Review of Lord Valentine's Castle by Robert Silverberg

It’s hard to believe that Robert Silverberg, one of the most prolific writers of science fiction and fantasy the past century, took two significant hiatuses from writing in the heart of his career.  The first roughly between 1965-67, the author paused to transition from the so-called Silver Age into the New Age of science fiction.  Experiencing a creative crisis and needing time away, in 1976 Silverberg took another break, returning in 1980.  Presenting a standard fantasy storyline, placing it in a science fiction setting, and imbuing it with all of the humanism the previous phase of his oeuvre boasts, that return was Lord Valentine’s Castle.  Simultaneously classic, subversive, personal, and sublimely stylish, the novel was a triumphant comeback.  It won the Locus Award, was nominated for other awards, and proved so fertile a premise, six additional books in the Majipoor setting were published, the seventh due this year.  What was Silverberg doing in those four years away, well…

Lord Valentine’s Castle is the story of Valentine, a man who begins matters sitting on the side of the road, overlooking a city and pondering the meaning of life.  Unsure of his direction, a boy invites him to tag along in taking animals to the city’s markets, markets which are flourishing with news the reigning Coronal will soon be in town.  Coming across a group of jugglers in need of a third while in the festive city, Valentine quickly finds his dexterity suitable for the vocation, and joins them.  Heading out on the road to live the life of a traveling performer, it’s in discovering his lost past, however, that the story achieves heights of power and glory.

Review of The Caltraps of Time by David L. Masson

The Caltraps of Time is a 1968 collection of short stories by David I. Masson.  In the vein of early 20th century science fiction, despite being published in the midst of the New Wave movement, the stories use familiar tropes to tell experimental tales.  Well written, there are points of originality poking through now and again, no common theme connecting the stories.  The collection essentially a one off, Masson would go on to publish only three additional short stories in his lifetime.  (These three have been added to the 2003 printing of Caltraps.)  The following is a brief rundown of the seven in the 1968 edition.

In a version of Britain where weather is emotional (yes, emotional), “Lost Ground” tells of a man who stumbles into a wall of time searching for his lost wife.  His mental well-being regulated by aerosols and others drugs taken in response to weather fluctuations, the man’s view of life radically changes upon crossing the wall.

Having landed amongst sentient aliens, “Not so Certain” tells of humanity studying and learning the new language.  Communication, however, is not so easy.  This piece not a story, it is rather an examination of “alien” phonetics.

Reminiscent of Lovecraft, “Mouth of Hell” describes a team of explorers’ slow descent into a mysterious opening in the ground.  Starting out haunting and ending up satirical, this is one of the better stories in the collection.

Review of Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

The stylistic application of language and linguistic theory, in combination, have the potential to produce brilliant writing.  Such a mix also has the potential to fail spectacularly should one or the other extend too far.  Samuel R. Delany’s 1967 Babel-17 is amazingly able to fail at one, but given the secondary and tertiary layers worked into the overall premise, succeeds.  Dated for the theory it depends on, the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, the novel’s prose never lets the reader down, the hypothesis proving useful in a lateral manner.  Transcending much of the genre’s norms of the time, Delany’s seventh published novel is well worth reading despite the disputability of the linguistic concept incorporated.

For those unaware, the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis (as it was largely known in Delany’s day), and what has since become linguistic relativism, is a theory that purports humanity’s perception of the world is shaped by language.  Generally speaking, if a language lacks a word for a specific thing then that thing is either non-existent or hazy in meaning, depending how strictly you interpret matters.  For example, the language I’m learning now, Polish, lacks directly translatable words for “chuckle”, “snicker”, “giggle”, “cackle”, “chortle”.  Adhering strictly to linguistic relativity would mean these variants of laughter do not exist in the Polish mindset.  Seeming dubious at best (especially anyone who has spent time amongst the Poles), the idea is nevertheless the main principle guiding Babel-17.

Review of My Life as an Explorer by Sven Hedin

My Life as an Explorer is a quintessential book of world adventure and discovery.  Written in the 19 th century—a time before the internet brought the world to your fingertips—Hedin’s expeditions have an exotic flavor entirely impossible to recreate today save space travel.  Though many of Hedin’s exploits are questionable or possibly exaggerated for storytelling effect, My Life as an Explorer, which is an autobiographical ’best of’ his travels, nevertheless possesses a narrative difficult to put down, making it almost necessary reading for anyone who yearns to know more about the less-traveled parts of the world of yesteryear. 

 

Focused almost entirely on central Asia, My Life as an Explorer is a detailed account of numerous of Hedin’s expeditions in the steppe, mountains, and deserts of the East.  His exploits include crossing the Taklamakan desert, numerous excursions in the Himalayas, and trips in Persia.  His writing style easily accessible, Hedin’s prowess in the field goes matched by his skill with a pen (though some sources do believe Hedin had help in his native Sweden editing his records of travel).  Regardless, the narrative is at times nail-biting for the extreme situations Hedin finds himself in, funny for the culture clashes that often occur, and always colorful given the exotic (to the Western mind) nature of the lands he’s traveling though.  Having a particular love for Tibet, his descriptions of his time amongst the people are especially notable.

Review of The City & the Stars by Arthur C. Clarke

Published in 1948, Against the Fall of Night is Arthur C. Clarke’s first ever novel.  Dissatisfied with the outcome, a few years later Clarke returned to the story and extensively revised it.  Warranting a new title, he took the original concept and tweaked, expanded, and plugged gaps, producing The City & the Stars in 1956.  (It should be of interest to readers that the initial Against the Fall of Night was not replaced by the revised version but has remained in print in parallel, and is perhaps worth looking into if the general idea is interesting.)

Some may say science fiction, some may say fantasy, but the bottom line is that categorization of The City & the Stars is unimportant.  No matter the forces at play—magic or technology—the story is one that is ideological and independent of the details.  Of greater focus are the time scales at work, the history that has lead to the Earth being in the situation it is, the value of avoiding stagnation through forward thinking, and man’s relationship with the great beyond.  The spec-fic candy is all there, it just takes a backseat to the questions Alvin is attempting to answer.  Who is Alvin?  Well…

Review of We by Yevgeny Zamyatin

Yevgeni Zamyatin’s We is not the first work of dystopian fiction.  But because of it, it is far, far from the last.  Existing at a point on the handle of a torch about where the hand grasps, Zamyatin’s work has undergone multiple iterations in the hands of other authors since it was first released in 1924, a fire seemingly erupting in its wake.  Others efforts may burn brighter but they are still homages (or plagiarism, depending on viewpoint).  With varying degrees of license, George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, China Mieville, Ayn Rand, Lois Lowry, Kurt Vonnegut, Anthony Burgess, Arthur C. Clarke, even David Mitchell’s recent success Cloud Atlas borrow elements of the novel.  Looking back over the past century, what The Lord of the Rings is to epic fantasy, so is Zamyatin’s We to dystopian literature.  It has minor faults, but remains a must read for its influence on genre. 

Hovering in and around science fiction and fantasy, We is foremost a tragedy of mythic proportion.  The novel set in the glass city of OneState, the residents live in a perceived utopia.  Rising, working, eating, and sleeping in the proscribed rhythms of the Table, life is synchronized to the minute.  From sex to “free time”, music to stride, uniforms to humor, the citizens of OneState live according to the mechanized (machinized?) movement of the clock and the hyper-formality of state regulated existence under the watchful eye of the Benefactor.  Zero room for imagination and individuality, violators are publicly scorned and electrically melted.  But beneath this severe façade of rote and etiquette, and outside the Green Wall which surrounds the city, a movement is stirring.

Review of Roadside Picnic by Arkady & Boris Strugatsky

European science fiction is a geography of the genre not many readers in English speaking countries come in contact with, let alone Eastern European.  Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We, Ivan Yefremov’s Andromeda, and Stanislaw Lem’s oeuvre are known to some, but by in large Slavic forays into sci-fi, particularly Russian, go untranslated, and therefore unrecognized (see here).  More often leaning toward ideas philosophical or ideological in nature rather than entertainment or whatever the zeitgeist of the period happens to be, theirs is the more literary side of the genre.  Arkady and Boris Strugatsky’s 1977 Roadside Picnic is one such novel, and like a similar novel, Lem’s Solaris, is one of the greatest works of science fiction ever written.

Philosophical and affective, the Strugatskys capture existential sci-fi in a bottle with Roadside Picnic.  Elusively cerebral, the simple storyline flowers into mind-opening and thought-provoking questions regarding the fundamentals of reality, the subjectivity of perception, and of the vast ontological mystery that is existence.  Ideas turning over in the mind long after finishing the final page, that the storyline presents a wholly human existence without preaching or flaunting is the testament to the book’s literary qualities.

Review of The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress by Robert Heinlein

There may be no more divisive writer in science fiction than Robert Heinlein.  Love or hate the majority of opinion I encounter online, his works are revered by some and castigated by others.  I had read Stranger in a Strange Land, and while finding myself on the detractors’ side of the fence, was not put off reading the author.  More in style than content, I held hope that perhaps the satirical ranting could be channeled differently to better effect.  The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress the next novel of the author’s I picked up, I’m glad I held out.  A near masterpiece, the book is an inventive work of subversive science fiction that is focused, linguistically playful, influential, and, bottom line, well worth the read.

The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress is the story of Mannie, a computer technician living in the lunar colony.  The year 2075, the colony is only marginally free after operating for years as a penal institution for Earth’s criminals.  Their underground farms providing food for the teeming billions on Earth, to say the Authority takes advantage of the moon’s population for cheap labor is an understatement.  Taxed to death while their depleting resources are literally catapulted Earthside, the future looks grim for citizens of Luna.  The computer system which governs and manages the infrastructure, economy, and production—everything—on Luna coming to life one day, Mannie is in the right place at the right time for the awakening.  Making friends with the child-like AI (who he names Mike), Mannie, along with a couple of friends, embark on a revolution to shake the Authority to its knees and gain Luna’s freedom in the process.

Review of The Book of the Long Sun by Gene Wolfe

Begun more than a decade after the Book of the New Sun, the Book of the Long Sun (consisting of four parts: Nightside the Long Sun, Lake of the Long Sun, Calde of the Long Sun and Exodus from the Long Sun) is the middle “book” of Gene Wolfe’s three part Solar Cycle.  Presentation and setting wholly different than New Sun, the themes of transcendence, materialism, personal development, and ethical stamina, however, continue to be the undercurrents buoying story.  Wolfe ratcheting back on the allusion, symbolism, and general narrative complexity, readers will find the tale of Patera Silk more accessible in the writing but equally engaging in the telling when compared to New Sun.  Whether or not they consider Long Sun as good, however, will probably be up to how strictly Wolfe’s religious agenda is interpreted.

Book of the Long Sun is the story of Patera Silk, a young priest who recently took responsibility of a temple located in the city of Viron.  Experiencing enlightenment on the first page, Silk becomes aware that the Outsider, one of the lesser gods in the Pas-dominated Whorl pantheon, is the true God.  Going to the market to buy an animal for sacrifice that day, Silk encounters a rich man in a floater.  He later learns the man, named Blood, has taken advantage of his temple’s tax deficient status to claim the property.  Bolstered by the belief it is his duty to spread word about the Outsider, Silk resolves to regain his temple and sets out on what can only be described as a non-priestly mission to accomplish this goal.  A revolution slowly developing in the aftermath, Silk’s personal achievements are only part of the story, the state of the Whorl as a social and spiritual entity put to the test.

Review of Hearts, Hands, and Voices (UK) / The Broken Land (US) by Ian McDonald

From the outset of his career, Ian McDonald has been one of the most socially and culturally relevant writers of science fiction.  His first novel Desolation Road a look at the growth and decline of a small town a la The Martian Chronicles and One Hundred Years of Solitude, his second novel Out on Blue Six a look at Utopianism commenting on Thatcherism, and his third King of Morning, Queen of Day a multi-generational overview of a family in Northern Ireland (a sci-fi version of John Crowley’s Little, Big in many ways), McDonald has long had his heart and mind in the plight of the peoples and cultures of the world.  His fourth novel, originally published as Hearts, Hands, and Voices in the UK but re-titled The Broken Land for the US market, sees the author returning to his beloved Northern Ireland, this time to take a closer look at the political and religious struggles of the region.  Recently brought back to life by Open Road Media after two decades out of print, the following is a review of the novel.
 

Hearts, Hands, and Voices is the story of Mathembe Filiel, a teenage girl living in what at the outset appears far future Africa, but in fact could be anywhere, including other planets.  While a state of semi-civil war exists with the Imperialists, life in her village of Chepseynt goes easily in the fecund forests and fields of the land.  Participating in jungle hunts, genoplast molding, and time with her family, she lives the typical life of a teenager until a couple of village members choose to harbor rebel Nationalists warriors.  The Emperor-Across-the-River discovering the concealment, he sends an Imperial brigade to raze the village and teach a lesson to other Nationalists.  Their home in ashes, the family’s belongings limited to what they could collect in five minutes, and the village in mass exodus, Mathembe is left to fend for herself—a difficult task as complete civil war engulfs the land.