It’s
always disheartening in doing post-reading for a novel to encounter reviews
that cannot be surpassed. Therefore,
knowing any effort I throw at M. John Harrison’s Nova Swing (2006) cannot compare to John Clute’s superb
review on The Guardian, I will
instead offer complementary impressions.
It goes without saying, if you are interested in Nova Swing, read Clute’s review first, and if you don’t immediately
go out and buy the novel and are still interested in additional opinion, come
back.
Undoubtedly,
many readers who loved Harrison’s The Pastel City were thrown off by the sudden left turn the follow up novel, A Storm of Wings, took. Harrison not a writer to be slotted into any
particular niche, readers looking for more from Light in the follow up Nova
Swing should accordingly open their minds to the idea Nova Swing is an entirely different experience.
Noir
concentrate, Nova Swing focuses on
the lives and exploits of a handful of characters hanging around the spaceport
of Saudade. Seeming perpetually night,
the streets are bathed in neon glow—precisely as the cover captures. A detective investigates strange occurrences
within the Kefahuchi Zone. A barkeeper
contemplates her own direction in life watching the exploits of her
clientele. A trade operative attempts to
profit from contraband smuggled from the Zone.
And a handful of other characters fill out the story, all attempting to
deal with the haze of ambiguity living within the Kefehuchi tract.
Though
working with an entirely different aesthetic, Nova Swing nevertheless works with a similar palette of ideas as
the Strugatsky brothers’ Roadside Picnic. Harrison giving tribute in the opening
epigraphs, he utilizes the idea of unfathomable alien artifacts in the hands of
humanity as a way of exposing deeper anxieties and instincts in the face of
uncertainty. The Strugatskies centering
their story around the plight of one man in a rural setting, Harrison expands
the view to bring in several key characters, all in a ‘swinging spaceport’
motif he makes wholly his own. While the
writing style may occasionally be a little flat, Harrison remains highly
successful driving the character concerns, particularly their inherent
humanity, making Nova Swing not
imitation, rather a wonderful companion piece to Roadside Picnic.
I
loved the metaphor represented by the people who emerged fresh into existence
each night from the bathroom of the jazz club.
Blinking, stumbling, and bumbling their way into life, some faded into
bordellos for moments of pleasure while others attempt to hang around a while
longer, trying to find permanence in life.
The night club scene one almost entirely existent in the moment, these
new people’s perplexity at the necessities and realities of life in the past
and future is a superb realization of any lost generation’s problems, and
indeed a fantastical symbol echoing Harrison’s seeming lack of faith in
humanity.
Light was M. John Harrison’s take on
space opera that simultaneously embraced and undercut the motif. Nova
Swing is something different.
Harrison not ostensibly trying to subvert any genre or sub-genre, what
the reader encounters is a superb specimen of science fiction noir that tells an
effectively unsettling tale of humanity attempting to come to terms with the
unknown.
Now,
if you didn’t listen to me at the beginning, do yourself a favor and go read
John Clute’s review.
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