Historical
A practical guide to biopunk is one of those things I’m half eager for and half wary of. The subject can be vivid in fiction, but once you start explaining it too neatly, the strangeness can drain away.
Still, that’s probably the point of something like The Biopunk Blueprint. If it can keep the ideas sharp without turning them into a dry checklist, it might be useful. I’m curious whether books like this help readers and writers think more clearly, or whether they flatten the oddness that makes the genre worth bothering with in the first place.
Still, that’s probably the point of something like The Biopunk Blueprint. If it can keep the ideas sharp without turning them into a dry checklist, it might be useful. I’m curious whether books like this help readers and writers think more clearly, or whether they flatten the oddness that makes the genre worth bothering with in the first place.
The danger with “practical” genre guides is that they can start sounding like they’re filing the teeth off the thing they’re meant to explain.
Still, there’s room for a book that treats biopunk as more than just goo with a glossary. If it helps readers think about the shape of the genre without sanding out the discomfort, that’s probably the useful version.
Still, there’s room for a book that treats biopunk as more than just goo with a glossary. If it helps readers think about the shape of the genre without sanding out the discomfort, that’s probably the useful version.
The danger with any guide to a strange genre is that it starts behaving like a set of instructions for sanding the edges off it. The useful ones, to me, are the ones that leave room for mess and unease. If a book on biopunk can explain the machinery without making everything feel tidy, that’s probably doing the job.