The best science fiction books about visiting alien worlds

I fell in love with this book when I was eleven years old, and I still love it now. That’s despite the fact that I now see just how corrupt and vicious the first human visitors to the moon truly are.

Yet there are moments here that still hold the old enchantment. There’s the instant when the "hero" grasps that night is falling on the moon, and as the shadow of a new, strange "sunset" starts to lengthen that he has perhaps only minutes to live, or there’s the encounter with the Selenites and the realization that he faces an absolutely alien consciousness with no connection to his own.

No-one outdoes Wells in making the fantastic utterly real to the reader.

I recently re-read this book, and it returned me at once to the joy and strangeness of the first time I read it.

Lewis offers up the theory that perhaps what we know in this world as myth and archetype exists in reality on other planets. The book brings that thought to vivid life. It detonates all the power and perplexity of the first chapters of "Genesis" and replays "Paradise Lost" on the floating blissful islands of Venus.

Though the endnote is one of glorious joy, few have been as good at depicting evil as Lewis was. Written at the height of the horrors of the Second World War, the Un-Man has haunted my nightmares for much of my life.

Though I admire her classic work, The Left Hand of Darkness, it’s The Word For World Is Forest that most lingers in the mind.

Ursula Le Guin worried that the book was too simple and that its portrait of the mad colonialist soldier, Captain Davidson, was too unshaded a vision of militarist evil. Well, perhaps. However, men like Davidson can be found in equally brutal forms in accounts of the European invasion of the Americas or in Roger Casement’s report on the Belgians in the Congo.

But it is the otherworldly Selver who possesses my imagination, that archetypal ‘little green man,’ that strange new god of a person, poised between the innocent world he seeks to protect and the violence he must unleash to ensure its survival.

It was Star Trek, Star Wars, and, most of all, Doctor Who that first made me fall in love with science fiction.

Some will think it an odd choice to include this novelization of Terry Nation’s television story, The Genesis of the Daleks, but Terrance Dicks is a much-underrated writer, and this portrait of war-devastated Skaro offers a fantastic image of humanity and inhumanity. Just as much as C. S. Lewis in Perelandra, the book has the Nazis on its mind, and the bunker where Davros creates his army of autonomous half-machine warriors replays the Berlin bunker where Hitler awaited the end.

In the midst of it all, the Doctor himself stands for goodness, for good humor, for compassion–a compassion that even includes at the climax of the book, the Daleks themselves. Aged ten, the Doctor was to me an image of what it might be to be a proper grown-up, and looking back, I don’t think my choice so absurd.

It’s a strange confession to make, but after my formative reading of this book, I can’t help but feel there’s something mystical about the number ‘forty-two.’ As you remember, ‘forty-two’ is the computer Deep Thought’s answer to the question, "What’s it all about, life, the universe, and everything?".

It fits Adams’ skepticism that this baffling ultimate answer sends everyone back to rethinking what the ultimate question might be. It’s questions, not answers, that count here.

Adams simply makes me laugh, or rather complexly makes me laugh. Depressive Marvin, the paranoid android, with his "brain the size of a planet"; the horror that is Vogon poetry; even the fact that the most useful item for a space-traveler to pack would be a towel, it’s so wonderful, and Adams does as good a job as Lewis or Le Guin at catching the wonder of things.