Review of "The Calcutta Chromosome" by Amitav Ghosh

A dabbler in genres, Amitav Ghosh seems to continually be trying a new style of writing.  His debut A Circle of Reason is a great sample of magic realism; The Shadow Lines remains realist through and through; and his ongoing Ibis trilogy is the purest of historical fiction.  The Calcutta Chromosome finds the author trying on his fantasy/horror/sci-fi shoes.  Not an awkward mix of the three, the book won the Arthur C. Clark award in 1996 for its extrapolation upon the history of discovering malaria’s cure and its possibility today.  The resulting informative thriller is a worthwhile offering to the speculative fiction market by a jack-of-all-trades author.

Ghosh possesses a PhD in social anthropology, and the research background shows: a significant portion of The Calcutta Chromosome relates the history and unusual circumstances surrounding the discovery of the cure for malaria by the Nobel prize winning Ronald Ross at the end of the 19th century in Calcutta.  Only occasionally disaffecting, the info is broken into chunks, and when related by the gregarious Murugan, is not dry in the least.  As not all the accounts of the great discovery line up, Ghosh takes the loop holes among the various journal and research notes surviving the decades as the premise of the novel.  The answers filling these holes not always synchronous, a strange and mysterious situation arises.  Beyond paranormal, secrecy survives until today.

The story character driven, there is no single viewpoint driving The Calcutta Chromosome.  Antar is a computer archeologist living a dead-end life; Murugan is an eccentric with a PhD in immunology; Mangala is a voodoo woman/cleaning lady whose role in the story reveals itself one mysterious puzzle piece at a time; Lutchman is an all too auspicious volunteer for research; and Urmila is an out-of-luck journalist unwittingly swept up in the present day revelation of malaria’s role in society.  These and a few other important characters receive stage time toward unveiling the strange circumstances surrounding the cure for malaria’s discovery. 

The timing of the novel its strongest point.  Ghosh surprisingly seems well versed on what makes a plot suspenseful for this, his first thriller.  By revealing a little here, introducing an unfamiliar and therefore mysterious element there, the pages fly by.  Implications testing the limits of reality, Ghosh keeps readers hanging by a thread; the reader never knows what will happen next but desperately wants to.  Only occasionally lyrical, Ghosh writes in taut, declarative sentences that guide the narrative infallibly.  Often using the motif of introducing an idea, then jumping back in time to backfill the history to that point, the transition points between characters rotate seamlessly, proving Ghosh as flexible in style as subject.

As the pages turn, the reader comes to an understanding of not only the research and immunology behind malaria’s cure, but also the singular and yet unknown potential of the malaria virus.  The reason the novel won the Arthur C. Clarke award is undoubtedly due to the occasionally creepy, often profound speculation Ghosh performs on malarial cell generation and its potential within human DNA.  The topics of medicine and pathology not often tackled in spec-fic, it’s great to see the possibilities intertwined in a thrilling yet interesting story.

In the end, The Calcutta Chromosome is a highly readable and informative book that will have the hairs on the back of your arm standing up as Ghosh explores the history of malaria from a present day perspective on history.  Knowing exactly what little morsels and tidbits will lead the reader on, Ghosh unveils the state of India and immunology at the end of the 19th century, as well as a few mysteries of his own, with finesse.  Readers of Michael Crichton will certainly wanting to have a go.  One hopes this isn’t the last time Ghosh visits the sf genre.

Review of "The Diamond Age" by Neal Stephenson

The best metaphor that can be drawn of Neal Stephenson’s 1996 The Diamond Age is a shotgun blast.  Expectations high for the follow up to his highly successful Snow Crash, Stephenson upped the ante by wadding a larger number of ideas into his literary gun and firing away.  The pellets scattering across the target, some strike dead on, while others, particularly the ending, are off the mark.

At heart, The Diamond Age is a bildungsroman told only as the imagination of Stephenson can (read: a ninja must be in their somewhere).  Occupying the same future as Snow Crash, the setting this time around is Shangahai rather the American west coast.  Living in one of the lower class ‘claves is a little girl Nell, an illegitimate child everyone abuses save her older brother, Harv.  Nanotech having solved the world’s hunger problems, Nell and Harv survive easily on food produced in their apartment’s matter compiler.  Their mother working the streets, bringing home one loser boyfriend after another, the two still lack spiritual sustenance. This situation soon changes, however.

Nell’s life takes a permanent transition when Harv comes home one day with a nanotech-ed interactive book he and his gang lifted from a high-society engineer.  Called A Young Lady’s Illustrated Primer, the engineer, whose name is Hackworth, designed the book to educate and guide a girl from childhood into adulthood for a rich noble.  School subjects, social issues, and the realities of life are all taught in an interactive manner through voiceovers, pictures, and moving stories that adapt to the young girl’s life as she develops in the real world.  How Harv “acquired” this quickly places the siblings in the midst of a heated search for the precious copy of the primer.

Of all the pellets fired from Stephenson’s gun, the one striking closest to center is the nanotech.  Brilliantly described and wonderfully detailed like no author (I know of) has yet to do, the possibilities of nanotech engineering are delivered in big, beautiful packages.  From weapons to providing the most basic of needs (like food and clothing), whole ecosystems to blood cleansers, Stephenson excels displaying these nano concepts.  Descriptions are vivid and pseudo-science based, and while still wholly fantastic, are presented in fashion that allows the reader to willingly accept the reasoning.  The uses to which society puts the nanotech—good and evil—is likewise realistic in its understanding of humanity’s application of its discoveries.  The sub-titular A Young Lady’s Illustrated Primer in particular is a wonderfully creative set piece derived from the nanotech and one of the most positive visions of how science could benefit society if applied correctly that sci-fi has ever seen.

The second pellet striking close to home, buoying the novel along and keeping it above water as other elements threaten to drag it down, is characterization.  Though some are wonderfully unearthed only to be quickly discarded, all the voices have a feel of their own.  Excluding the ending, the empathy one feels for Nell is palpable and a credit to a nerd’s ability to write.  Dr. X, Judge Fang, Bud, and Elizabeth likewise have fallen directly out of our society and landed in the novel.  That the characters receive non-uniform treatment from a plot perspective is, however, another issue.

Attempting to capture some of the Victorian age in a sci-fi novel, Hackworth and the noble, along with the other characters filling out the dramatis personae, appear with appropriate degrees of the era’s detail.  Top hats, overly-formal address, and the equine are all part of the throw-back fun.  Honing skills that would later reveal themselves in better light in the Baroque Cycle, dialogue is amusing for its stylish tone but lacking the fresh simile and wordplay of Cryptonomicon.  As a result, the dialogue and retro feel render the novel more steam- than cyberpunk.

Negative points, however, are an unfortunate must when discussing The Diamond Age.  Something like too much bread in the mouth, most readers will spend their time trying to gum through the wad of ideas Stephenson pushes upon the reader.  Such a plethora exists that the windows of possibility are thrown open to the extent the sky is the limit.  With anything seeming possible, a disconnection arises between the simple human story of Nell’s development and the vast technological and political canvas its spread across.  That strong elements of hallucinatory fantasy are added to “bolster” an otherwise brimming plot seems over much and creates a narrative that never truly identifies itself. 

If Stephenson left the windows open writing the plot, then the climax sees the shutters blown off and glass shattered on the floor.  Many readers have taken exception to The Diamond Age’s conclusion, and the uproar is apt.  The story trundling along at a steady pace, events suddenly take a sharp right turn that jumps the tracks with 50 pages to go.  Events straining plausibility, the storytelling necessary to build to such a point is not present in enough quality or quantity prior to convince the reader that things have suddenly gone from individual self-realization to outright societal revolution.  Though Stephenson’s intent is clear, the stepping stones to arrive there remain mostly submerged.

In the end, The Diamond Age is a novel with good ideas spoiled by its lack of cohesiveness.  Victim to an issue many sci-fi writers fall into, Stephenson’s range of concepts is too large for the simple story he is trying to tell.  Without giving away any of the plot, the methods and tech introduced would have been able to drastically alter the events in the climax, but for reasons of artistic license, do not--a disconnect appearing, as such.  This problem disguises itself for most of the novel as plot, characterization, and theme seem to develop cogently.  However, when the ending digresses to such an extreme point, the overall intent becomes confused—Kill Bill meets 1984.  While remaining an interesting read based on the strength of Stephenson’s ideas alone, those looking for a more cohesive, toned, and interdependent story in the vein of the author’s later work will be disappointed.  Those who loved Snow Crash, however, will probably also like The Diamond Age.  If you want better Victorian steampunk, read William Gibson and Bruce Sterling's The Difference Engine.

Review of "Helliconia Summer" by Brian Aldiss

The shape of Brian Aldiss’s SF Masterwork Helliconia could be said to be parabolic.  If Helliconia Spring is the slow, curving entry point, then Helliconia Summer, the middle volume, is the zenith story-wise.  Or at least that’s the feel two-thirds of through the series.  Aldiss trying to paint a historical and evolutionary picture of humanity’s existence on a distant planet, Helliconia Summer’s narrative does not pick up where the first volume left off, and instead focuses on a point in the society’s development loosely equivalent to the Baroque Era many centuries in the future from Helliconia Spring.  Were the lives of the kings and queens the only focal points, some would say that the book is mere alternate universe fantasy.  But that Aldiss juxtaposes the land dwellers’ lives with the crew of the space station orbiting Helliconia, focus changes from medieval drama to soft science fiction.  Cementing this idea are the clashes of ideology, science vs. religion, for example, which seed the plot and create points of realistic contention for those inhabiting and orbiting the fantastika of Helliconia.

A more consistent offering than Helliconia Spring, the plot of Helliconia Summer, while unraveling in an atypical, almost backward timeline, forms a cohesive whole with a poignant resolution.  The book opens with the king and queen of one of Helliconia’s many 16th century-esque kingdoms contemplating the divorce the king has organized so that he can marry another.  Feeling shunned, the queen stands on a beach pondering her future when a corpse wearing a digital watch washes ashore.  Stopping at this point, Aldiss jumps back in time to narrate the history of these circumstances, and at the conclusion, resolves the wave of cultural enmity and religious fervor that has built around the two and caused the schism.

Each story woven like strands in a braid into a larger narrative, the number of viewpoints grows in the telling of the king and queen’s history.  A merchant, a scientist, an advisor, a diplomat, the king’s children, and a general, among others, round out the short list of main characters and give the novel the depth needed to describe the variety of lands, cultures, authorities, and interests scattered over the planet.  Once again receiving stage time is the species Aldiss introduced in Helliconia Spring, the phagors.  The planet’s summer a low point in their cycle of existence, the majority of phagors have been killed off or are slaved to humans.  Only random groups are able to live in hiding or in the arctic wilds with any sense of freedom, and as such, inter-species hatred continues playing a hand in human affairs on the planet.

But where Aldiss really advances the overall Helliconia narrative is by developing the Avernus storyline.  Life on the orbiting space station routine and sterile, many of the crew, upon seeing the pleasures and pains of the humans below, yearn for something similar.  Injecting hope into the doldrums and ennui of their prescribed lives, a lottery is routinely held where one member of the crew is allowed to go to the surface to both live and end their life—the microbes and viruses on Helliconia 100% lethal.  In keeping with the denouement of Brave New World, Billy Xiao Pin is a character selected to leave the rote of Avernus for a more visceral life planet-side.  Knowing death is imminent, the manner in which Billy spends his time shows Aldiss has a firm grasp on instincts inherent to humanity.  That Billy’s flaming out in existential glory is viewed as desirable by the crew on Avernus only further indicates the author’s understanding of fundamental human desires.  The lives of those on the planet below likewise wanting more, it seems the grass is always greener on the other side.

And there are a variety of other subjects touched upon in Helliconia Summer.  Foremost among them are religion, science, and the value and role each have in society.  Not a drum beater for science rather a conservative proponent, Aldiss recognizes the value of the more subjective principles of society and entwines them nicely with the narrative.  There is also a Gaian perspective to the novel.  Descriptions of atmospheric, geological, and geomorphic changes appear and reappear, and the fact man is subject to the larger, uncontrollable forces of nature is continually emphasized.  Applicable even to those on Avernus, Aldiss never loses touch of scope.

In the end, Helliconia Summer is an improvement on the previous volume.  The cosmological setup of planets revolving around suns revolving around suns is used to stronger effect.  The characters are more complex and realistic and the storyline is smoother and more oriented toward theme.  Developing the book as such, the “big ideas” underpinning the story punch deeper into both the narrative and reader’s understanding of the text.  The only faults that remain have to do with a rather ordinary prose style and space limitations.  Trying to paint a picture of planet-sized dimensions, including its dispersed cultures, characterization takes a back seat.  But while most characters may indeed be representative, a few, including the king and queen, are fleshed out in enough detail that upon climax it’s possible a pang of empathy may arise for their circumstances.  Fans of Cherryh, Le Guin, and other such writers will want to take note of the series as a whole, and those who’ve read Helliconia Spring and liked it will want to continue.  The series brought to its zenith, it will be interesting to see how the narrative plays out at the other end of the parabola, Helliconia Winter.

Review of "Blue World" by Jack Vance

What’s to be said about Jack Vance that hasn’t already been said.  The man is simply one of the most imaginative writers of the 20th century.  His sci-fi fantasy styled adventures deceptively simple, the complexity of being human hides just below the surface, rearing its head in profound fashion in the middle of all the humor and fun.  Vance’s 1966 Blue World is no different.

Our hero this tale around, Sklar Hast, is an assistant hoodwink living on Tranque Float.  Not a con or charlatan, Hast literally winks the hoods—in more complex Morse Code fashion—of the communicator devices located on the floats of their lily-pad archipelago, passing news between themselves.  At the outset of the story, Sklar’s life is relatively simple.  He sits in when the master hoodwink is away, teaching apprentices at other times.  Tranque Float’s ancestors, having escaped their home planet in Pilgrim fashion two centuries prior, traded one oppression for another.  The world they crash landed on, the unnamed Blue World, is covered in water, habitation possible only on the giant lily-pads.  And if survival isn’t difficult enough, fighting for food are the kragen—water dragons submerged just beneath the waves always looking for a meal.  Internal politics drawing to a head, at the outset of the tale Hast’s close knit community is experiencing a reprisal of the oppression it once escaped from.

Hast proves himself a typical Vancian hero.  Dissatisfied with the offerings he and his community are obliged to provide the largest of the water dragons, the great King Kragen, Hast sets about finding a way for the people of the archipelago to free themselves of the supplicatory burden.  Barring his way are the intercessors, men whose caste responsibilities include overseeing regular offerings of delicious sponge to the King.  The disagreement which unfolds between Skarl and the intercessors comes about in a fashion only Vance can describe.  The comedic, over-formal dialogue that is his trademark, though toned down compared to The Demon Princes or Tales of the Dying Earth, remains a force.  The direction Hast and his followers’ convictions take them, developing as possible only in fantasy, will have readers smiling in appreciation of the superior storytelling skills.

Though Blue World will never be accepted by academia, the parallels to history and literature are numerous.  Visions of Moby Dick spring to mind reading of the hunt for King Kragen, while just by the beast’s name Norse and Icelandic myths come to life--mysterious sea creatures who appear from the depths, attacking helpless mortals.  Furthermore, the doctrine Barquan Blasel and his fellow intercessors propound runs an eerie parallel to dogma the propagandists backing the Crusades must have spun.  And lastly, there is a book within a book, one which survived the ancestor’s crash landing on the planet.  Treated with profound reverence, it is called the Analects.  Quotes like “Whoever is willing to give will never lack someone to take.”, put the reader firmly in mind of Confucius and his brand of one-line wisdom, yet spun as only Vance can. 

In the end, Blue World is more great stuff from Vance.  It is fantasy adventure as best it can be.  The unique imagination, comedic dialogue, Campbellian hero, brisk plot, detailed motifs, and storytelling all exist in spades.  Paralleling the fun is Vance’s keen eye for human virtue and vice in their simplest yet most affective forms, not to mention the inability of humanity to escape the cycles of civilization and disarray which mark the passage of history.  Readers who love Vance but have not read Blue World, don’t be afraid; this is more great stuff.  Readers who are unaware of Vance will find this one of many great entry points into his oeuvre.

(This review has also been posted at www.fantasyliterature.com) 

Review of "Excession" by Iain M. Banks

Let’s skip the highty-flighty, atmospheric float of intros and get right to the point.  Iain M. Banks’ 1996 Excession is gosh-wow, sense-wunda science fiction that pushes the limits of the genre as far into the imagination – and future - as any book has.  The AI ship-minds, post-human world-is-your-oyster humanity, and incredible roster of engine speeds, galaxies, drones, weaponry, biological possibilities, planets, orbitals, etc., etc. of previous books have been topped.  Banks took a look at the savory milieu of the Culture, cocked his head and asked: “How can I up the ante?”  The titular ‘excession’ is the answer.

Arthur C. Clarke’s brilliant Rendezvous with Rama sees humanity attempting to quantify and understand a BDO (big dumb object) that comes sailing through the solar system one day.  In Excession, Banks introduces a similar concept.  Despite having hyper-precise and ultra-technical scanning and analysis tools, the eminently advanced tech-gods of the far-future known as the Culture likewise have difficulty penetrating the 50km black sphere which suddenly appears in a back corner of space.  And so while a handful of characters and species attempt to control the object for their own devices, for the first time in the Culture series the AI ship-minds take center stage as protagonists.

And Banks wholly succeeds.  While the AI mind can exist in imagination only, the author relays the actions and thoughts of these oddball personalities in delicately balanced and wholly relatable fashion that is as realistic as imaginative far-future might be.  On one hand the ship-minds are presented as ‘Other’, something totally exclusive and unidentifiable to the human experience, while on the other, base virtue and vice tint their conduct in an undeniably familiar manner.  At times witty, at times eccentric, and at others just plain human, Banks takes a choice selection of interesting personalities in Excession and uploads them into technical constructs.  The resulting AI minds treat unlimited access to technology, control of the environment, and the complete freedom of movement as though they were toys.  Inter-ship dialogue and behavior not only stimulating, novel, and amusing, they are also brilliant commentary on the potentiality of AI evolution. 

Without giving away too many of the major plot milestones, there are a handful of ships which take the spotlight as the sentient universe investigates the mysterious black sphere.  The Sleeper Service has spent several centuries as a drifting cryolab/artist, recreating scenes of famous battles using the hibernating bodies of humans. Grey Area (called Meatfucker by the other ships for the degree to which it is willing to interact with biological life) is an avid collector of torture instruments.  Attitude Adjuster, while upon first reveal comes across as simply traitorous, later proceeds along a course no one but Banks could plot.  These and several other ships paint the novel in colors of mechanical culture sci-fi has never seen.

Added to this mix and taking a backseat (Har!) to the ship-minds are a handful of human characters.  Living out wholly human stories in Banks’ far-future world, their post-scarcity freedom does nothing to utopian-ize the emotive side of life.  Genar-Hofoen, while first coming across as smug and impersonal, later reveals a side of his personality that will have readers raising an eyebrow in respect.  The eternally pregnant and brooding Dajeil has a story that may not draw much sympathy, but remains wholly relatable.  And no summary of the book would be complete without a brief mention of the newly introduced species, the Affront.  Brash, chauvinistic, and aggressive at every turn, they spit in the face of such ideas as ‘civilized’.  A major player in the game to exploit/steal/attack/destroy the ultimate truth of the black sphere, the Affront are despicably good reading that Banks is able to subvert in utterly satisfying fashion upon denouement.

In the end, Excession is meaty sci-fi that readers can really sink their teeth into, and for others, including myself, approaches a pinnacle of what sci-fi in its purest might be.  Dan Simmons divided AIs into three factions in Hyperion, Banks fragments them further into individual minds, and as a result, the ships’ reactions to the unexplainable BDO appearing suddenly in a universe they dominate - not a competitor in sight - is simply great sci-fi and not to be missed for fans of the genre.  The ship-to-ship banter - highly reminiscent of Vance’s overly formal, comedic dialogue – is just the icing on the cake.  While Banks may aim to entertain, Excession is more than just fun.  A line is crossed somewhere, just not sure whether it’s into literary land, or another dimension… of storytelling.  Does anyone do far future better than Banks?

Review of "Raft" by Stephen Baxter

What if we exponentially reduced the scale of the galaxy so that the sun was only 50 yards across, extinguished its raging burn so that only a solid metal lump remained, and set a chain of a few hundred dwellings to orbit around the cold sphere that remained?  Imagining as such, you would have the opening of Stephen Baxter’s 1991 Raft.  By its conclusion, however, Raft reveals itself as a highly original mix of science and fantasy that continues playing with the scale of the universe while telling an uplifting yet sobering tale of personal and societal evolution.

The title of the book comes from the remodeled space craft that hangs above the mini-ringworld orbiting the dead star.  Exactly like a raft in space, this large disc of metal is home to a few thousand that depend on the metals the miners extract below, just as the miners depend on supplies from the raft above, for survival.  A prime opportunity for class discussion, Baxter takes advantage, contrasting the poor working class conditions of the miners against the more civilized and technically advanced version of life on the raft.  Gravity increasing to 3, 4, and even 5 gees the closer one gets to the dead star’s metal center, work in the mines, like industrial work on earth, is not always a picnic, and compared to life on the raft, it’s hell.  Suffice to say, relations between the two locations are not always on the best of terms and provide a good portion of plot tension.

Though the physics are not always clear, base plot is motivated by the slow death of the nebula beyond.  Atmosphere breathable anywhere in the galaxy, the raft and orbital nevertheless depend on the nebula’s light for sustenance.  Catalyzing the need for action while facing this threat is the book’s main character, Rees.  A young man who starts as a miner, his moral choices take him to amazing places as the story progresses, the canopies of floating trees, the belly of a space whale, and to live amongst one of the more grisly societies in sci-fi, the Boneys.  Part adventure and part bildungsroman, a large portion of the story deals with Rees’ development into a responsible person and awareness of the burden he bears in saving the small community drifting through the dying nebula.

Raft a balanced work by several accounts, Baxter should be applauded for keeping the scope of his story within workable limits.  The handful of characters which take the main stage, while simplistic, are handled properly and never seem to overmatch the setting.  Without the infinite billions hanging on the margins (as is so often depicted in sci-fi), the localized scale also has the effect of making the story more personal for the reader.  Like scope, Baxter is also able to strike an even balance with the book’s tone.  Hinting at Arthur C. Clarke in its setting, dependence on physics, and societal hope for better things, there is also a dark, gritty edge to the story reminiscent of Iain M. Banks or William Gibson.  Life on the raft is not always easy, and the story’s climax does not have a fairy tale ending for everybody. 

In the end Raft is a provoking amalgam of sub-genres.  The setting sci-fi and society onboard the raft steampunk-ish, there are many other aspects of the book which are nothing less than fantasy, making the book an interesting mix of the three.  Baxter’s style capable and consistent throughout, the novel is highly readable, though the prose is far from lyrical.  If anything hurts the book, it is length.   Too short, many of the concepts deserved more description to bring life in the nebula into clearer understanding.  That being said, ‘Raft’ remains a strong work of science fantasy that can be enjoyed by young people and adults, alike.  The similarities abound, fans of Brian Aldiss should especially enjoy the work.

From chaos to civilization... or the nearest thing

We fly for Europe tomorrow, meaning our time in India has come to an end.  I have mixed feelings about the country, something that hasn't happened to me often while traveling, but I'll detail those thoughts later.  For now, on to cooler climes and anonymity, once again.

From mountains to... chaos?

Our time in the mountains will come to end after one more bu-bu-bu-mpy jeep ride back to flat land.  It should be 4-5 hours, depending whether our driver decides to leave us crammed in the vehicle while he eats and smokes...  This is nothing compared to the 20 hours we've spent bouncing around inside a jeep the past three days.  Exploring northern Sikkim and God's teeth - the Himalayas - we struck upon a new personal high: most dangerous road traveled in a vehicle.  Landslides impeding our path every few kilometers, on occasion we had to stop to see if the stones bouncing and skipping down the slopes would accumulates into something more avalanche-ish, one time even having to throw the jeep madly into reverse, just in case.  If the threat of landslides wasn't enough, then the precipitous drops lurking just to the side of the jeep were more hair-raising.  Poking one's head out the window, only to look straight down hundreds, hundreds of yards/meters is unnerving to say the least...

Gangtok, Sikkim's capital, is an interesting, multi-ethnic place.  At the cross roads of India, Bhutan, Tibet, China, Nepal, and all the sub-groups between, walking the streets and sampling the culture is a variegated experience.  Momos to masala, the food's been great.  But we will say goodbye early tomorrow morning, catching a night train to Varanasi after that last jeep ride.  Forewarned of its colorful chaos, we'll survive Varanasi, or not... Stay tuned in to find out.

From beaches to mountains...

Still alive... and no giardia!!

We've just finished a blessedly glorious week on Havelock Island in the Indian Andamans.  The sea was divine, people beyond friendly, the fish fresh and delicious, beaches from postcards, coconut to die for, and life we witnessed while diving the coral reefs from a kaleidoscope dream.  (I tried to upload a photo, but the internet cafe where I currently am is preventing me.)

From the Andamans, we flew to Kolkata, took a sleeper bus to northern Bengal, followed by an adventurous 5 hour jeep ride into Sikkim.  Nestled in the Himalayas, Sikkim is India's smallest state and our home for five days.  So far it is an interesting mix of Bengalese. Tibetan, Chinese, Nepalese, Bhutanese, and all other manner of cultures in India - but no Sikhs!  We're currently trying to find a tour that will take us deeper into the Himalayas...  The cool mountain climate is proving a wonderful escape from the heat and squalor of Kolkata - a place that will never find its way onto my "perhaps to return to" list.  I now wholly understand Dan Simmons' viewpoint on the city in Song of Kali...