Brian Aldiss, certainly one of the tip-top science fiction
writers of all time, passed away a couple weeks ago, and in honor I decided to
pull one of my unread Aldiss novels off the shelf and have a go. No two pieces of Aldiss’ fiction the same, it
was impossible to predict what The
Malacia Tapestry (1976) would be.
And the cover is zero help.
Unless the reader has read an adept review or two, then it’s very likely
the pulp image would entirely misguide them.
But this is Aldiss we’re discussing, and The Malacia Tapestry is much more than Golden Age escapism. In an interesting twist, Jack Vance might
have played a hand, however…
The Malacia Tapestry
is about Perian de Chirolo and what is likely the most formative year of his
life. Playboy actor working the stage in
the Renassaince-ish, Italian-ish city of Malacia, he lives in poverty yet
devotes his life to pleasures—chasing women, bumming a good meal, and getting
drunk with equally lascivious friends. A
complete cad, Perian’s life takes a new direction (little to his knowledge)
when he agrees to a job acting, rather posing, for scenes in a new type of
still-life art created by a renegade inventor/artist named Bergstohn. Bergstohn part da Vinci and part Wagner, he is
a Progressive who has developed a zahnatascope (primitive camera) that he
intends to use, under the sponsorship of a wealthy Malacian lord named Hoytola,
to create a series of images that will tell a politically dissident story. Hoytola’s daughter, the beautiful Armida, has
likewise agreed to act in the still-life play, and Perian falls madly in
love. Bergstohn having many other
subversive plans for Malacia, time will tell the effect on Perian as he is
drawn deeper into Armida’s web.
Perian a rogue with a witty, sharp tongue, half the joy of The Malacia Tapestry is his interaction
with the world. It is not imitation Jack
Vance, but certainly parallels can be drawn to Cugel, his priggish charm, and
the larger fantastical world he lives in.
The humans in Malacia seeming to have reptiles rather than apes as
ancestors (Aldiss never explains this, seeming to leave it open as an urban
myth rather than biological “reality”), dinosaur-esque creatures are scattered around
the city and forests, even as obtuse street wizards divine the future for
Malacia’s citizens, again reminding the reader of a Vancian world which retains
its strong analogies to human cultures.
One of the few things I knew about The Malacia Tapestry prior to reading it is that is set in a
culture that has not changed for a millennium.
Believing that Aldiss would devote a portion of the novel to explaining
just how a society could be so static, I was thankfully wrong; The Malacia Tapestry has different
aims. One is the fundamental change in
Perian’s character. The rogue the reader
is introduced to at the start of the story is a different type of rogue by the
end. This is not to say warm, mature and
wholesome, rather at least wiser and more aware. Wisdom and awareness at the reader’s level is
another of the novel’s aims, among the areas targeted are the significance of history,
its tendency toward regular upheavals, and the risks inherent to
close-mindedness regarding change.
In the end, The
Malacia Tapestry is just one more example why Aldiss was and is one of the
tip-top best. Written at a point in his
career he’d mastered technique, everything about the novel, from dialogue to
pace, details of setting to characterization, fits perfectly the type of story
being told. And what is that? Well, to answer that, I’m going to quote Kirkus
as I don’t think I could say it better: “A
provocative, remarkably successful marriage of breezy jeu d'esprit and historical reflection”. (Along with the Kirkus review, have a
read of MPorcius’
as well as it makes interesting comparisons.)
My condolences to the family, and thanks to Brian Aldiss for
the bevy of stories, poetry, plays, and art keeping his spirit alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment