Review of "A New Science of Life" by Rupert Sheldrake

It was Jung who conceived of the collective unconscious and the archetypes embedded universally in humanity, from mythology to psychology.  Synthesizing the results of mechanistic science with an intuitive stance on evolution and the interconnectedness of life, Sheldrake asserts that a similar concept can be found in biology.  In A New Science of Life, the British scientist theorizes that an immeasurable field superimposes and patterns biological structures of life and the reproductive process of all living things.  Despite encountering continued skepticism since its publishing in 1981 (it was nominated as a “book for burning” by Nature), the idea has been developed in subsequent books and achieved wider acclaim and validity in the years since.  

The parallels with Jungian archetypal theory obvious - particularly in how it informs across a variety of tiers - Sheldrake describes morphogenetic fields as being: 

responsible for the characteristic form and organization of systems at all levels of complexity, not only in the realm of biology, but also in the realms of chemistry and physics.  These fields order the systems with which they are associated by affecting events which… appear to be indeterminate or probabilistic. (13)

It is Sheldrake’s dependence on these unquantifiable aspects—the intuitive, non-rational nature of morphogenetic fields—which cause a stir in the community of evolutionary biology and science in general.

Not the first to use the idea of morphogenetic fields, Sheldrake’s theory is, however, the first to accord the idea unequivocal palpability.  In explaining how current morphogenetic fields are derivative of past fields, he writes “the structures of past systems affect subsequent similar systems by cumulative influence which acts across both space and time” (13).  Similar to Bohm’s theory of implicate order, morphogenetic fields are thus omnipresent and immeasurable, transcending time and space to inform the present.  Based on the cumulative influence contained within morphogenetic fields, Sheldrake thus explains how an animal or a plant is both similar to and different from its predecessor, the newest variety more adapted to its surroundings yet possessing nearly entirely the same structure, the similarities a result of morphic resonance within the omnipresent morphogenetic field.  Rooted in evolutionary biology, he breaks this transfer down into four levels: instinct, sign stimulus (a life form’s interaction and reaction to its environment and circumstance), learning (the manner in which organisms permanently adapt to new environments and perpetual circumstances over time), and memory (the morphogenetic aspect which allows a life form to transmit adaptations to succeeding generations).  

In the end, Sheldrake’s theories remain on the dark side of Popper’s demarcation problem: it is unprovable in the terms of rational science.  Sheldrake details some interesting experimentation in his book involving subsequent generations of rats and pigeons taught to perform certain tricks, yet his results are corroborated only to varying degrees by external research.  That being said, rational science is neither able to offer provable explanations for the phenomena Sheldrake delves into, thus rendering his theories at least a step forward in the discovery of what truly lies beneath.  Only time will tell, and so for now A New Science of Life remains interesting, alternative theory worth a read into the yet mysteries details of biological evolution.

American Corner – Wroclaw’s English Language Library

Overlooking the main square, the City of Wroclaw’s English language library may be small but it bursts with variety.  Called American Corner (beware, you are greeted by a life-size cardboard cutout of Obama as you enter), it is actually only a part of the larger Lower Silesian Public Library.  The majority of items available are donations from expatriates or social and library programs in the US.  As such, a person can find a light but healthy selection, including novels, biographies, poetry, language learning materials, reference books, young adult, children’s, history, magazines, and more.  Non-paper media available includes a nice selection of DVDs, as well as a computer area which features approximately ten consoles, a printer, and internet access. 

The selection of books on hand small but quality, it would be impossible for any reader not to find something to enjoy.  Library staff all speak excellent English and are most helpful in locating what you need.  The card catalog is digital and can be accessed either in the library or online. (www.dzb.pl)  The comfortable reading area with soft, plush chairs available while you peruse a book you’d like to borrow is a nice touch, the sounds of the main city square drifting in from the window.  (As a side note, the Lower Silesian Public Library also features the Goethe Institute - a German library - and Romanian and Korean libraries alongside its Polish collection.) 

Though I have not (yet) been to the British Council Library located nearby, I can say I’m more than pleased to have American Corner as part of my city.  To be a foreigner living in Poland, yet have access to public books in my language is a small blessing I’m appreciative of.  As such, I recommend stopping by 58 Rynek in the heart of Wroclaw (between Literatka and Jazzda as in the photo in the upper left) to have a look around and support the library.  If you have English language material in good condition but want to throw it away, by all means donate it to American Corner instead.  Perhaps someone else might gain some enjoyment from it?  

American Corner is a luxury which mostly depends on its community for survival.  Even if paling in size to many American libraries, I’m proud to support it.  So if you’re a foreigner spending time in Wroclaw, I guarantee it’s worth a look.

Click here for library website (note: website only in Polish, so it's better to visit the library in person).

Review of "Neuromancer" by William Gibson

There are specific moments in literary history that define future generations.  Neuromancer is one. As The Lord of the Rings was a watershed event that shaped the decades of epic fantasy to come, so too has William Gibson’s novel of a console cowboy riding through cyberspace shaped and influenced a myriad of science fiction since the 80s.  Richard Morgan’s Takeshi Kovac's novels, Ian McDonald’s River of Gods, the Wachowski brothers’ The Matrix, Dan Simmons’ Hyperion Cantos, Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash, Masumune Shirow’s Ghost in the Shell, Iain Banks’ Culture novels – just to name a few - all owe varying degrees of recognition to the seminal influence that is Neuromancer.

An underground success when it was released in 1984, building to a huge readership in the years that followed, Neuromancer is no worse for the wear.  Gibson’s vision remains as penetrating into technology and society then as today.  In direct opposition to the squeaky clean laboratory visions of the future presented by Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov, and Gene Rodenberry, the novel is set in a bleak, grittier version of a future earth.  Corporations rule and the consumption of commodities – legal and illegal - have overtaken quotidian life.  A virtual world of data superimposes and permeates the fabric of society.  In fact, the saturation of technology and commercialism so replete, few hints of nature remain.  Life is instead channeled through electrodes, simulators, and designer drugs – existence carried on in rundown urban conglomerations and jacked into the matrix.  In true Philip K. Dick style, this line between reality and virtual reality blurs to the point the reader themselves at times does not trust their senses.

The novel’s plot centers on the cyber cowboy Case and his struggles in his chosen profession of data thief.  An outright drug addict, Case lives with one eye over his shoulder, the other looking to stay ahead of the dangers that trail his under-the-table, high risk dealings.  Encountering an offer to sweet to turn down, the uncertainties fade in the neon hope of achieving a long-dreamed of escape from life on the run.  But the deal isn’t what he expected.  Case’s advanced cyberspace skills take him places out of the atmosphere and deep into his dreams.  And his nightmares.  Bombarded with holograms, fake memories, and constant switches between realities – virtual, simulated, and otherwise - he begins losing touch.  But when AIs enter the picture, the game is taken to another plane.  Based on the psychological, sociological, and technological dimensions Gibson stretches the story across, literature has never had such equivocal view of life.  

Though the latter two books in the Sprawl series, Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive, offer tighter, more polished prose, Neuromancer is no slouch.  Gibson’s first novel is a mature offering and better than the majority of sci-fi published by established writers today.  It offers a powerful, highly-unique style, lingual innovation the neon burning through the light.  A simple look at the terms coined - “jacked in”, “matrix”, “cyberpunk”, etc. – indicate the integral role the text has played not only amongst sci-fi geeks, but everyday society and the language it uses to describe techno reality.  Few today in the Western world are unaware of the term “cyberspace”, yet most probably do not know of its root in Neuromancer.  

In the end, nobody calling themselves a fan of science fiction in the 21st century can go without reading this novel.  A quick look at the titles it has influenced in the opening paragraph (no slouches, themselves) and the book’s significance becomes readily apparent.  Picking up the mantle PKD left with his untimely death in 1982, Gibson, though less prolific, has evolved the genre for a new generation - it’s stimuli possessing the same innovative bite but in higher literary form.  Beyond entertainment, Neuromancer is an artistic statement with vision into the reality of technology’s integration with humanity.  It is a book that will endure for generations.

(If you have read the whole Sprawl trilogy and are interested in reading more, you may like to read my essay entitled The Uncertainty of Reality: William Gibson's Sprawl Series.)

Review of "Quicksilver" by Neal Stephenson

The ideas of numerology, encryption, and early computer infrastructure came to life in Stephenson’s 2001 Cryptonomicon.  Quicksilver – and the entire Baroque Cycle, for that matter – find the author digging even deeper into these histories to strike at the root of modern economy, commerce, and primitive computing.   Tipping the scales at more than 900 pages, the volume is divided into three parts: the eponymous Quicksilver, King of the Vagabonds, and Odalisque.

Centuries in the past rather than decades, the scene is the late 17th century, Britain's Reformation in full swing.  While Protestants and Catholics war in politics and on the streets, a growing number of scientists appear, bent on defining the phenomena of life in less fantastic terms.  Funded and ennobled from on high, a group of these aristocratic nerds form London’s Royal Society for Natural Philosophy and carry out a wide variety of experiments on anything they can lay their hands on, live dogs, menstrual blood, and kidney stones turning no stomachs.  Newton hangs on the fringes, and his, along with Leibniz’s mathematical discoveries, move Europe toward the values of empirical science.

Into this accurate historical setting (which includes many characters who truly lived and breathed), Stephenson weaves a handful of fictional characters.  Foremost is Dr. Daniel Waterhouse, who acts both as witness and participant in the wide variety of social, political, religious, and scientific happenings of the day.  Action occurs elsewhere, as well.  The characters Jack Shaftoe and Eliza de Zeur traipse about mainland Europe (predominantly Germany, the Netherlands, and France), getting into adventures more swashbuckling than Waterhouse’s ecclesiastical circumstances allow for.  Each a window in time, it is through these character’s eyes that the history of the era unfolds as only Stephenson’s wit could allow.

Quicksilver certainly more historical than fictional, the author allows the movements of textbooks to direct the story.  Waterhouse’s perspective is chock full of the political movements and court intrigue of the time, as well as the philosophic and religious disputes that marked the early stages of the modern scientific revolution.  The second and third books, King of the Vagabonds and Odalisque, respectively, contain more action, however.  Jack and Eliza’s turns through silver mines of Bohemia, stock markets of Amsterdam, and squalorous streets of Paris, ratchet the excitement level a little higher and keep the pages turning.  

In the end, Stephenson has done his research.  The pages of Quicksilver are bursting with esoteric cultural and historical facts that most modern day people are unaware of.  The origins of words, place names, and former political allegiances will surprise the reader and have them checking up on Stephenson’s facts in a more trusted source.  The fictional characters thrown into the mix liven what would otherwise be dry reading.  Further jazzing up the 900 pages, Stephenson breaks narrative form on several occasions to introduce alternative formats.  Socratic dialogue, letters, theater, and info dumps all bump and jostle the story along.  At times seeming more educational than entertainment, the book is true nerd-dom. Thus, readers who prefer linear, action filled narratives should look elsewhere.  Quicksilver is infotainment with a heavy focus on the history of money, mathematics, and the daily life of 17th century Europe.

Review of "The Etched City" by K.J. Bishop

Reading K.J. Bishop’s 2003 The Etched City is like bathing in warm honey.  There are times the aroma is fresh and the taste sweet, no other cares in the world.  Then there are others when one wants to get out of the bath, wash their skin of the sticky, cloying substance, and feel a cool breeze on their skin.  One lost in the moment, the other knowing where it’s going, such is the paradoxical experience of Bishop’s first and only published novel to date.

 The Etched City is sure to cause a split among readers, especially those coming from a strong Tolkien-esque fantasy background.  Though a couple scenes and happenings warrant the categorization, most other aspects remain equivocal parallels to the genre at best.  There are no magic swords, wizards, or dragons; only the occasional supernatural event sneaking into the storyline.  More in the vein of magic realism, flowers sprout from wounds, humans birth crocodiles, and cigarettes are conjured from thin air - these are the greatest journeys the story takes into the fantastic.  Thus, dungeons and dragons fans seeing the awards the book has garnered, be warned.

Whether The Etched City is a novel in the classic tradition, however, is debatable.   A second-reading needed to discover if in fact a spine exists, the book is more a collage of vignettes than straightforward storytelling.  The narrative describes rather than tells of the lives of Raule the healer, Rev the priest, Lisbeth the artist, and Gwynn the mercenary.  Bishop constantly keeping readers at a distance from the characters, substance moves to the forefront.  Philosophic dialogue on the nature of religion, metaphysical speculation, and art and the pull of the soul leisurely fill the pages, instead.  The narrative is motivated in patches, however.  Gang warfare, drugs, prostitution, and other social ills occasionally emerge from the waters below to nudge the plot forward, but overall the book floats rather than swims.   

Taking advantage of the set up, Bishop arranges some interesting oppositions: the worldviews of the Rev and Gwynn, the moral orientation and gender roles of Gwynn and Raule, the life’s devotions of Lisbeth and Raule, and so forth.  These opposites presented rather than directed, the book is undoubtedly for the reader who prefers the stasis of muse to linear plot movement.

One point I’d like to take issue with is the book’s back cover comparison to Stephen King’s The Dark Tower series and China Mieville’s Bas-Lag.  Undoubtedly a marketing ploy, the overall feel of the novel is wholly different than these two authors’ created worlds.  Though a hint of resemblance exists (particularly in the opening section’s desert setting to King’s world), the remainder of the scenes in the book are nothing short of an homage to Bishop’s native Australia.  The flora and fauna, monsoons and heat, streets and jungles of fictional Ashamoil have more in common with the Northern Territory’s Darwin and Kakadu than any of the filth and squalor of New Crozubon.  Secondly, while Mieville details his world a la Peake, Bishop wields her brush only enough to establish tone, the result being that the mind’s eye resides more in the imagination than on paper.  

In the end, The Etched City will undoubtedly disappoint readers expecting an oriented plot and empathetic characters.  Bishop’s thematic intentions ambivalent at best, an indifference should be expected on the part of the narrator and a vague, magic-realist atmosphere doing nothing to clearly delineate objectives.  Like realist novels, the reader should also expect a more than healthy dose of deliberation over a variety of social and human phenomena.  A climax of sorts does exist to end the book, but due to the aforementioned attributes, it lacks the impact many readers expect, and therefore must be reckoned with in alternative fashion.  Well written, the book is recommended for those who don’t mind a subtle, meandering read set in a surreal world more reminiscent of Kipling than Mieville, themes slowly flowering in afterthought. 

Review of "Homage to Catalonia" by George Orwell

Though Orwell’s name has been idiomized in reference to the totalitarian watchdoggery of 1984, his non-fictional works are no less insightful or intelligently crafted.  Written after having spent roughly five months volunteering for the Marxists in the Spanish Civil War, Orwell’s 1937 Homage to Catalonia is no exception.   

A breakdown of the extremely complex political situation in Spain before the outbreak of WWII, Homage to Catalonia is also a report on conditions from the war front.  Gaining the equivalent rank of corporal, Orwell saw first hand action in the trenches of the front lines in Spain’s northwest during 1936.  Both guarding against and attacking the Fascists who were attempting to control the region, Orwell lucidly describes daily life fighting alongside the poorly-fed, poorly-armed, and poorly educated Spaniards.  Their lack of the most basic of amenities, like firewood, fresh water, and food, even bullets, did not make the time any easier.  Orwell likewise found time to unravel the incredibly multifaceted internal politics causing the war - not only in Catalonia, but on the streets of Barcelona and beyond.  His clean, crisp sentences relaying information in precise strokes, the Communists, Marxists, Fascists, Socialists, Nationalists, and the conservative and liberal groups each subsist of are expounded upon in relevant detail, painting a clear (as can be) picture of the sides and their subsequent agendas.  With Franco’s regime beginning to show signs of taking power (as it ultimately did), Orwell’s allegiance dictates an interesting and somewhat suspenseful escape from Spain, a chapter which nicely closes the book.

In our modern day cultural-relativism-this and social-liberalism-that, perhaps most remarkable about Homage to Catalonia is Orwell’s unabashed passion in opposition of Fascism.  His willingness to pick up a rifle and take a shot at the “enemy” is something today’s journalists and writers would undoubtedly be skeptical in light of the political correctness permeating all regulated statements coming from the media these days.  Reading of the shocking and unique injury Orwell suffers while on the front lines is a sacrifice we rarely if never read of occurring to today’s social and political scribes.  All of this sets into motion interesting questions regarding not only the duties of the writer to make such situations known to the public, but also to what extent the public itself warrants involvement in pressing political situations and what exactly a journalist is.

For its comprehensive content related to civil war conditions and its scrupulous dissection of the political environment of Spain circa 1936-37, Homage to Catalonia is worthy of a special place among the 20th century’s wartime texts.  But that it’s written in a superb, detailed fashion that expresses informed (and occasionally) personal opinions on the general state of social and political affairs in Europe before WWII pushes the book near the front.  Orwell’s account of trench warfare, street fighting in Barcelona, and escape from the harrowing situation in Spain is a must for anyone interested in WWII, Spanish, or modern European history.   Simply a great, informative read. 

Review of "Mona Lisa Overdrive" by William Gibson

Having established a pattern of publishing a book every two to three years (the exact opposite of Iain Banks, Philip K. Dick, or Charles Stross), it would seem William Gibson spends his time perfecting his prose, paring down the text to a maximum of detail in a paucity of words.   Packed from end to end with impacting sentences which paint vivid pictures of a devolving near-future America,  Mona Lisa Overdrive is no exception.  The third and final novel of Gibson’s Sprawl series is another masterpiece featuring a narrative drive focused like a laser.  

Weighing in at a light 312 pages compared to much of sci-fi today (looking at you Hamilton, Stephenson, and Reynolds!), it’s obvious that Gibson believes there’s no need to overwhelm with volume to impress.  Quality rather than quantity, the author truly has his finger on the pulse of the language, the neologisms just waiting to be adopted into lingua franca.  Like triple distilled whiskey, the style can be savored, each word lean and sharp, and the most vivid of near-future dystopias swirling into view.  

Beginning roughly seven years after the events of Count Zero, Mona Lisa Overdrive picks up the storylines of some old characters while introducing new ones.  Kumiko is the daughter of a powerful yakuza boss, sent to London to escape Tokyo internecine warfare.  Slick is an ex-con living in the wastelands of a New Jersey landfill, building bizarre robots in an attempt to clear his mind from the chemical brainwash he underwent in prison.  And Mona, a young prostitute, follows Eddy her pimp wherever the drugs take her.  These characters, as well as Angie and Bobby from Count Zero and Molly from Neuromancer, find their lives on a slow collision course that will have all of those jacked in to cyberspace standing at attention.

While there are some shallow fans who consider Neuromancer the only worthwhile offering of Gibson’s oeuvre, readers who appreciate his vision and insight will easily see how this novel advances the series to the next level.  Theme as well as story, Gibson continues to push at boundaries and is rewarded for his effort.  Worthy of notice alone is his ambition to comment upon technology, art, social ills, the environment, and the meaning of being human in a technologically saturated environs.  That he also tells a motivated, paced story filled with highly original ideas moves him to the alpha dogs of the sci-fi pack, no matter the era.  Other than plot threads which may or may not match up in the end, Mona Lisa Overdrive is worth every penny as a satisfying conclusion to what must be considered one of the best sci-fi series out there.

(If you have read the whole Sprawl trilogy and are interested in reading more, you may like to read my essay entitled The Uncertainty of Reality: William Gibson's Sprawl Series.)

Review of "The Lions of Al-Rassan" by Guy Gavriel Kay

Though the practice in Western societies died out long ago, while reading Kay it’s easy to imagine an old European city with him on a street corner, a melodious voice telling the trials and triumphs of men of old.  A myth from another time, his 1995 The Lions of Al-Rassan establishes a mood that is at once empathetic yet speaks of a time more archaic.  Written in warm, refined prose, the themes of history, romance, warfare, and political intrigue as lived by a range of epic characters fill the story to the brim, standing the novel as an example of historical fantasy to rival the best.

Using European history as a springboard, The Lions of Al-Rassan is at heart the tale of Spain’s reclamation of Iberia from the Moors.  Never trying to disguise the fact, Kay nevertheless creates new names for the places, cultures, and religions, the map included even holding the same shape as the Mediterranean.  Kay does, however, writes his own story, that of the larger-than-life Rodrigo Belmonte of the Jaddites and Ibn an Ammar of the Asharites.  The two springing from myth, the eyes of Achilles and Hector can be seen dancing in the shadows.  Belmonte is a supreme military strategist and Ammar a warrior-poet, and despite their individual strengths, each remains subservient to the wishes of their kings and kingdoms.  Religious fervor building between the sun worshippers and the star worshippers, choices regarding honor and duty come often and hit hard for the two men as they traverse the land, doing the bidding of their lords trying to maintain honor and self-respect.  

Like smaller tributaries feeding a larger river, so does Kay tell the story of Belmonte and Amman.  New chapters and scenes beginning in abstract settings or with distant characters, what is introduced is slowly woven into the lives of the two, such that by the end of the novel, a swollen tide of people and events bears the story to its tragic conclusion.  While some of the action and sex is certainly gratuitous, in this novel Kay is at least able to direct these scenes toward the main plotline, salvaging what was superfluous effort in Tigana.  The ending, though a bit rushed, remains satisfying and will surely have more affective readers turning the last page with a heavy heart.

Having helped Christopher Tolkien edit the manuscript that would become The Silmarillion, Kay’s sense of style hearkens back.  Rather than the unpolished, immature prose which a large portion of fantasy rushed from the keyboard to the press exhibits today, Kay has refined his wordplay to the point the pages turn almost imperceptibly.  The tale unraveling rich and elegant, reveals are not immediate and the tone is subtle.  A relaxing balance is struck between the formal use of language and a brevity depending more on action than word.  Focusing on the human aspects and progression of the story, some readers may complain of the lack of cultural elements or details in the setting.  As characterization and plot are so lush and textured, however, most will not notice.

In choosing so many historical settings for his novels, Kay is fast becoming the Michener of historical fantasy - The Lions of Al-Rassan not excluded.  The themes of love, honor, duty, sacrifice, loyalty, etc. so pervasive, the novel is nothing less than classic storytelling.  Thus, for those who enjoy stories told in time worn tradition and in mythic scope, this novel is undoubtedly for you.  Classic characters fleshing out a classic story, this is a well written book even if it adds nothing new to the genre.

Review of "Perdido Street Station' by China Mieville

Perdido Street Station, British author China Mieville’s second novel, is an original work of fantasy that’s sure to turn heads.  Whether homage or theft, elements from a wide variety of sources present themselves in the book.  The visceral descriptions of character and place are in the spirit of Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast works or Michael Swanwick The Iron Dragon's Daughter. The monsters are in the vein of H.P. Lovecraft, an overt Gene Wolfe, or any comic book.  And the story elements draw upon a wide variety of sub-genres--steam- to cyberpunk, horror to epic fantasy.  That being said, Mieville is able to combine these disparate elements into such an enticing mix of monsters and mayhem that the setting, characters, and the storyline plumbing their depths form a cohesive whole unique in fantasy.

Perdido Street Station resides at the heart of Mieville’s fictional New Crobuzon.  Like London or New York’s main terminals, its trains disperse into surrounding suburbs, boroughs, and neighborhoods that have a unique cultural, economic, or social status.  Home to a wide variety of human and xenian species, Mieville goes to great lengths, particularly in the first third of the book, to properly set the scene.  The cactus, frog, and insect-esque peoples populating the city are all detailed.  There are also lengthy descriptions of the crusty grime and stagnant filth that saturate the dark alleys and narrow streets, the smoke languoring ominously overhead, and the polluted sludge calling itself a river flowing through the city.  While this may not appeal to readers with a weaker stomach, the dystopian disgustingness nicely compliments the ever-evolving mix of steampunk tech that the city’s population depends on, produces, and exploits. 

Playing a witting - and sometimes unwitting - hand in New Crobuzon’s propagation of technical advancement and knowledge is the book’s main character, Isaac Grimnebulin.  Having left the university where he was teaching on moral grounds (the school was openly performing experiments that even Goebbels and Hitler would have nightmares about), Isaac is a rebel in more ways than one.  Involved in a taboo relationship with a khepri artist named Lin, a half-human, half-insect woman, Isaac’s liberal views also allow him to take on the commission of a garuda, a bird man who has had his wings removed for committing the crime of “choice-theft” in his own community.  An interesting moral concept, one that plays itself out nicely in the novel’s denouement, it is in solving the puzzle of how to get the garuda to fly again that the plot really starts to takes shape, corrupt government, crime-ridden underworld, and the seedy side of society complementing the story nicely. 

Needing a wide variety of birds, insects, and unnamable creatures which fly to go about his research, one day Isaac receives a mysteriously colored caterpillar that refuses to eat any of the food it is given.  It is the accidental discovery of the sustenance the caterpillar desires that springs the book to life, action thereafter moving in an ever gosh-wow direction.  Fascinating visuals and jaw-dropping scenes steadily take over the pages, bringing the reader on an exciting joyride of mud and slime, unearthly creatures, and scenarios that defy description out of the book’s context.  Dogs fly, spiders sing, dance, and play with scissors, and corpses are animated by powers all too tangible.  While pace may suffer at the novel’s outset as Mieville sets the scene, Perdido Street Station picks up steam like a freight train on its way to delivering a wonderfully satisfying, exciting, and unpredictable conclusion that is the reward for those who stick it out.

Mieville’s sixth novel, The City & the City, had a high degree of polished, focused prose effortlessly moving the story forward.  Published at the inchoate stage of his publishing career, Perdido Street Station instead features a more workmanlike command of language, flashes of true understanding of the craft escaping only here and there.  Viriconium and Gormenghast acknowledged by Mieville in the intro, readers should expect a lot of adjectives and descriptive elements as Mieville goes about worldbuilding - the setting a character unto itself.  (For my money, however, I would put The Iron Dragon's Daughter as Mieville's greatest influence--right down to "puissant" and "thaumaturgy", but that's for another day.)  His imagination worth the effort, memorable images and ideas with finite color and shape will hang in the mind long after the novel is finished despite the more than occasional clumsy or pretentious passage.  It goes without saying readers who don’t mind visuals more implanted than suggested will probably enjoy the novel the most, but will have to forgive Mieville the inability to match the mood of Viriconium.

In numerous interviews Mieville has deflected the question “Is there a political agenda to your writing?”, with the response “Not really.  Genre, plot, character are of foremost importance.”  Constantly hanging around the edges, tinting the story are, however, a number of elements which can be nothing less than class struggle, commentary on economics, and cultural relativism.  One never quite sure whether these elements amount to a thematic whole, sheer storytelling and visuals are the workhorses of the novel.  As such, it may be best to sit back and take the dirty, visceral, utterly weird ride Mieville has created to Perdido Street Station.  It is wholly original genre work for the 21st century--a feat increasingly difficult to pull off.   

Review of "Spin" by Robert Charles Wilson

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

A sturdy home in the burbs seems the best metaphor describing Robert Charles Wilson’s 2005 Spin.  The novel does everything correctly.  It builds mystery in a curiosity evoking fashion.  The characters have all the right traits to color a story.  The prose moves the plot steadily forward, at times even gaining artistic heights.  And lastly, sci-fi elements support the evolving premise of the book as well as any fan of Heinlein, Wells, or Asimov could hope.  That being said, it is the mapped nature of the novel which undermines its overall quality, and ultimately leaves what is a solid domicile for some, lacking character for others.    

The fundamental concept underpinning Spin is that the earth is one day suddenly encapsulated in a time bubble by an unknown group dubbed the Hypotheticals.  While a minute remains minute and a second a second on earth, time in the universe beyond moves exponentially faster.  Wilson plays the idea in two directions for society.  The first are those who react positively to the notion only 50 years remain before the sun fizzles out.  They seek to profit from the knowledge available to experimentation having  millennia as a timeframe.  The second part of society, however, is in despair of the looming fate, effectively giving up on moral codes and civilized behavior. This dichotomy and the ground between are portrayed by the three protagonists: the twins Jason and Diane, and the main character Tyler, respectively.  Style smooth and literary, Wilson chronicles forty years of the lives of the three as they deal with the knowledge the sun will burn out in their lifetime.    

With the impending apocalypse at times less than convincing, character reaction is not the only divisive aspect of the novel.  Story content can likewise be split along two lines, scientific speculation and the relationship among the three main characters.  Thus, while astronomy and biology nerds delight on one hand, the eyes of romantics sparkle on the other.  Wilson fails to intertwine these two aspects, however.  Despite that the obvious intent was to impress upon readers the effect of catastrophic world events, it is rare that any of the characters are emotionally affected by the crime sprees, depression, and general chaos.  They live their “normal” lives carrying out their adolescent love drama, the chaos pushed to the background for the character development scenes.  In trying to drive home the human aspects of the desperation of the scenario, one would expect stronger ties between the two.  Pohl’s Gateway, for example, does a much better job of portraying a human at end, not to mention McCarthy’s masterpiece The Road.  As a result, Spin could have been split into two books: one in the hard sci-fi genre, the other in romance.  As so much sci-fi contains wooden characterization, however, Wilson shouldn’t be denounced too heavily for introducing plausible characters to a genre story, and in the end it is just the disconnection between the two which undermines the overall intent.

Another problem arising from the textbook nature of the novel is how contrived many of the scenes feel.  One can almost see the points in Wilson’s outline being ticked off one by one as the pages turn.  Main character is questioned by insignificant third-party to reveal inner personal secrets to reader. Check.  Main character “accidentally” runs into old flame and is forced to update life.  Check.  Scientist appears stage left for info dump on state of world after major event.  Check.  Create implausible distraction so that two characters can be alone.  Check.  And so on.  Suffice to say, some writers do a better job of disguising movements in timeframes and dispersal of necessary story info.

But there remain several positive points to the novel.  Wilson incorporates a large amount of research into the book.  Medicine, terraforming, rocketry, astronomy, the potential for life on Mars, planet seeding, etc. all fall under discussion, and at times, actively propel the plot.  For the hard science fans out there, this will certainly appeal.  As was mentioned, the strong prose coupled with the escalating feeling of suspense, though starting to peter toward the climax, nonetheless does an effective job of making the reader want to turn the page.  Hints and clues constantly left dangling, Wilson knows how to keep readers wanting to know the “real truth”.

Those who choose to pick up Spin will be left oscillating rather than spinning.  The two sided coin that is the novel – combination speculative science vs. love story – will enthrall or put off.  But in the end, the quality prose, interesting premise, and fully developed storyline will be enough for most readers to at least say it’s a sturdy effort by a competent writer and that their time hasn’t been wasted.  The house in the burbs, despite a few undesirables, has been good to them.