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 "A Fall of Moondust" by Arthur C. Clarke

Standing at night, looking up at the glowing white face of the moon, we might ask: what is it comprised of?  We’ve all seen the lunar landing videos, the dusty, desiccated soil that holds the impression of boots and tires so well, but what does it feel like?  How does the stuff behave?  Like sand?  Talcum powder?  Is it powdery like sugar, or fluid like in an hourglass?  In 1961 when mankind had yet to set foot on the moon, those impressions were left in a substance that existed in the imagination, only.  Writing A Fall of Moondust that year, Arthur C. Clarke speculated just what that surface might be like, and in the process wrote a sci-fi thriller rooted in scientific ideology.  Not earthshaking, the novel is nonetheless a solid read for fans of the genre.

In keeping with Clarke’s preference for stories that highlight humanity’s diminutive size compared to the exigencies of the universe, A Fall of Moondust is novel about a group needing rescue after becoming trapped in a sea of moon dust.  Using the tropes of science-fiction – with strong emphasis on “science” – the book tells of the hovercraft Selene and one of its moon cruises that doesn’t go according to plan.  Not exceptionally technical in its discourse, Clarke’s everyday-Joe heroes nevertheless uphold scientific virtue in extricating the trapped people, simultaneously rationalizing and promulgating the suspense.

No space monsters or barrage of mutant asteroids, A Fall of Moondust is simply man vs. the elements.  The team of protagonists set about overcoming the unique limitations imposed by the lunar environment in systematic fashion.  Theoretical knowledge of utmost value if the trapped group is to be rescued, most methods and tools that work on earth are unthinkable on the moon, its gravity and atmosphere posing unnatural obstacles for the engineering mind to circumvent.  And so while Clarke is able to keep plot lines taught, it is the methodology to the rescue which proves the book’s main draw. 

Average build, clean shaven, plaid shirts, and an unfailing belief in the scientific method characterize Clarke’s “heroes” in A Fall of Moondust.  Lawrence is an engineer with an unfailing eye for weeding out solutions relying too heavily on impracticalities.  Lawson, a young astronomer fueled by his belief in scientific observations, challenges the status quo when presenting his objective evidence to the world.  And lastly Pat, the captain of the Selene, is a phlegmatic but resourceful man, not given to losing his cool in moments of fear because of his trust in the material workings of his craft.  Though these characters are obviously conjured to suit the plot, Clarke blunts the edge enough to pass them off as real humans.  Dialogue not so wooden as to make the story unreadable, there is even time for a touch of romance and detective work.

In the end, A Fall of Moondust is a competently written, consistently plotted thriller rooted in physical reality despite having the moon as its setting.  Like other 'mission impossible' type stories, Clarke sets an interesting challenge for himself and his protagonists with the trapped ship, proving it’s the journey not the destination that’s worthwhile.  A paean to science, readers can also expect the glories of objective inquiry and theoretical knowledge regarding chemistry, physics, and astronomy to appear and reappear.  Written at a time when scientific ideology was not yet taken for granted by society, none of the darker, grittier sides of humanity surface.  Unlike the works of later writers, such as Gibson, McDonald, or Banks, Clarke presents the cleaner, more traditional side of sci-fi (read: idyllic), science shining golden to solve all society’s problems.  And so, while the premise of A Fall of Moondust may seem dated due to the knowledge we later acquired of the moon, the story itself remains a compact and easy read.  Not Clarke’s best, it’s at least short, sweet, and interesting to those curious to see physics at work on the moon.

Review of "Galactic North" by Alastair Reynolds

The front cover of Alastair Reynolds 2006 Galactic North boldly declares the author to be “A master singer of the space opera.”  Cracking it open and discovering ships battling in the black of space, futuristic technology and weaponry, and intercultural politics and prejudices progressing in good and evil fashion, the book does indeed seem to personify the sub-genre.  Galactic North is a collection of short stories, many of which fill gaps in the Revelation Space mythos.  Like many short story collections, however, quality is uneven.  Also, despite that several of the stories do stand alone, the collection is best appreciated with a familiarity of Reynold’s created universe.

“Great Wall of Mars” – Revealing the origins of a certain story in Revelation Space, Clavain’s diplomatic mission to Mars does not turn out as planned.  Metallic versions of Herbert’s sandworms, terraforming, and brotherly enmity appear to disjoint his hopes.  For those who haven’t read the RS series, the story reads in forced fashion, one event clamoring over another just to fill gaps.

“Glacial” – Another Revelation Space story, this one, however, can stand alone.  Unfortunately, it’s legs are weak.  Clavain and crew encounter an abandoned base on one of Jupiter’s moons where all the personnel are murdered, except one.  In explaining why only one survived, Reynolds attempts to build a profound morale dilemma.  But by resolving it simplistically - in consequentialist (pragmatist) vs. inconsequentialist (relativist) fashion - expect not to be enlightened.

“A Spy in Europa” – Perhaps the weakest in the collection, this story could have been lifted from the pulp magazines of the 50s and 60s with none the wiser.  Part undercover ops, part alien thriller, none of the plot milestones develop realistically.  Clashing with the previous story’s moralizing, death in this story takes on no meaning.  Magazine pulp, no more, no less.

“Weather” – Moving from the worst to perhaps the best of the collection, this story sees Reynolds finding form.  The characters act like real people, the conflicts are human – or at least as human as they can be with a Conjoiner involved – and theme is well developed.  The story has impact and proves that sci-fi is one of the best genres for discussions on cultural prejudice.  Though set in Revelation Space, this story works independently and can be enjoyed as such.

“Dilation Sleep” – A non-Revelation Space story (and one of the first Reynolds ever had published), this and the previous story vie for best of the collection.  “Dilation Sleep” tells of a man woken from cryogenic sleep and the weird, dreamlike experience that results.  Featuring great descriptions of biotechnology in a human environment, this story is highly reminiscent of Dick and Gibson.

“Grafenwalder’s Bestiary” – As the title implies, the main character is a creature collector, the more exotic the better.  A commentary on animal rights and respecting the rights of all living things, Reynolds leaves nothing to the imagination, literally and figuratively, in driving home his point.  (Not directly a Revelation Space story.)

“Nightingale” - The story’s name is derived from the hospital ship a handpicked crew of ex-soldiers are contracted to extract a wanted man from.  Weirder things happening with each step deeper into the abandoned ship, the slosh of cloned organs and tissue samples they encounter along the way are peanuts compared to what awaits them in the last room.  Highly reminiscent of Neal Asher’s works, this story can be read independently.

“Galactic North” – Abandoning the linear, straightforward style used to this point, the eponymous story attempts to create a time-lapsed mythology of Irravel and Markarian, as well as establish the origins of Remontoire.  Unable to be enjoyed without a knowledge of Revelation Space, this story is uneven and feels like filler otherwise.

Reynolds’ weaknesses continue to play themselves out in Galactic North.  Problems include: overhanded moralizing, readers being lead by the hand through the plot one baby step at a time, dialogue serving plot only, moral buttons being fat and obvious (sadism, justifiable revenge, irrevocably evil bad guys, etc.), plot developments being telegraphed, and political alliances that are black or white.  However, like a tech-ier version of Star Wars, there are some great pieces of imagination tucked away in this collection, as well as in Revelation Space as a whole.  Reynolds’ literary aspirations may not climb high, but he certainly delivers when it comes to pulp storytelling, wonderful gadgetry, and the possibilities of space and technology.  Further commendation should be given him for his inclusion of environmental, social, biological, and other scientific issues as background elements.  Fans of Peter Hamilton, Richard Morgan, Iain M. Banks, and Neal Asher will absolutely enjoy Reynolds’ work, but I would recommend Galactic North only to those up to speed on their Revelation Space storylines.

New logo!!

For that handful of you who have visited my blog more than once, you may have perhaps noticed a vast improvement in the header recently.  My sister Ann, who is a graphic designer, created the logo, and I’d like to give her a big hug and ‘thanks’!  Not only a graphic designer, Ann is also a professional photographer and artist who has had her work exhibited in the Portland, Maine area.  If you are interested in seeing more, you may visit her Tumblr site, or contact me, here.

Review of "The Yiddish Policemen's Union" by Michael Chabon

Like contenders looking for a shot at the champ, or lesser men seeking to find fault in a wise master, so too is the reading of books that have won multiple awards.  Senses are heightened, the eyes are more attentive, and the brain analyzes every word, every phrase, looking for the reasons it is revered amongst the greatest, and perhaps more so, reasons it shouldn’t.  Michael Chabon’s 2008 The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, having collected some impressive SF hardware (Hugo, Nebula, Locus, and Sidewise), is one such zenith.  In this case, however, it’s tough to find fault in the logic.

While references to Chandler and the book’s noir overtones hog cover copy, there is far more to the novel than just a world weary cop, damsels in distress, and back alley shoot-outs.  Alternate history in full effect, Chabon uses the motif to dig deeper than plot into the ideas of cultural enmity and the sociology of group identity.  The snub-nose revolvers, black felt fedoras, and gangsters are all there, they just happen to be at play in a world of Jews, Tlingits, and all manner of cultural hangers-on in an alternate history version of coastal Alaska.  Yes, the Alaska you know, cold, choppy seas, pine trees, and lots of ice and snow…

Choosing the Slattery Report of 1948 as his departure point from actual history, Chabon brings his artistic license to bear upon an imaginary situation wherein refugee Jews from Europe after WWII are relocated to Sitka, Alaska instead of Israel.  Alaska and the Yiddish at first seeming odd bedfellows, the dark humor and dark skies hanging over each soon develop a healthy relationship.  Part of the “frozen chosen”, Meyer Landsmann perfectly suits the lonely, snow-covered sidewalks and meals at greasy diners, the smell of fried moose burger fogging the windows.  A detective, Landsmann’s troubles begin when a neighbor is found shot in the back of the head.  Israel occupied by the Palestinians, the trouble thickens when Landmann’s investigations take him deeper into the underworld of the Jewish mafia and their plans for the holy land - the neighbor’s murder only the tip of the iceberg.

Another cloud hanging over the characters wandering Sitka’s bleak, winter streets is their land’s  upcoming reversion to American soil.  Like the ambiguity residents of Hong Kong had trading one authority (Britain) for another (China) in 1999, so too do the Jews inhabiting Sitka face the uncertainty of not knowing what will happen to the identity they’ve built in the northwest state in the coming months.  What rights will the people have?  What new laws will come into play? And most important to the story, what crimes can people get away with now without fear of retribution from the incoming administration?

Characterization in The Yiddish Policemen’s Union is as good as literature gets.  Everyone has a story, from the Filipino doughnut man (living in a Jewish Alaskan state!!) to the mute chess activist, the Tlingit police chief in the bush to Landsmann’s tell-it-like-it-is police chief.  Barbie dolls and GI Joe nowhere to be found, all Chabon’s characters are real, breathing humans that we meet everyday.  Like John Goodman, Gilbert Gotfried, and Dame Edna, none of the characters are painted in flattering colors.  Bina, Landsmann’s ex-wife, is an overweight, cocksure, and lonely woman.  Landsmann’s partner, Berko, is a half-Jew, half-Tlingit whose massive build, Tartar eyes, and native warhammer do nothing to stop him from wearing a yarmulke.  Likewise, it does not stop him from having trouble knowing which side of his cultural coin he falls on. 

For those who do not appreciate rich, simile laden prose, do not pick up The Yiddish Policemen’s Union – or any book by Chabon, for that matter.  Were he an opera singer, he’d have “pipes”.  The language imaginative but always spot on, it’s possible one’s appreciation of literature can acquire new heights reading his novels.  The opposite of Hemingway, Chabon revels in colorful, obtuse descriptions that defy logic on the surface yet touch something sentimental and precise in afterthought.  At one point Landsmann is “flying solo, as sober as a carp in a bathtub”, while at another he observes a man with a “halo of dandruff, a bony bridge of nose, and grooves on his brow like a grid left in raw pie crust by the tines of a fork.”   The reader grinning one moment, the next shaking their head at the style’s bravado, the novel is truly a treat for those who love the dance of language.  (As Chabon employs roughly 30-40 Yiddish words throughout the text, most of which can easily be understood based on context, readers should be ready for an educational and thoughtful encounter with the language.)

In the end, fans of Coen brothers’ films, particularly Fargo and A Serious Man, will find The Yiddish Policemen’s Union simply top-of-the-heap.  The same dark humor, realistically unique personalities, and simple but evocative scene setting can be found in The Yiddish Policemen’s Union.  Far more than a murder mystery, readers should also expect poignant commentary on the current state of affairs in the middle east and the violence which seems permanently in cycle there - all in tones far from discriminatory.  The personal struggles of Landsmann, his ex-wife Bina, his partner Berko, and a handful of other people whose lives are caught in the socio-political milieu of reversion will also strike home to readers looking for stories more personal.  With gorgeous style, sublime humor, social and cultural commentary, solid plotting, and brilliant characterization, it’s easy to agree with the awards the novel has won.  Highly recommended.

Review of "Starburst" by Frederik Pohl

Wow.  I’m stumped.  At its most fundamental, Frederik Pohl’s 1982 Starburst is like a cluster... bomb exploding, pieces scattering in all directions.  So many potential points of comment, such a variety of literary angles to run with, but where to begin?  Is the book satire or hard science fiction, social commentary or merely a thought experiment gone wild?  Without any basic literary indicators to shine the way, it is possible to even formulate a review?  Situation check. There are pages; the words printed on one differ from another; there’s a picture on the cover.  It’s a book, and therefore must offer some morsel for comment.  Here goes, starting with only the certainties possible.

The basic premise of Starburst is that American scientists have discovered a habitable planet orbiting Alpha Centauri and send the cream of the human crop - four hand-picked couples – on a ten year spaceflight to inhabit it.  Away they go.  The problem is, the planet doesn’t exist.  Dr. Knefhausen, the project’s mastermind, knew from the beginning the futility of the expedition.  His hopes were that the isolation of space would promote intellectual activity to the degree mankind’s most challenging scientific problems would be solved.  Revealed in the first couple of chapters, this may seem like a spoiler, but it’s not, as beyond this, things really get out of control.

The idea of eight humans locked in space ship for ten years seems a great premise.  The potential for individual and social interaction is abound, along with the opportunity for commentary on the fundamental nature of humanity.  Pohl at no time, however, delves any deeper into the mindset of the characters than a couple of paragraphs, and instead Knefhausen’s wish comes true.  This, however, is not in any fashion the reader might foresee.  Given the current state of knowledge regarding social psychology and mankind’s leanings toward overt egoism in deprived environments - such as the interior of a cramped generation star ship - the group’s accomplishments do not evolve in a realistic fashion.  The book simply spirals into the surreal.  But what to make of this?  The only natural conclusions are that the story is either overly optimistic or an attempt at humor.  Given the tone and how quickly the plot devolves, the book shows strong hints of being satire.  But that is only a guess.  No matter the intent, half-hearted scientific speculation on the details of living in space combined with commentary on the social mores of the early 80s make for strange bedfellows.

Pohl’s earlier novel Gateway is one of sci-fi’s highly recommended.  He struck upon an excellent idea, mined it, and built a pillar of a story around it, brick by social brick.  Starburst is scattered across a wealth of human knowledge, often to the point one thinks Pohl’s tongue is in cheek.  Hydroponic babies, chakra meditation, plasma fusion, and talking ghosts are only the tip of Starburst’s idea iceberg, and none are fleshed out in any detail.  A hodgepodge that slips and slides out of focus, Pohl does not regulate points of view.  Some characters remain on-stage for a few chapters, others a paragraph, and none seem to have a story which flows toward a central theme other than the larger evolution of history and politics.  As such, magic realism seems a better label than the hard science fiction many others have placed on it.

In the end, Starburst is a jumbled mess that slowly takes itself beyond the realm of believability one page at a time – and there are only 200.  Such a mix of tangible and intangible ideas presented indifferently, one must give Pohl the benefit of the doubt that chaos was his intention rather than accidental creation.  Based on the mixed signals, the serious and seemingly sarcastic alike, it remains tough for any reader to know the book’s aim for certain.  It could be a satire on the post hippy generation, an optimistic look at the possibilities of space, a thought experiment on ennui, or just a one-off to satisfy a publishing contract.  Anywhere from the sci-fi version of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies to the latest from Adam Roberts (Burst of Stars!), Starbust is an unsyncopated offering from a writer who seems to know what he was doing, just not sure anyone else does. 

As a side note, about the only thing that rings loud and clear in the book is the unbelievably prophetic nature in which Pohl depicts the US presidency.  An uneducated country boy whose only desire is to maintain authority with lethal force, images of GW and Iraq will dance before the reader’s eyes reading of the unintentional chaos unleashed when leadership meddles with powers beyond its control.

Review of "Felaheen" by Jon Courtenay Grimwood

*July 8, 2013 - Dissatisfied with the original review, below is a re-posting with significant revisions.

The scene set and characters introduced in Pashazade and the broader picture of El Ishkandryia painted in Effendi, Felaheen (2003) is the closing chapter in the Arabesk trilogy.  Ashraf’s history the open issue, Jon Courtenay Grimwood puts his main character through the toughest ringer yet in discovering the answer—if it can be answered at all, history being the greased pig that it is.  As hinted at by the title (for those who have been paying attention in the series thus far), things will not turn out as the reader expects.  Style-wise, the novel is the best written of the three, making for a smart conclusion to a smart trilogy.  (Perhaps it goes without saying: do not attempt Felaheen—or this review—if you have not read the first two books.)

Remaining part alternate history, part mainstream fiction, part cyberpunk, and all detective noir, 2003 Felaheen is a conclusion fully consistent with Pashazade and Effendi.  Grimwood pulling no tricks on the reader, the setting, style, and characters are as reliable as ever.  What remains unreliable, however, is the plot.  Ashraf going to meet his alleged father, the Emir of Tunis, at the outset of the novel, his arrival portends an assassination attempt on Emir.  Unsure who would care to kill the crazed elderly man, Ashraf must investigate to clear his own name, and in the process protect himself from the Emir’s other son, one Kashif Pasha, who may or may not be vying to usurp Raf’s inheritance of Tunisia.  Forced underground, the secrets Raf uncovers may lead him to his heritage, and then again, it may lead to his death.

Filling out roughly half of Felaheen are flashbacks to the younger days of Raf’s mother, Sally Welham.  Bohemian ways making her a world traveler with a lot of frivolity, it is fleshing out her travels, through Thailand, Tunisia, and New York, that the details of Raf’s parentage begin to filter into place.  As with the previous books, Hani and Zara continue to play important roles, their interrelationship with Raf concluded—but not how readers may expect.

The first two books in the Arabesk series nominated, Felaheen finally won Grimwood the BSFA award in 2003.  And it’s easy to see why.  His prose is crisp and polished, and the themes at work, including the value of identity, relativism of history, and the environment, not to mention the religious and cultural concerns of Islam and North Africa as they confront a globalizing world, are all issues poignant to not only literary minded science fiction, but society at large.  Like all good writers, Grimwood’s voice never proselytizes and is able to relate these concerns in a fashion that suits the story yet rises above to strike the reader as important beyond the covers.  Readers can argue which of the three novels of Arabesk is best, but given the consistency it’s good to see Grimwood finally rewarded for the effort.

The issue the same throughout the series, I have saved my sticking point until the closing novel.  The only point where the books fall short is creative expectation.  Having borrowed the alternate history idea at work in Dick’s Man in the High Castle, the biotech of Gibson’s Sprawl trilogy, the noir moods of Chandler’s The Long Goodbye, and the mainstream plotting of most New York Times bestsellers, Grimwood adds little new to the genre except a solid, well conceived effort.  And while it certainly requires skill to combine these different elements into a single story, such books remain derivative rather than pace-setting.  It fills the gaps rather than creating them.  This is not to say that every author should aim to push the limits of sci-fi, but by merely riding the laurels of others, it’s difficult to say with certainty that the author has earned a place among the greats.   There is a place for Grimwood’s sci-fi, and he occupies it in style.  Suffice to say, Arabesk is recommended as quality reading, just not as cutting edge.

Review of "Inheritor" by C.J. Cherryh

Something must be done about the art decorating the covers of C.J. Cherryh’s unheralded Foreigner series.  No offence to Michael Whelan, Dorian Vallejo, or any other of the artists who’ve been chosen to provide cover art, but their Golden Age depictions of alien life simply do not suit the temper of the books.  Shame on DAW.  Cherryh writes with subtlety and sensitivity regarding intercultural relations that the comic book renderings of guns and fantasy animals simply fail to parallel.  Making matters worse, the crowd willing to buy the books based on such art will more than likely end up disappointed.  The books’ focus on character and societal development toward peace and cultural understanding is far from scene after scene of gun fights and explosions.  Like placing a scantily clad Barbie doll with elf ears and flaming sword on a Gene Wolfe cover, expectations simply cannot be met.

I gripe not only because book covers are a part of the reason the literati refuses to take sci-fi seriously (what adult reader of academic leaning wants to walk around with a tentacled alien attacking a bare-chested, laser-pistol wielding man on the cover), but also because Cherryh’s series is a primary example of sci-fi in which said academics could find material to study and promote.  Numerous PhD’s could be written on the method and manner in which the inter-personal relationships of the humans and the atevi are described and handled by Cherryh.  The emotions and behavior in the books are drawn from an entirely human palette, the fantastic coming from setting alone.  But I digress.  On to the book.

Inheritor, remaining true to the preceding two novels, Foreigner and Invader, again selects character interaction as its focal point.  This time around, however, Cherryh adds new dynamics to the stage.  Jase, the envoy from the orbiting ship who landed at the end of “Invader”, is now embedded in the atevi government alongside Bren and is trying to learn the language and adapt to the culture.  His upbringing altogether different than Bren’s, Jase faces numerous challenges, social and personal, in making the transition from space life to planet life, human life to atevi life.  Bren, having consciously and sub-consciously altered his behavior to fit amongst their seven-foot ebony hosts, expects Jase to do the same.  But he does not always meet with a positive reaction.  Jase is as much “Other” as the atevi, thus springing new relational challenges upon the characters and reader.

Cherryh focuses much of the novel’s content on the juxtaposition between Bren and Jase: one who has changed significantly from a typical human vs. one who is normal by most measures.  The majority of dialogue is spent arguing about the alterations to behavior and mindset that do or do not need to occur.  Running parallel to their conflict, the enmity between the humans on Mospheira Island and the native atevi grows more vitriolic, heaping further troubles upon the two’s already uncomfortable relationship.  Fundamentalists on the human side and rebel factions on the atevi side act as terrorists, trying to prevent the atevi in power from acquiring space capabilities.  As such, Bren’s diplomatic capabilities - personal and political - have yet to face such a challenge in the series.

Cherryh’s style more clean and direct than the bloated nature of Tom Clancy’s political thrillers, the decisions, implications, and repercussions faced by the atevi and human governments, sub-groups, and people are all described in realistic fashion.  As with the previous novels, the author takes her quality time unpacking the situations which arise, relaying subtle nuances and possibilities as pertinent.  The slightest rumor and changes in status have profound impacts on the state of the atevi world.  It is unfortunate then that the book’s ending proves such a clash to the rational fashion in which the setting is presented.  Where only one or two total plot twists occurred in the previous books, an entire handful expose themselves at the climax of Inheritor.  Stretching the limits of plausibility, the wholly unrealistic manner in which Cherryh wraps up the plot threads undermines the quality of the novel to a certain degree.  As stated, however, the series is not to be read for plot, and one must balance the feel-good note on which the book ends with overall intent. 

In the end, Inheritor is a high quality conclusion to one of the best sci-fi series to come out in the past 30 years.  Though the climax is forced and burdened with implausibility, thematic content and character development remain focused and strong.  Foreign cultures increasingly within the scope of Western life these days, propriety and sensitivity have never been so relevant.  Setting an example, Cherryh proves herself a master of foreign policy, from both the individual and societal standpoint.  Thus, the series comes highly recommended for those who’ve read this far, in addition to proof that starting the series as a whole is worthwhile.  Were politicians and policy makers of this day and age to adopt Bren’s sympathy and willingness to compromise, our world would be a more balanced place.  Now, about that cover art…

Review of "Burning Chrome" by William Gibson

William Gibson is a unique figure in science fiction.  Able to parallel and juxtapose prescient technology across profound social and cultural lines in literary style, his writing can be both appreciated by genre fans and savored by an aesthete.  Published in 1986, Burning Chrome is a collection of Gibson’s short fiction from the early part of his career, 1977-1985.  Despite that much of the content pre-dates the success of Neuromancer, all the elements which inform the Sprawl world and the novels which follow can be found here.  Thus, the collection is a great introduction to not only that series, but the author’s worldview and style in general.  What follows is a short commentary on each piece in the collection.

“Johnny Mnemonic” – Unlike the film, the original does not try to jam all of Gibson’s ideas into a two hour popcorn marathon, nor does it translate to the imagination in such tones of… unintentional comedy.  The short story is tightly focused plot and character-wise and contains some of the most overt description of the Sprawl in print.  Not the best of the collection, it’s nevertheless a solid opener. 

“The Gernsback Continuum” – This piece highlights Gibson’s wider spread interests as an artist and presents his view of the genre of science fiction.  Modernist gushing of the early 20th century in focus, the hope and dreams of another time find their meaning changed in the future.  One of the best in the collection, this story is one of the defining moments of the cyberpunk movement--thematically, that is.

“Fragments of a Hologram Rose” – James Cameron would later (unadmittedly) borrow the premise of this story for his movie Strange Days, namely: what the effect of being able to replay memories has on lost love.  Suffice to say, Gibson’s original possesses none of the Hollywood flair and is relayed in far more convincing tones. 

“The Belonging Kind” (with John Shirley) – This look at the bar scene is the story of an introverted man trying to fit in.  Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground springing to mind (the surreal version, that is), the story is a harsh or uplifting commentary on nightlife and humanity's social side, depending how you view it.

“Hinterland” – Daily life on Straylight, or a shorter, lonelier vision of Pohl’s Gateway, either way, it is a haunting story of humanity and companionship in the isolation of space.

“Red Star, Winter Orbit” (with Bruce Sterling) – Perhaps the weakest in the collection, this story is of the cycles of political, societal, and technological power that Russia and the USA have had, have, and most importantly, perhaps will have.

“New Rose Hotel” – A hauntingly poetic entry, Gibson finds his groove in a Sprawl biotech deal gone wrong, the conspirator holed up in a Japanese tube hotel (a-la Case at the beginning of Neuromancer), fearing for his life. (Note: this story was made into a film starring Christopher Walken, Willem Dafoe, and Asia Argento.  Easily outpacing Johnny Mnemonic, it is the best screen adaptation of Gibson's work produced thus far.)

“A Winter Market” – A Sprawl story that lays the groundwork for Slick, Gentry, Cherry, and Little Bird in Mona Lisa Overdrive, it asks the question: what if you could escape physical pain without committing suicide by casting aside your mortal body for a digital life inside cyberspace?

“Dogfight” (with Michael Swanwick) – Perhaps the most fun and entertaining of the collection, this story takes the joy of video gaming to the next level, and drags along with it drugs, tech, and the angst of youth.

“Burning Chrome” – The icing on the cake, this Sprawl story caps the collection in glorious fashion.  Harddrives smoking, ‘trodes channeling the matrix, and reality two steps behind, this is stereotypical cyberpunk in a neon nutshell - and may be the best of the collection.

In the end, Burning Chrome is not one of those short story collections intending to simply cash in on a writer's early success.  Though some stories are stronger than others, all have been crafted with the same literary care Gibson invests in his novels.  Each sentence, phrase, and word is parsed for meaning and impact.  Moreover, almost all the themes and plot devices which can be found in his novels can be found here in capsular form.  Thus, if you’re unsure of whether or not to invest yourself in Gibson’s works, this is a great place to start without having to worry about the filler publishers often try to push on readers.  For those who have read the Sprawl series but not Burning Chrome, then the recommendation is obvious: I wish I had read it first.

Review of "Invader" by C.J. Cherryh

While the first book in Cherryh’s series, Foreigner, took its time, establishing Bren Cameron’s character and the dilemmas he faced attempting to adapt to a culture entirely foreign, Invader wastes no time.  Picking up precisely where the events of Foreigner left off, Bren is in the hospital suffering from the injuries of the previous book, and though he goes on the mend, life does not get any easier.  The space ship which suddenly appeared at the end of Foreigner threatens to disrupt tentative peace which the treaty between the atevi and humans had created. 

Pushing the ball up-court, Cherry winds the Cameron’s tension even tighter in Invader.  As if she were once a cultural attaché herself, every little nuance and ramification that hang from political decisions are described in insider fashion – and there are so many cultural toes to step on in atevi society.  Making matters both better and worse, Cameron’s relationship with his protectors works goes even deeper.  The details of their personal lives pull while the atevi’s natural indifference maintains the unnatural distance between them. 

Cherryh also takes the time to expand the reader’s understanding of the relationship between the atevi’s grammatically challenging language and cultural behavior.  Without out a doubt one of the most well thought out ideas in the genre, other sci-fi writers should take note.  Instead of simply stringing together gibberish and calling it alien language (who is to dispute?), Cherryh is erudite enough to not only create the rudiments of a language (like Tolkien, but to a lesser degree), but to intertwine it with her aliens behavior.  And it’s a plausible marriage.  A culture that sub-consciously uses calculation to formulate correct sentences would naturally be adept at not only picking up theoretical mathematics, but likewise always be concerned with the larger chains of events under discussion, as well as potential inputs and outputs for a given social situation.

Not only in language, Cherryh really takes the time to unpack the other ideas injected into her story.  Rather than glossing over something so simple as a space ship suddenly appearing in the atmosphere of a society that has never known life from outside their planet, she digs into what effect this would have on them.  If a UFO were to appear over the earth – somewhere outside an Oklahoma cornfield – imagine the explosion, not only in the media, but in the government offices of every major country around the world.  What does it want?  Are they hostile?   How do we communicate with them?  It’s these most basic yet most essential questions that Cherry attempts to answer in her tale.  No superheroes here, only people making rational and fallible decisions based on what they know and can know.

In the end, Invader is better than Foreigner, and Foreigner was worthy of a much larger readership.  The details, the back-history, and continued character development all fits within and expands upon the framework of the first novel.  Likewise, where Foreigner contrasted an individual and a culture, Invader goes to the next level by contrasting the two cultures (human and atevi), thus enlarging the diameter of the looking glass to incorporate all of the sub-groups the societies are broken into, the enmity between providing plot tension.  Fundamentalists, conservatives, liberals, altruists, libertarians, and traditionalists are all represented, and in turn push the book – and the series – closer to the realist side of literature than the unfortunate book cover allows.  But that’s another story…