My interest in Driftglass stemmed from reading a James Blish short story called Surface Tension. In that story, humans have to adapt to a ocean planet by becoming something more than human, but (if I remember correctly) certain basic human drives remain consistent, such as the need to know what lies beyond the world of comprehension. It features an exotic locale and plenty of vividly imagined creatures, and the undersea setting and the microscopic nature of the neo-humans make it a memorable science fiction story, intended to invoke the sacred sense of wonder.
Driftglass is exotic as well, although in a quite different way. In the near future of this world, men and women are transformed by their government into modified amphibious human beings with gills, who traverse undersea depths at ease trying to install oil plants and such like structures deep down in the ocean. It is a far more nuanced take on transformation, and transcendence, arguing (as it seems to do) on the one hand that humans deal with change, even radical physical augmentation, in a surprisingly straightforward way, and, on the other hand, that this inability to understand the significance of what such transformation might entail becomes our own undoing.
The central metaphor of the story is the eponymous 'driftglass', which are otherwise ordinary pieces of glass transformed by the ocean into beautiful objects. However, seeing beauty in such things is a tragically human initiative, not conducive to Nature and what Nature might have in store for us. This is emphasized by the ugly covering of black silica on the skin of the aquamen who are brought in after the accident out at sea, by the end of the novel, mirroring the protagonist's fate. Human notions of beauty and transcendence are not necessarily concomitant.
However, during the fishing expedition, there is a hint of an exuberant, joyous thrill of the hunt, wherein the human does so while being an 'equal' to that of fish. This can be seen as one of the advantages of such a transformation, which allows the human being to become in a sense closer to his animal counterpart. The aquamen seem at ease in such a setting, suggesting that such a transformation is not necessarily completely at odds with human behaviour either. On the contrary, it reinforces the joy of the hunt, emphasizing what is very much a human endeavour. The tragic consequences that occur a day later suggest that such a transformation requires a surrender to the vagaries of Nature. Transformation does not entail control.
This might seem to be an obvious enough point, but it is not a laboured one. What is obvious gains a new significance in a science fictional treatment, and the emphasis on 'ordinary' men and women only seeks to heighten such an understanding.
Driftglass is exotic as well, although in a quite different way. In the near future of this world, men and women are transformed by their government into modified amphibious human beings with gills, who traverse undersea depths at ease trying to install oil plants and such like structures deep down in the ocean. It is a far more nuanced take on transformation, and transcendence, arguing (as it seems to do) on the one hand that humans deal with change, even radical physical augmentation, in a surprisingly straightforward way, and, on the other hand, that this inability to understand the significance of what such transformation might entail becomes our own undoing.
The central metaphor of the story is the eponymous 'driftglass', which are otherwise ordinary pieces of glass transformed by the ocean into beautiful objects. However, seeing beauty in such things is a tragically human initiative, not conducive to Nature and what Nature might have in store for us. This is emphasized by the ugly covering of black silica on the skin of the aquamen who are brought in after the accident out at sea, by the end of the novel, mirroring the protagonist's fate. Human notions of beauty and transcendence are not necessarily concomitant.
However, during the fishing expedition, there is a hint of an exuberant, joyous thrill of the hunt, wherein the human does so while being an 'equal' to that of fish. This can be seen as one of the advantages of such a transformation, which allows the human being to become in a sense closer to his animal counterpart. The aquamen seem at ease in such a setting, suggesting that such a transformation is not necessarily completely at odds with human behaviour either. On the contrary, it reinforces the joy of the hunt, emphasizing what is very much a human endeavour. The tragic consequences that occur a day later suggest that such a transformation requires a surrender to the vagaries of Nature. Transformation does not entail control.
This might seem to be an obvious enough point, but it is not a laboured one. What is obvious gains a new significance in a science fictional treatment, and the emphasis on 'ordinary' men and women only seeks to heighten such an understanding.
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