Yes, I've promised this tribute for a long time, including in a previous post  in this very blog. I should point out that this is a revised post. In the original, I apologized profusely for the quality of the images because, frankly, they sucked. That was a consequence of two factors: first, that I had made them as an exercise in learning DAZ Studio, and secondly, because I didn't feel like putting in much time with 3ds Max, which I did know fairly well.  But because of a web snafu for which I am totally responsible, I had to

remake the images, and decided that I should redeem myself and do them right. In the originals, I had trouble getting Peewee's blond hair to render correctly. The book never says she's blond, but I pictured her that way for some reason the very first time I read the book when I was about eight, and she's stayed that way ever since. She just didn't look right with black hair. Since I was committed to doing them over, and have learned DAZ a lot better, you get the privilege of seeing the new images.

With the apologies out of the way, let's move on to Peewee.  But be warned!  Spoilers abound!

She is one of the main characters in Robert Heinlein's Have Space Suit, Will Travel, by far my favorite of his novels, at least of those I've read.  Heinlein has been criticized for being sexist in much of his writing, and from a 21st century perspective there might be some substance that argument.  But considering that he was born in 1907 and did a lot of his writing in the 1950s, when women were still rarely seen in media without aprons, I think he was rather ahead of his time.  Many of his female characters kick some serious butt.  Peewee is one of those.

You have to understand that she is eleven.  But she's a genius 11-year-old, who talks and thinks like any astrophysics major at a research university.  On the other hand, despite a propensity toward cockiness, she has an adorable touch of insecurity, clinging like a baby to her rag doll, Madame Pompadour.  That incongruity can't help but be interesting.  As her father puts it,

"She's twenty years old intellectually and six emotionally."

When the protagonist, Clifford "Kip" Russel, meets her, she has just stolen a flying saucer from a hidden alien base on the moon and flown it back to Earth.

Of course, Kip is no slouch himself.  As of that time, he had completely rebuilt an old space suit, making it spaceworthy, and become quite accomplished at electronics.  They only had a television in the house because he had built one — from scratch.

Their relationship when they met in person as prisoners aboard the stolen wormface space ship didn't start out perfectly.

/caption]

remake the images, and decided that I should redeem myself and do them right. In the originals, I had trouble getting Peewee's blond hair to render correctly. The book never says she's blond, but I pictured her that way for some reason the very first time I read the book when I was about eight, and she's stayed that way ever since. She just didn't look right with black hair. Since I was committed to doing them over, and have learned DAZ a lot better, you get the privilege of seeing the new images.

With the apologies out of the way, let's move on to Peewee.  But be warned!  Spoilers abound!

She is one of the main characters in Robert Heinlein's Have Space Suit, Will Travel, by far my favorite of his novels, at least of those I've read.  Heinlein has been criticized for being sexist in much of his writing, and from a 21st century perspective there might be some substance that argument.  But considering that he was born in 1907 and did a lot of his writing in the 1950s, when women were still rarely seen in media without aprons, I think he was rather ahead of his time.  Many of his female characters kick some serious butt.  Peewee is one of those.

You have to understand that she is eleven.  But she's a genius 11-year-old, who talks and thinks like any astrophysics major at a research university.  On the other hand, despite a propensity toward cockiness, she has an adorable touch of insecurity, clinging like a baby to her rag doll, Madame Pompadour.  That incongruity can't help but be interesting.  As her father puts it,

"She's twenty years old intellectually and six emotionally."

When the protagonist, Clifford "Kip" Russel, meets her, she has just stolen a flying saucer from a hidden alien base on the moon and flown it back to Earth.

Of course, Kip is no slouch himself.  As of that time, he had completely rebuilt an old space suit, making it spaceworthy, and become quite accomplished at electronics.  They only had a television in the house because he had built one — from scratch.

Their relationship when they met in person as prisoners aboard the stolen wormface space ship didn't start out perfectly.

"And howdy to you, Peewee. Uh, are you a boy or a girl?”

Peewee looked disgusted. “I’ll make you regret that remark. I realize I am undersized for my age but I’m actually eleven, going on twelve. There’s no need to be rude. In another five years I expect to be quite a dish — you’ll probably beg me for every dance.”

And then as they try to make their escape:

“What? Then you thought you had bamboozled their lock hours and hours ago — and you didn’t tell me?”

“That is correct.”

“Why, I ought to spank you!”

“I don’t advise it,” she said frostily. “I bite.”

She probably does, at that.  And, he'll probably beg her for every dance.

At first, Kip finds her quite a bit of an enigma, which makes sense because she is one.  He can't help but notice that she is dazzlingly intelligent, estimating time to the minutes and calculating in her head the halfway point to the moon at constant acceleration. But then again, he can't help but notice her streaks of immaturity.  Often, the two come hand in hand.

I eased out on elbows and knees, stood up and looked around. “Come on out,” I said quietly.

She started to, then backed up suddenly. She reappeared clutching that bedraggled dolly. “I almost forgot Madame Pompadour,” she said breathlessly.

I didn’t even smile.

“Well,” she said defensively, “I have to have her to get to sleep at night. It’s my one neurotic quirk — but Daddy says I’ll outgrow it.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Well, don’t look so smug! It’s not fetishism, not even primitive animism; it’s merely a conditioned reflex. I’m aware that it’s just a doll — I’ve understood the pathetic fallacy for ... oh, years and years!”

Nothing brings two people close together faster than an attempt to escape wormface captivity by a desperate trek 40 miles across the surface of the moon, especially when the smaller of them is wearing a cheap tourist space suit without enough oxygen to last the trip.  Kip has to use a lot of ingenuity here to keep her alive, by what method I will keep secret so that you read the book.  By the time it runs out, they have become closely bonded, like best friends, or brother and sister.

“I’m dizzy . . . and I don’t think I ... can walk.”

“You don’t have to, honey,” I said gently and picked her up in my arms.

“You don’t have to walk any farther.”

She didn’t weigh anything.

That  moment still brings tears to my eyes.  Now don't make the mistake of assuming that it's necessarily the boy who saves the girl.  Later on Pluto:

“Kip? Are you down this hole?”

Yes! Can’t you see me?” I saw her head against the light above.

“Uh, I can now. Oh, Kip, I’m so glad!”

“Then why are you crying? So am I!”

“I’m not crying,” she blubbered. “Oh Kip ... Kip.”

“Can you get me out?”

And then:

/caption]

"And howdy to you, Peewee. Uh, are you a boy or a girl?”

Peewee looked disgusted. “I’ll make you regret that remark. I realize I am undersized for my age but I’m actually eleven, going on twelve. There’s no need to be rude. In another five years I expect to be quite a dish — you’ll probably beg me for every dance.”

And then as they try to make their escape:

“What? Then you thought you had bamboozled their lock hours and hours ago — and you didn’t tell me?”

“That is correct.”

“Why, I ought to spank you!”

“I don’t advise it,” she said frostily. “I bite.”

She probably does, at that.  And, he'll probably beg her for every dance.

At first, Kip finds her quite a bit of an enigma, which makes sense because she is one.  He can't help but notice that she is dazzlingly intelligent, estimating time to the minutes and calculating in her head the halfway point to the moon at constant acceleration. But then again, he can't help but notice her streaks of immaturity.  Often, the two come hand in hand.

I eased out on elbows and knees, stood up and looked around. “Come on out,” I said quietly.

She started to, then backed up suddenly. She reappeared clutching that bedraggled dolly. “I almost forgot Madame Pompadour,” she said breathlessly.

I didn’t even smile.

“Well,” she said defensively, “I have to have her to get to sleep at night. It’s my one neurotic quirk — but Daddy says I’ll outgrow it.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Well, don’t look so smug! It’s not fetishism, not even primitive animism; it’s merely a conditioned reflex. I’m aware that it’s just a doll — I’ve understood the pathetic fallacy for ... oh, years and years!”

Nothing brings two people close together faster than an attempt to escape wormface captivity by a desperate trek 40 miles across the surface of the moon, especially when the smaller of them is wearing a cheap tourist space suit without enough oxygen to last the trip.  Kip has to use a lot of ingenuity here to keep her alive, by what method I will keep secret so that you read the book.  By the time it runs out, they have become closely bonded, like best friends, or brother and sister.

“I’m dizzy . . . and I don’t think I ... can walk.”

“You don’t have to, honey,” I said gently and picked her up in my arms.

“You don’t have to walk any farther.”

She didn’t weigh anything.

That  moment still brings tears to my eyes.  Now don't make the mistake of assuming that it's necessarily the boy who saves the girl.  Later on Pluto:

“Kip? Are you down this hole?”

Yes! Can’t you see me?” I saw her head against the light above.

“Uh, I can now. Oh, Kip, I’m so glad!”

“Then why are you crying? So am I!”

“I’m not crying,” she blubbered. “Oh Kip ... Kip.”

“Can you get me out?”

And then:

I heard a squeal and whirled around to see a wormface with one of those camera-like things aimed at me. Even though Tim had used one on me I didn’t realize what it was; for a moment. I froze.

But not Peewee. She launched herself through the air, attacking with both hands and both feet in the gallant audacity and utter recklessness of a kitten.

I need to impress upon you just what a wormface is.  Naturally, they are physically horrifying and repulsive to us humans; I visualize them as being evolved from a polychaete worm. Naturally, they plan to take over the Earth. Naturally, they intend to breed humans as food stock.  But it's the eyes. Three dark brown eyes that sap every last vestige of bravado and willpower like some demonic hypnotist.  You can't refuse to obey one.  It is impossible for me, in one to twenty short paragraphs, to express the degree of courage it took for Peewee to actually attack one.

Of course, Kip is man enough to realize and accept that this scrawny little girl has more practical experience in a space suit than he does.

Aye aye, Cap’n!”

“Don’t make fun of me, Kip. This is serious.”

“I wasn’t making fun, Peewee. You’re boss.”

By Pluto, though, the two are something of a couple, but without any explicit romantic component.  Either would willingly die to save the other.  Their closeness reaches a new level of propinquity shortly later.

 “Sure. Sure both. You’re going to be all right.” Suddenly her face screwed up. “Oh, you were a mess! I saw.”

“Pretty bad?”

“Awful. I have nightmares.”

“They shouldn’t have let you look.”

“They couldn’t stop me. I was next of kin.”

“Huh? You told them you were my sister or something?”

“What? I am your next of kin.”

I was about to say she was cockeyed when I tripped over my tongue. We were the only humans for a hundred and sixty trillion miles. As usual, Peewee was right.

 “So I had to grant permission,” she went on.

/caption]

I heard a squeal and whirled around to see a wormface with one of those camera-like things aimed at me. Even though Tim had used one on me I didn’t realize what it was; for a moment. I froze.

But not Peewee. She launched herself through the air, attacking with both hands and both feet in the gallant audacity and utter recklessness of a kitten.

I need to impress upon you just what a wormface is.  Naturally, they are physically horrifying and repulsive to us humans; I visualize them as being evolved from a polychaete worm. Naturally, they plan to take over the Earth. Naturally, they intend to breed humans as food stock.  But it's the eyes. Three dark brown eyes that sap every last vestige of bravado and willpower like some demonic hypnotist.  You can't refuse to obey one.  It is impossible for me, in one to twenty short paragraphs, to express the degree of courage it took for Peewee to actually attack one.

Of course, Kip is man enough to realize and accept that this scrawny little girl has more practical experience in a space suit than he does.

Aye aye, Cap’n!”

“Don’t make fun of me, Kip. This is serious.”

“I wasn’t making fun, Peewee. You’re boss.”

By Pluto, though, the two are something of a couple, but without any explicit romantic component.  Either would willingly die to save the other.  Their closeness reaches a new level of propinquity shortly later.

 “Sure. Sure both. You’re going to be all right.” Suddenly her face screwed up. “Oh, you were a mess! I saw.”

“Pretty bad?”

“Awful. I have nightmares.”

“They shouldn’t have let you look.”

“They couldn’t stop me. I was next of kin.”

“Huh? You told them you were my sister or something?”

“What? I am your next of kin.”

I was about to say she was cockeyed when I tripped over my tongue. We were the only humans for a hundred and sixty trillion miles. As usual, Peewee was right.

 “So I had to grant permission,” she went on.

Despite her intelligence, her cleverness, her knowledge, and her wisdom.... No, let me start that over. Her intelligence, her cleverness, her knowledge, and her wisdom are all the more impressive because of what they sometimes allow us to forget: that she is still a child. And when the time is right, when she is alone, she lets that side of herself out.

My rubber soles made no noise and I didn’t call out because Peewee might be asleep. Her door was open and I peeped in. She was sitting tailor-fashion on that incredible Oriental divan, rocking Madame Pompadour and crying.

I backed away, then returned whistling, making a racket, and calling to her. She popped out of her door, with smiling face and no trace of tears. “Hi, Kip! It took you long enough.”

You noticed, of course, that Kip was respectful of her pride and helped keep her façade in place.

Together, amidst their ever tightening relationship, they demonstrate the courage, loyalty, dedication, honesty, compassion, determination, helpfulness and sheer love that we come expect from our grandest heroes.  They are the very attributes that it turns out make the human race worth saving.  We might expect such characteristics from Kip because he is, practically, an adult, though I've known real-life recent high school graduates who demonstrated none of these.  But Peewee impresses me so much more because she is still a pre-adolescent, very much a child, and one who clings to a doll for security at that.  This is an age at which many young girls crash and burn under social pressure^/caption]

Despite her intelligence, her cleverness, her knowledge, and her wisdom.... No, let me start that over. Her intelligence, her cleverness, her knowledge, and her wisdom are all the more impressive because of what they sometimes allow us to forget: that she is still a child. And when the time is right, when she is alone, she lets that side of herself out.

My rubber soles made no noise and I didn’t call out because Peewee might be asleep. Her door was open and I peeped in. She was sitting tailor-fashion on that incredible Oriental divan, rocking Madame Pompadour and crying.

I backed away, then returned whistling, making a racket, and calling to her. She popped out of her door, with smiling face and no trace of tears. “Hi, Kip! It took you long enough.”

You noticed, of course, that Kip was respectful of her pride and helped keep her façade in place.

Together, amidst their ever tightening relationship, they demonstrate the courage, loyalty, dedication, honesty, compassion, determination, helpfulness and sheer love that we come expect from our grandest heroes.  They are the very attributes that it turns out make the human race worth saving.  We might expect such characteristics from Kip because he is, practically, an adult, though I've known real-life recent high school graduates who demonstrated none of these.  But Peewee impresses me so much more because she is still a pre-adolescent, very much a child, and one who clings to a doll for security at that.  This is an age at which many young girls crash and burn under social pressure^1], but not Peewee.  Her embodiment of the noblest character that humanity can offer in the face of horrifying circumstances that would drive most people mad — at such an age — is what makes her my favorite young girl in all of science fiction and fantasy.

I have it in my mind that in a few more years she and Kip get married.   I can't see it any other way.

^1] For an excellent discussion of some of the social psychology involved, see Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls.