Dan Simmon’s Ilium ended on a massive convergence
standing at an edge. Olympos, the conclusion to the duology,
pushes the story over—and then peers over the edge to make sure it is falling
with speed. Grand reveal following upon grand reveal, unrelated stories
becoming intertwined with familiar ones, and the plot filling out its grand
scope, if anything can be said of the concluding volume of the duology: it does
not short-change the reader on action and entertainment.
Picking up events a few months after the conclusion of Ilium,
the war between the mortals and the gods is in full swing at the start of Olympos.
Paris having died in the segue, the setting at Ilium opens with his funeral and
the behind-the-scenes scheming of sworn enemies now tenuously comrades in
arms. Holding Zeus by the hand and leading the Mighty One to a
rendezvous, Hera has plans of her own for the gods’ involvement in the war, none
of which make the circumstances any clearer. The moravecs, in collusion
with Hockenberry, have evaluated the situation on Mars and come to startling
new conclusions regarding the state of post-humans on the planet.
Reorienting their sights toward Earth, they take up a mission which, for
reasons few understand, requires one human. Who that will be, is even
more in question. And though their story only picks up in the second section,
matters likewise return to Earth where Harman, Ada, and Daeman attempt to deal
with the primitive life they suddenly find themselves living after the fall of
Prospero’s Isle at the end of Ilium. The voynix now in attack
mode, every bit of technology and knowledge they dredge up helps to keep the
mechanical menaces at bay and their safety ensured for another day. But
the horror Daeman discovers in an iced-over Paris just might cause the
remaining old-style humans to reconsider where the greatest danger lies.
Hockenberry having derailed The Iliad being
reenacted in Ilium, events in Olympos shift into the mode of The
Tempest—not The Odyssey, as one might think. Prospero,
Ariel, Setebos, Caliban, Sycorax, and others appear to share the spotlight with
the Greek gods and mortals. Eventually the disjointed stories are woven
together into a singular whole—both in the text and to some extent, the
sub-text. From a character perspective, Simmons now switches between
viewpoints at will; Achilles, Harman, Helen, and others are added, widening the
scope of the story to ensure the breadth of the space opera he envisions is
presented (just don’t expect the characters to be more than the thin
representations of Ilium). Thus from a story point of view, it is
seemingly impossible for the book to disappoint: the universe’s history is
intriguingly revealed one major piece at a time from a variety of viewpoints
and events pile up to another conclusion of convergent proportions—and this
time a real conclusion.
But where the integrity of Ilium was threatened by
the classics having been used as mere toys, Olympos entirely caves
in. The works of Homer, Shakespeare, Proust, and other historically
important writers are juggled for no purpose other than to dazzle the eyes. I’m
not stating that Simmons has failed to parallel his storylines with Shakespeare
or Homer’s, rather that the manner in which Simmons manifests the classics
serves purely entertainment rather than thematic aims. The comic book
elements, stabs at humor, weak characterization, and random quotes from said
writers of old fail to imbue the text with any sense of seriousness.
There is no doubt Simmons appreciates and understands these classic texts, I
merely doubt their usage in a space opera with commercial/entertainment goals.
The quantity of story is significant enough that themes
can be wrung from anywhere in the text. For every example, unfortunately, there
remains a counter example that throws the whole off-balance. Quotes from
Shakespeare, Keats and others are offset by such lines from Orphu the moravec
as: “I don’t have enough programming knowledge to hack into my sister’s diary…
if I had a sister or if she had a diary.” That Simmons has not sharpened
his style and continues to write lazy and tired text, doesn’t help. For
example the following description of Tartarus: “…Titans crashing and bellowing
through the gloom, and a sky filled with orange-limned clouds, wild lightning,
and other electrical displays.” And another line reads: “…columns of
water shooting up like Corinthian columns”. There is in fact one moment
where a couple of sonnets are quoted, followed two pages later with the description
of an Olympian god breaking wind. The poetry and classicism simply don’t fit
the fluffy narrative. (And the “adult” Snow White scenario wherein
a man must have sex with a woman to wake her from a long sleep is just plain
sensationalism.)
Suffice to say, Olympos, like Ilium, is
undecided stylistically. It never settles itself into a groove: is it
mainstream fiction or a cunning usage of the classics in a sci-fi
setting? This lack of focus hurts the duology. Virgil, Seneca,
Tennyson and others were never intended to have their ideas roasted over a fire
of cheesy humor, cartoonish action sequences, and pop culture references (James
Mason, The Godfather, The Wizard of Oz, Star Trek, and J. Edgar Hoover are just
some used this time around). Hyperion utilized Keats’ poetry but
never stooped so low as Krang brains (a la Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles),
mindless-droid wars, or under-handed cuts at Muslim fundamentalism (but perhaps
now I need a re-read?)
In the end, Olympos is a clever conclusion to the Ilium/Olympos
duology from a plot and spectacle standpoint. But overall it is a story
which prevents itself from being taken seriously by the mainstream tropes and
the superficial rather than at-depth usage of classic literature. When
asked whether it was necessary to have read The Iliad, The Tempest,
etc. to appreciate Ilium/Olympos, Simmons answered an emphatic ‘No.’ in
an interview, and it’s the truth. A vehicle for a wild milieu of sci-fi
tropes and motifs, the books are light entertainment that can be fully
appreciated for the scope of its space opera qualities, but lack substance
beyond. The overall Zelazny-esque feel to the story remains, while
likewise the homages continue—Jack Vance (the eiffelbahn) and Alfred Bester
(freefaxing) among them. Bottom line: those who loved Ilium will
find little wrong with Olympos, while those on the fence about the
former will at least find Simmons consistent in his shortcomings.
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