***** ('Arena', the Rating High!)
In honour of the first contact with the Children of Tama where something actually got understood, I'll conduct my review in pidgin Tamarian:
Joe Menosky, the scribe, his characters exploring, his 47 often mentioned!
Paul Winfield, at Bronson Canyon, under Westmore make-up, his eyes wide, his voice mighty, his performance transcendent!
Picard's Bad-Ass Jacket, the arms suede, the shoulders leather!
Lefler in Engineering, her cheeks chipmunk!
The Predator Rip-Off at El-Adrel, it's fists invisible, it's claws bloody!
Sir Patrick- Gilgamesh re-telling, the Viewer to Paper DVDs encouraging.
Dathon. The life of Dathon. Dathon's end.
What's clever here is a barrier not entirely of language but of point of view: these aliens have no relatable concept of self, and communicate entirely in metaphors drawn from their myths and cultural heritage. Not unlike geeks and the poor, hapless non-geeks trying to grok what the geeks are honking about.
It's not only a problem of words but of rich, expansive histories and the gulf between people who don't share them. Just as I don't follow sports, so I wouldn't usually know what you meant if you said "Tebow Knelt", you're not going to get me when I'm yammering on about how Paul Atreides IS the Kwisatz Haderach.
Our world cries out for people who will work harder to understand one another.
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