In my wild
mind, I often compare the job an editor has sequencing stories for an anthology
to a band sequencing songs for an album.
New bands often lump their better songs toward the beginning, hoping to
cash in on the splash, while the more experienced tend to use different tactics
to evoke a desired response. One such
tactic is to follow up a solid opener with a bit of mediocre material before
laying on the good stuff—an easing into the music as it were, such that the
last impression leaves the best impression.
While reading Ian Whates Solaris
Rising 3: The New Solaris Book of Science Fiction (Solaris, 2014) this
strategy took shape in my mind, and as the last several stories were absorbed,
I was convinced as to the tactic. But
then again, the beauty of science fiction anthologies is that everyone walks
away with a different opinion of what was good and what wasn’t…
Solaris Rising 3 opens on a strong note:
“When We Harvested the Nacre- Rice” by Benjanun Sriduangkaew, which is the
story of Pahayal and a woman she finds laying half-dead in a puddle near her
home. War raging between Pahayal’s land
and a neighbor, she isn’t surprised to learn the woman, named Etiesse, is a
soldier. But it isn’t until the two
visit a weapons’ museum and an attack takes place that Pahayal learns exactly
what kind of soldier Etiesse is. The
line of story playing out steadily and evenly, with ripples of poetic prose
here and there, Pahayal’s tale, for as minimalist as it is on the surface, tugs
subtly at something deeper, more emotional, and certainly more
anthropological. Set in an intriguing
setting where the ocean lies just a meter beneath the soil and ethereal,
unearthly creatures emerge from pools in the night, “The Goblin Hunter” by
Chris Beckett has a wonderfully described backdrop. Set in his Lutania world, a
young woman is tasked with keeping the locals under control as they needlessly
hunt and kill native species for reasons of superstition. Beckett’s agenda an obvious one—and one that,
in fact, should be propagated further, I remain, however, wishful that the
characters and their dialogue were closer to mimetic such that the impact and
heights of profundity aimed at could have been better achieved. Carrying on with the idea of cultural
intrusion, “Homo Floresiensis” by Ken Liu is the story of the grad student
Benjamin and what happens when his ornithology studies in Indonesia are
sidetracked by the discovery of some very unique bones. Though ending in a manner unqiue to Liu, the
question remains: does the simplicity of plot and character bear the heady
weight of the theme?
Continuing
on with the mediocrity is “A Taste for Murder” by Julie Czernada. The story of a police inspector and their
attendance at a funeral that may or may not have been murder, the suspects and
motives unravel in the course of the food-laden ceremony. While stylistically appealing, the core story
is run of the mill (as is the standard usage of biomod concept at this stage in
sci-fi’s evolution). “Double Blind” by Tony Ballantyne is a one-trick pony. The
story of a group of people voluntarily subjecting themselves to medical
experimentation, the Big Brother watching over them becomes more and more
mysterious as the experiment goes on and people in the group start dying. It’s possible this one went waaaaay over my
head, but it’s also possible it’s as simple as it appears. Another one-off, “The Mashup” by Sean
Williams is the story of a man leaving a bar.
After catching the name of a track that he liked that evening, he
notices a black sphere hangs above his head.
Out on the street, he notices other have similar spheres above,
following them. As time progresses, the
black spheres are joined by other colors, red and blue, and, they appear to be
taking bites of reality. But what does
it all mean? Listening to the track just
might hold the answer. I’m a fan of Sean
Williams, this story, however, is more of a gimmick and possesses little re-read
value.
I know
much of the sf world is in love with Aliette de Bodard, but I just don’t see
what all the fuss is about. Competent,
yes. Readable, yes. Worth reading, at
times yes. Yet there is nothing about
the writing that sets her significantly apart.
Certainly every aspect is infused with Vietnam, (which
could get old very quick if reading a de Bodard collection—should one ever
appear) and occasionally she can infuse a story with a wonderfully human agenda, but most of her short fiction is standard, i.e. been there, done
that sci-fi. While never directly stated
but apparent given the content, “The Frost on Jade Buds”, de Bodard’s offering
for Solaris Rising 3, is an homage to
Iain Banks. The tale of one sister’s
search for another aboard an AI mindship, it is one of those stories which
throws random tech into scenes to propel the action, no overriding system of
logic how the elements work with one another save the magic of AI.
There are de Bodard shorts with more depth...
“Popular
Images from the First Manned Mission to Enceladus” by Alex Dally MacFarlane is
a piece which documents the first scientific mission to Saturn’s satellite
Enceladus. Likewise lacking full
coherency, it is unable to balance the details of the span of time covered while
conveying a proper sense of humanity. Or, to put it concretely, by using
posterizable wording as the leitmotif, the reader never has a chance to get
close enough to the characters to empathize.
Yet, as the story is about scientists going through life’s major
milestones far, far from Earth, empathy is precisely the desired effect. While stylistically superb, “Red Lights, and
Rain” by Gareth L. Powell remains a story of a girl traveled through time to
kill a vampire. For me, that is ‘nuff
said. But for the more mainstream reader
of genre, certainly the manner in which Powell unveils the story (his attention
to detail, pacing, use of tropes, sense of drama, etc.) will appeal. If time travel and vampire hunters are your
thing, go for it. Laura Lam’s “They Swim
through Sunset Seas” had the same effect.
Likewise feeling like a Golden Age throwback, it is the story of two
underwater researchers who push alien research a little too far. The story possesses zero depth—despite the
underwater theme (boo…)—and can only be read for the buildup of suspense. Otherwise, relevancy is sorely lacking.
It’s
“Faith Without Teeth” by Ian Watson that begins to right an anthology that was
starting to list to starboard—not correct the course, but at least wake up the
steersman. An exotic piece whose meaning
is wrapped up in the absurdity of North Korean-style communism, it is more art
than fiction, but at least aims for something beyond genre redux. Perhaps the best story in the collection,
“Thing and Sick” by Adam Roberts is the story that really gets Solaris Rising 3 moving in the right (read: engaging) direction. Two researchers sit out long nights in
Antarctica on a SETI project. Though
maintaining radios and machinery, cables and computers, free time only serves
to widen the divide in their personalities.
One an introverted fanatic of Kant, the other a more extroverted pop
culture kind of guy, trouble brews when the latter agrees to sell the former
one of the letters he receives in their weekly mail drops. Possessing just the right tinge of something-ness
to make the book science fiction, Roberts amalgamates philosophy, suspense, the
isolation of Antarctica, and a character study in a truly compelling story. And
the last line? Beautifully slingshot. “The Sullen Engines” by George Zebrowski
takes the baton of Roberts’ piece and runs with it. A work of cutting social commentary that sees
one woman’s wish come true: to eliminate the environmental and physical danger
that cars represent with a thought, it’s likewise an atypical piece
prosaically.
Like Powell’s
story, Cat Sparks “Dark Harvest” is stylistically engaging, and works with
larger-than-life genre elements. But
only at first. Transmuting into
something entirely unpredictable, the opening, which features of a group of
mercenaries on a foreign planet that could have come straight from a Hollywood
action flick, winds its way to a soft-spoken conclusion that warrants
re-reading. Acid rain pouring down with
war thundering in the distance, the mercenaries watching nuns cremate a corpse
on the battlefield outside their tent is only the beginning. “Fift and Shria” Benjamin Rosenbaum is a
bizarre story that plays with gender in abstract fashion. Rosenbaum’s prose a little flat but able to
get from point A to B, the story appears a plea for something more universally
human than gender. Seemingly everything
Ian Macleod touches turns to gold, and his collaboration “The Howl” with Martin
Sketchley is no different. The story of an
Australian woman visiting London for the first time, the news she bears to an unsuspecting host is balm in inverse form.
Invoking strong nostalgia for the Cold War days of the RAF, it is the
highly personal story of a mentally beleagured father and his estranged
daughter taking their next steps in life after the death of the mother. Possessing all of Macleod’s feel for the
humanist elements of story and (perhaps?) Sketchley’s love of yesteryear
aircraft in Britain, the story is heartfelt and never plays cheaply.
Written in
the author’s elegant prose, “The Science of Chance” by Nina Allan is a police
investigation into the origins of a girl found at the Vasilievsky train station
that ends up being an investigation of much more. Aside from the fact this is far from the
first time somebody has employed the narrative device the revelatory moment the
story is dependent upon, everything else about this piece is wonderfully
done—the prose, the pacing, the precise unveiling of backdrop and personal
matters, the structure, and ultimately, its humanism. “Endless” by Rachel Swirsky closes out the
anthology in a burst of smoke and fire—literally. A science fiction twist on the famous Triangle
Shirtwaist Factory fire in NYC in 1911, virtual post-humans are taught the
meaning of being corporeal by participating in fully sensual, first person
experiences of the 146 victims. A harsh
yet important lesson, the value of life gets across to the post-humans as well
as the reader.
In the
end, Solaris Rising 3 is an anthology
that opens by dabbling in commonplace science fiction (aside from Sriduangkaew’s
opener, that is), but at the halfway point ramps up to fresher comport and
stirring interest. In keeping with the
two (and a half) previous Solaris Rising
anthologies, Whates has kept the variety factor high (there is something for
every fan of sf), his quality of authors mostly high (a few of the stories are
lacking here and there, but overall are among some of the best writing in the
field today), and, as hinted in the intro, his skills as editor rewarding for
those with patience to see the anthology through. While not every story has chance to be
nominated, I wouldn’t be surprised to see one or two hit a nomination ballot in
2015 or the year's best anthologies.
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