Kim
Stanley Robinson, essentially since the publication of Red Mars in
1984, has been one of science fiction’s most well-known, if not
popular writers. Possessing a fertile imagination, yet one grounded
in the sciences, his science fiction visions have been as vast as
they have been credible. But given the awards and recognition, none
seem to have captured readers like his 2013 novel 2312.
Robinson
seeming to have premised himself with the concept: what could the
solar system be like two hundred years from now?, 2312 is
essentially the concept of the Mars trilogy expanded to our solar
system, told in the mode of detective/romance (more later). The
novel kicks off with the death of a prominent scientist living on
Mercury. Mourning her death, a colleague, a woman named Swan, is
contacted by a man named Wahram, asking if the scientist left any
info for others to follow up on. None to be found, Wahram asks Swan
to join him for a visit to one of Jupiter’s moons to inquire
further with another scientist named Wang, a man who was equally
involved in research on artificial intelligence. A nasty surprise
waiting Swan when she returns to Mercury, there is a new twist on
life in the solar system, and things may never be the same for
mankind.
If
Kim Stanley Robinson’s oeuvre can be said to operate around a locus
of ideas, then 2312 includes most of them. From terraforming
to gerontology, global warming to mankind’s primitive roots,
biodiversity to classical music, 2312 seems to have almost all
of it. In creating his vision of the solar system 200 years from
now, Robinson terraforms Mars (again), Mercury, Venus, the moons of
the gas giants, even Earth, and turns the asteroids littering the
solar system into interplanetary vehicles. To this vision Robinson
adds the fluidity of gender and artificial intelligence (in cyberpunk
form) to complete the novel’s idea mix.
And
a mix it is, for better or worse. Despite the vast quantities of
knowledge and imagination, 2312 is not Robinson’s strongest
novel. Lacking in terms of comprehensiveness, the novel can at times
feel like a line of vignettes strung together by a thin whodunit/love
plot. Many of these vignettes memorable (e.g. the vision of human
life inhabiting Mercury is strikingly palpable—the veritable stuff
of science fiction) and some scary (e.g. the contrast of life in the
terraformed asteroids to poverty stricken, flooded Earth), all occupy
different places in the mental map to form a wider view of an
inhabited solar system. Ideologically and narratively, however, the
view is not as thorough. The environmental message sections, for as
important as they may be, can feel more like digressions than
valuable contributions to narrative, just as the whodunit mystery can
feel like wire and duct tape (not to mention throwback sf) trying to
hold the vignettes together. And the romance, well, each reader will
have their own say whether Robinson properly motivates it.
I
haven’t done the exact research, but I would guess 2312 is
Robinson’s most recognized novel in terms of awards; nominations
and trophies, there are many. Having now read the novel, and knowing
sf awards are largely popularity based, the reason is clear: 2312
is a hard sf detective/romance with the type of sensawunda visions of
terraformed planets and asteroids that really speak to the mainstream
sf crowd. Another way of saying this is, the novel lacks the
coherent story of Shaman, the strong theme of Aurora,
and the tight focus of the Orange County books. Robinson has written
better, more cohesive novels. But for someone looking for an
introduction to the man’s style, imagination, and outlook, 2312
may be the most inclusive thus far.
Aurora hung with me for so long after reading, Robinsons putting out the best sci-fi of his generation since Iain Banks took his sabbatical in heaven
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