(The captain has two, on separate planets. Not a woman in sight, save for the occasional reference to wives at home. Unfortunately, neither the adventure nor the allegory ever reach fruition.įor the crew’s first few forays into Rama, the book reads like an average 1970’s sci-fi bro-fest. Should be exciting, right? Parallels drawn between the Rama expedition and those of 18th century British explorer James Cook even hint at historical allusions. He presents an intriguing premise: a giant cylindrical spacecraft dubbed Rama, seemingly abandoned, enters the inner solar system. Clarke slips soft humor into his writing that surprised and charmed me. The first few chapters subverted my expectations in a good way. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama and the book’s overwhelmingly positive reviews persuaded me to give it a try. But the recent Amazon bargain on Arthur C. I’m always wary of mid-20th-century sci-fi because so many of the stories I’ve encountered contain levels of sexism I just can’t countenance. When I launcher a personal initiative about two years ago to read and study more classic science fiction, I braced myself for such moments. This irritating discovery wasn’t completely unexpected. “We finally get a female character and the first thing they talk about is her breasts?” My own e-reader cast its moonbeam light on my pillow, emanating a serenity I didn’t share. “Seriously?” I deadpanned, startling my Laddie from his bedtime Kindle doze.
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