<p><BR/>Replying to:<BR/><DIV CLASS='Discussion_PostQuote'> It's unusual but unlike most of the stories I've read in my life, I can still precisely remember my personal circumstances when I first read his key works like Rama and Childhoods End. (Who remembers the wonderful Tales From The White Hart?) I suppose I was at just the right age to be so affected by them. How I (inwardly) gaped in wonder, gasped with awe and grunted with shock as the fictional events unfolded before me. I can remember the quality of the sunlight as I lay reading, the smell of the paper and the font in which the words were printed, what was happening around me, in addition to the story itself. This is rare for me. Getting older is a pain, physical feats once taken for granted become more difficult, I feel the cold more keenly each winter, thoughts which once ran ahead of any situation, anticipating the future and unfolding mysteries with delight and understanding now seem sluggish, uninterested and tired. And of course, childhood heroes, those giants who informed my understanding of the world, and the imagined future, they begin to die off. Almost like the loss of entire species in their personal impact, the colossus’ who strode through my childhood imagination, though mighty, continue to fall and prove themselves mortal after all. It's a hard thing to accept that such a presence, a voice I’ve known as intimately as any while I was reading, can finally be silenced. I hadn't read many of his later books. Particularly the ones largely ghost written by co authors, after all, only glimmers of the old Clarke haunted them. But it was reassuring to know that the old bird was still out there, still dreaming, thinking thoughts toweringly above my own, striding across infinities in his mind. At least the work remains. In my minds eye, the work despite it's faults, (Clarke was not writing exquisite delineations of character or searing expositions of the human soul) tolerated the rest of us squabbling and ungainly apes with much greater compassion, hope and tolerance than perhaps we deserve. I’ve always loved Damon Knight’s description of him in his collection of critical essays In Search Of Wonder as “a man whose first thought is to instruct; his second is to apologize for presuming to do so.” Civility and humility combined with a stunning vision. RIP <br />Posted by tom_hobbes</DIV></p><p>So true.</p><p>Childhood's End is a staggering book, one of the few novels out there that rcongise that there are more important issues than the mere survival of the human species. An austere, sombre, sobering and at the same time uplifting ending.</p><p>Tales from the White Heart are wonderful. Rama was awesome too. Other personal favourites are "The sands of Mars" and "A fall of Moon dust".</p><p>His technical and semi-technical writing is very important too, and his many essays were brilliant. "The Promise of Space" and "Profiles of the Future" greatly influence by intellectual development. I still use "Interplanetary flight" as a reference. Few have patched his pithy demolition of the UFO cults. His critique of "Star wars" missile defence was simple, witty and devastating.<br /><br />His humane vision expressed in his fiction and non fiction alike and in his generous spirit and lifestyle is something all to rare and very precious.</p><p> Jon</p> <div class="Discussion_UserSignature"> <p><em>Whether we become a multi-planet species with unlimited horizons, or are forever confined to Earth will be decided in the twenty-first century amid the vast plains, rugged canyons and lofty mountains of Mars</em> Arthur Clarke</p> </div>
Basic Error: The accelerating Universe conclusion - reason
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