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The Big Kerplop
This novel isn't really new, although it is for all practical purposes. The author, Bertrand Brinley, had much success with the collections of short stories about the seven boys who dreamed of being scientists one day. The short stories continued to stay in print and even seemed to inspire a hack Disney adaptation, but only rumors about The Big Kerplop circulated on the Internet. When the copies of The Big Kerplop would trade on Ebay, they often closed at prices in the hundreds of dollars. Free markets can't ignore messages like that and the Purple House Press purchased the rights and relaunched the books.
It's easy for a Slashdot reader to understand how the stories could command such affection. The boys in the stories live in the netherworld between capability and responsibility. (Enjoy it if you're still there.) They have ham radio sets, fishing boats, weather balloons, and plenty of other gadgets to put to use in tweaking the noses of their buffoonish elders and only a few chores to get in the way.
The books are set in the early 60's before Bhopal, Three Mile Island, and Agent Orange rained on the big Science parade. Brinley worked for Lockheed and Martin during one of the the most romantic periods in aviation history, save perhaps the early days of the Wright Brothers. The books are infused with a certainty that rational thought guided by the scientific method and salted with a bit of pluck and wit could solve any problem. I think everyone here can agree that the entire club would be open source coders today, although it's not clear if they would embrace the BSD or GPL license. It may not even be stretching things to say that groups who wrote and distributed DeCSS are working through the same themes as the Mad Scientist Club, albeit on a global scale.
The novel is prequel to the collection of short stories that tells the backstory of how the boys found each other and discovered how a firm devotion to scientific principles could be put to work showing up the grownups. As they say on Fark, hilarity ensued many times.
The earlier short stories took up only 20-30 pages apiece, but this novel stretches to more than 200 pages, making it an entirely different animal. The characters are better drawn, the scenes are set with more than a sentence or two, and the plot twists back upon itself a few times. It's a leisurely read that makes the earlier stories seem a bit cartoonish or slapstick. This sophistication is a pleasure for me to read at my technically grownup age, but it may be why the novel didn't gain the same traction as the short stories. The laughs are driven more by character and dialog than by the setting and action. The short stories are basically set pieces, but the novel is more of a study in character. That's good for anyone who grew up loving the books, but it may mean that the current crop of 8-12 year old boys should wait a year or two before diving in.
The length of the novel also gives Brinley more room to flesh out the adults and let them play more than rubes to the Mad Scientists' schemes. The town's politicians are still a bit overstuffed, but Colonel March, the commander of the local Air Force base, is hardly a foil or a nemisis. Constable Billy Dahr, though, is still around to be the goat.
I suppose I should say something about the story. The Club, or at least the early core of what would become the Club, is out fishing on Strawberry Lake when a fleet of B52s flies over. Something makes a big kerplop in the lake and the Club spends the rest of the book saving the day, defying their elders and deploying some cool gadgets and the scientific method. This is a deeper, richer and very satisfying return for the characters.
Some of these tricks could get you some scars I guess but that's not the worst future awaiting a young reader. First, chicks dig scars -- although that theorem lies well outside of the scope of this book. Second, this may be the adult in me, but kids today seem fatter, lazier, and more hogtied than ever before. Yes, these words will haunt me when my children get bigger, but I think that Brinley hits the sweet spot between obedience and irreverence. Forethought and care save the day in these books, not caprice and whim. The characters are neither insolent nor cowed by authority. The important thing to remember is that the scientific method celebrated by the books does not suggest replacing a few candles with a burning pie plate filled with gasoline. At least not without first doing a bit of research on the safest way to ensure all of the energy turns into hot air.
You can purchase The Big Kerplop from bn.com. Slashdot welcomes readers' book reviews -- to see your own review here, read the book review guidelines, then visit the submission page. Peter Wayner is the author of several dangerous and incendiary books like Disappearing Cryptography and Translucent Databases . Don't burn them without standing at a safe distance.
They also had 12 ounce GLASS bottles of coke back then. That made it a tad harder to get fat by sucking down 6 liters worth of cola in a day.
And if you lived in a huge metro area, you might get up to 6-7 whopping channels of TV, on which the programming was pretty lame. If you lived in the sticks you could still get those 6-7 channels, but only with a huge antenna that likely had the motor burned out 10 years ago requiring someone to go up on the roof and turn it while someone on the ground yelled up to say if it was better or worse.
Candy flavings were still not too good in the 70s, but you learned to love it because the butter/bacon/whatever fat overwhelem the turpentine aromas of an immature artifical flavoring technology.
And don't forget, there was the sweet and poisonous aroma of leaded gas. On bitter cold mornings you could see that evil grey everywhere.
Ah yes, TV sucked, so kids ran amok trying to entertain themselves. Cola was flavored with cane sugar produced by neer slave labor, now its full of corn sugar that doesn't taste so good an is as addictive, if not more, than heroin. And the nation simply believed that vietnam was a fluke, and wasn't a trend of sending troops to rotting cesspools worldwide for no good reason. Drugs were something that only low born gutter scum used, and kids looked forward to when they could be cool and start smoking, drinking, and getting laid. Playboy was "hardcore" porn. The term "fisting" would be unknown to the masses until the 80s, and even not then really.
Now, kids learn even before they enter school that the world is a cesspool, and if they are lucky they'll get enough of an education from these union protected losers "teaching" in school that they'll be able to spell and read well enough that they can get real info off the internet educational sights. And then, if they know the right people, and work like a slave they'll find a more or less dry part of the cesspool to exist in. And all their hard work will go into taxes to support the masses of baby boomers crying for more bread and circuses in their retirement years, and the welfare cesspits breeding subhuman scum who dream of becomming rap stars and crack dealers.
But hey, who wouldn't find motivation in a future like that ?