Dragonwriter (23 page)

(Anne spent considerable time proofing galleys of her prodigious output.)

One of the more exasperating aspects of deliberately eliminating organized religion from Pern was the reaction from people Annie sometimes referred to charitably enough as “nuts,” but with whom she often undertook a dialogue, sometimes a spirited one, so to speak. A few correspondents were content to denounce her for promoting atheism. She didn't, of course. She ignored religion and simply left God out of the discussion (so did J. R. R. Tolkien in The Lord of the Rings, of course, but I don't recall readers accusing him of atheism).

One of the more strenuous objections came from a fellow with some cultural anthropology background who maintained that every human culture and society on Earth had evolved some kind of religion. It is intrinsic to human civilization. Ergo, over the centuries, some kind religion would have evolved on Pern. So where was it?

Didn't exist, Annie said. Had to, said he. The dialogue became heated, and Annie finally called in the weyr chaplain (me) to see if I could get this fellow off her case. Eventually, we had to invite him to go elsewhere with his rants.

I had some ideas of my own, based on accepted notions of religious development, which I had run by Annie's watchful eye back as early as 1986. They did not convince her, and I didn't expect them to, but we enjoyed the repartee:

    
what with persons bugging you about Religion on Pern, I would LOVE to sit and chat, since that is my area. (Not Religion on Pern, but Religious Studies. About which, also cf. below, as they say . . . ) Don't fall for the stuff about the Primal Egg. Neither culture (nor religion) on Pern [would have] evolved from scratch (so to speak), but would be a descended (but transformed) version of whatever religion(s) or religious feelings the first colonists had. I.e., much more likely a historical religion (e.g., like Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) than a nature religion, dragons notwithstanding. It is also likely that the holders would have a religious code different from and in some respects hostile to that of the Dragonriders—more mercantile/agrarian (
a la
later Judaism) than nomadic/herder/warrior (
a la
Islam). But they would be shoots from the same stem. And in each case there would be some vestige of built-in demythologization from the Olden Days, probably in the form of a pervasive skepticism. The Dragonriders would probably have a more developed notion of luck/fate/grace because of the precariousness of their work, while the holders would be more complacent and, in good times, downright atheistic. In any event, the Pernese would not worship mythical dragons or Eggs. They're too smart. I doubt if there would be a formal priesthood, either, although a kind of Zen-Buddhist monasticism might have sprouted among the Riders, just as Zen was cultivated by the Samurai. Something also worth pondering re: the Dragonriders would be the Shintoist-Zen cult of the Japanese pilots of WW II, including the suicide ethic. In short, a modified form of ancestor worship in which figures like Moreta would function like hero-saints and martyrs along with their dragons. A kind of semi-polytheism under the umbrella of a vague monotheism (sounds a bit like some forms of Catholicism!). . . . (I could go on for a long time, but mercifully won't. But someday let's do.)

We did, on occasion. In 1996, she provided another telling comment after I reported on a chatroom debate I had with a particularly truculent correspondent (who was eventually cut off by the monitor):

    
Glad you survived the CHAT—they can be fun and there're usually a couple of awkward ones—I get them, too—and usually have to repeat what I've said earlier online . . . glad the electro cops could step in. Didn't the ass know that the Dragons ARE the religion on Pern?

Absent organized religion on Pern, the matter of profanity also posed something of a problem, if one more literary than political. For reasons deep and dark, religion (next only to sex) seems always to have provided humankind matter for its most outrageous and, therefore, useful expletives, frequently curses involving the inappropriate use of the Lord's name or ingenious (and obscene) references to sacred body parts. The retrospective volume
Dragonsdawn
does find the original colonists swearing colorfully, if not frequently, including some vocabulary that would have seemed out of place in the original Pern stories. But even these hardy pioneers seem temperate in employing the usual religious epithets, giving the more heated exchanges a kind of Victorian hue. But it is cumbersome even to be mildly profane when there is no
fanum
to be outside of.

I did make a few lame suggestions in a note from 1997: “Shards! Okay, so your Pernese are a pretty nice lot. They are still human, right? By the Burning Thread of Firstfall! By the First Egg!” Annie came up with some alternatives, but “scorch it!” and “fardling” just don't carry the conviction that one might expect from sweaty, battle-hardened Dragonriders just in from a tough bout of flaming Thread. Did I mention that although Annie had her tougher side, she was a genuinely gentle, kind, and caring person?

On February 27, 2000, she wrote,

    
Have thought of one idea—with many of the “common herd” a bit dubious of Aivas and the good he's already done/will do/has files on—suspicions arise. Of course, because Aivas helped save the planet from the fireball, ‘By Aivas, he helped' becomes a vouchsafe for surety. So, whether he wants to or not, Aivas becomes a talisman . . . better than the ‘By First Egg.' Do I know what I mean by all that?

Speaking of Aivas, the Artificial Intelligence Voice Activated System buried by the first colonists and recovered thousands of years later by Jaxom and Piemur in
Renegades of Pern,
the computer got the best line when it came to religion or at least the Bible. Toward the end of
All the Weyrs of Pern,
Aivas cites the Book of Ecclesiastes (or do you say
Qoheleth?
) to ease Master Robinton's final moments of life in one of the finest scenes of the whole series:

    
“‘To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven,' Master Robinton.”

       
“That is poetic, Aivas.”

       
There was one of those pauses that Robinton always thought was the Aivas equivalent of a smile.

       
“From the greatest book ever written by Mankind, Master Robinton.”

Of course it's possible to read more into this passage than Anne intended. A number of readers have cited it as evidence of an underlying spiritual, if not religious, conviction. Considering previous offhand statements, this would not be too far off the mark. It at least shows that while organized religion had been precluded from Pern from the earliest phases of planning, the colonists had not entirely forgotten the positive religious heritage of humanity. Annie had her Bible at hand. She knew where to find things.

Anne's deeper spiritual inklings came more strongly forward in her final solo work, a short story that launched a number of heated reactions.

It started off innocuously enough. Although she had handled the religious references and chapel scenes in her earlier historical novel
Black Horses for the King
well enough to pass muster, and her allusion in
All the Weyrs of Pern
is evidential of her positive attitude toward the spiritual aspect of religious tradition, she came closest to tackling a genuinely religious, or at least metaphysical, theme in “Beyond Between.” We exchanged a folder full of email about this short story, which she referred to originally as “Moreta's Ghost.” Its genesis provides a literally haunting glimpse into her attitude toward matters religious and spiritual.

Late in 2001, she had been invited by Robert Silverberg to submit a ghost story for his forthcoming anthology
Legends II,
which was originally to be entitled
Shadows, Gods, and Demons.
Dutifully, she set out to write a genuine ghost story, and for characters and theme she went back to one of the most deeply felt and successful of her Pern novels,
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
(1983). Anne worked on the story for over a year, but when “Beyond Between” appeared, it proved to be arguably the least well received of all her stories. Even some of the trade reviews were surprisingly abrasive.

Moreta's weary disappearance “between” at the end of the novel admittedly came as a shock to readers at the time, although Anne had long since established that if dragonriders failed to envision a point of emergence from the spatial-temporal dimension through which dragons could pass, they would be trapped there and inevitably perish. Still, the surprise loss of a powerful and engaging heroine was deeply disturbing to many readers and to her editors as well.

In an interview with Lynne Jamneck published online in 2004, Annie commented:

    
When I wrote
Dragonlady
and allowed Moreta to go between and not come out, there was quite an outcry, including one from Judy-Lynn del Rey, my editor. She thought Moreta could have mistakenly gone to the future, or the past but that she was still alive.
⁵

But Anne's decision to follow up on Moreta's fate, as well as that of other riders who had disappeared “between,” gave her the opportunity to explore both personal and fictional issues regarding life, death, and immortality that mattered deeply to her. The losses of relatives and friends over the years weighed on her, especially those of her elder brother Mac and her friend Johnny Greene of the Foreign Legion (recalled in several novels by characters with J.G. in their names), as well as those of neighbors, clients of Dragonhold Stables, and her own household staff. Her favorite and supportive Aunt Gladdie had died years earlier, and Annie's crusty companion and expert gardener, Sara Virginia Brooks Johnson, “Sis,” went to her rest in 2001 as did her friend and fellow author Gordon Dickson. She didn't talk about these losses a great deal, but they clearly remained with her as a challenge to her sense of destiny and the place of friendship in this world and beyond.

Still, surfacing these concerns in a published story, even indirectly, was bold, a move perpendicular to the customary tone of the Pern canon, and perhaps surprising given her general reticence about religious themes in previous works. Over the months of its gestation, we exchanged dozens of messages about the story as Anne struggled to express her sense of the indestructibility of the human spirit. As the canon was jealously guarded by ardent battalions of self-appointed sentries, departures could prove hazardous. And such divergence was even more flagrant than getting the color of a dragon's (or dragon-rider's) eyes wrong.

On January 13, 2002, she wrote, “Bob Silverberg was, for him, ecstatic about me doing a Pernese ghost story so I'm taking that one past both Todd and Gigi for input.” And three days later, “Did 6,000 words on the ghost story yesterday and will reread to see how I like it now it's cooled off a bit.” Two days later, the tally was up to 16,000, but some health setbacks and plot problems began to slow the pace.

In February, Anne wrote, “Todd, Gigi, and I are going to brainstorm to see if I can get a story up and running. As I said last evening, Todd has queries about why am I writing this? I dunno, and he pointed out that I already had a Helva ghost story which he likes. And it's a case of parameters.”

I wrote back cheekily, “But the Moreta story is also a helluva good ghost story if still in the early stages of development. It's important for what it says about Between, too. It's
not
just a ghost story. It really advances the understanding of Pern's second-most interesting feature.”

In mid-March, she had begun to feel that she had hit a roadblock but was determined to press on: “I had the most fascinating dream wherein I was telling myself I was dead and I haven't finished Moreta's ghost so how can I leave yet? Ciao now, Padre. Add Joan Harrison [Harry Harrison's wife] to your prayer well.”

As the story neared completion, Gigi and I agreed that as it stood “Beyond Between” ventured too far beyond the pale of Anne's normal reserve concerning the supernatural. We advised her to tone down some of the descriptions. A number of “New Age” touches suggested by friends of that persuasion seemed more metaphysically luminous and beckoning than “ghostly.”

The final version was a more subtle statement, but also stronger after Gigi's judicious tailoring. After reading it, I wrote in July, “I read ‘Beyond Between' last night. It's great! Trimmer and more pointed, but sufficiently ambiguous to be an excellent ghost story. Gigi did a masterful job tidying. It's a story you can be proud of.”

I was not exactly in the majority in that regard, and I was stung by the cattiness of some of the reviews after “Beyond Between” appeared in print. Annie, fortunately, did not pay much attention to such notices as a rule, though she was aware of the groans of literary dismay. Had her turn to the supernatural gone too far?

Devoted fans seemed reluctant to comment, but a number of reviews ranged from tepid to vitriolic.
Publishers Weekly
dismissed it as “an ill-conceived explanation of what happens when a dragon fails to return from Between, [that] strikes the book's lone sour note.” Another reviewer opined that “As she is already dead, a story of Moreta's further adventures was simply disappointing both as a Pern story, as well as just being a story that was not terribly interesting despite my love of Pern.” Even less forgiving was this diatribe: “Anne McCaffrey . . . had no business being in this book. McCaffrey is writing almost everything including her grocery lists by proxy these days, and it shows. She may very well have at one point been a master of this genre, but her time has passed, and she is embarrassing herself.” And, again, “The only total bomb in this [collection] was McCaffrey's short story explaining what happens to dragons that become lost between. Even fans of the Pern novels should skip this one.”
⁶