When Fiction is Less Strange Than Science: March Reading
Four books. Four. Including spring break, where inroads were minimal. Bummer of a book month. But I finally finished The Selfish Gene, so I can't say I really care about the count.
The Stars My Destination (Alfred Bester): Reread. Because, as we all should know by now, Bester's two Golden Age novels are the best that era has to offer. (His '80's work is considerably less fun, alas.) So you all know what I'm going to say, right? About love for the genre and how much stuff is of its time and how if you think about the '50s, the themes of conspicuous consumption - Victorianism - tenacity - restraint - losing restraint (also sometimes called self control) seem to say less about where '50s America was going than where it was. But blood and money are universal agents of corruption - the trappings of The Stars My Destination may be dated, but the themes at the heart of the novel still speak to the attentive ear.
The Graveyard Game (Kage Baker): Reread. Fourth novel in the Company series: Joseph and Lewis search for the missing Mendoza and poke at the curious life of Edward Alton Bell-Fairfax while the world quietly crumbles toward the Silence.
The first time I read this the little grey men seriously annoyed me, and I'm still offended by their narrative existence. It breaks my suspension of disbelief: dead people have bones, and leave other evidence of their existence. Baker has invented these guys out of - well, out of fairy myths - and the LGMs have all the plausibility of a fairy dropped into a shopping mall. If there was even a bit of handwaving - look, the poor Company agents have had to spend so much time keeping mortals from finding thus-and-such category of artifacts at these sites; the LGMs have bones that crumble into dust when they die, poor LGMs (gollum!) - I'd be cool. But there isn't, so their abrupt introduction in the fourth book deeply irritates my sense of narrative.
As long as I'm under a cut, I'd like to make an outside bet that when Mendoza and her boyfriend of the many lives burst into the Company's offices and files they find themselves running the Company. It would be nicely evil and paradoxical and stuff.
Other than that, the book is very good. Fast moving plot, vivid characterization, blackly amusing extrapolation of contemporary coddling and PCness into a hyperhygenic ubervegan world where booze and chocolate are illegal. Still very much looking forward to the sixth book.
The Lost Steersman (Rosemary Kirstein): Third book in the Steerswoman series. Definitely not a good place to jump in. If you haven't read the first two, find a copy of The Steerswoman's Road before trying The Lost Steersman. Blurb: back from the Outlands, Rowan searches the disarrayed Steerwoman's Annex for further clues of the wizard Slado's history and plans.
Reactions: Kirstein is wandering towards Fat Fantasy Epic territory. Book One: Problem introduced. Book Two: Problem expanded. Book Three: Minor part of Book Two expansion bifurcates. I'm not sure if I should be dismayed by the global scope Kirstein's trying for or delighted by the elegant propagation from the first book's premise. But what a way to bog down! It's not enough to set up a smackdown between those who have knowledge and those who'd really like to, she's got to throw in a native sapiency crisis too! What an incredible can of narrative worms. Usually SF authors avoid cataclysmic terraforming of worlds with native sapients, it's very much an "us versus them" limited resource situation. Very ugly.
Possibilities are four: did the initial settlers/terraformers make a deal with the natives? Have the wizards made one since? Were the pre-settlement surveys sloppy? Or did the settlers just not care? The first seems unlikely on the face of it - wouldn't there be lingering stories of some sort of bargain? - until one remembers that it's already established that the wizards are restricting information, particularly stuff related to higher tech. At which point - what would probably be part of a deal with the natives? Would they, say, want the cessation of terraforming, particularly the 20-year microwaving cycle? Which ties neatly back to the "what are the wizards up to?" theme established in earlier books. The third possibility - no one noticed - is more tragic and lets everyone currently living feel very guilty without really being responsible for it. Except for Janus, but he's Poor Goat Guy anyway. (More on that later.) The possibility that the settlers knew and didn't care is fairly morally reprehensible (c. turn of 21st C) but has much of the appeal of "screwup" with added ancestor guilt. But I'd think that someone would have stories of the evil demons who Must Be Destroyed in that case. Instead we have stories of scary demons who Must Be Avoided. So my hot theory at the moment is possibility #3 (aka People Are Stupid - a fact I rediscover every time I stab at my calc homework), with an outside bet that whichever wizard is monkeying with the Guidestars is also dealing with the demons.
Tangentially, I am horribly tempted to draw parallels between Outskirters, demons, and native Americans. Not because such is intended by the author, but because then you have the vaguely NA-ish types doing major damage to a native intelligence's habitat *cough*buffalo*cough*. Irony is sweet, and makes me wicked. Despite the fact that comparisons to nomadic Siberian/Asian groups would probably be at least, or possibly more, valid.
One thing that annoyed me in The Lost Steersman is Kirstein's use of another Poor [Scape]Goat Guy. In The Outskirter's Secret Fletcher got to be all bent out of shape and angsty; in The Lost Steersman it was Janus. This is a character type with limited appeal, especially when there a bias toward just the men losing their minds. (I remain an equal-opportunity character breaker.) First they're sympathetic, then they're weird, then they're on the enemy's side. Do you know how long I was waiting for someone to accuse Janus of being a wizard's man? I really, really hope Kirstein's done creating characters of that type, now that Janus has run off to the wizards (we are led to believe). You just get the impression that nice man can't be trusted. Fortunately, there's a plethora of slightly less plot-critical characters that counter that assessment.
The Poor Goat Guy thing might be coupled to the vaguely slashy Rowan/Bel vibe: Rowan spends an awful lot of time wishing Bel were around, during The Lost Steersman. Not a thought of particular importance, but worth kicking out for conversation.
Here's my totally off-the-wall theory for the steerswoman series: Slado's actually a rogue AI. I have no evidence for this other than his (or her) lack of corporeal presence in the series to date and his (or her) weird name. People tend to have vaguely nice fantasy names with European-ish antecedents - Rowan, Bel, Fletcher, Janus two-face. In that context, the name is weird. Also, SLADO just sounds like a great acronym. I suspect my theory will be nicely exploded in the fourth book, since there has been absolutely no indications of advanced AI in the series so far. Also, people are supposed to be off investigating that "ships vanish" business with an eye to Slado's wizardly keep, so I'd expect some movement on that front in book four. But without further information it's a fun theory.
[N.B.: I wrote that before I found a slightly spoiler-ish review of book four. I am now on fire to read it. When I'm not hip-deep in the academic swamp.]
So yeah. Fat epics are bad, but so far the Steerswoman series is keeping me guessing and interested in the characters.
[Edit: Spoilers for the fourth book, The Language of Power, in comments. Avoid the "Re: The Lost Steersman & The Language of Power" if you want to remain unspoiled for tLoP.]
I would like to note that I started reading a copy of the second edition of The Selfish Gene (Richard Dawkins) in early January, and finished it at 8:20 AM on March 30th. It was worth it: The Selfish Gene is a lively, detailed argument for the operation of natural selection at the genetic level, a brain-bending concept in chapter one, but eloquently illustrated by the end of the book. Dawkins, a noted evolutionary biologist, politely disagrees with group selectionism and occasionally slams the notion that "contraption contraception is bad" with great ill-will. In the '89 edition, there are also cool "followup" footnotes clarifying concepts and touching on new research (naked mole rats!). There are also two chapters of extra new material, including the "extended phenotype" chapter. (The entire concept is either on crack or possibly very useful. Or maybe both.) The enire book makes me want to dig up early ground-breaking evolutionary bio papers and books, and look at newer research to see what's been done since The Selfish Gene was published. I would encourage anyone who's interested in bio to take a stab at this, because it's interesting, and because it's seminal: my bio prof is basically recapping The Selfish Gene this semester. It makes a fairly painless course very, very easy. Yay Dawkins! And three cheers for my sister, who made me read this.
The Stars My Destination (Alfred Bester): Reread. Because, as we all should know by now, Bester's two Golden Age novels are the best that era has to offer. (His '80's work is considerably less fun, alas.) So you all know what I'm going to say, right? About love for the genre and how much stuff is of its time and how if you think about the '50s, the themes of conspicuous consumption - Victorianism - tenacity - restraint - losing restraint (also sometimes called self control) seem to say less about where '50s America was going than where it was. But blood and money are universal agents of corruption - the trappings of The Stars My Destination may be dated, but the themes at the heart of the novel still speak to the attentive ear.
The Graveyard Game (Kage Baker): Reread. Fourth novel in the Company series: Joseph and Lewis search for the missing Mendoza and poke at the curious life of Edward Alton Bell-Fairfax while the world quietly crumbles toward the Silence.
The first time I read this the little grey men seriously annoyed me, and I'm still offended by their narrative existence. It breaks my suspension of disbelief: dead people have bones, and leave other evidence of their existence. Baker has invented these guys out of - well, out of fairy myths - and the LGMs have all the plausibility of a fairy dropped into a shopping mall. If there was even a bit of handwaving - look, the poor Company agents have had to spend so much time keeping mortals from finding thus-and-such category of artifacts at these sites; the LGMs have bones that crumble into dust when they die, poor LGMs (gollum!) - I'd be cool. But there isn't, so their abrupt introduction in the fourth book deeply irritates my sense of narrative.
As long as I'm under a cut, I'd like to make an outside bet that when Mendoza and her boyfriend of the many lives burst into the Company's offices and files they find themselves running the Company. It would be nicely evil and paradoxical and stuff.
Other than that, the book is very good. Fast moving plot, vivid characterization, blackly amusing extrapolation of contemporary coddling and PCness into a hyperhygenic ubervegan world where booze and chocolate are illegal. Still very much looking forward to the sixth book.
The Lost Steersman (Rosemary Kirstein): Third book in the Steerswoman series. Definitely not a good place to jump in. If you haven't read the first two, find a copy of The Steerswoman's Road before trying The Lost Steersman. Blurb: back from the Outlands, Rowan searches the disarrayed Steerwoman's Annex for further clues of the wizard Slado's history and plans.
Reactions: Kirstein is wandering towards Fat Fantasy Epic territory. Book One: Problem introduced. Book Two: Problem expanded. Book Three: Minor part of Book Two expansion bifurcates. I'm not sure if I should be dismayed by the global scope Kirstein's trying for or delighted by the elegant propagation from the first book's premise. But what a way to bog down! It's not enough to set up a smackdown between those who have knowledge and those who'd really like to, she's got to throw in a native sapiency crisis too! What an incredible can of narrative worms. Usually SF authors avoid cataclysmic terraforming of worlds with native sapients, it's very much an "us versus them" limited resource situation. Very ugly.
Possibilities are four: did the initial settlers/terraformers make a deal with the natives? Have the wizards made one since? Were the pre-settlement surveys sloppy? Or did the settlers just not care? The first seems unlikely on the face of it - wouldn't there be lingering stories of some sort of bargain? - until one remembers that it's already established that the wizards are restricting information, particularly stuff related to higher tech. At which point - what would probably be part of a deal with the natives? Would they, say, want the cessation of terraforming, particularly the 20-year microwaving cycle? Which ties neatly back to the "what are the wizards up to?" theme established in earlier books. The third possibility - no one noticed - is more tragic and lets everyone currently living feel very guilty without really being responsible for it. Except for Janus, but he's Poor Goat Guy anyway. (More on that later.) The possibility that the settlers knew and didn't care is fairly morally reprehensible (c. turn of 21st C) but has much of the appeal of "screwup" with added ancestor guilt. But I'd think that someone would have stories of the evil demons who Must Be Destroyed in that case. Instead we have stories of scary demons who Must Be Avoided. So my hot theory at the moment is possibility #3 (aka People Are Stupid - a fact I rediscover every time I stab at my calc homework), with an outside bet that whichever wizard is monkeying with the Guidestars is also dealing with the demons.
Tangentially, I am horribly tempted to draw parallels between Outskirters, demons, and native Americans. Not because such is intended by the author, but because then you have the vaguely NA-ish types doing major damage to a native intelligence's habitat *cough*buffalo*cough*. Irony is sweet, and makes me wicked. Despite the fact that comparisons to nomadic Siberian/Asian groups would probably be at least, or possibly more, valid.
One thing that annoyed me in The Lost Steersman is Kirstein's use of another Poor [Scape]Goat Guy. In The Outskirter's Secret Fletcher got to be all bent out of shape and angsty; in The Lost Steersman it was Janus. This is a character type with limited appeal, especially when there a bias toward just the men losing their minds. (I remain an equal-opportunity character breaker.) First they're sympathetic, then they're weird, then they're on the enemy's side. Do you know how long I was waiting for someone to accuse Janus of being a wizard's man? I really, really hope Kirstein's done creating characters of that type, now that Janus has run off to the wizards (we are led to believe). You just get the impression that nice man can't be trusted. Fortunately, there's a plethora of slightly less plot-critical characters that counter that assessment.
The Poor Goat Guy thing might be coupled to the vaguely slashy Rowan/Bel vibe: Rowan spends an awful lot of time wishing Bel were around, during The Lost Steersman. Not a thought of particular importance, but worth kicking out for conversation.
Here's my totally off-the-wall theory for the steerswoman series: Slado's actually a rogue AI. I have no evidence for this other than his (or her) lack of corporeal presence in the series to date and his (or her) weird name. People tend to have vaguely nice fantasy names with European-ish antecedents - Rowan, Bel, Fletcher, Janus two-face. In that context, the name is weird. Also, SLADO just sounds like a great acronym. I suspect my theory will be nicely exploded in the fourth book, since there has been absolutely no indications of advanced AI in the series so far. Also, people are supposed to be off investigating that "ships vanish" business with an eye to Slado's wizardly keep, so I'd expect some movement on that front in book four. But without further information it's a fun theory.
[N.B.: I wrote that before I found a slightly spoiler-ish review of book four. I am now on fire to read it. When I'm not hip-deep in the academic swamp.]
So yeah. Fat epics are bad, but so far the Steerswoman series is keeping me guessing and interested in the characters.
[Edit: Spoilers for the fourth book, The Language of Power, in comments. Avoid the "Re: The Lost Steersman & The Language of Power" if you want to remain unspoiled for tLoP.]
I would like to note that I started reading a copy of the second edition of The Selfish Gene (Richard Dawkins) in early January, and finished it at 8:20 AM on March 30th. It was worth it: The Selfish Gene is a lively, detailed argument for the operation of natural selection at the genetic level, a brain-bending concept in chapter one, but eloquently illustrated by the end of the book. Dawkins, a noted evolutionary biologist, politely disagrees with group selectionism and occasionally slams the notion that "contraption contraception is bad" with great ill-will. In the '89 edition, there are also cool "followup" footnotes clarifying concepts and touching on new research (naked mole rats!). There are also two chapters of extra new material, including the "extended phenotype" chapter. (The entire concept is either on crack or possibly very useful. Or maybe both.) The enire book makes me want to dig up early ground-breaking evolutionary bio papers and books, and look at newer research to see what's been done since The Selfish Gene was published. I would encourage anyone who's interested in bio to take a stab at this, because it's interesting, and because it's seminal: my bio prof is basically recapping The Selfish Gene this semester. It makes a fairly painless course very, very easy. Yay Dawkins! And three cheers for my sister, who made me read this.