In my senior year of college, I had saved up a few elective courses to take. I made sure I saved them for the end of my collegiate career, sort of an “eat your veggies before dessert” philosophy. In my case, the veggies were twentieth-century Irish poetry. The dessert happened to be science fiction. Now, I have to admit that I wasn’t necessarily a sci-fi fan before taking the class (though I had watched Star Trek: The Next Generation religiously, as any good early ‘90s kid did). I just figured it would be a nice break from things like Beowulf and Spanish verbs. But as was the case throughout much of college, the books I read sort of passed through my brain before they could really adhere to the…well, whatever cranny of the brain it is that remembers books long after the last page has been turned. The only one I truly recall had to do with androgynous seal people. No joke. So, I have to admit that I haven’t really read much sci-fi in the years since. I just didn’t know what to make of the genre…is it all aliens and androgyny? But I should have known there was more to it than that.
Enter the world of physics. I’ve got to be honest: the only—and I mean only—thing I remember from my high school physics class is f=ma. Well, that and the fact that my quirky British teacher had penchants for not wearing deodorant and for using dead infants in his explanations of the laws of physics (the latter habit being one that, rumor has it, was banned by the administration in subsequent years). With that said, I love the concepts that physics introduces into our consciousness. My DVR is filled with television shows about the universe, time travel, Einstein, quantum mechanics, the space program, string theory, even possible alien civilizations and ancient astronauts (you’ll have to cut me some slack on the last one). And one of my very favorite subjects is that of parallel universes. I’ll be honest: I don’t get it. Not at all. But it sure is a fascinating subject to try to wrap your brain around.
So that takes me back to sci-fi. Months ago I bought a book for my Kindle entitled Regarding Ducks and Universes by Neve Maslakovic because it was on sale and sounded interesting. I haven’t even finished the book, but I can already say that had this book been in the curriculum of my college sci-fi class (which would in and of itself have been science fiction, since the book was written in 2011), I would have leaped into the genre with both feet then and there. The briefest of synopses is that, back in 1986, the universe not only split, sending two momentarily-identical copies off on separate courses, but that individuals from both universes are able to travel back and forth between them as easily as taking a bus ride down the block (albeit an expensive bus ride). The story’s protagonist, Felix Sayers, discovers while in vacationing in Universe B to spy on his “alter” that he, in fact, may be the “prime mover,” the catalyst that caused the universes to split, back when he was a baby in 1986. It’s a quirky mystery to find out how and precisely when he did this. Yeah, the whole concept is way out-there, but there’s enough fun dialogue and down-to-earth theoretical physics to make this book simply delightful in every way. I really like books that are fantastic, featuring events and scenarios that would never happen in real life, because real life is, let’s face it, kind of mundane sometimes. This book is impressive: it makes those kinds of real-life mundane events amount to something simply extraordinary and near-magical. And I’m digging it.
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