"The City and the Stars" by Arthur C. Clarke

If I were more intelligent, I believe I would have a lot to take away from this book. As it stands I’m left simply grasping at vague concepts which I struggle to find the words to express or the thoughts to properly explore. Conceptually: I found the premise of the book fantastic. Clarke’s city, Diaspar, brilliantly blurs the line between a utopia and a dystopia by painting a picture of stagnancy erring on the precipice of rot. In practice, I did not find it easy to get into the flow of reading — hard science fiction, especially of this age, requires my full attention and more to read — but after reaching around the halfway point by going one or two chapters at a time, I was able to sit down and finish the rest. There are a lot of intriguing ideas that merit deeper exploration and consideration that I may or may not find the time to do. The parallels which Clarke draws between Diaspar, his city at the end of the universe, and the polyp hive mind lurking at the edges of Lys open the door to analysis I do not feel quite qualified to attempt. In a way Diaspar feels both alive and dead; an everlasting city designed to make no real progress for all of eternity.

There are a lot of things I’d like to say which don’t quite fit the format of a review and drift more into the realm of analysis, but at the same time I really do struggle to process a lot of the ideas communicated throughout the book. Within Clarke’s epic history and space operate at a scale that is difficult to conceive, with a version of humanity designed to be near impossible to relate to. The aforementioned permanence and pseudo-immortality which the citizens of Diaspar enjoy create a society immune to weathering, disconnected from standard social normality, and managed by fantastic machines which its citizens do not understand. A lot of small aspects of the story, both the head Central Computer and the space-mind Vanamonde remind me of aspects of Asimov’s “The Last Question” (which was published later in the same year). There’s something uncomfortable about the idea of everlasting permanence, and the book and its characters both take time to mull over the ramifications of a world without death, and whether life and death should be reinstated for Diaspar. I enjoyed this book and would recommend it to someone interested in Clarke’s work or in the story pitched here, but at the same time I’m not sure if I took everything that I should have from the story. I’ve experienced it, but I am uncertain if my takeaways are anywhere near complete.