And while the clipped ‘stache and heavily-greased forelock are the Fuhrer’s trademarks for personal style, it’s inevitable that a sharply-edged color-scheme of red, white, and black banners and bunting play an equal part in defining the Nazi backdrop. Hitler not a stupid man, he was aware of the power of art toward helping define an ideology’s image—a visual commonality to abstract concepts. Going back to the previous world war, James Morrow’s The Asylum of Dr. Caligari (2017, Tachyon) takes a metaphorically satirical look at said power.
It’s 1913 and Francis Wyndham, in a flurry of youthful exuberance, abandons
his life in Pennsylvania as a would-be artist and heads to gay Paris, hoping to
become apprentice to the great one himself, Picasso. Kicked out the door before
he even has a chance to collect his portfolio, Wyndham must switch to plan
B. Given an intriguing offer by another
artist, Wyndham heads to Luxembourg through a cloud of impending war in Europe,
and the asylum run by the strange Dr. Caligari.
Outbreak imminient, Wyndham settles into his role as the asylum’s master
artisan, but not without bits of mystery, including patients who may be more
sane than they appear, as well as the twinkle-eyed Dr. Caligari’s own
late-night painting projects. And then
the crescendo of war breaks…
Friday, June 23, 2017
Monday, June 19, 2017
The transition from the Silver Age of science fiction to the New Age brought with it a change in perspective on mankind’s chances in space. Where Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke and others took a Betty Crocker life in the solar system and beyond as par for the course, Ballard, Malzberg, and other authors had a more jaded view of our prospects. The 70s saw something of a return to space fervor, but cyberpunk in the 80s once again put a grittily realistic spin on humanity’s relationship to technology, socio-political evolution, and life in space. A lot of cyberpunk’s focus related to street tech and life, cybernetic enhancements, and data hacking thanks to the success of William Gibson, it’s easy to forget that its aspirations were broader in aim. Lewis Shiner’s 1984 Frontera, on top of being a debut novel, is a prime example of cyberpunk that does not fit the classic mold in aesthetic terms, yet adheres to its political and human tenets wonderfully.
With the collapse of world government in the face of mega-corporations, society has drastically changed form, and many public programs have fallen by the wayside. One such program is the terraforming Mars mission—the colonists essentially left on their own by Earth, NASA now disbanded. But one of the mega-corps, Pulsystems, has caught wind of a new technology that has evolved on Mars, and sends a ship with a few choice personnel, including the strange Kane, to learn more—in secret, if possible. Arriving planetside, Kane begins spending time among the colonists, digging ever deeper into their strange fabric to learn if any new tech exists, even as his own mind, and what strange things implanted by Pulsystems, threatens to shoot off course.
Posted by Jesse at 7:01 AM
Monday, June 12, 2017
Short review: Biopunk mythopoeia better a novella
Long review: While many genre fans were already aware of Jeff VanderMeer thanks to his years of writing and editing short stories as well as his novel-length works in the Ambergris setting, it was the Area X: Southern Reach trilogy which put VanderMeer’s name on the broader map of fiction. Almost universally well-received, the three 2014 novels appeared in genre awards lists as well mainstream bestseller lists. The three written and released in a very short period of time, it’s no surprise VanderMeer took a long break before releasing his next novel, 2017’s Borne. Trouble is, was it too much time, or too much expectation for the follow-up?
A focused look at two people embedded in a near-future setting twisted Weird by advances in bio-technology, Borne opens with a woman, Rachel, scavenging for survival in a post-Collapse Earth. Finding a small, blue-green blob-plant creature, she names it Borne and takes it home to her erstwhile companion, Wick. Wick a drug dealer for the mutant bear overlord named Mord, he brews his bio-narcotics in an abandonded swimming pool. Wanting to dissect Borne rather than nurture and raise him, Wick believes Borne is one of the many discarded creations of the Company, a biotech corp largely responsible for the ecological Collapse. But Rachel convinces Wick to let the little creature live, and soon enough, it starts growing and learning. Thing is, what kind of world is Borne growing up into?
Posted by Jesse at 11:35 AM
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
Short review: eco-feminist manifesto
Long review: I find myself at odds with the vast majority of the rhetoric in the contemporary political scene. I shake my head in amazement and fear at many of the statements made by both mega-conservatives and extreme liberals. I do not think a wall along the Mexican border is an answer to America’s immigration/financial problems, nor do I think gender is fluid, something possible to ignore or forget. Regarding the latter, I’m mystified by voices which would have us all be pan-sexual—in physical form and in orientation. Such voices seem to be ignoring key elements of being human, namely that we are first animals, secondly civilized, and that understanding and working with this hierarchy as best we can is the way forward, not pretending it doesn’t exist. But this is just one of the main reasons Lidia Yuknavitch’s 2017 novel The Book of Joan is so damn intriguing.
Heavily introspective atavism in space, The Book of Joan focuses on the life of Christine, prisoner in a panopticon orbiting Earth. Earth nearly destroyed by nuclear war, she is sexless, genderless, and has had her skin reduced to a papery white by exposure to radiation. Watched day-in and day-out by affluent overseers in the station, she awaits her fiftieth birthday, a point at which her body will be recycled for its water. That day fast approaching, Christine decides to write a chronicle of her experiences on Earth with the despot Jean de Mar, the man who played a strong role in bringing about the nuclear destruction, and Joan, the young woman who opposed him. Christine tattooing the story on her body, it’s only appropriate the resulting perspective is likewise corporeal.
Posted by Jesse at 11:54 AM
Friday, June 2, 2017
Sometimes I’m behind the times, and with Robert Jackson Bennett’s 2014 City of Stairs, for certain I am—or was. Distrusting the extreme hype upon release, I waited for the novel to settle a little in cultural memory, and in 2017 finally got around to it, (noting, with even more suspicion that the sequel City of Blades did not have the same level of reader response.) Worth the hype? Let’s see…
City of Stairs is contemporary epic fantasy, equal parts Neil Gaiman, J.K. Rowling, and China Mieville (on his monster days). Featuring magic and spells, alternate worlds, and old-world gods, all driven by a classic murder mystery plot, Bennett covers familiar market material while creating a world partially unique—at least unique enough. He avoids a good vs. evil dichotomy by adding human detail to an occupied city setting, but keeps most of the focus on plot progression, fantastical reveals, numinous objects, military invasions, and a grand climax that is the stuff of classic epic fantasy.
Posted by Jesse at 11:08 AM