If only...
There are worlds in science fiction and fantasy, places in movies and stories and even travelogues or historical accounts, where we wish we could go to live.
Do you have such an ideal place or time period?
What's it like there, and why do you feel homesick for it?
Do you have such an ideal place or time period?
What's it like there, and why do you feel homesick for it?
Comments (31)
I used to hang out on Twitters with the like-minded people years ago, but now it is totally transformed into a gigantic marketing arena with the new ownership and new name "X". I abandoned the sinking ship X, and just watch youtube these days.
:up:
Thanks! It's on my "get" list.
I was quite keen on Pern at one time , and long before that, my first taste of an imagined utopia was Islandia (Not Huxley's Island; that was pedantic.)
Btw, a sister of my best 'non-jock' friend in high school was a huge fan of both Anne McCafferty's Pern & Andre Norton's Witch World series, IIRC I never got past the first volume of either series. Now that I think of it, my earliest "ideal place" during the '70s even before "Earthsea" was probably Clarke/Kubrick's alt-"Earth" in 2001: A Space Odyssey (though I was (still am) a '60s Star Trek obsessive too "The Federation" was cool but not "science fiction-y" enough even for my grade school nerdiness :nerd: ).
:wink:
I had forgotten. I guess it was a long time ago and I only read the first two, though I enjoyed other LeGuin books. I was anything but methodical in my selections: whatever the SA thrift store had for $.25 or Coles dumped in the sale bin would end up in my satchel.
While I consider Wisconsin so beautiful that I placed a good chunk of my own utopian story there, that particular location is surprising.... unless someone very special lives there.
If I recall correctly, Pern is a planet where floating acid stuff regularly rains down and must be burned up by dragon riders before it reaches the ground and destroys whatever it lands on.
Not the kind of place that Id prefer to call home. :brow:
No place is 100% safe. It's a rule of utopian literature that there should be some external threat. Threadfall is the occasional interruption to a peaceful, happy existence. Plus, you get to ride a dragon.
Or Eden, yes: either the perfect place from which we have been excluded for doing wrong, or the perfect place to which we may be admitted if we do enough right. That's a religious idea, not a political or sociological one. You never get to live there: it's only available to the dead.
Lucid daydream/s of a (not-dystopian) post-singularity, posthuman f u t u r e is my "ideal place". My damn novel (series), however, just hasn't gotten let itself be written yet.
That all depends... I understand it's boring and slow: the most frequent critique of the first volume was "nothing happens".
Thats a definite plus.
I don't know how doing nothing can make people happy.
While sitting on a Tor I encountered a member of the British aristocracy (maybe some rich asshole role playing now), dressed in fox hunting uniform, prancing about on a handsome horse. He was doing roll call with a huge pack of svelte hounds. Each dog would respond to its name call by submissively touching the horse. A scene that really stands out in memory.
Inside spaces can do it, too. I have a book of architecture by Christopher Day called Places of the Soul and I know what he means. I also have an image of happy people in my head: three men raising the main beam of a storage shed with just ropes and a pulley. The challenge itself was mundane; the process of working it out together was both hilarious and supremely rewarding.
Are you talking about the purgatory for people who were bad while on Earth?
Anyway, my ideal place actually existed years ago. I won't divulge where it was, I don't know if it still exists. There were 6 of us close friends who went out one night and they had an idea where to lounge and eat pizza. I thought, cool. It was a secret place within the group. I was the last one to know that this was their hang out. It was a second floor unit in an old city building. The place was run by guys who decorated the place like it was a seedy tavern. We had a couch, ottoman, armchair, easy chair and a coffee table in one corner. Dimmed lights. The stairs leading to that unit was narrow and steep and dark. The place was clean despite the ambience. Funny, we couldn't order alcohol, of course. We spent the night chatting, relaxing, and eating. Clean fun.
I was only talking about Paradise. Purgatory is all of this.
Quoting L'éléphant
And that's what I mean by a place for which we feel homesick - a place where we found happiness. It doesn't seem to take very much, does it?
I think when we search for comfort we search for that -- a simple place.
Oh, Lucky Man!
Note: You have to get past his potentially delusional Cosmology and read these as pure fiction. As any reasonable person would.