Eric Staggs: Writer

Upon further consideration, I feel compelled to comment on the author’s use of space. Not outer space, just space in general. In my first review of Ender’s Game, I wrote about the story and Orson Scott Card’s political and social views. He’s a little right of reasonable, but dodges the crux of the issue quite well. I felt that perhaps I was cheating readers by not discussing the actual writing of the book.

So the author’s use of space… is awkward. Each and every scene seems to occur in a vacuum, only the briefest attention given to the details of the location. Settings become rough layouts of rooms with noticeable obstacles. The fine details that we would expect our narrator to present to us through the magnificently observant eyes of young Ender Wiggan don’t occur.

It is possible the author intentionally left the settings sparse for mood and out of logical reason; space is cold and empty, extra clutter is dangerous and Ender lives in a cold and empty world. But that’s cheating.

Ender is not cold and empty, thus even though the world he lives in might be immaculate or sparse, Ender’s perceptions should have colored it a multitude of hues, from a tiny spittle of rust on a seldom used access hatch, to a flicker or twitch in the eyes of his arch-nemesis, Bonzo.

Further, Ender’s insight came from nowhere. The more I ponder this the more troubling it becomes. The character saved the world – but how? His magical intellect grew from what seem to be two very average parents. In the beginning of the book, some pretense is made towards the monitoring and selection of special children. This is fine in the beginning, but as the world’s hopes come to rest squarely on Ender, his abilities outstrip even the most senior of military commanders. As readers we need more. We need some assurance of plausibility; some reason that this is all possible. The author fails to deliver.

At the continuous urging of what seems like the entire western hemisphere, I finally picked up a copy of Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card. This masterwork from a renowned storyteller sits atop the “best” list of almost everyone I’ve ever asked about it. I suppose curiosity got the better of me.

The last time I was urged to read the book, I was given a little biography of Orson Scott Card. Having, as most artists, writers and creative-types do, mostly liberal friends, Card’s political and social views were brought up immediately.

“Great book,” they all said “but he hates homosexuals.”

Intrigued, I went right to the bookstore and picked up a copy of Ender’s Game. It was good. I took issue with some of the pacing, but just when I was frustrated enough, the scene shifted and we the readers were propelled forward in time to a more interesting and active moment in the hero’s tale.

As I read, however, I noticed distinct moment of strangely potent homo-eroticism. The hero, a boy named Ender, is sent to live in a co-ed battle school, where he will be transformed into the ultimate soldier. He is barely eight, but has an intellect and maturity level rivaling most adults. By the time he is twelve, he has killed two other boys (though he doesn’t know it) and defeated every enemy he’s ever encountered.  While at the Battle School, Ender is constantly removing his clothes, wrestling and fighting in the nude and ignoring the nudity of any present (of which there was only one) females.

The Author goes so far as to make sure we all know that some of the other students (boys) are sleeping in the nude. In one touching and strangely disturbing scene, Ender offers to share his bed with a young student who is too young to find his way “back to the barracks.”

Orson Scott Card is perhaps one of the armchair military philosophers who believe in the Ancient Greek Military Discipline, where young boys were “tutored” by older soldiers. This was not, of course homosexuality. It was in fact, the most masculine way to be a pederast.

After discussing the book and this bevy of very Ancient Greek fraternity described in it, one of my compatriots suggested of Card, “Perhaps he doth protest too much?”

Regardless the book was a good story. It was well written by an author with a good understanding of developmental psychology and… fear. All that said, I feel guilty for purchasing the book and however indirectly, giving financial support to such a radical and fundamentalist worldview. Looking at Orson Scott Card’s bibliography, it seems there is a bevy of great stories that I’ll never read.