![Solaris](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1498631519l/95558._SX98_.jpg)
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This was an amazing work to read, almost like science poetry rather than science fiction; even if the science itself comes across as a bit hokey to the well-informed reader of the 21st century. It was a little less so, in 1961 when it was written.
I can see how some readers might be dissuaded by some of the longer passages of philosophical reverie, or dry, academic exposition of the findings of past explorations of the alien world. This isn't an action-filled story. It was somewhat reminiscent in style of Olaf Stapledon, but with a more humanistic feeling (arguably, the only time Stapledon really gave expression to his inner feelings was through the cipher of a hyper-intelligent dog...).
Solaris has been likened to that other titan of classic SF, 2001: A Space Odyssey. These works do bear some comparison. Both explore themes of how alien life may be something entirely unlike the "little green men" or "bug-eyed monsters" of the preceding pulp science fiction era; that it could take forms of vast and incomprehensible power so far beyond us that we are like ants in comparison. The principal difference between them, is that in 2001:ASO, we are creatures of interest to the alien powers that be, who leave behind beacons for us to find when we are sufficiently evolved; but in Solaris the alien lifeform barely notices we exist, and if it notices us at all, regards us as mere playthings.
Seen through the lens of feminist critique, the connection between the male protagonist of the story and his (ostensibly female) "visitor" sent by the alien world for reasons never fully laid bare, accentuated by her total dependence and need for his attention to maintain an unagonised existence, is an unbalanced gender power relationship that doesn't look pretty. I am mentioning this because I think it is worth examining. Whether this represents some malign inner fantasy of the author is highly debatable, in my view. At time of publishing, Yuri Gagarin had just completed the first crewed mission into outer space. Stanislaw Lem might have more adventurously chosen a female protagonist as the focus of his narrative, but this would have been a controversial choice that would distract from the main story; and being a very introspective tale told in first person, he might have felt more authentic writing from the male viewpoint (if he thought about it at all). I think such a critique, while it may be a valid piece of social observation, misses the point because a rewrite of the story with roles reversed would have made no difference to its outcome.
I think that the film adaptations of Solaris have a tendency to make this relationship between the protagonist and his "visitor" the main focus because they want something that audiences can connect to; in other words, the urge is to make it a human story. But this relationship is really a sideshow. The story at its heart, is one exploring the concept that alien life may be so different to our own, that we might debate whether it even constitutes life at all, and even if we accept that it is, we may utterly fail to understand it at all.
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