“’Am
I a ghost in a meat machine, am I God’s little seed stored in heaven for all
eternity and glued one day on to a blastocyst in Mama Columbar’s womb; has this
me been recycled through countless previous bodies, previous worlds,
universes?’ He pressed his finger between Trinidad’s eyes… ‘This is the final
frontier. Here. This curve of bone is the edge of the universe.’”
Existentialism is a main theme of Ian Mcdonald’s
brilliant 1994 Necroville (published
in the US as Terminal Café). Pyrotechnic poetry blasting from the pages,
the possibilities of nanotechnology have never been related in such vivid profundity.
The scene lower California of 2063, the
dead live again in this flames-and-leather cyberpunk exploration of the meaning
of life and death in a world gone mad with possibility.
In line with McDonald’s penchant for multiple viewpoints,
Necroville’s story is told through
the eyes of five friends who meet every year at Terminal Café on the Mexican Day
of Dead. Santiago (the man quoted above),
a drug artist, has experienced life in every way possible and seeks something
more, possibly death. Camaguey is
terminally ill and must decide what to do with the hours remaining. Touissant is an aguilar, an eagle-man, trying to fly away from his family’s
legacy. Trinidad is a dinosaur hunter
who hammers bodies “to the crucifix of fear she drags across her life”. And Yoyo, an independent lawyer, must solve
the mystery of why the massive nanotech corporation TeeTee wants her dead. But it’s the place they meet that comes most
alive. The streets and alleyways of the barrios—the necrovilles—they wander to
meet at the café are much more than the neon, whores, and black leather that
glitter on the surface.
Competing with theme for strongest point of the
novel, readers who enjoy vibrant, dense prose are in for a treat; McDonald’s
visuals are strong yet abstract. The
characters’ stories are unraveled in a fashion that keeps Necroville’s pedal to the metal the length of the novel. Rather than buoyed gently along by breathless
treacle, McDonald’s prose burns like an ethanol engine, each sentence firing
off a chain of pyrotechnic visuals. Motorcycle
gangs, smog swallowed enclaves, drug trips, death hunts, and every other aspect
of the characters’ futuristic lives is described in vivid, poetic detail that
flies in the face of the paint-by-the-numbers sci-fi available today. (Like River of Gods, McDonald includes a fair number of words from the setting’s native
tongue: Spanish. The book easily read
without any knowledge of the language, there remain some who might be bothered
by it, so be warned.)
Space opera, big dumb object, and first contact maintaining
their limits of sub-genre, nanotech novels have proven more variegated. Stephenson’s Diamond Age, Stross’s Glasshouse,
and Ian Mcdonald’s Necroville present
three very different views on the possibilities for the concept. The prologue short, McDonald’s take is
obvious from the beginning: “Tesler’s Corollary: The first thing we get with
nanotechnology is the resurrection of the dead.” So while theme parks have gone bankrupt
trying to contain the dinosaurs they accidentally unleashed and designer drugs
are available on the market with narcotic qualities like never before, the main
focus of nanotech in Necroville is
the superhuman status humans achieve after death, mortality no longer a
limitation. Skeletal alteration, skin changes,
even life in space are choices for the dead. (They are a more realist take on Mieville’s
“remade”). The possibilities so
appealing, in fact, numerous intentionally die to have the doors of opportunity
open. Like people today, McDonald posits
those of the future will likewise yearn for more from life, want to push the
limits, and in his context, envy the dead.
Potential problems with the novel are more a matter
of taste than technical. Some reviewers
have complained that McDonald does not thoroughly explain the technical
background of his nanotech, which is true.
However, worldbuilding was never the aim. McDonald focuses instead on the personal and ethical
aspects of technical achievement, the book needing to be approached as
such. Some readers have also complained
about the “confusing style” and “lack of cohesion amongst the character viewpoints”. Suffice to say, McDonald’s narrative is indeed
allusive, most often describing matters indirectly. Attentive readers who enjoy stories to
cogitate upon as they read will love the book (e.g. William Gibson, Gene Wolfe,
Thomas Pynchon, etc.), while those who prefer linear narratives with overt info
dumps and plot hand-holding will balk (e.g. Alastair Reynolds, Peter Hamilton,
Arthur C. Clarke, etc.). This is mature
sci-fi (yes, even with dinosaurs), thus readers expecting an easily digested
story will be disappointed.
Combining original genre ideas with moral
exploration, Necroville is a sci-fi tour de force. From the visceral beauty of the prose to the
variety of ways in which life and death are examined over the backdrop of the
resurrection of humanity, McDonald has staked a claim for himself in the
existential examination of nanotech.
Cyberpunk through and through, fans of Gibson, Brunner, Stephenson, and
Sterling will want to check out this offering.
Having much, much in common with the style and presentation of his award-winning
River of Gods, Brasyl and The Dervish House,
Necroville proves McDonald’s earlier
publishings highly underrated and worthy of attention.
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