Stanislaw Lem (1921 - 2006)Reading Fiasco, one of his last novels, is like attending some future grand rounds conference where various characters discuss why all the great ideas and technological achievements of mankind have met with failure.
But from this sea of pessimism emerges something entirely different from mere despair, perhaps not hope itself, but at the very least a sense of buoyancy borne of the realization that we have left fool's paradise, that the veil is starting to lift, that the scales are beginning to fall from the eye.
What dawns on us is the high lyricism of the human condition.
But from this sea of pessimism emerges something entirely different from mere despair, perhaps not hope itself, but at the very least a sense of buoyancy borne of the realization that we have left fool's paradise, that the veil is starting to lift, that the scales are beginning to fall from the eye.
What dawns on us is the high lyricism of the human condition.
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