Edwin Muir Books
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Great travel writing, silly and ill-informed politics.Review Date: 2003-09-23
One of the most thoughtful travel books ever writtenReview Date: 1998-09-29
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A Cry for Love out in the GalaxyReview Date: 2007-11-05
While trying to save an ambassador (Elinor Donahue), Kirk and co. are captured by an alien being, the "Companion." The Companian is trying to provide human company for a man, Zefram Cochrane, whom "she" has kept for over a hundred years. Kirk faces a problem: how to escape before the ambassador succumbs to fatal illness?
That might be a classic "Outer Limits" plot, but of course this is Trek, so there are twists that make this more humane. Kirk tries short-circuiting the Companion with Spock's help, but that doesn't work, so (on the advice of McCoy) he tries diplomacy. It turns out that Cochrane isn't a pet so much as a lover; and although this is touching and Platonic, there are sexual and even Oedipal overtones.
The most stirring moment (watch for it) is a visual one... after the Companion has given up immortality and changed into a mortal body, "she" views Cochrane through a colorful veil that suggests the flashing lights of the Companion. This has to be seen to be appreciated.
The character of Zefram Cochrane was reused in TNG movie "Star Trek First Contact" with an actor (James Cromwell from "Babe") who looks nothing like Glenn Corbett, the actor in this episode. There's a stronger thematic link to "Star Trek the Motion Picture," in which flashing lights suggest a romantic-erotic merger between human and non-human intelligence. In the end the message is: the need for love is universal.
Love and sex between two extremely different speciesReview Date: 2005-02-11
After investigation, Spock discovers that the energy being, which Cochrane refers to as the companion, is composed largely of electrical fields. Spock tries to short it out, but the being retaliates. They then try the universal translator and discover that it is female and is in essence Cochrane's lover. He rebels at the idea of having such a relationship, but finally comes to grips with the reality.
In the meantime, Commissioner Hedford rapidly grows worse and is on the verge of death. Kirk manages to explain to the companion how humans react to captivity and that it is wrong to keep the humans on the planet against their will. At the moment when the Commissioner dies, the companion enters her body and they fuse to become a single entity. The companion is now mortal and Cochrane realizes that he loves the fused entity and decides to stay with her. The Enterprise crew then leaves the planet and Kirk promises not to tell anyone about them.
This episode introduces the character of Zephram Cochrane, love and a form of sexual union between two vastly different species and the universal translator. It is the original series episode that deals the most with the idea of self-sacrifice for love. The companion gives up immortality for love and Cochrane gives up freedom and the adulation due a hero to stay with the companion. Love and sex between two species (human and non-human) is something that will eventually happen and there will be those who will find it obscene. In this episode, it is handled with class and dignity, and they live happily ever after.
A Touching Tale of Love and SacrificeReview Date: 2000-06-06
Another plus is George Duning's moving score, reminiscent of his earlier work on the film "Picnic."
Four stars, largely for its originalityReview Date: 2003-09-21
Not only is this episode thoughtful, but it explores emotions in a way rarely seen on TV. The viewer is challenged to consider among other things:
1)how extended loneliness would feel
2)The relationship between physical and platonic love
3)Possible drawbacks to immortality
Particularly interesting was Cochrane's initial emotional response to learning that another species--the companion--loved him. Subtle blends of denial, shame, and snesitivity which by its intensity belied his own feelings for the companion.
Unfortunately, the episode is ultimately diminished by one of the original Trek's true achilles heels: sexism, and a lack of strong female characters. Donahue's character is initially cold and shrewlike, presumably because she is so career oriented and doesn't have a man. By contrast, her emotional awakening as she approaches death is more plausible, since we can imagine anyone who has never (been) loved feeling that way. What is most egregious is the idea that her becoming a lover for Cochrane is somehow more important than her diplomatic work, since the assumption is that anyone could have done the work as well as her. Please.
Still, the episode has enough going for it, particularly in th eoriginality department, to be a solid '4'.
Good episode of the classic TrekReview Date: 2000-08-19
If you like the original series of Star Trek, I recommend getting this episode. It'll keep you interested and it has some good effects. It's not one of the more action packed episodes, but that doesn't mean that it's not any good.

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Powerful.Review Date: 2000-05-02
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Edwin Muir is a pretty good writer, when he sticks to travelogues and abstract philosophy. He doesn't do so in Scottish Journey, though one would think so from the first hundred pages. Scottish Journey is meant as (and was commissioned as) a travelogue, and for the most part, Muir sticks to the template. He writes well of the Scots countryside, and passably of Edinburgh, slipping in bits of philosophy here and there, as is to be expected in any good travelogue. As well, Muir is an extremely quotable writer; his words are clear and precise, and draw excellent pictures in the reader's mind.
Muir was, however, an ardent Socialist of the closed-minded sort, as much as he professes otherwise. This affects the book in his long chapter on Glasgow, which he starts with a screed against Industrialism (he always capitalizes the word, I might as well, too) and capitalism. Humorously, he attempts to say that Industrialism, in and of itself, isn't all that bad. He does so in a paragraph that spans almost two and a half pages. The first and last few sentences are of the opinion that Industrialism isn't all that bad. It's the middle hundred or so sentences that shoot the argument in the foot, as he catalogs a list of the horrors he sees in Glasgow. One wonders how it's possible to write all these things and frame them with "it's not bad." It would be kind of like a pagan writing the same of the Inquisition, from the evils that Muir ascribes to Industrialism.
What's worse, he can't see the forest for the trees. In one breath, he talks about ho a capitalist system can't take population contraction into account; in the next, he's talking about unemployment. And he sees no correlation between the two, or at least none he's willing to admit. At one point, perhaps the book's nadir, he says, while discussing the rise of the Scottish Nationalist party, "....If such devotion and fidelity are not to be admired, then all our ideas of morality are mistaken." Leaving it as it is, he infers that no such thing could possibly be true. Yet not five pages later, at the beginning of his chapter on the Highlands, he has little good to say about the morality of a people who are so embarrassed by the twin hills known as the Paps of Jura, one of Scotland's biggest tourist draws at the time, that he couldn't find a postcard that showed them clearly anywhere in the town. One is tempted to see the inconsistencies as a (sub?)conscious undercutting of Muir's own arguments, but nothing else in the book points to it; the man's to solid and straightforward a writer to resort to such tricks.
Overall, though, it's worth checking out for the travel writing and the easy read. Just take his political outlook with a grain of salt. ** ½