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Beware of stobor!: Robert A. Heinlein’s Tunnel in the Sky

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Beware of stobor!: Robert A. Heinlein’s Tunnel in the Sky

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Beware of stobor!: Robert A. Heinlein’s Tunnel in the Sky

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Published on November 14, 2011

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Tunnel in the Sky (1955) was originally published as a juvenile, but I first read it in a Pan SF edition clearly aimed at adults. But these things are tangled; I was a teenager at the time. Some of Heinlein’s juveniles are more juvenile than others—this is one of the more mature ones. This is a future Earth with massive overpopulation, and with faster than light gates providing instant transportation between points. Gates between different places on Earth are kept open and you can walk anywhere. Gates to other planets are expensive to run, and food and fissionables are scarce. Still, other planets are being colonized rapidly by pioneers, some voluntary, some not so voluntary. Rod Walker needs to do a solo survival trip to qualify for any off-Earth job, and he’s taken the course in high school to save time in college. Of course, that’s when things go wrong.

It seems obvious that Tunnel in the Sky is a direct response to William Golding’s Lord of the Flies (1954). Indeed, I imagine Heinlein putting down Golding’s book and heading straight for the typewriter grinding his teeth and muttering “Revert to savagery my ass!” The two books make a perfect paired reading—they have such opposite views of human nature. Which one you prefer will depend on your views on humanity. For me Tunnel in the Sky is a frequent re-read, and I doubt I’ll ever read Lord of the Flies again.

Heinlein’s characters have learned the trick of civilization. He knows that people can be savage—Rod is attacked, robbed, and left for dead on his second day on the alien planet. There’s talk at the beginning about man being the most dangerous animal. But Heinlein also believes that people can co-operate. His stranded kids, who are aged between sixteen and twenty-two, start to rebuild technology, get married and have babies, practice square dancing and treasure the Oxford Book of English verse—while hunting for game and wiping out predators.

It’s interesting that Heinlein doesn’t begin the book with Rod stepping through the gate and beginning the test. It’s the part of the book that’s memorable and effective—Robinsonades are always appealing. There are the challenges of learning the environment, and the political challenges of building a society. But while Heinlein was always easily seduced by pioneering, he’s doing something more. This is a novel of how Rod grows up, and of how growing up isn’t always comfortable, and it needs the beginning and the end to do that. Heinlein shows us a great deal of the world Rod is leaving, before we get to the world where he’s going. We get Rod’s parents and sister and teacher and the whole context of the world he comes from. The best part of the book may be the challenge of being stranded on an alien planet, but the whole book is better for having the shape and structure it does.

I want to give Heinlein props for several things here. First, he doesn’t duck the FTL = time travel issue, the gates can also be used for forward-only time travel, and they were invented by somebody trying to invent time travel. Also, we have a lot of SF with very standard FTL resembling Napoleonic sailing ships. It’s nice to see something where you can walk between planetary surfaces.

Next, many of his juveniles are deeply lacking in females—Tunnel in the Sky is much better. The main character, Rod, is male, but there are two significant female characters, Jack and Caroline. Caroline is the best character in the book, and some small parts of the book are her clever and funny diary entries. It very nearly passes the Bechdel test. In addition, while many of the girls get married and have babies, there’s no coercion along those lines. Caroline remains unattached, and nobody tells her she should be having sex and babies for the good of the human race.

But while the gender stuff is really well done for 1955, it’s still considerably old fashioned to a modern reader. Helen Walker, Rod’s sister, is an Amazon sergeant—but she’s eager to retire and get married if anyone would have her. She later carries through on this, so she clearly meant it. Caroline also says she wants to get married. Rod is forced to change his mind about girls being “poison” and disruptive to a community, but we have very conventional couples. There’s a lot of conventionality. Although women work, Grant doesn’t want girls to stand watches or hunt in mixed gender pairs. He does back down. But when Rod makes his exploration trip, it isn’t Caroline he takes with him. And while it was certainly progressive to have women in the military at all, why are the Amazons segregated?

As usual, Heinlein is good on race up to a point. Jack is French, and Caroline is a Zulu. There’s a girl mentioned called Marjorie Chung. It’s also worth noting that Rod is very likely African-American—Caroline is referred to as a Zulu and has a Zulu surname. Rod’s surname is the very American Walker. But when describing Caroline to his sister he says “She looks a bit like you.” The point where this stops being good is that while Heinlein goes out of his way to have people of many ethnicities they are all absolutely culturally whitebread American. You can be any colour as long as it makes no difference at all. If Caroline’s a Zulu and Jack’s French, they are still both entirely culturally American. It’s a very assimilated future, even if China has conquered Australia and made the deserts bloom.

However, religion is treated very well. The count of books is “6 Testaments, 2 Peace of the Flame, 1 Koran, 1 Book of Mormon, 1 Oxford Book of English Verse”. “Peace of the Flame” is the holy book of the fictional neo-Zoroastrian sect that the Walkers belong to. What we see is quiet religious practice that is in no way Christian, treated respectfully and effectively. I like that Koran. It’s never mentioned who it belongs to. Bob Baxter is a Quaker, and in training to be a medical minister—again this is quietly accepted. Religion is so often entirely absent from SF set in the future unless it’s the whole point of the story, it’s nice to see it treated this way, as a natural small part of the way some people organize their lives.

I love the stobor—both the imaginary stobor they are told to watch out for to keep them alert, and the ones they build traps for. I love everybody saying they wouldn’t go back—except Bob, who sensibly wants to finish his medical training. I love the end, where the whole experience is just a newsworthy sensation to crowded Earth. I really like the way it doesn’t have a conventional happy ending—that everyone does leave, and that Rod has to fit himself into a space he has outgrown to get the education he needs to do what he wants to do. I also like that there’s sex and romance but only off to the sides—Rod and Caroline don’t get caught up in it. I know Heinlein did this because it needed to be suitable for children in 1955, but now that it’s obligatory for protagonists to have sex and romance I’m starting to value books where they don’t.

There’s a lot that’s absurd, of course. The overpopulation—Rod lives in Greater New York, by the Grand Canyon. The idea that this overpopulation could be relieved by emigration—it seems like it would be news to some people that the population of Europe is higher than it was in 1492. The idea that opening the gates is expensive so taking horses and wagons makes sense for low tech colonization—this is just silly. Yes, horses reproduce and tractors don’t, but there’s absolutely no reason not to take along a tech base and farm more efficiently. But this is far from the focus of the book—they’re managing even more primitively because they got stranded on a survival test, and that makes perfect sense.

I don’t know how it would strike me if I read this now for the first time. I suspect I’d find it thinner—Jack is barely characterised at all, an awful lot of her characterisation is in my head and not on the page. But I think it would still catch me up in the essential niftyness of the story. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it again, and even the absurdities are vividly written—the description of Emigrants Gap is lovely. It’s possible to learn a lot about incluing and how to convey information to a reader by examining how Heinlein did that.

There’s a Locus Roundtable pouring scorn on the idea that Heinlein juveniles have anything for today’s young people. All I can say is that it’s twelve years since I read this aloud to my son and he loved it, maybe times have changed since then.


Jo Walton is a science fiction and fantasy writer. She’s published two poetry collections and nine novels, most recently Among Others, and if you liked this post you will like it. She reads a lot, and blogs about it here regularly. She comes from Wales but lives in Montreal where the food and books are more varied.

About the Author

Jo Walton

Author

Jo Walton is the author of fifteen novels, including the Hugo and Nebula award winning Among Others two essay collections, a collection of short stories, and several poetry collections. She has a new essay collection Trace Elements, with Ada Palmer, coming soon. She has a Patreon (patreon.com/bluejo) for her poetry, and the fact that people support it constantly restores her faith in human nature. She lives in Montreal, Canada, and Florence, Italy, reads a lot, and blogs about it here. It sometimes worries her that this is so exactly what she wanted to do when she grew up.
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5 years ago

I love Robin McKinley books. My favorite is the Blue Sword. I can’t remember if I’ve read the Outlaws of Sherwood or it could just be I don’t own this version. I’ll have to track it down. Given my name I’ve read or watch a lot of Robin Hood over the years. Robin McKinley does write great believable characters.  

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5 years ago

Aerin is the King’s only child but because of her questionable mother she is not his heir, her cousin is. She spends most of her childhood humiliated by her lack of magic and hiding from everybody. But after making one of those huge mistakes mentioned she adopts her father’s injured warhorse and is inspired with the ambition to become a dragon slayer – which is nowhere near as cool in Damar as it sounds. She starts using the main palace halls rather than creeping down back stairs to avoid meeting anybody, and going into town to buy things she needs for her experiments. And the people seeing her are reminded that her mother was a healer as well as a witch and the girl seems perfectly normal and charmingly unspoiled and she begins entirely unknowingly to gather supporters among the populace. Of course it all goes pear shaped but the real point is she starts taking control of her life and it improves.

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5 years ago

A truism in writing any fiction but high fantasy is that the more bonkers it gets, the more grounded in the real world the story has to be.  A reader will buy a demon in the pantry if that pantry is stocked with Pop Tarts and peanuts, and the main character has the munchies in the middle of the night.  Real details makes the unreal more really and connects the reader to the character’s experience because they’ve gone looking for snacks in the dark.  

The works of Tolkien are HIGH fantasy which has little to do with the real world.  The authors you mention write LOW fantasy where the real world is the setting of the fantasy happenings.  Do a search on Wikipedia which has a brief comparison of the two.  

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5 years ago

My favourite of all Robin McKinley’s novels is Sunshine.

I really do pretty much love all of them – she is so good at taking a Story you think you know and exerting a twist that turns it around and makes it come out the other side of the mirror.

My younger sister was given Outlaws of Sherwood when she was ten or so. She was tolerably familiar with the Robin of Sherwood legend because I was a huge Robin Hood fan – I’d read tons of retellings ancient and modern. But when she had finished reading Outlaws, she asked me “So is that how it really was? This is the real story?”

Like an asshole (well, like a very-well-read teenager talking down to my little sister, but I still feel bad about it) I told her no, no one knows the real story. But when I re-read Outlaws now, I think: lots of writers tried to find the core myth and write the real story of Robin of Sherwood, but my sister was right: this one feels real.

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5 years ago

I’d say contrast is something Tolkien was exceptionally good at. He managed to have archetypes like Gandalf and real, believable people like Sam Gamgee in the same story and make it work.

I didn’t find McKinley’s Robin Hood characters believable. They felt too contemporary for my taste. Much was practically a 20th century leftist student.

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5 years ago

Eowyn wouldn’t have a problem dealing with sword and reins because she’s a shield maiden and has been trained to fight on horseback. So, come to think of it was Harry, but they didn’t have time to cover that.

On the other hand Eowyn has bigger problems; her uncle and foster father is failing fast and under the thumb of a creepy adviser who’s stalking her. Her brother and cousin are galloping around trying to keep the country together while Eowyn herself is trapped at home, waiting on her Uncle and dodging Wormtongue who’s gaslighting her like mad. Then her cousin is killed, her brother is banished and she’s all alone…

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5 years ago

6: We are trying to discuss McKinley, surely, not Tolkien?

5. I liked Much. He reminded me of another favourite Robin Hood retelling, Geoffrey Trease’s Bows Against the Barons.

3. The lack of realism is my problem in many (most) fantasy novels set in Scotland*, which McKinley has to her credit never attempted – I think Outlaws is her only novel pretty definitely neither set in some format of North America nor in Fairyland/the border countries. Her Sherwood is a real forest, one you could really get lost in.

(*Scots will understand me: if you’re going to have werewolves in Glasgow, that’s fine, but you need to know whether they support Celtic or Rangers.)

 

 

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5 years ago

Running through them:

Books set in the border countries of Fairyland (or in Fairyland itself – yes, I’m drawing from the Tolkien essay “On Fairy Stories”)

Beauty / Rose Daughter, Deerskin, Spindle’s End, Chalice, Pegasus, and the Damar novels, are all set in border countries on Fairyland. While McKinley makes you think initially that the Homeland described in the beginning of The Blue Sword is England and Outland is India, it becomes clear as we discover we’re back in the country of The Hero and the Sword that this is not anywhere near our world.

Sunshine, Dragonhaven, and Shadows, are all set in some iteration of USian North America.

And Outlaws of Sherwood is set in England, the only one.

To me, the pegasus are definitely magical creatures – but the dragons of Dragonhaven are biologically-real.

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5 years ago

@7, True. I guess my point was that Eowyn has some very realistic issues in her high fantasy setting.

Harry and Aerin are both misfits. Harry doesn’t fit into her quasi-Victorian Homeland and Aerin can’t seem to fit into Damar despite being the king’s daughter.

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5 years ago

Robin McKinley has also written some short fiction that shouldn’t be ignored when discussing her work. Most of the stories are fairy tales retold really well but some are altogether original. The best ones are in the shared anthologies Fire and Water (shared with her husband Peter Dickinson). I love “Water Horse,” which has a high fantasy setting,but “A Pool in the desert” is actually a Damar story set (mostly) in modern England. (You have to read it and you will understand what I mean.) “Hellhound” is a lovely sort of ghost story, also in a modern setting. I can take or leave most of the stories by Peter Dickinson but “Phoenix” is rather interesting. And a bit bizarre. (The cover of Water, along with a few inked interior illustrations, is by Trina Schart Hyman, my favorite illustrator.)

If Robin ever writes one or more sequels to Pegasus, I will be really grateful and might forgive her for the cliffhanger.

P.S. I love the Greta Helsing books, too! Can’t wait for the next one.