Against the Fall of Night

After many years, I re-read Against the Fall of Night recently, with the "alternate version" of The City and the Stars waiting in reserve. I hadn't remembered much about the (shared) plot of these works, even though I have at least the memory of a memory of one or both of these being among my favorite science-fiction stories read at the age of eleven or twelve. I was interested in a friend's remark, itself incompletely recalled now, about one of Clarke's versions of the story telling more than showing, and I determined to read them one at a time and react without refreshing my memory of his specific judgment, to see whether I'd notice anything similar ab nihilo. I'm guessing now that the shorter, earlier (earliest) work is the more "telling" version – one must in a matter of course "show" more in longer works – but I don't know yet whether I'll agree with my friend's judgment. I loved the short version, and marvel at how much more elegant Clarke's prose is than the run of the mill of the period. I know I'm over-reaching a little, but for me the speculative tone in this beginning of Clarke's writing career is reminiscent of Borges. While simply moving a fairly uneventful narrative forward (in the sense that conflict is not the dominant mode of creating interest in what's going to happen), he wrestles with the philosophical themes that entranced me as a boy: could a human society be created stable enough to last millions rather than thousands of years? How might the equilibrium of such stability be upset? Would we characterize the upset as inevitable, a matter of infinitesimal probabilities finally catching up with the best-laid plans, or as a wonderful matter of human initiative re-emerging – in which case, how could it possibly have taken hundreds of millions for someone like Alvin, merely requiring a stronger will than the prevalent, to be born and act?