The poem explicitly features in the story, so I'd say it's pretty guaranteed to have inspired Bradbury ;)
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The SSAATTBB setting of Teasdale's words by Latvian contemporary choral composer Ēriks Ešenvalds is fittingly powerful and a guaranteed source of chills:
The choir I sing in performed the piece for the first time in spring 2022, and against the backdrop of the pandemic and Russia's invasion the words felt incredibly topical and poignant. We're performing it again this spring.
While we're at it, a couple of other ethereally beautiful Ešenvalds settings of Teasdale's texts:
The moment in time described in the story cannot be very long after the implied nuclear explosion, because surely the house cannot have more than a couple weeks' worth of bacon and eggs in stock.
I’ll always upvote Bradbury; what a master. Isaac Asimov used to talk about “the big 3” of science fiction of his era: himself (natch), Arthur C Clarke, and Ray Bradbury. The more I read of all those cats, and boy have I read them, I came to see that Asimov was wrong, and that Bradbury was a different and better writer altogether.
Bradbury’s stories are about people, deeply real and deeply feeling people. This thread is young and already comments are about how Bradbury made folks feel. He was a humanist, like Ursula LeGuin, and less interested in exactly how the ray guns worked. Frank Herbert seems like this to me as well, very humane, opposite of Greg Bear and Kim Stanley Robinson and (later stage) Neal Stephenson.
If you love Bradbury then take a look at Ian McDonald. When I read “Rainmaker Cometh” for the first time I had to do a double-take, so sure I was that it was a new Bradbury story.
Borges famously wrote a preface to a Spanish-language edition of "The martian chronicles". Excerpt:
"Ray Bradbury has preferred (unknowingly, perhaps, and by secret inspiration of his genius) an elegiac tone. Martians, who at the beginning of the book are horrible, deserve his pity when annihilation reaches them. Men vanquish and the author is not proud of their victory. He announces with sadness and disappointment the future expansion of mankind over the red planet - that his prophecy reveals as a desert of vague blue sand, with ruins of chess-like cities and yellow sunsets and ancient ships to wander on the sand.
Other authors stamp a coming date and we don't believe them, because we know it is a literary convention; Bradbury writes 2004 and we feel the gravitation, the fatigue, the vast and vague accumulation of the past - the 'dark backward and abysm of Time' from the Shakespeare verse. Already the Renaissance had noted, by mouth of Giordano Bruno and of Bacon, that the real Ancient Ones are us, and not the men from Genesis or Homer.
What has this man from Illinois done, I ask myself when closing the pages of his book, that episodes from the conquest of another planet fill me with horror and loneliness?
How can these fantasies touch me, and in such an intimate way? All literature (I dare reply) is symbolic; there are a few fundamental experiences and it is indifferent that a writer, to transmit them, recurs to the fantastic or the real, to Macbeth or to Rascolnikov, to the Belgium invasion in August 1914 or to an invasion of Mars. Who cares about the novel, or novelry of science fiction? In this book of ghostly appearance, Bradbury has placed his long empty Sundays, his American tedium, his loneliness, like Sinclair Lewis did on Main Street."
> Bradbury’s stories are about people, deeply real and deeply feeling people. ... and less interested in exactly how the ray guns worked.
Maybe this is why I never really got Bradbury. When I read scifi, I can't help but consider the logic of the world that's being described, and Bradbury's worlds aren't really logical (e.g. who would live on such a strict timetable? wouldn't all the singing and rhyming be annoying? how is the house still being powered?). But it makes a lot more sense if the point is to convey feelings. Kind of like an impressionist painting I suppose.
I also love sci fi that explores the human condition. However my first foray into Bradbury (The Martian Chronicles) left me a bit cold. Are there other works you'd recommend?
Thank you for suggesting Ian Mcdonald, have not read any of his.
I absolutely rever and adore Bradbury, probably because he has a knack of articulating so well, the emotions and esthetics that we have in common, that I leave unarticulated, more so now that I am no longer a teenager.
He captured childhood in a way that perhaps no one else has. His children have dignity and purpose and seriousness and are still absolutely full of joy and randomness. William Wordsworth, maybe, revered and portrayed childhood as well as Bradbury.
The paragraph about the stove making dozens of breakfasts as the house collapses at the climax of the story is what always stuck with me most. It would take a better writer than me to say why it works so well, I just know it does.
I can't find the episode after a quick search... I wish there were an archive of their past episodes, but I imagine someone would have to pay extra to the performers for that right.
For anyone interested, here's a short game I made in 2 days for Ludum Dare back in 2019, which was inspired by the original poem and Bradbury's short story.
I didn't have enough time to balance the gameplay and add more scenarios, but it's a neat experience and contains one of my favorite personal musical compositions.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/There_Will_Come_Soft_Rains_(po...
---
The SSAATTBB setting of Teasdale's words by Latvian contemporary choral composer Ēriks Ešenvalds is fittingly powerful and a guaranteed source of chills:
https://youtu.be/qwSSVDgY-Sw
The choir I sing in performed the piece for the first time in spring 2022, and against the backdrop of the pandemic and Russia's invasion the words felt incredibly topical and poignant. We're performing it again this spring.
While we're at it, a couple of other ethereally beautiful Ešenvalds settings of Teasdale's texts:
Only in Sleep – https://youtu.be/fvPynMI6Umc (for choir and a soprano soloist)
Stars – https://youtu.be/SK2Rd3qgIGE (for choir and tuned wine glasses!)
https://soundcloud.com/henrisokka/there-will-come-soft-rains
Oh, just remembered this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1IxOS4VzKM (Content Warning: NSFW!)
Bradbury’s stories are about people, deeply real and deeply feeling people. This thread is young and already comments are about how Bradbury made folks feel. He was a humanist, like Ursula LeGuin, and less interested in exactly how the ray guns worked. Frank Herbert seems like this to me as well, very humane, opposite of Greg Bear and Kim Stanley Robinson and (later stage) Neal Stephenson.
If you love Bradbury then take a look at Ian McDonald. When I read “Rainmaker Cometh” for the first time I had to do a double-take, so sure I was that it was a new Bradbury story.
"Ray Bradbury has preferred (unknowingly, perhaps, and by secret inspiration of his genius) an elegiac tone. Martians, who at the beginning of the book are horrible, deserve his pity when annihilation reaches them. Men vanquish and the author is not proud of their victory. He announces with sadness and disappointment the future expansion of mankind over the red planet - that his prophecy reveals as a desert of vague blue sand, with ruins of chess-like cities and yellow sunsets and ancient ships to wander on the sand.
Other authors stamp a coming date and we don't believe them, because we know it is a literary convention; Bradbury writes 2004 and we feel the gravitation, the fatigue, the vast and vague accumulation of the past - the 'dark backward and abysm of Time' from the Shakespeare verse. Already the Renaissance had noted, by mouth of Giordano Bruno and of Bacon, that the real Ancient Ones are us, and not the men from Genesis or Homer.
What has this man from Illinois done, I ask myself when closing the pages of his book, that episodes from the conquest of another planet fill me with horror and loneliness?
How can these fantasies touch me, and in such an intimate way? All literature (I dare reply) is symbolic; there are a few fundamental experiences and it is indifferent that a writer, to transmit them, recurs to the fantastic or the real, to Macbeth or to Rascolnikov, to the Belgium invasion in August 1914 or to an invasion of Mars. Who cares about the novel, or novelry of science fiction? In this book of ghostly appearance, Bradbury has placed his long empty Sundays, his American tedium, his loneliness, like Sinclair Lewis did on Main Street."
Maybe this is why I never really got Bradbury. When I read scifi, I can't help but consider the logic of the world that's being described, and Bradbury's worlds aren't really logical (e.g. who would live on such a strict timetable? wouldn't all the singing and rhyming be annoying? how is the house still being powered?). But it makes a lot more sense if the point is to convey feelings. Kind of like an impressionist painting I suppose.
I absolutely rever and adore Bradbury, probably because he has a knack of articulating so well, the emotions and esthetics that we have in common, that I leave unarticulated, more so now that I am no longer a teenager.
+1. I loved Desolation Road in particular; a sort of 100 Years of Solitude but on Mars and with more than 2 names for its 3000 characters.
Almost politically incorrect woke?
Another Bradbury adaptation
https://youtu.be/02FgildTKMs
(Here there be Tygers)
https://www.symphonyspace.org/selected-shorts/episodes/uncan...
I can't find the episode after a quick search... I wish there were an archive of their past episodes, but I imagine someone would have to pay extra to the performers for that right.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quyaaszg6jc
For anyone interested, here's a short game I made in 2 days for Ludum Dare back in 2019, which was inspired by the original poem and Bradbury's short story.
I didn't have enough time to balance the gameplay and add more scenarios, but it's a neat experience and contains one of my favorite personal musical compositions.
https://badsoft.co/games/soft-rains/