimes, there should be a proper redemption arc. And, preferably, consequences for his actions.

This brings us to our next story…

Ender’s Game (1985)

If it was a proper redemption arc I wanted, the Ender’s series delivers that. It seems. I DNF’ed the first book at 40% and later searched for spoilers. No regrets.

Ender’s Game is a long narrative about child abuse that I couldn’t stomach. Seriously, Ender is recruited as a child to undergo military training and is constantly put into dangerous situations in which he is at a disadvantage, allowing the military personnel to observe and measure his skills.

We follow Ender because he demonstrated early on his abilities as a strategist, often using the philosophy of “the best defense is an attack” and imposing respect through violence. This is so messed up!

I called the ending. I realized Ender would be the protagonist of a mass murder scenario, and he would end up regretting the genocide. And according to the spoilers, that’s what happened.

Unlike in The Stars My Destination, Ender gets a proper redemption arc in the sequel, Speaker for the Dead. It is a highly praised novel; some say it is even better than the first one, and I believe them!

In this case, my issue with this novel was not the same as with The Stars My Destination (although it would have been if I had read only the first novel.) I understand that Ender was manipulated from infancy to do what he did, and therefore, his redemption is more justifiable. I just didn’t see why I should continue reading such a brutal story to gain so little at the end.

Fahrenheit 451 (1953)

This is my go-to example of how to do this narrative structure right. Does Fahrenheit 451 need an introduction? I will assume you’ve read it, so I will sum it up in a way to highlight the structure:

Firemen burn books. One fireman decides to see what all the fuss is about and reads one book. He comes to the realization that burning books is bad. But wait, this is not the enlightenment. This is the premise. The whole book is about Montag, our protagonist, trying to stop the burning of books. And the enlightenment comes later.

I spent the whole story sighing and facepalming Montag’s actions in the plot. He realizes that literature, art, and culture should be preserved, which is great. But his way of dealing with this realization is too straightforward. In a dystopian world, the danger of going against the system alone can be both incredibly brave and utterly moronic. 

The Final Enlightenment comes when he meets former intellectuals who were preparing to act and rebuild society when given the chance. Their resistance is one of patience, not hastiness.

In the end, Montag realized he was doing the right thing in the wrong way, so he joined these intellectuals. I suppose this one worked for me because I’m in favor of the cause. Rebelling against an authoritarian government is way more acceptable than revenge crimes or child abuse.

Flowers for Algernon (1958)

The twist in Flowers for Algernon is one of disenlightenment, so this is a story that successfully subverts the structure I’m talking about.

The mentally disabled Gordon is subjected to an experimental treatment that promises to cure his condition and increase his intelligence.

We, the readers, get to witness this development and experience the wonders of Gordon learning new things and becoming aware of his contextual surroundings until he reaches a peak. That’s when he starts to lose his progress, reverting back to his old state. 

Why is this a subversion? 

Our main character has a misguided belief that he is to become the most intelligent person in the world. His increase in IQ, however, does not lead to an increase in emotional intelligence. He begins to act arrogantly and distance himself from those he perceives as inferior while pursuing happiness on his own terms.

In the final few pages, we see his disenlightenment, the full comeback to his disabled state. He is happy to be around people who give him attention, even though they see him as inferior. It is a bittersweet ending, and the outcome is left to the reader’s imagination.

Happiness is not knowing.

I recognize the brilliance of this subversion narrative. Still, Flowers For Algernon is also a story that I could not properly enjoy. It was sad to see the world through Gordon’s eyes when he could not realize how mean people were to him. But in the time when the treatment was effective, and Gordon could understand his surroundings better, he was the one who became mean to others. 

The final message seems to be that humans will always be mean to those they perceive as inferior, and I don’t subscribe to this belief.

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That’s it for today, folks.

This post was a bit different from my usual content, as I often focus more on story analysis than on reviews. Let me know if you like this format.

See you next post,

Ra.

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Carla Ra is a scientist by day, sci-fi writer by night.

You can check out her anthology ARTIFICIAL REBELLION here.