Arthur C. Clarke, writer, scientist and conceiver of the geosynchronous communications satellite, travels in elephants at the age of 90. He is very nearly the last of the first generation of science fiction writers, to be named in the same breath with Heinlein, Asimov, and De Camp. Offhand, I can't think of any of his contemporaries left except for Frederik Pohl and William Tenn.
To get an idea of Clarke's style, check out this online copy of The Star. The story apparently cheesed off some Christian readers, but I think it asks some profound questions about why God does what He does. And that's the question at the root of both Christianity and science fiction. I see no blasphemy in asking the questions, only in mocking the answers for the sake of mockery.
Incidentally, I just learned that Clarke and C. S. Lewis had carried on a correspondence, and that Clarke thought very highly of Lewis' Space Trilogy. The lettters have apparently been published; I'll have to get my hands on them now. That should be a fascinating dialogue between two brilliant minds.
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