Review of "A Time of Changes" by Robert Silverberg

One of the best aspects of speculative fiction is, when in the right hands, an author creates a wholly plausible society not unlike our own, yet bends and twists the tradition, custom, and social habit to suit thematic needs.  The narrative which results can subsequently offer brilliant commentary on our real world.  Robert Silverberg’s A Time of Changes is a book that works at this level - like Orwell on LSD.

At heart, the novel is a character exploration of Kinnel Darival, a prince living in the kingdom of Borthan.  Ruled by a Covenant, Borthans follow a strict code that renders personal pronouns taboo.  While simultaneously setting a stylistic challenge for himself, Silverberg describes a society wherein overt references to the self are forbidden.  (The belief is that the repression of such expression makes a person stronger inside, and therefore more suited to the rigors of life.)  Due to a family tragedy, Darival soon finds himself on the run from a brother who seeks to eliminate competition for heirs to the throne.  In his travels, Darival is slowly introduced to the “other side,” a world wherein a person can comfortably refer to one’s self as ‘I’ and ‘me.’  Helping this transition along is his experimentation with a wonder drug that telepathically links people, bolstering empathy.  Not wanting to describe the whole plot, suffice to say the manner in which Silverberg chooses to uses the drug as a literary device is paramount to the novel’s conclusion.  John Lennon would have been proud.

By contrasting a society with strong limitations on expressions of the self with one featuring seemingly no socially unacceptable forms of expression, Silverberg creates a juxtaposition not unlike 1984.  The lies one must tell themselves and the isolated manner in which people move through society echo in A Time of Changes.  While the telepathic miracles performed by Silverberg’s drug are perhaps an idea that only someone from the flower-power generation could sculpt into speculative fiction, the fundamental idea that the freedom to express emotion is something lacking in our present day society still rings true.  Though not quite on par with Orwell or Huxley, A Time of Changes is still worth a read, prose and structure nearly perfect.  And if not for these reasons, why not for the controversial nature of the story?

Review of "The Power & the Glory" by Graham Greene

What if you knew before going into a book that it would try but fail to change your opinion?  Would you still be interested in reading, knowing it would add nothing to a topic you’ve mulled to the point of boredom?  Such is the mindset I went about reading Graham Greene’s The Power & the Glory and its dialectic on Catholicism.  Surprisingly, while my beliefs remain agnostic, I finished the book having an increased respect for not only Greene’s qualities as a writer, but for being able to realistically express the human side of a religion that is ordinarily so wrapped up in symbolism and ritual.  In our current age's mirage of post-deconstructive relativity theory-ism, having readers gain respect for a perspective they oppose is more difficult than exposing them to a new viewpoint on life. 

Set in the Mexican state of Tabasco in the 1930’s during a purge of clerics, The Power & the Glory tells the story of a “whiskey priest,” - a Father on the run from authorities.  As morally conflicted as any character in literature could be, the whiskey priest fights to stay one step ahead of the law, bestowing hope and faith on the population, all the while attempting to deal with a deep-rooted addiction to alcohol and the internal discord of failing the church for personal interest.   Throughout his attempts to escape Tabasco into more tolerant lands, the whiskey priest encounters a variety of souls who serve to cast his own plight into a brighter light.  There is the fallen priest who chose to give up his vocation rather than face the death penalty; the homeless man who the whiskey-priest thinks is Judas; and the stoic lieutenant who tracks our hero the length of the novel.  All these viewpoints provide a more than adequate sounding board for Greene’s Catholic agenda.  As such, the guilt and suffering of a pious man have perhaps never been portrayed so well. 

Despite strong characterization and the willingness to openly challenge not only the secular world but also the world of Catholicism, the point at which Green shows his true strengths as a writer is in the novel’s structure.  The opening chapters devoted to describing the everyday lives of a handful of seemingly random characters, one loses track of them as the narrative is taken over by the story of the whiskey priest and his flight from the authorities.  However, at the end of the novel these characters return, acting as a literary foil to the situation the priest ultimately finds himself in.  The contrast evoked takes the novel’s denouement to the heights of literary achievement.  Catholic or not, the reader cannot help but be reminded about the wider context of life so easily forgotten in a day-to-day routine.  For accomplishing the difficult task of including yet transcending religion, Greene deserves full praise. 

Though not many writers could pull this off, the novel is nonetheless not without its flaws.  Despite that Greene uses the real world political situation of Tabasco as a backdrop, there is a notable lack of Mexician culture; the story could have occurred in any Western country.  To be fair, Greene obviously intended dialogue and characterization to take center stage, but what little interaction does occur with the local people and environment lacks detail in convincing enough fashion to make the reader believe the story is being told in Mexico.  Likewise, the actions of the priest are not ideologically consistent.  There is a minor scene where the priest could have invoked doctrine and prevented a person from getting hurt.  This, however, contradicts the priest’s choice at the end of the novel when facing a similar situation.  But I suppose such paradoxes are the hallmark of any organized religion.

In the end, Greene’s account of Catholicism in the modern world is something that anyone who enjoys a well written book could read.  Me - the agnostic - was moved by novel, thus it must be the characterization and individual nature of the whiskey-priest’s plight which the believer and non-believer alike can relate to.  No matter whether you are religious or not, The Power & the Glory challenges the individual and society, making for good reading.

Review of "Glasshouse" by Charles Stross

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

So chock full of the social consequences of nano-science and memory editing is Stross’s Glasshouse, I’m still trying to pick myself up from the floor.  In a whirl, I can’t decide whether the ideas were expressed in cohesive enough fashion to produce a book I can praise or if I’ve simply been blinded by an imaginative eruption that is worthy enough in itself of admonition.  Beyond dumbfaced sense of wonder, I’m also wondering if anyone else could have a more defined view after riding Stross’s tilt-a-whirl of futuristic possibilities? 

Set at an unknown time in the far future, humanity - or what resembles humanity considering anyone can edit memories or nano-dapt into any living form – is recovering from war.  Infected via the A-gates and T-gates which humanity used for said alterations, society had been attacked by rebels wielding viruses that affected the psyche before the body.  But with the rebels now defeated, the main character, Robin, has his memories as a soldier in the war wiped and is attempting to start a new life - woman, man, two or four arms, it all changes depending on “his” mood, the gates safe once again.  Choice regarding appearance not an issue, paranoia, however, is.  Fearing that the rebels are still after him, Robin checks into a research program and agrees to participate in an experiment.  While isolating himself from society, he helps recreate the dark ages, aka the late 20th century, the history for this time missing due to Censorship Wars. 

Funny and insightful, Robin’s experiences in the biodome-style experiment, while providing the bulk of the novel, also serve to offer up Stross’s post-humanist agenda.  With the sky the limit in terms of physical appearance and emotional display, how do you know what anything is?  Who to trust?  If your worst enemy could be smiling beside you and you wouldn’t know it, how would this effect the psyche?  How do we measure identity?  But this is only the beginning.  There is a plethora of other questions and ideas packed into Glasshouse and simply not enough room in this review to discuss them.  

No space opera lasers flashing or spaceships warping, Glasshouse is sci-fi to the extreme but with a social agenda.  The plot devices too numerous to express Stross’s premise cogently, perhaps style was all part of the theme: to flood the mind with possibilities until it’s uncertain what is real.  No matter pertinent or not, the ideas are interesting enough to warrant a read.  Readers of Greg Egan, Bruce Sterling, Frederick Pohl, Philip K. Dick, and William Gibson take note.  All the stops pulled, this is science fiction for the 21st century.

Review of "Resurrection Man" by Sean Stewart

Not knowing who Sean Stewart was prior to reading Resurrection Man, it was more than a pleasant surprise to find such a well written book with poignant themes.  Hiding on the margins of literature, Stewart’s novel tells the story of a Hungarian family living in the US and their attempts to come to terms with skeletons in the closet after WII, both personal and familial.  But it is not the 1950’s America you know from history; magic in the form of charms and strange, unexplainable occurrences are a natural part of everyday life.

The opening lines of the novel find the protagonist Dante staring down at his own dead body, and thinking it an ill omen, sets about solving the riddle.  But Dante is not alone in unraveling the mystery.  His mysterious adopted brother Jet hangs on the periphery, offering the most spiritual of advice, while his sister, Sarah, fights personal problems of her own, the relationships she has with men and her mother less than straight-forward.

In Resurrection Man, alliteration and fantasy are interwoven seamlessly.  More magic realism than pure fantasy, Stewart’s gifted prose delivers the story on a cutting edge.  Description clear, dialogue focused, and similes spot on and never overused, the line between fantasy and reality becomes an afterthought.  My only complaint about the novel is that despite the realistic portrayal, characterization seemed to take a back seat to the delicious plot devices and magic overtones.   But Dante, his father, Jet, Sarah and the others are presented so realistically that the overall value of the book does not suffer. Resurrection Man is highly recommended for anyone who enjoys psychological explorations, particularly with a touch of the supernatural. This is a gem of literary fantasy.

(The folks at www.fantasyliterature.com were kind enough to put this post on their website.)  

Review of "Downward to the Earth" by Robert Silverberg

Take the seed of Heart of Darkness, the soil of the Hainish Cycle, and water with the ideals of the 60’s peace movement.  Tend for three days and you will have read Robert Silverberg’s Downward to the Earth.  Beyond left wing, in the very least you will not be disappointed by the novel’s transcendence of secular interests. It is the love child of Joseph Conrad and Ursula Le Guin.

Downward to the Earth tells the story of Edward Gundersen, a former planet administrator who returns after eight years, seeking retribution for the crimes he committed against the native population.  The elephant-like nildor and ape-like sulidor – both sentient - peacefully coexisted until the arrival of humans, who subjugated them, put them to work for commercial interests, and separated them from cultural traditions practiced for time on end.  Seeking to relieve the guilt he bears for preventing a group of seven nildor from participating in their rebirth ritual, Gundersen leaves the human tourists he traveled to the planet with and sets off into the jungle.  Along with flashbacks, much of the story is told through the encounters he has with former friends who remained on the planet.  But is in his dealings with the native population that Gundersen begins to come to terms with the consequences of his actions, agreeing to go on a pilgrimage with one of the nildor and participate in the rebirth ritual.  While the ending will certainly divide readers (Silverberg takes the psychedelic drugs and free love attributes of the hippy generation on a literary journey), the fundamental link connecting the ideas of the novel remains meaningful, no matter the plot devices.   There’s something to be said for good intention.

Fully realized, character and setting mesh together to form a planet that comes vividly to the imagination like the creations of Le Guin.  And while the sentience of the elephant-esque nildor is an acquired taste, it’s at the point the reader accepts them that Silverberg makes one of his main points; the value of an animal or person is not to be based on situation, appearance, or environment.  (Think Heart of Darkness’s examination of Europe and “the Other.”)   And so while some of the activities the characters participate in may not win over the more prudent, those willing to see the novel as a quest for  retribution will appreciate the transcendent ending with which Silverberg reconciles the interests of the involved.  The sub-theme of colonialism, though now called “globalization,” remains relevant.

Review of "At the Mountains of Madness and Other Tales of Terror" by H.P. Lovecraft

Fans of Stephen King take note, this work and other tales of H.P. Lovecraft were one of the author’s main inspirations.  Lovecraft bases most of his stories out of his Providence, just as King uses small town Maine so often as a setting.  Likewise, each utilize quirks of rural life and old wives’ tales to spin tales of the macabre that never quite fully explain themselves.  Ghosts, miasmas, fiery pentagrams, voodoo magic, mysterious deaths, and the other typical plot devices used by horror are never intended to fully connect with reality.  Lovecraft himself can be quoted as saying that the major theme underpinning  his stories is the inapproachable nature of fear to reality.  But enough about subject matter and on to the literary merits of this collection.

Unfortunately, they are few and far between.  Lovecraft writes with the sterility of a doctor performing an autopsy.  Guilty of telling rather than showing, dialogue and inner monologue is almost non-existent, the direct description of events and places taking center stage.  And while this overly formal, technical style may be enjoyable to some, I found it tedious and difficult to fully engage with.  Regarding the works in the collection, the eponymous novella is the best.  The story of a team’s scientific mission to the Antarctic to perform research, Lovecraft uses the unknowns of the most southern continent as a setting for an unbelievable experience that may or may not involve aliens and ghosts.  While at first the mission goes smoothly, strange things begin happening, until only two of the scientists remain.   These two go on an exploratory mission of their own to discover the answer to the many questions that have arisen with their discoveries, only to be presented with more mysteries.  The three remaining stories in the collection would now be considered generic.  But taken in context of when they were written (the first half of the 20th century), certainly midnight hauntings, miasmas in the basement, ghosts in the attic, trips to the graveyard, and other such tales would have been original.

Despite having his own voice, it's difficult to get into Lovecraft’s groove.  Unique, readers will either flow easily with it, or run away in annoyance.  I will admit Lovecraft's brand of horror is not as overt as modern slasher films, it's always a hard time reading a book where there is nothing deeper than the inapproachable nature of fear, especially since this theme takes a backseat to the now cliche plot devices mentioned.  I could never get into King, and likewise I’ll probably never read anything else by Lovecraft.  But obviously each have their cult following, so perhaps best to supplement my review with others.  In the end, because Lovecraft was never able to form his ideas into anything longer than a novella (like King, no?), it’s difficult to see his work as more than entertainment.  If horror is your game, then Lovecraft is one of the original voices in the field.  Otherwise, it's a very specific niche that will not be to the majority's liking.

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

Review of "The Teutonic Knights" by Henryk Sienkiewicz

Anyone who is familiar with Polish reading habits will be aware that their appetite for speculative fiction is insatiable.  Heading into the local bookstore, the number of fantasy and science fiction books lining the shelves far outweigh the other genres, even popular fiction.  While spec. fic. is certainly enjoying popularity at the moment in the US, it does not compare to what one finds in Poland, seemingly everyone taking a shot at a Pratchett or a Martin.  This begs the question, in what part of Polish culture did this love come from?  After reading The Teutonic Knights, I think I may have found a potential source.

Henryk Sienkiewicz won the Nobel Prize for his novel Quo Vidas, a meticulously researched novel about Roman life at the time of Christianity’s onset.  Awarded for the historical spirit in which he wrote the novel, the same devotion can be found in all other of Sienkiewicz’s books, including The Teutonic Knights (also known as The Knights of the Cross).  Forgivably biased to his fatherland, The Teutonic Knights tells the the story of Poland’s fight to retain its independence under threat of  its Templar neighbors in the 13th century.   The Teutons to be kept at bay, Sienkiewicz portrays the crusaders as the blackest of villains, despite that they were knights templar and played a marginal role in the Catholic church.  The Teutons wanton disregard for Polish honor an affront that could not go unanswered, the tale is told from the point of view of two Polish knights, the older Maczko and the younger Zbiszko, each symbolically representing facets of Polish history, the honor of the past and the hope for the future.  There are several memorable secondary characters who complete the story, but it is the individual duels and wars for honor and virtue these two wage against the Teutons which take center stage.  Sienkiewicz could not have chosen a better climactic moment to resolve tension than the Battle of Grunwald, which finishes the novel and sets Poland back on its feet toward regaining independence. 

 

Good and evil the only forces at play - character motivation beyond obvious - the style of The Teutonic Knights seems a bit simplistic by today’s standards.  But one must remember to place the book in the context of Sienkiewicz’s time, particularly the beginning of the 20th century when Poland was lacking independence.  This and other novelizations of proud moments in Polish history served to bolster patriotism and national pride, fostering the hope one day they could regain their nation from the occupiers.  In fact, it’s possible the current day independence of Poland owes some small debt of gratitude to Sienkiewicz and other Polish writers of the time for writing of national pride with such spirit.  And so while characterization and morals are expressed in all too clear terms - baddies vs. goodies - it must be remembered that the lifelike representation of individuals was not Sienkiewicz’s goal.  Rather, he intended to show the larger social and political forces at work and the direction they were headed.  As such, Sienkiewicz’s masterful interweaving of historical background with plot elements involving the struggle for power remains the strong point of The Teutonic Knights.  Sound anything like modern epic fantasy?

(Side note: with heroic knights, damsels in distress, and risks of honor aplenty, this is a book Don Quixote would have loved!! Strange that Don Quixote was written 300 years prior…)

Review of "Hardcase" by Dan Simmons

Readers of Dan Simmons have been spoiled by his numerous great works: the Hyperion Cantos, Song of Kali, and The Terror, for example, selling well around the world and in many languages.  Hardcase, unfortunately, finds the author returning to earth from the heights of this success.  The book is run of the mill action –  well told, but still average.

Before buying the book, I noted that many reviewers enjoyed Simmons’ delving into detective noir to tell the story of hardened private eye Joe Kurtz, solving a mystery while just trying to stay alive, killers on his trail.  Having now read the book, I’m at a loss to see where the spirit of Raymond Chandler can be seen glowing in the text.  Certainly some of the elements speak to the noir genre – Kurtz’s office below a porno shop, his moral position outside the law but fighting for justice, the colorful thugs and assassins giving chase to name a few.  But sadly, the overall feel was more like Lethal Weapon than Chinatown.  Hood gangsters, drugs and guns, and mafia princesses were in fact the plot devices which moved the storyline.

As Simmons is such a great stylist, it was a bit of a disappointment not to read of dark alleys and cigarette smoke, red lipstick and .44 magnums emerging from trenchcoats, the echoes crashing through the pouring rain.  I expected something more artistic than the blase action story I was presented with.  Simmons’ usual storytelling bravado and vivid descriptions are present, but it just wasn’t enough to deepen the story.  If P.I. stories with smooth prose are your gig, by all means have a a go.  Otherwise, nothing special here.

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

Review of The Prince of Nothing Trilogy by R. Scott Bakker

Take the philosophical concept of the original Dune trilogy, sprinkle in some basic plot devices from The Lord of the Rings, and mix with a coherent system of magic, a handful of strong lead characters shaded in gray, wholly original races, cultures, and setting, and voila, you will have R. Scott Bakker’s Prince of Nothing series.  A lucid concoction, the trilogy holds no punches, leaving the reader wide-eyed for its brutal adherence to the realities of pre-industrial life.  No fuzzy hobbits picking flowers and discussing what variety of pipe tobacco they prefer, instead, Machiavellian scheming, ever-inflating egos, and pushes, risks, and clashes to obtain power are unveiled as ugly truths.  Underrated, the Prince of Nothing is one of the best epic fantasy series available today. 

Due to the immense scope of Bakker’s world, the series starts slow.  The turns of plot are measured in their reveal, and the scenes set with a view to the whole rather than being simple info dumps.  With patience, as storylines and character arcs build - from the groundwork of The Darkness that Comes Before, the bridge of The Warrior Prophet, to the final showdown of The Thousandfold Thought - readers gain a full understanding of the people, interests, and conditions of Bakker’s Earwa.  Schools and temples of magic war with another below the surface while kings and warriors duke it out for all to see, and all are unsure about the warrior-monk Kellhus's potential.

For those tired of fantasy authors stringing readers along with excellent plot build up only to close the series in a dissatisfying 25 pages, fear not; Bakker delivers.  The ending of the trilogy is conclusive and, most importantly, more grandiose than what one hopes it will be.  Heightening the climax is the involvement and transitory feelings one experiences in their regard for the main characters.  From loved to hated, loathed to pitied, the strong characterization likewise deserves notice for its integration with story.  Much rumination invested in making sure the puzzle pieces fit snugly together (Bakker has taken years to write the series), this is not just another fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants fantasy series out to cash in on the current market.

Regarding character depiction, many reviewers have been critical of Bakker’s treatment of women.  And, I can understand the view, particularly in today's cultural climate.  It can be said that Bakker was trying to remain true to the times, and ok.  I would simply say that if the poor treatment of women offends you, do not read the series.  There are much worse authors out there, but whether you agree with his view or not, he at least has an agenda behind said scenes.  That for others will be worth hearing out.

The dialogue attentive, action paced constructively, and setting and the main characters having depth, these factors move The Prince of Nothing to vie with the other major works of epic fantasy on the market today.  Pushing it near the top is the focus with which Bakker writes.  From the first page onward, planning and structure are obvious, events falling naturally into place as character motivation dictates, and in turn, allowing the themes of power, paranoia, and virtue to rise to the surface.  Unlike Erikson, who perhaps conceals too much from the reader, or Jordan, who divulges too much, Bakker balances on the tightrope wonderfully, revealing his world in just enough chunks to pull the reader along, while at the same time expressing his literary objectives in a non-proselytizing fashion.  Though reviews of the series are divisive, for scope and content The Prince of Nothing truly deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Erikson and Martin as the masters of modern fantasy.  

Review of "The Terror" by Dan Simmons

The Terror is based on the British vessels HMS Erebrus and HMS Terror and their voyage to discover a northwest passage in the 19th century.  Using their unknown fate as a literary springboard, Simmons freely fills the gap in history as his imagination allows, and in the process has created a work of historical fiction that transcends genre.  Classified horror due to one of its plot devices, the novel is in fact much deeper in scope.  On the surface it is the story of the two ships and their crews’ attempts to survive, frozen in the ice for more than two years, but at another level, it is an examination of the hubris of humanity and its attempts to defy nature.  

Reining himself in from the vivid descriptions and vibrant storytelling of the Hyperion Cantos or Joe Kurtz novels, Simmons’ imagery of a frozen wasteland in The Terror require a tone more subtle and melancholy; the setting of two ships trapped in the frozen Arctic for two years is simply not conducive to action-packed narrative.  Proving as adaptable in style as genre, the effort is successful.  Simmons more than convincingly describes the day-to-day life of trying to survive in -60 degree temperatures and stinging blizzards, not to mention claustrophobia, cabin-fever, and paranoia that set in amongst the crew the longer they spend trapped on the ice. Surprisingly weighing in at over 900 pages, the novel's sublime description of slow dwindling supplies and morale pulls the reader down to the crew’s level for a first hand experience, pace not suffering in the least.  The despair and hope of escaping a situation so far removed from their lives in Britain comes to life under the author's pen and keeps the reader engaged.

Simmons adheres to historical data for as much is available in the bulk of the story.  Certainly, however, he does take some artistic license, not only deciding the fate of the crew members, but also including an ice monster that harasses, terrorizes and generally makes already miserable lives all the worse.  Though its sudden emergence is at times scary, the beast makes enough appearances to warrant deeper investigation into its thematic relevance.  More than a cheesy plot device, who the monster kills is of vital importance to understanding Simmons’ commentary on the mindset of the era, the superman attitude with which colonial powers set about building empires to dominate the world showing its flaws.  The incongruous ending of the novel, rather than confusing the narrative, in fact highlights the degree to which mankind has continued to separate itself from nature.  That many reviewers misunderstand this only emphasizes the point.

At one time historical, horror, and literary fiction, Simmons’ ambitions in The Terror nonetheless remain tightly focused.  By telling the tale from the minds and mouths of the crew, officer to common sailor, the book maintains its social and environmental integrity.   The reader’s vicarious experience of seeing the world through the eyes of Captain Crozier, for example, gaining the knowledge he does after being trapped on the ice for two years is suitable for any era.  As such, this book comes highly recommended for anyone interested in the history of the HMS Erebrus and HMS Terror, life in the Arctic, or simply one man’s imaginative telling of a fate for which history has no record.

(The folks at www.fantasyliterature.com have also posted this review at their site.)