Non-fiction: Review of Wisdom of the Mythtellers by Sean Kane

Journey to the West, one of the ‘four great novels of the Chinese canon’, is most often attributed to Wu Chengen.  Author and title requisite for fiction these days, most take for granted that indeed, he is the one who penned the story.  Wu is, in fact, the person who collected, collated, fit, polished, and presented in finished form the myriad pieces of the magnificent tale of Sun Wukong, Sanzang, and their quest for the holy sutras.  The original story having undergone thousands of iterations by street corner storytellers, the result is a narrative that holds its history in episodic rather than escalating form.

But this simple transition in the evolution of storytelling in China, from oral to written tradition, is but one minor—and late—step in the history of storytelling as a whole.  Before street corner storytellers were bards, and before bards, shamans, and before shamans simple gossip over the campfire—thousands and thousands of years of human culture and existence covered in this simple statement.  Tracing story and myth all the way back to its roots, another observation can be made in the manner in the evolution of stories: humanity’s subservience, or lack thereof, to nature.  From the Paleolithic to the Mesolithic, Neolithic to the Bronze, Iron to the Information Age, humanity, an idea in this context identified by the West, has shifted its stance on the power of the Earth and its inherent forces.  Where once gods inhabited every rock and shadow, it was whittled down to a pantheon, and from the pantheon, distilled into one ruling god, and from one god to the belief mankind holds its fate in its own hands.  Science fiction the mode of discourse which most obviously represents the latter, we are left with scraps and tatters of what remains of the former.  Enter Sean Kane’s Wisdom of the Mythtellers (1998).

Review of "The State of the Art" by Iain M. Banks

The State of the Art is a collection of short fiction by Iain Banks written between’84 and ’87.  Surprisingly, it is the only such collection the author has published.  Given Banks’ fourteen mainstream novels and twelve sci-fi novels, one would expect a much larger output of short stories and novellas.  Continuing to defy expectation, all the stories in the collection (save one) are science fiction—the genre for which he is less known.  The following is a brief summary of the eight stories (three of which are Culture related).

“Road of Skulls” – Not a story in any conventional sense, the collection opens with the bickering of Mc9 and a companion whose name “he’d never bothered to find out” while they sit on the back of a cart being pulled over a road paved with enemy skulls.  A short, macabre tribute to storytelling.

Review of "Matter" by Iain M. Banks

Unlike many science fiction series which tend to work linearly, continuing the story lines of favorite characters book after book, Iain Banks’ Culture series has the benefit of being open to any variety of new characters, settings, and plots.  Like pieces of a pie, with each new Culture offering, more of the Banks’ universe is set before the reader.  Fresh tech, new AI personalities, and whole, previously unexplored corners of his galaxy are exposed in detail.  After six books and an eight year hiatus from the series, Banks returns in 2008 with Matter, proving there is still plenty more pie to be eaten.  

Matter is the story of the three Hausk siblings: the oldest Anaplian, the middle Ferbin, and the youngest, Oramen.  Born and raised on the middle level of an artificial planet structured like an onion (called Sursamen), life is not always easy.  Their quality of life existing at a state circa the US Civil War, steam power, rifles, and the telegraph are beginning to take shape, but battles are still largely fought with horse and sword.  After witnessing the murder of their father the king, Ferbin runs into exile and attempts to escape to the surface of Sursamen and ask their sponsor species for help in revenge.  Believing his father to have been killed in battle, Oramen, too young to take power, willingly allows the rebel tyl Loesp regency but soon finds himself evading assassination. 

Review of "Excession" by Iain M. Banks

Let’s skip the highty-flighty, atmospheric float of intros and get right to the point.  Iain M. Banks’ 1996 Excession is gosh-wow, sense-wunda science fiction that pushes the limits of the genre as far into the imagination – and future - as any book has.  The AI ship-minds, post-human world-is-your-oyster humanity, and incredible roster of engine speeds, galaxies, drones, weaponry, biological possibilities, planets, orbitals, etc., etc. of previous books have been topped.  Banks took a look at the savory milieu of the Culture, cocked his head and asked: “How can I up the ante?”  The titular ‘excession’ is the answer.

Arthur C. Clarke’s brilliant Rendezvous with Rama sees humanity attempting to quantify and understand a BDO (big dumb object) that comes sailing through the solar system one day.  In Excession, Banks introduces a similar concept.  Despite having hyper-precise and ultra-technical scanning and analysis tools, the eminently advanced tech-gods of the far-future known as the Culture likewise have difficulty penetrating the 50km black sphere which suddenly appears in a back corner of space.  And so while a handful of characters and species attempt to control the object for their own devices, for the first time in the Culture series the AI ship-minds take center stage as protagonists.

And Banks wholly succeeds.  While the AI mind can exist in imagination only, the author relays the actions and thoughts of these oddball personalities in delicately balanced and wholly relatable fashion that is as realistic as imaginative far-future might be.  On one hand the ship-minds are presented as ‘Other’, something totally exclusive and unidentifiable to the human experience, while on the other, base virtue and vice tint their conduct in an undeniably familiar manner.  At times witty, at times eccentric, and at others just plain human, Banks takes a choice selection of interesting personalities in Excession and uploads them into technical constructs.  The resulting AI minds treat unlimited access to technology, control of the environment, and the complete freedom of movement as though they were toys.  Inter-ship dialogue and behavior not only stimulating, novel, and amusing, they are also brilliant commentary on the potentiality of AI evolution. 

Without giving away too many of the major plot milestones, there are a handful of ships which take the spotlight as the sentient universe investigates the mysterious black sphere.  The Sleeper Service has spent several centuries as a drifting cryolab/artist, recreating scenes of famous battles using the hibernating bodies of humans. Grey Area (called Meatfucker by the other ships for the degree to which it is willing to interact with biological life) is an avid collector of torture instruments.  Attitude Adjuster, while upon first reveal comes across as simply traitorous, later proceeds along a course no one but Banks could plot.  These and several other ships paint the novel in colors of mechanical culture sci-fi has never seen.

Added to this mix and taking a backseat (Har!) to the ship-minds are a handful of human characters.  Living out wholly human stories in Banks’ far-future world, their post-scarcity freedom does nothing to utopian-ize the emotive side of life.  Genar-Hofoen, while first coming across as smug and impersonal, later reveals a side of his personality that will have readers raising an eyebrow in respect.  The eternally pregnant and brooding Dajeil has a story that may not draw much sympathy, but remains wholly relatable.  And no summary of the book would be complete without a brief mention of the newly introduced species, the Affront.  Brash, chauvinistic, and aggressive at every turn, they spit in the face of such ideas as ‘civilized’.  A major player in the game to exploit/steal/attack/destroy the ultimate truth of the black sphere, the Affront are despicably good reading that Banks is able to subvert in utterly satisfying fashion upon denouement.

In the end, Excession is meaty sci-fi that readers can really sink their teeth into, and for others, including myself, approaches a pinnacle of what sci-fi in its purest might be.  Dan Simmons divided AIs into three factions in Hyperion, Banks fragments them further into individual minds, and as a result, the ships’ reactions to the unexplainable BDO appearing suddenly in a universe they dominate - not a competitor in sight - is simply great sci-fi and not to be missed for fans of the genre.  The ship-to-ship banter - highly reminiscent of Vance’s overly formal, comedic dialogue – is just the icing on the cake.  While Banks may aim to entertain, Excession is more than just fun.  A line is crossed somewhere, just not sure whether it’s into literary land, or another dimension… of storytelling.  Does anyone do far future better than Banks?

Review of "Surface Detail" by Iain M. Banks

Virtual hell.  It’s an expression used everyday, from street fighting in the Middle East to an awful day at work.  But what if it were actually possible?  What if a person’s psyche could be inserted into a virtual hell as punishment for an immoral life in reality?  Bringing Dante’s Inferno into Stardate 55.673, virtual hell is just one of the ideas shaping Iain Banks’ eighth Culture novel, Surface Detail.  Rounding off the pile are Banks’ usual assortment of intriguing AI ships, fantastical set pieces, techy space battles, and individual tales of honor, revenge, and duty.  There comes a point, however, where the book is about what was excluded, not included.

Surface Detail tells of the decades-long war the opponents of virtual hells have been waging against its creators.  The moral rectitude of civilly controlled hells the main point of contention, the “War for Heaven” is being simulated inside a neutrally-controlled virtual environment and is drawing to a head as the novel opens.  With factions and sub-factions on both sides beginning to take their subterfuge into reality, bloodshed is about to be for real.

Standing on the sidelines of the war at the book’s opening is the entrepreneur, overseer of the planet Sultucht, and planet’s richest man, Joiler Veppers.  Nothing ambiguous about him, Veppers is grade A evil.  Cementing his position at the top of the bad-guy heap is the treatment of his chattel, the omni-tattooed Lededje.  The unspeakable crimes he commits against her, obvious to say, set one of the themes of the book from the very first chapter: revenge.  Lededje’s travels on this path provide the second main storyline.

And there are additional stories to be told.  Along with Veppers and Lededje, the story of the soldier Vatueil appears - again, and again. A fighter in the “War for Heaven”, he is re-inserted into the virtual environment every time he dies, culminating in perhaps the first experience of reincarnation blues in literature.   The mysterious Yime likewise plays a part in the overall story, keeping the Culture abreast of not only Lededje’s progress, but Veppers and the advances he makes in society.

While previous Culture novels have been uniquely inventive, Surface Detail sees that brightness of imagination fade.  Banks borrowing more than creating, the tours people are brought on of hell as an incentive to live morally upright lives run easy parallels to Dante.  The neural laces acting as soul-catchers, able to digitally capture a person’s persona for later restoration in another body, are firmly in the footsteps of Greg Egan and Richard Morgan.  Under-ice missions, miniaturized ship battles, and armored suits are just more examples of worn ideas.  And so while Banks includes many Culture tropes from previous books, the remainder point at a weary imagination in need of a refresh. 

On that note, virtual hell is a great idea; but Banks dresses it in nothing less than pan-Christian clothes.  The visual cues, though more visceral, are very much of the demon and devil, hellfire and brimstone variety the pope warns of.  As a result, Surface Detail’s hell feels like an ornate vase sitting on the shelf without flowers: all form, no function.  By utilizing such a familiar and morally charged plot device, the reader expects at least a minimum of overt or between-the-lines discussion on the nature of good and evil.  Banks, however, never moves in that direction, using the hells instead to motivate the larger war, fiery proceedings pushed to the background. 

And there are other wasted opportunities.  While Inversions sees Banks touching upon poignant human issues, at no time does he delve into the authoritarian notion of hell as retributive justice (the rational, post-enlightenment variety) in Surface Detail.  Instead, he remains fixed on the less ambiguous, more morally transparent religious view of “hell as punishment”.  As a result, the book does not go into any of the ambiguity regarding who goes and who doesn’t, who judges, and how long eternity is, exactly.  None of these questions are examined, disconnecting the idea of virtual hell from the theme.  It is sensational, but plays no deeper role.  Thus, by turning a blind eye to the sticky moral and social aspects, Banks simply plays off the more easily digested religious/cartoon side of hell.  To the author's credit, however, Vatueil’s story does cut at something deeper in Buddhist beliefs of the afterlife.

In the end, Surface Detail is a safe novel, but one wherein the reader feels a little cheated that virtual hell ended up playing second fiddle to a larger but more standard sci-fi war.  Despite utilizing commonly understood notions of Buddhist and Christian afterlife, Banks never takes the time to unpack the moral and social implications of having a network of virtual hells, instead using these ideas as mere plot devices, minor in comparison to a war which climaxes in a rather pedestrian, been-there-done-that space battle.  Good and evil deserve so much more with hell in play.  That being said, Banks’ usual flair for language, fantastically realized scenes, singular take on space tech, and relatable characters are once again on display.  Though not able to fill the shoes it wears, Surface Detail at least remains able to get you were you’re going.

Review of "Inversions" by Iain M. Banks

Like Excession, Use of Weapons, The Player of Games, Iain M. Banks' 1998 Inversions continues to prove not only that the reader should expect the unexpected, but goes one step further.  Explicitly starting out to write “a Culture novel that wasn’t a Culture novel”, the novel will undoubtedly divide fans of the series.  Likely to be categorized fantasy by someone who knows nothing of the Culture, knowledgeable fans would sympathize upon finishing the work.  There is a medieval feel to the royalty, court intrigue, sword fights and beautiful damsels, boys growing up to become men, and a few “supernatural” events that bend the story beyond realism.  However, astute readers will recognize something deeper happening beneath the deceptively simple façade Banks has erected and realize the book is something more.  That something more is not only the Culture, but the makings of a book which also steps foot into the realm of literary fantastika.

Inversions is told from two alternating viewpoints.  The first is of Oleph, an apprentice to the doctor, Vollis.  Vollis the king’s physician, the pair regularly attend to the king’s aches and pains, learning of the happenings in neighboring kingdoms, fiefs, and dukedoms in the process.  But it is ultimately the doctor’s involvement in larger political affairs and her status as a woman in a world of men which build the suspense, culminating in a situation neither she or the reader can foresee.  The second point of view is of the man DeWar.  Bodyguard to another king, UrLeyn, DeWar takes a more relaxed view of life.  Rather than meddling with the affairs of the protectorate, he performs his duties, no more, no less.  And he performs them well.  An assassination attempt always just around the next corner, UrLeyn’s enemies constantly keep DeWar on his toes.  Try as hard as he likes to stick only to his job, DeWar is inevitably drawn in, however, his path crossing Vollis’ in a twist that Banks effortlessly pulls to close out the novel.

Glaringly pared down from the detail of Excession, Inversions is on the surface a lean, forthright novel.  But don’t let this fool you.  As the title implies, juxtaposition is the main line upon which the story’s elements are divided.  Banks delineates a variety of analogous relationships.  Leaving detailed elements of plot for the reader to discover, suffice to say the actions of the doctor Vollis reflect a reverse image of DeWar’s, the end results of each turning out like neither had hoped.  One feels they are wielding influence, only to confront the larger web they’re intrinsically and inescapably a part of, while the other maintains position, but ends up acting out of conscience against their wishes.

To speak or not to speak in situations that do not directly involve you?  To act or not to act when the immediate circumstances have no direct bearing on yourself?  Similar to whether or not Western doctors should help Africans, Banks asks some profound questions in Inversions regarding the wisdom of actively and inactively involving one’s self in the affairs of others, cultural included.  African children may have better health as a result of allowing Western doctors access, but they lose their cultural soul in the process.  Native songs they’ve sung for millennia are in a short time replaced Britney Spears or whatever boy band happens to be popular.  Similarly, by allowing Africans to develop in isolation from Western influence, health suffers while cultural value increases.  Where is the balance?  How to weigh the value of each?  Banks attempts to answer this question in Inversions, and depending on mindset, readers will nod or shake their heads.

And there are additional, complementary layers to theme of "inversion", as well.  Western vs. Eastern teachings (e.g. Christianity vs. Daoism or Buddhism) are readily apparent, as are many concepts innate to Greek mythology: powerful personas overseeing and intruding upon the affairs of lesser beings to a result not always intended.  (Ursula Le Guin's The Lathe of Heaven covers very similar thematic territory.) Clicking at such a number of levels, the analogous relationship between theme and plot is the biggest part of the book’s success, as well as its ticket into literary fantastika.
 
If the novel has any major faults it’s the lack of re-readability.  Plot-wise, everything fits perfectly in place, but once the cats are out of the bag, nothing is left to discover.  Banks leaves a few breadcrumbs which can enlighten or deepen the dialogue upon a second read.  But with everything presented in clear, transparent fashion, the book is a unit of text, highly enjoyable for what it is, but lacking in incentive to re-read.  A possible secondary blemish to the book is its lack of background details.  Medieval-type fantasies depending to a large part on worldbuilding, Banks focuses on character development rather than the setting, and as a result some readers may feel short-changed that not enough details of the background were described. I did not.

In the end, Inversions is a perfectly configured novel.  The book is consistent in plot development, style, title, and tone – which is not something to be said for some later Culture novels.  Though the plot motifs seem typical epic fantasy, the book never has the feel of Tolkien, Jordan, Martin, or others.  It remains Banks’ all along, the sci-fi edge of the Culture constantly lingering just beneath the surface.  Playing with the genre’s tropes, the resulting novel is a meaningful and human story that does not belie typical fantasy storytelling, and Culture or not, is one of the strongest books in Banks’ oeuvre, realist or sci-fi.  As such, the book can be enjoyed by anyone, but those familiar with the Culture will have a deeper understanding of the events which occur.  In fact, of all the Culture novels, this one seems to most heavily depend on prior knowledge.

Review of "The Algebraist" by Iain M. Banks

Over the top villain. Check.  Strange and funny alien races.  Check.  Quest for singular object that leads through space.  Check.  Multitudes of battlecruisers, space wings, and dreadnaughts converging at a single point.  Check.  Boxes ticked, Iain M. Banks makes no bones about it: The Algebraist is unabashed space opera, for better and worse.

The Algebraist, the 20th novel and 8th sci-fi offering in Bank’s oeuvre, tells the story of Fassin Taak, a scholar who spends his time in the atmosphere of a gas giant interacting with the native species called Dwellers.  A smaller version of the blimp-like floaters Banks created in Look to Windward, the Dwellers live for millions and billions of years, accumulating knowledge, enjoying life, and remaining aloof of the cyclical rise and fall of power humanity and other species experience.  When word gets out that the Dwellers may be owners of a secret document containing the coordinates of wormholes which would interconnect the whole universe, multiple groups and species head to the gas giant, Nasqueron, to get their hands on it – by coercion of violence.  Among them are the ever-evil Luseferous (complete with diamond teeth) and his Empire-esque rebel horde who hope the document will pave the way for their rise to dominance.  Ordered by the “good” guys to be the first to lay hands on the document, Fassin’s adventures begin when his affinity for the Dwellers comes at odds with his mission, Luseferous and crew closing in fast.

The narrative at times so loose and free, it appears Banks set no limits for his pen describing the universe of ‘The Algebraist’.  A leaf falling free, the language, thought, and descriptions roll off the page real-time.  Less planned and therefore less thematically honed than the Culture novels, the novel comes across as exceptionally detailed entertainment with little commentary.  A secondary result of this tactic, or lack thereof, is that the story often lacks focus.  There are more than a few random plot digressions.  Moments of poignancy that stylishly carry the storyline oscillate with improvised, rambling thoughts which do nothing except highlight Bank’s self-indulgence.  Certainly some readers will revel in the worldbuilding for worldbuilding’s sake, others may find it tedious and ignorable.  

As is the norm with Banks, The Algebraist is filled with gorgeous set pieces - the main strength of the novel.  The gas giant Nasqueron, where most of the story occurs, comes to sulfurous, swirling life.  The time/space feel of space travel is also presented well, particularly how a human would have to adapt to survive the relative effects and forces of a gas environment.  Fully at home in this setting riding in his gel-filled gas-craft, Fassin and his plight take center stage for the majority of the novel, his character more developed for it.  What lack development, however, are the secondary characters.  The antagonist Luseferous is just evil for evil’s sake and comes across as more of a Superman style villain than the more serious, mature events that Fassin experiences would seem to allow for.  Furthermore, the Dwellers, while often stated as an intelligent species, are nevertheless portrayed as Dionysian clowns, wholly detracting from the strong effort at world-building and content.  The tweedle-dee tweedle-dum twin Dweller which appears does not help matters.  Worse yet, the sub-stories of Fassin’s friends, especially his fiancé, are so poorly fleshed out they do not deserve mention.  Banks would have been better to stick with his hero in linear fashion, concentrating on space opera for space opera’s sake, rather than foul the airwaves with his indecisive attempts at adding story depth and seriousness through additional characters and forced outcomes.

In the end, fans of Banks’ other science-fiction will at a minimum not regret reading The Algebraist.  Likewise, fans of Simmons’ Hyperion Cantos, Peter Hamilton’s universe, James Corey’s Leviathan Wakes, or Lucas’ Star Wars may be interested.  But if worldbuilding and space battles are your thing, by all means have a go.  Be warned, however, Banks’ earlier Culture novels have more much focus to their plots and emphasis on balanced characterization.  If you’ve never read Banks, I would recommend Consider Phlebas, Use of Weapons, or Look to Windward first. Though it has been seven years since the book’s publishing, I should also note that there are strong indications The Algebraist appears to be the first in a series; not all the plot threads are resolved.  That being said, though I do not regret reading the book, due to its digressive nature and ineffective characterization, I will probably wait until the series as a whole is published – if ever – to read more…  

(This review has also been posted at fantasyliterature.com)

Review of "The City & the City" by China Mieville

Despite finding itself only marginally within the genre, it’s no coincidence that The City & the City took home every major sf&f award for 2009-2010 (except the Locus).  Mieville’s seventh novel is a brilliant pastiche of detective noir, Orwellian vision, and Kafkian undertones.  In need of introduction to high school classrooms and university syllabi for its examination of stereotyping and the inadvertent manner in which we code differing people and cultures, the book is truly deserving of the accolades it has received.  

A nod to Raymond Chandler and the other writers of detective noir, The City & the City is on the surface a near perfectly told mystery of murder and political intrigue.  From the first page the dead body of a young woman is found by the workaday police detective Tyador Borlu, and the story moves from there.  Finding its way through various layers of government, rebel political factions, and goons, Borlu’s road gets riskier and more tricky in discovering the killer.  But where The City & the City earns its points for originality is in the singular nature of its setting.  Unlike any book written before, Detective Borlu’s troubles truly begin when he discovers the young woman was murdered in the other half of the city – the forbidden half.  Forbidden perhaps too strong a word, Beszel’s sister city, Ul Qoma, is an entirely separate political entity with its own laws and regulations.  And despite that they often share the same streets, buildings, and parkland, the two cities remain separated by invisible walls called “crosshatching” that people are taught from birth not to cross.  The citizens of both sides are likewise taught to “unsee” the other, even if they are walking within arm’s length.  Upon sight of foreign clothes, places, people, etc., they must look away lest a procedure called “breach” is invoked.  A mysterious political entity that enforces laws and monitors the crosshatch areas, Breach looms over everything Borlu does in tracking the young woman’s killer to the other side.  The danger Borlu faces in invoking breach is perfectly balanced with the threats he faces investigating the political figures, building to a perfect climax.  

Mieville has stated that The City & the City is an examination of the “divided city.”  Places like present day Jerusalem, Istanbul, Nicosia (Cyprus), and Kirkuk (Iraq), as well as the historical cities of Berlin, Belfast, Mostar (Bosnia), or any Jewish ghetto all served as real world examples of cities separated along cultural or racial lines.  Mieville handling the subject of cultural perception and the resulting social issues with maturity, Detective Borlu becomes a lens through which the reader sees more than just an everyday police officer as the novel progresses.  That he tells a gripping story in the process, isn’t that the definition of a great novel?

(For those who have read the novel and are interested in additional commentary, please see the article "Seeing the Unseen: The Cultural Significance of China Mieville's The City & the City" from this blog.)