Stanisław Lem
Solaris

"Who are we? What do we do? What is the meaning of Life? Where are we going? And above all, will there be space?" (cit.)

On Uncertainty.

It all started this Summer with the New Horizons probe fly-by on Pluto and the various debates about the usefulness of spending funds on such missions. As it usually happens in Italy, the opinion that garnered the most attention was that of a non-expert in the field, namely a famous Neapolitan actor who, cryptically, also ventured into an off-topic of armchair sociology, evident in the phrase (quoted as is): "And lastly, I would like to say to all those young people I meet who tell me they want to leave their city (it's a youthful feeling that affects not only Neapolitans), that the real journey to embark on is within us."

I don't want to comment on such wisdom, but I only report the kindest reply I've read: "Let's leave these 'provincial folks' with their armchair psychology; we aim for the stars!"

On Certainty.

I have always thought that exploring ourselves (the famous journey within) and exploring the Universe were two sides of the same well-forged coin in the human soul: we are strange beings, insignificant in a cosmological frame but with an inherent curiosity that drives us to ask questions. Often dangerous questions but ones that, in their balance between exploration and self-destruction, are essential. Questions that, in their complexity, have led us to great achievements but also to immense tragedies, mainly caused by misleading interpretations of the answers.

On the Novel.

First published in Poland in 1961, "Solaris" is a novel that, over the years, has sparked a real cult, ignited debates about its intrinsic meaning, and brought to prominence the blend of Physics, Philosophy, and Psychology that would become, from then on, an essential element in science fiction that doesn’t just “tell stories” but becomes a pretext to pose questions (as discussed above) and adapted three times for the screen (once for television and twice for cinema, including in Tarkovsky's eponymous masterpiece).

For more than a century, humanity has discovered the exoplanet Solaris. A peculiar characteristic of the planet is its ocean (which entirely covers it), which is actually a massive and unique sentient being capable of interacting in ways that appear obscure to humans. It will be the protagonist of the novel (the psychologist Kelvin), along with supporting characters at the station orbiting Solaris, to verify the extreme consequences of interaction with this sole inhabitant of the planet.

A novel with a scientific basis must be placed in the category of works that lend themselves to multiple genre readings. Indeed, in a plot that resembles more a Thriller (with many nuances of the classic Psychological Thriller) than Science Fiction, there are ample references to various literatures: Action, Metaphysics, and even Adventure and Sentimental. This makes it, despite its relative brevity (the version I read is just over two hundred and fifty pages), a vast and "dense" novel, fortunately supported by a rather essential writing style.

Apart from every (personal) interpretation, what stands out most in "Solaris" are the limits of human knowledge: total limits, on ourselves and what surrounds us. A man, even arrogant, who wishes to discover the secrets of the planet when he cannot even grasp those within himself: the curious thing is that it will be the alien being (very capable instead of deep explorations despite its attachment to the planet) to provide some (albeit cryptic) keys to interpretation.

Perhaps an invitation to seek answers within us, perhaps one to turn to the Stars (where we come from). On this splendid dichotomy, the book (strangely unpretentious, despite the premises) stands.

Of Men and Nanoplanets.

Trying not to hide behind a finger, what I despise most about characters like the actor mentioned above is not so much the philosophical choice (the journey within ourselves, if free from parapsychological, sectarian, and anti-scientific temptations, is an admirable vocation) but the desire to simplify, at all costs (in a "cheesy" way, as a friend of mine would say) and wielding the weapon, effective in Italy, of psychological populism, topics that instead should lead us to ask new questions rather than finding answers. Personally, I find in every image coming from space exploration a profound (albeit at times unsettling) poetic charge. Perhaps because, let's not forget, we are all a bit like Pluto, and Pluto is a bit within all of us.

Mo.