Most
well-known for his excursions into fantasy, magic realism, horror, and all
things between, Lucius Shepard’s 1992 Barnacle
Bill the Spacer is a notable exception.
A space station drama/thriller, the novella nevertheless possesses the
writer’s signature style. What it may be
missing, however, is originality and significance.
Barnacle Bill the Spacer is set on Solitaire, a station orbiting Mars which
assembles long-distance exploratory ships.
Earth in ruins, life on the station and Mars is considered a luxury, and
is available only to a select few. An
exception to the happy, healthy people at the station, however, is Bill, a
mental defect who escaped mandatory abortion due to his mother’s position in
government. “Barnacle Bill”, as he is
derogatorily called, is looked down upon by the station’s community and
isolates himself with sweets and porn.
In a bar fight in the opening pages, one of the other station dwellers
named John defends Bill for reasons he doesn’t understand, and in the
aftermath, finds himself offering protection to the slow witted man. The bar fight not the end of the violence, a
mysterious cult called the Strange Magnificence leaves the mark of death on
Bill’s door one morning not too long after, drawing Bill, John, station
security, and local government into the fray.
The ship builders of Solitaire
are never the same.
As
Shepard would again do so well in the later novella Stars Seen through Stone, Barnacle
Bill the Spacer features a strongly contentious, unlikeable character. Bill a slovenly, perverted, unhealthy man who
does himself no favors by being unrealistically demanding, the reader will find
themselves loathing him, yet pitying his limited mental capabilities when
reading of his internal battles with the brain implant that keeps him
sane. Having his role to play in the
fate of the space station, the reader’s patience is rewarded at the conclusion,
and more than likely in a fashion they could not predict.
But
for as good a job Shepard does describing the scenes and building Bill’s
character, a lot remains unspoken for.
For one, there is nothing original about the story. Like a walk in the park, it has been done
before. Possessing a quotidian feel,
nothing is challenging about the premise or its result. Strange Magnificence, for example, is more an
option for horror and sensationalism than commentary on any social
condition. Moreover, there does not
appear to be any worthwhile message beneath the polished surface of plot. The tied-off ending does not fully align
itself with the aim of the narrator’s introduction, leaving a sense of
emptiness upon the conclusion.
In
the end, Barnacle Bill the Spacer is
a well-written sci-fi story, but one that is highly conventional. The quality of Shepard’s writing able to pull
the story only so far, readers eventually reach a point where they realize that
for all the proverbial weight of the exposition and dialogue, there is a
notable lack of gravity to the underlying message. Characters that are developed initially
eventually turn out to be used only for ulterior purposes, nothing deeper; the
plot becomes increasingly implausible; and the ending is noticeably trite—not
Shepard’s usual MO. In other words, the
novella tells an entertaining enough story, but leaves the reader holding
little at the end. For a similar but
more focused story, see Allen Steele’s Death of Captain Future. For a similar
title character, see Daniel Keyes’ Flowers
for Algernon. And for reasons of
similarity that depend only on my gut instinct, see Alfred Bester’s The Stars My Destination.
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