Book 9: I, Robot by Isaac Asimov
I was excited to jump right into this after finishing Fahrenheit 451 as Bradbury and Asimov were contemporaries. Although the authors were similar, within the genre of scifi written by white men shortly after WWII the two books are very different. The former rebellious, human-centered, pessimistic and the latter thoughtful, machine-centered, and cautiously optimistic. I read both books for the first time within a couple years of each other, but for drastically different reasons.
The first time I watched Terminator 2 I was 12 and it made me cry hysterically; years later I understood the emotional impact of watching two self-sacrificing "parents" in the film while my parents neglected me. I watched the film shortly after my mother banned me from watching animation (except The Simpsons), telling me that a good husband wouldn't want a wife who watched cartoons, and I needed another fantastictical escape. Sci-fi became that escape where I tried to find the emotional connection I wasn't getting IRL.
My mother hid her books in her unfinished, dank basement. I knew I'd seen "robot" among the titles, so I explored those first. About a dozen Asimov novels were down there, and I, Robot was both short and easy enough for me to dive into. Some of his books were a little too difficult for me, but I fell in love with both this and his other collections of short stories. I related very strongly to Susan Calvin, and anticipated in my pre-adolescent certainty that I would be the first robopsychologist - after all, robots were more reliable and safer than people.
I reread all my Asimov novels many times throughout the years, and I rescued them from my mother's basement when I moved out. In college, integrating computer chips and mechanical pieces into my artwork was a frequent way for me to explore the connections between machines and humans. I took a computer science elective, and I was the only person in the very small class who took it because of sci-fi; the professor adored me as a student, especially because everyone else in the class mistakenly thought she would teach them how to use Excel.
When I had to flee domestic violence in Milwaukee, I had to leave half of my books behind (this is why it means so much for me to have over 200 books now). I made sure that all of those Asimov novels went to people who I knew would appreciate them, and my current copy of I, Robot was the only one I kept.
This was the first time I've reread it in over a decade. It seems silly now how much this novel was an escape for me, as it consists of Asimov creating different scenarios to exercise the Three Laws of Robotics. He was an excellent writer, and it's also like reading his fanfiction of his own work. Although it didn't suck me in now the way that it did 27 years ago, I think I'm able to enjoy it more because I don't need it for survival.
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