As inconsequential as it may seem, the new year marks the start of this novel endeavour and thus I wish to begin it with a short excerpt from Star Maker of Stapledon (1937).
The Star Maker contemplated his work. And he saw that it was good... He knew that this creature, though imperfect, though a mere creature, a mere figment of his own creative power was yet in manner more real than himself. As he discriminated its virtue and its weakness his own perception and his own skill matured... Thus, little by little it came about, as so often before, that the Star Maker outgrew his creature. Increasingly he frowned upon the loveliness that he still cherished. Thus, seemingly with a conflict of reverence and impatience, he set our cosmos in its place among his other works.
