Non-fiction: Review of Wisdom of the Mythtellers by Sean Kane

Journey to the West, one of the ‘four great novels of the Chinese canon’, is most often attributed to Wu Chengen.  Author and title requisite for fiction these days, most take for granted that indeed, he is the one who penned the story.  Wu is, in fact, the person who collected, collated, fit, polished, and presented in finished form the myriad pieces of the magnificent tale of Sun Wukong, Sanzang, and their quest for the holy sutras.  The original story having undergone thousands of iterations by street corner storytellers, the result is a narrative that holds its history in episodic rather than escalating form.

But this simple transition in the evolution of storytelling in China, from oral to written tradition, is but one minor—and late—step in the history of storytelling as a whole.  Before street corner storytellers were bards, and before bards, shamans, and before shamans simple gossip over the campfire—thousands and thousands of years of human culture and existence covered in this simple statement.  Tracing story and myth all the way back to its roots, another observation can be made in the manner in the evolution of stories: humanity’s subservience, or lack thereof, to nature.  From the Paleolithic to the Mesolithic, Neolithic to the Bronze, Iron to the Information Age, humanity, an idea in this context identified by the West, has shifted its stance on the power of the Earth and its inherent forces.  Where once gods inhabited every rock and shadow, it was whittled down to a pantheon, and from the pantheon, distilled into one ruling god, and from one god to the belief mankind holds its fate in its own hands.  Science fiction the mode of discourse which most obviously represents the latter, we are left with scraps and tatters of what remains of the former.  Enter Sean Kane’s Wisdom of the Mythtellers (1998).

Review of Sixty Days and Counting by Kim Stanley Robinson

While there remain differences, I have come to think of Kim Stanley Robinson as the contemporary Arthur C. Clarke.  More diverse in the inclusion of science, writing lengthier novels, and more obviously Californian than British, Robinson nevertheless approaches the problems of humanity with the same optimism, lenience towards Eastern religions, practically and realistically conceived science fiction concepts, and underlying belief science can bring society to a higher plane of existence.  In short, they are very similar in spirit, and Sixty Days and Counting (2007), the third and final book capping Robinson’s Science in the Capital series, is glaring proof.

The conclusion of Fifty Degrees Below, the second book in the series, saw Frank Vanderwaal caught up in a fracas with a black ops intelligence team that had apparently been involved in a plot to alter presidential voting.  The election going off smoothly despite their intentions, Senator Phil Chase was elected and has chosen Diane, Frank’s boss at the National Science Foundation, to head his science group, in turn bringing Frank even closer to the executive level of science in government.  Chase the most open minded politician ever to sit the White House, a whole world of possibility reveals itself to Frank and Diane, who immediately set about investigating big-scale schemes that might mitigate ongoing climate change issues.  Their massive salt operation having changed the jet stream in Fifty Degrees Below, they now look at ways to get the polar ice caps back into good condition and the ocean levels lower such that the radical changes in weather patterns can be brought back within normal ranges and frequencies.  And the need is pressing.  From the depths of a freezing winter, record setting temperatures are predicted for D.C. in the summer.

Review of "Wolf Totem: A Novel" by Jiang Rong

Jiang Rong was a government researcher sent to live in Inner Mongolia (a portion of Mongolia belonging to China) in the time of communism. Decades later, the difficult yet visceral life he experienced living amongst the native Mongolians and the sweeping changes he saw engulfing the traditional society inspired him to write a book. Published in 2004, a time when voices against communism were more tolerated, Wolf Totem is a moving novel of a people and culture’s existence on the Mongolian steppe, nature and the Chinese government seeking to quell their traditional spirit with every passing year.

Not subtly written, Wolf Totem is the story of the researcher Lu Jiamin and his time living in a village in Inner Mongolia to determine the area’s potential for resource extraction by the Chinese government. Suddenly immersed in horses, sheep, and yurts, Lu initially has difficulty fitting in with the native Mongolians. They are aware of his purpose and alienate him from their richly traditional culture. Slowly but surely, however, Lu works his way into the villagers’ trust and the story takes shape, his thoughts becoming conflicted in the process.

Environmentalism the theme throughout, the vast majority of Wolf Totem is an exposition on the interconnectivity of a people, their livestock, the land, and of course, the wolf packs hanging omnipresent on the fringes, threatening to steal precious life from the villagers in all forms, horse, sheep, and child. The emphasis on balance in nature, it is precisely the wolves taking of life which Jiang illustrates as propagating the larger presence of life on the steppe. What is only a temporary tragedy for the Mongolians is a nuisance needing riddance for the Chinese. Emotionally affecting, the Lu’s disposition contrasted by the vicissitudes of life closer to nature on the steppe motivates the book well.

In the end, Wolf Totem is a book strongly pertinent to a world ever globalizing. Traditional Mongolian culture threatening to be swallowed by the Chinese machine, the story of one researcher’s life amongst the herders makes for not only informative reading regarding the intricacies of their culture, but an environmental statement on the advance of globalization upon groups and communities living more in synch with nature. The quality of the writing (or perhaps, translation) is not the greatest, however, given the basic human emotions and needs driving the story, it’s difficult for the reader not to be drawn into the fundamentally human tale of survival. Recommended for anyone interested in Mongolian culture, wolves, and the anthropological and ecological aspects of globalization in less developed areas of the world.

Review of "The Windup Girl" by Paolo Bacigalupi

Environmental concerns have proven a bugbear for literature - and for obvious reasons: it’s difficult to establish an emotional connection to non-animal entities through text.  Social concerns like abortion, poverty, abuse, etc. are much easier to portray in written form.  Thus it is that documentaries have proven themselves the main vehicle conveying modern day concerns over the environment.  The Windup Girl, however, is for once a novel that proves an effective combination of ecological concerns and tight plotting, producing a good story in the process.

Not written in the most stylistic of prose, Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl nonetheless delivers the goods.  Characters are generally consistent, empathetic, and plausible.  The futuristic scene of a post-oil Bangkok is, however, fully believable, and the plot of political intrigue and individual concern, though having been done before (what hasn’t?) moves at a pace that keeps the reader interested and guessing.

More distressing is the title.  Reading superbly, it simply does not reflect content, however.  The windup girl is not the main character, nor are her concerns delved into or resolved in any meaningful fashion besides revenge.  Lake is, in fact, the main character, and the political, environmental, gender concerns take a backseat--a close backseat--to the entertainment value.  More significant is that the title does not reflect the fragmented narratives which comprise the whole.  The storylines working well independently, they never congeal under the banner of Emiko, the windup girl's, plight.

Where Bacigalupi exceeds expectations, however, is in the creativity he displays describing the devices which motivate the story.  With oil no longer available in infinite quantities, animal power is used to charge capacitors, and as animal power depends on calorie intake, agricultural interests rule.  Offering a great commentary on the direction of present day big oil, these agribusinesses put the population at their mercy.  Diseases are unleashed amongst crops so that people must buy certain companies untainted products.  The genetic structuring of animals is likewise toyed with, the titular character a clone bred for lascivious entertainment and obsequiousness.  The original and ingenious manner in which Bacigalupi intertwines genetic manipulation, agribusiness, and politics has yet to be attempted in fiction, to my knowledge, and provides the strongest novel a strong foundation toward enjoyment.

Winner of the 2010 Hugo, The Windup Girl, for all its shortcomings in literary categories, nonetheless remains pertinent in light of today’s ecological concerns.  It offers direct commentary on the possible direction today’s agribusiness concerns is headed, particularly concerning genetically modified foods (GMOs).  Genes not a child’s toy, it would seem Bacigalupi’s book will become more relevant as science makes its way from the laboratory into our everyday lives in the biological products we consume and interact with.  With the masses distracted by talent shows and tv advertisements, the dangers of gene manipulation described in The Windup Girl deserve to be required reading.  Therefore, this book is recommended for anyone interested in near future speculation on the nature and direction of plant and animal gene experimentation.