Review: TOS Star Trek Novels
I've had Star Trek on my mind lately, for obvious reasons. I always describe myself as an old-school TOS fan, but upon reflection, I'm not exactly. I saw very few of the original shows. What I did find, in my tiny local library, were James Blish's adaptations of the episodes.
I read those adaptations...it must have been dozens of times. I read them so many times I thought I had seen those episodes, and have sometimes been startled when re-watching them to realize no, I've never actually seen it. That's part of why the special effects and overacting never had a chance to bother me--I could imagine the effects myself, and Blish's writing was good enough to be involving. For example, check out this cover, illustrating "Who Mourns for Adonis." Isn't that gorgeous? Much better than some cheesy guy in a toga.
From the adaptations I graduated to the early novels. Now, Star Trek novels in the early 1980s were...let's say, not as polished and professional as they are today. Basically, they're fanfiction. A lot of them were slash that stopped just short of the sex scenes, many of them had horrific Mary Sue qualities (to be fair, the show's structure encouraged OCs), now and then the writing was appalling (very often it was quite good!) They were chock-full of fanon characterization and plot devices, and they're really where my knowledge of Star Trek comes from. Because of them, I end up bewildered at people complaining about Janice Rand, Christine Chapel, and Nyota Uhura, because those women tended to rock hard in the (mostly female-authored) novels, especiallly Uhura. The novels were really my fandom. So I thought I'd review ten of the novels I own here, starting with three of the slashier ones:
1. Diane Duane, The Wounded Sky (1983). The Enterprise learns of a strange rip in the fabric of reality and travels there to try and fix it. Features a rather Mary Sue glass spider who's a brilliant physicist, impresses the hell out of Scotty and everyone on board, and gives wise advice on how to live to all and sundry. However, I liked K't'lk a lot anyway, so I give her a pass (I end up doing this a lot!) The end is one of my favorite sequences ever, when the Enterprise crew enters a strange dream-world where they take on the forms of the True Selves:
Jim turned to look at Spock, and was dazzled again, but this time he couldn't look away. Spock hadn't changed; but here his spirit showed as it never had before, even in the harrowing intimacy of the mindmeld. . . . the power of the man was a joy to behold, and a terror. This great mind has been standing behind me and quietly obeying my orders for all these years? Why?? He could be so much more--But in this place, the answer was plain to read. Loyalty was frequently unreasonable and illogical--and Spock had long ago decided that this one aspect of his life could do without logic.
All the crew is wonderful. Scott and Uhura especially get to shine. I especially love the moment where each member of the crew is asked to give some precious memory of themselves to help--here are Uhura and Scott's:
-she twisted her throat around the bizarreness of the new language, and her mind around the concepts, wrestling them as if wrestling an angel-the object being not to win but to lose to the other: to surrender into the alternate mind-set and think in the other language, and for the hundredth time become more than she had been before the surrender. Without warning, after days of struggle and effort, in the middle of an uneventful morning at her desk, the enemy rose up inside her, took hold of her and flung her down with stunning force against the bottom of her mind. Her head spun for a second with alien terminologies-and then everything was different. Her office, that was what was alien, and all the names in it were changed. Her enemy was changed too; she looked inside her, and found a lover there instead. She whooped out loud for sheer delight at her defeat, her victory. And when people came running in to see what was the matter, she started laughing and couldn't stop-
-the beauty of the physical universe, the way things fitted and worked, the fierce bound energy of matter in all its forms, sang in him like a poem until he literally had to lean on the bulkhead for support. He felt dizzy, felt simultaneously small and huge, powerful and powerless, dwarfed and ennobled by the might and manageableness of things. And he had to tell that one about it who was primarily responsible for the experience. With a quick abashed glance around him to see that no one was looking, he reached out and laid a hand against the matter/antimatter mix column. It throbbed with power, it sang with life under its clear metal skin. Thank you, he said, unsure who or what he was thanking, and not caring. Thank you. And he knew she heard-
Slashiness: 7/10, with a few very sweet moments between Jim and Spock like the one quoted above.
Plot/Writing: 7/10. Lots of technobabble, but in general it seems to hang together well. Some very nice philosophical discussion about the nature of playing and creation as well. I found the writing unusually good for the genre. Not much of a surprise there, as Duane has gone on to become an accomplished original writer.
OCs: 9/10. K't'lk is one of my favorite OCs--clearly very alien in her thought processes, but charming and interesting. There are some other good OCs--I liked Harb Tanzer, the recreation chief, quite a bit as well.
The Crew: 9/10. I liked very much the focus on the crew, the loving descriptions of each of their "true natures" and their memories.
2. Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath, Triangle (1983). I sold this back some years ago because I was embarrassed to own it, but I went and found a digital copy for the purposes of this review! This book features the most Mary Sue character I've ever seen, Sola Thane. I shall let McCoy give his first impressions of her:
She was humanoid, certainly. She even looked, for all practical purposes, Human. But there was a hint of something almost feral about the tawny eyes. The matching tawny mane seemed to grow to some natural length and shape which she merely shook back. She moved on the branch with a curious certainty, as if she were of some hunting species as at home there as McCoy was on solid ground.
But there was also some shocking contrast of utter civility and star-spanning culture. She wore soft boots and a coppery bodysuit which looked as it if were poured out of the living metal, cut in lines of elegant simplicity which suggested that she was indifferent to fashion, but not to design. But more than that, there was some aura about her which struck McCoy as being like no woman he had ever seen, of any species.. . . there was a power of certainty about her which he had seen in few men, few beings of any sex or species- something like the bedrock certainty of a Spock, but with a glint of humor in the tawny eyes which was rather more like the sunlit ease of a Kirk. She looked at the three of them as if seeing were an enjoyment, as if she saw them fully and fearlessly, not merely how they looked, but what they were.
McCoy supposed that she was beautiful. He was too busy looking at her to see. It didn't seem to be the important question.
Kirk and Spock both immediately fall in love with her at first sight and find themselves in a love triangle, complicated by the fact that Kirk and Spock are also clearly in love with each other. Spock goes through pon farr and she's there for him, and all three end up in a psychic bond, which would be more bearable if it weren't accompanied by Incredibly Meaningful Deep Elliptical Comments. It's all very slashy but so turgid it's hard reading.
For the slashiness without the horrible, horrible tawny Mary Sue, you could try The Fate of the Phoenix by the same authors:
She did not see James begin the move, but suddenly he was close and his hand reached for the Vulcan's shoulder as if to renew that contact, perhaps even the mind link, by which they had seen each other through this day--through the gates of hell, and back.
Then she saw James realize that the last of the terrible Vulcan control could crack entirely.
With that years-deep knowledge of the Vulcan which was still his, James drew the hand back, with an effort which looked as if it broke something... perhaps his heart.
But he was steady, as if to steady the Vulcan with his eyes.
The moment when only their eyes met was the seal on everything they had been, with the ending of it.
Whatever would be their future it could never be the same, and from this road there was no turning, and no return.
"Gates of hell, Spock," James murmured, not finding much breath for it, in the phrase which had become their watchword today.
"... shall not prevail against us," the Vulcan completed. "I will not say goodbye."
Or The Price of the Phoenix, in which Spock is taken to a sleeping, captive Captain Kirk:
Nothing could divert his attention from the slow rise and fall of breath in the broad chest, the flicker under the eyelids in the peaceful, dreaming face.
He moved to stand over the catafalque.
"Sleeping beauty," Omne said. "You may perform the awakening--in the traditional manner, if you like."
Spock shot him a savage look, but could not spare eyes for it for long.
He looked down and was stopped for a moment. He could not use the name. If he used the name he was certainly lost. He unlocked a hand from behind his back and closed long fingers on the bare, warm shoulder.
Surprise. And then a smile played on the still sleeping lips.
Then Spock saw the face relive the moment of astonishment, unbelief, belief. Veins stood out in ridges. The lips formed "Spock!" Stomach muscles knotted and flung the wide shoulders up into arms which caught them. The hazel eyes snapped open.
After a moment they focused! The waking voice whispered, "Spock?" The arms closed on Spock's shoulders.
"Shh--" Spock said and held for a moment, then disentangled and eased the shoulders down, pulled up the fallen sheet. "Rest."
"Rest?" The figure rolled up on an elbow, a sudden wry grin celebrating. But there was puzzlement around the eyes. "In peace--I thought. How--?" The keen eyes searched the room, took in the atmosphere, the two figures in the background, the pointed-eared Romulan guards. "Not a bad version of Hell." The eyes looked back at Spock. "Or--Heaven."
Good Lord. I cannot believe Paramount allowed these books to get published. And they're not the most slashy! That honor is reserved for the next book...
Slashiness: 9/10, with a point off for Sola Thane hanging around being all coppery perfection.
Plot/Writing: 2/10. The writing is horrifically purple, full of stuff that's meant to be Deep and Meaningful but is mostly just silly (they compare Spock's emotional repression to Prometheus so many times--dragging his chains, vultures feasting on his liver--I wanted to pull my hair out). The plot...involved some kind of threat of a group mind, which was mostly an excuse for endless nattering about soul bonds.
OCs: 1/10. Kirk's last thoughts on the incomparable Sola Thane: One day perhaps they would have to tackle the issue of Oneness head-on. But for the moment Kirk would settle for the particular [individuals] he had around him. And for the memory of one who had come, and gone. Urgh.
The Crew: 1/10. There are other crew? You mean the ship isn't crewed entirely by Spock and Kirk? Oh yeah, McCoy is there to stand around and think about how awesome Kirk, Spock, and Sola all are.
3. Della Van Hise, Killing Time (1985). This is the book that ruined it all! The basic plot: Due to Romulan meddling in the timeline, Kirk is now a troubled ensign and disciplinary problem under the command of Captain Spock (hmmm). The two of them have to learn to trust each other and set the timeline right.
This story isn't slashy. It's actually just slash. The plot is basically, "Can Kirk and Spock learn they're meant to be together and fall in love?" It features an astonishing forced mind-meld scene that is not the least bit subtle:
Before he could complete the sentence, he found himself sprawling to the ground, the Vulcan's arms wrapped tightly and unexpectedly around his legs. Lethal anger flared in the human's eyes as he fell painfully into the dirt; he kicked, but to no avail.
Without completely understanding what he was doing, Spock rolled over, covering the ensign's writhing body with his own. Powerful Vulcan hands seized Kirk's wrists, forcing muscular arms easily to the ground despite violent resistance.
This fight goes on quite a bit longer and with much more wrestling.
Apparently when Gene Roddenbury had this book pointed out to him, he totally freaked out. (I can't completely blame him). He insisted on having the book severely edited to remove any physical contact between Spock and Kirk, and in fact this led to Roddenbury creating a strict code for future Star Trek books in which Kirk and Spock were not allowed to touch each other. *sighs*
A look of horror came to dwell on Kirk's features as his body went limp. "You wouldn't dare," he said quietly, wondering nonetheless if he'd finally tempted the fates once too often.
The Vulcan merely shook his head as his fingers pressed firmly against pliant flesh. "In this universe," he replied, "you are wrong, James Kirk!"
Without another thought to the matter, he injected himself into the human's unshielded mind.
After Kirk submits to the meld (He took a deep breath, tired of fighting, and surrendered to the pleasant vertigo which accompanied the meld) they uncover the memories that prove they're meant to be together, and they struggle together to right the universe. In setting it right, they both are mortally wounded and die together under the stars (while cuddling):
Giving in to his human half, Spock leaned more heavily against Kirk, resting his head on the warm shoulder. . . There wasn't much time...but that no longer seemed important. He had found his contentment as well. "Then come with me," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper against the human's shoulder.
They die locked in a mind-meld. *swoons* Then the real Spock and Kirk have to deal with the repercussions of remembering their love and decide if they want to start a relationship in the real world (in a heavily-coded but obvious conversation in Spock's bedroom about whether they should, you know, meld).
If you look to buy this book, make sure you get the 1985 edition. Later editions have all the physical contact and some of the slashier lines edited out. *hugs her ratty 1985 edition* There seem to be some on Ebay...
Slashiness: 10/10. Off the fricking scale.
Plot/Writing: 6/10. The writing is not great, but mostly it doesn't get in the way. The plot is actually pretty good.
OCs: 5/10. It's definitely the Spock and Kirk Show, but there are still some good new characters: Jim's roommate who has dreams where his sullen roomie is the Captain and can't understand why; the canine Yeoman S'Parva; and the Romulan commander from "The Enterprise Incident" gets a nice role here as well.
The Crew: 3/10. McCoy's not bad, but again is there mostly to serve as a person to think about how Spock and Kirk are totally meant to be together.
I read those adaptations...it must have been dozens of times. I read them so many times I thought I had seen those episodes, and have sometimes been startled when re-watching them to realize no, I've never actually seen it. That's part of why the special effects and overacting never had a chance to bother me--I could imagine the effects myself, and Blish's writing was good enough to be involving. For example, check out this cover, illustrating "Who Mourns for Adonis." Isn't that gorgeous? Much better than some cheesy guy in a toga.
From the adaptations I graduated to the early novels. Now, Star Trek novels in the early 1980s were...let's say, not as polished and professional as they are today. Basically, they're fanfiction. A lot of them were slash that stopped just short of the sex scenes, many of them had horrific Mary Sue qualities (to be fair, the show's structure encouraged OCs), now and then the writing was appalling (very often it was quite good!) They were chock-full of fanon characterization and plot devices, and they're really where my knowledge of Star Trek comes from. Because of them, I end up bewildered at people complaining about Janice Rand, Christine Chapel, and Nyota Uhura, because those women tended to rock hard in the (mostly female-authored) novels, especiallly Uhura. The novels were really my fandom. So I thought I'd review ten of the novels I own here, starting with three of the slashier ones:
1. Diane Duane, The Wounded Sky (1983). The Enterprise learns of a strange rip in the fabric of reality and travels there to try and fix it. Features a rather Mary Sue glass spider who's a brilliant physicist, impresses the hell out of Scotty and everyone on board, and gives wise advice on how to live to all and sundry. However, I liked K't'lk a lot anyway, so I give her a pass (I end up doing this a lot!) The end is one of my favorite sequences ever, when the Enterprise crew enters a strange dream-world where they take on the forms of the True Selves:
Jim turned to look at Spock, and was dazzled again, but this time he couldn't look away. Spock hadn't changed; but here his spirit showed as it never had before, even in the harrowing intimacy of the mindmeld. . . . the power of the man was a joy to behold, and a terror. This great mind has been standing behind me and quietly obeying my orders for all these years? Why?? He could be so much more--But in this place, the answer was plain to read. Loyalty was frequently unreasonable and illogical--and Spock had long ago decided that this one aspect of his life could do without logic.
All the crew is wonderful. Scott and Uhura especially get to shine. I especially love the moment where each member of the crew is asked to give some precious memory of themselves to help--here are Uhura and Scott's:
-she twisted her throat around the bizarreness of the new language, and her mind around the concepts, wrestling them as if wrestling an angel-the object being not to win but to lose to the other: to surrender into the alternate mind-set and think in the other language, and for the hundredth time become more than she had been before the surrender. Without warning, after days of struggle and effort, in the middle of an uneventful morning at her desk, the enemy rose up inside her, took hold of her and flung her down with stunning force against the bottom of her mind. Her head spun for a second with alien terminologies-and then everything was different. Her office, that was what was alien, and all the names in it were changed. Her enemy was changed too; she looked inside her, and found a lover there instead. She whooped out loud for sheer delight at her defeat, her victory. And when people came running in to see what was the matter, she started laughing and couldn't stop-
-the beauty of the physical universe, the way things fitted and worked, the fierce bound energy of matter in all its forms, sang in him like a poem until he literally had to lean on the bulkhead for support. He felt dizzy, felt simultaneously small and huge, powerful and powerless, dwarfed and ennobled by the might and manageableness of things. And he had to tell that one about it who was primarily responsible for the experience. With a quick abashed glance around him to see that no one was looking, he reached out and laid a hand against the matter/antimatter mix column. It throbbed with power, it sang with life under its clear metal skin. Thank you, he said, unsure who or what he was thanking, and not caring. Thank you. And he knew she heard-
Slashiness: 7/10, with a few very sweet moments between Jim and Spock like the one quoted above.
Plot/Writing: 7/10. Lots of technobabble, but in general it seems to hang together well. Some very nice philosophical discussion about the nature of playing and creation as well. I found the writing unusually good for the genre. Not much of a surprise there, as Duane has gone on to become an accomplished original writer.
OCs: 9/10. K't'lk is one of my favorite OCs--clearly very alien in her thought processes, but charming and interesting. There are some other good OCs--I liked Harb Tanzer, the recreation chief, quite a bit as well.
The Crew: 9/10. I liked very much the focus on the crew, the loving descriptions of each of their "true natures" and their memories.
2. Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath, Triangle (1983). I sold this back some years ago because I was embarrassed to own it, but I went and found a digital copy for the purposes of this review! This book features the most Mary Sue character I've ever seen, Sola Thane. I shall let McCoy give his first impressions of her:
She was humanoid, certainly. She even looked, for all practical purposes, Human. But there was a hint of something almost feral about the tawny eyes. The matching tawny mane seemed to grow to some natural length and shape which she merely shook back. She moved on the branch with a curious certainty, as if she were of some hunting species as at home there as McCoy was on solid ground.
But there was also some shocking contrast of utter civility and star-spanning culture. She wore soft boots and a coppery bodysuit which looked as it if were poured out of the living metal, cut in lines of elegant simplicity which suggested that she was indifferent to fashion, but not to design. But more than that, there was some aura about her which struck McCoy as being like no woman he had ever seen, of any species.. . . there was a power of certainty about her which he had seen in few men, few beings of any sex or species- something like the bedrock certainty of a Spock, but with a glint of humor in the tawny eyes which was rather more like the sunlit ease of a Kirk. She looked at the three of them as if seeing were an enjoyment, as if she saw them fully and fearlessly, not merely how they looked, but what they were.
McCoy supposed that she was beautiful. He was too busy looking at her to see. It didn't seem to be the important question.
Kirk and Spock both immediately fall in love with her at first sight and find themselves in a love triangle, complicated by the fact that Kirk and Spock are also clearly in love with each other. Spock goes through pon farr and she's there for him, and all three end up in a psychic bond, which would be more bearable if it weren't accompanied by Incredibly Meaningful Deep Elliptical Comments. It's all very slashy but so turgid it's hard reading.
For the slashiness without the horrible, horrible tawny Mary Sue, you could try The Fate of the Phoenix by the same authors:
She did not see James begin the move, but suddenly he was close and his hand reached for the Vulcan's shoulder as if to renew that contact, perhaps even the mind link, by which they had seen each other through this day--through the gates of hell, and back.
Then she saw James realize that the last of the terrible Vulcan control could crack entirely.
With that years-deep knowledge of the Vulcan which was still his, James drew the hand back, with an effort which looked as if it broke something... perhaps his heart.
But he was steady, as if to steady the Vulcan with his eyes.
The moment when only their eyes met was the seal on everything they had been, with the ending of it.
Whatever would be their future it could never be the same, and from this road there was no turning, and no return.
"Gates of hell, Spock," James murmured, not finding much breath for it, in the phrase which had become their watchword today.
"... shall not prevail against us," the Vulcan completed. "I will not say goodbye."
Or The Price of the Phoenix, in which Spock is taken to a sleeping, captive Captain Kirk:
Nothing could divert his attention from the slow rise and fall of breath in the broad chest, the flicker under the eyelids in the peaceful, dreaming face.
He moved to stand over the catafalque.
"Sleeping beauty," Omne said. "You may perform the awakening--in the traditional manner, if you like."
Spock shot him a savage look, but could not spare eyes for it for long.
He looked down and was stopped for a moment. He could not use the name. If he used the name he was certainly lost. He unlocked a hand from behind his back and closed long fingers on the bare, warm shoulder.
Surprise. And then a smile played on the still sleeping lips.
Then Spock saw the face relive the moment of astonishment, unbelief, belief. Veins stood out in ridges. The lips formed "Spock!" Stomach muscles knotted and flung the wide shoulders up into arms which caught them. The hazel eyes snapped open.
After a moment they focused! The waking voice whispered, "Spock?" The arms closed on Spock's shoulders.
"Shh--" Spock said and held for a moment, then disentangled and eased the shoulders down, pulled up the fallen sheet. "Rest."
"Rest?" The figure rolled up on an elbow, a sudden wry grin celebrating. But there was puzzlement around the eyes. "In peace--I thought. How--?" The keen eyes searched the room, took in the atmosphere, the two figures in the background, the pointed-eared Romulan guards. "Not a bad version of Hell." The eyes looked back at Spock. "Or--Heaven."
Good Lord. I cannot believe Paramount allowed these books to get published. And they're not the most slashy! That honor is reserved for the next book...
Slashiness: 9/10, with a point off for Sola Thane hanging around being all coppery perfection.
Plot/Writing: 2/10. The writing is horrifically purple, full of stuff that's meant to be Deep and Meaningful but is mostly just silly (they compare Spock's emotional repression to Prometheus so many times--dragging his chains, vultures feasting on his liver--I wanted to pull my hair out). The plot...involved some kind of threat of a group mind, which was mostly an excuse for endless nattering about soul bonds.
OCs: 1/10. Kirk's last thoughts on the incomparable Sola Thane: One day perhaps they would have to tackle the issue of Oneness head-on. But for the moment Kirk would settle for the particular [individuals] he had around him. And for the memory of one who had come, and gone. Urgh.
The Crew: 1/10. There are other crew? You mean the ship isn't crewed entirely by Spock and Kirk? Oh yeah, McCoy is there to stand around and think about how awesome Kirk, Spock, and Sola all are.
3. Della Van Hise, Killing Time (1985). This is the book that ruined it all! The basic plot: Due to Romulan meddling in the timeline, Kirk is now a troubled ensign and disciplinary problem under the command of Captain Spock (hmmm). The two of them have to learn to trust each other and set the timeline right.
This story isn't slashy. It's actually just slash. The plot is basically, "Can Kirk and Spock learn they're meant to be together and fall in love?" It features an astonishing forced mind-meld scene that is not the least bit subtle:
Before he could complete the sentence, he found himself sprawling to the ground, the Vulcan's arms wrapped tightly and unexpectedly around his legs. Lethal anger flared in the human's eyes as he fell painfully into the dirt; he kicked, but to no avail.
Without completely understanding what he was doing, Spock rolled over, covering the ensign's writhing body with his own. Powerful Vulcan hands seized Kirk's wrists, forcing muscular arms easily to the ground despite violent resistance.
This fight goes on quite a bit longer and with much more wrestling.
Apparently when Gene Roddenbury had this book pointed out to him, he totally freaked out. (I can't completely blame him). He insisted on having the book severely edited to remove any physical contact between Spock and Kirk, and in fact this led to Roddenbury creating a strict code for future Star Trek books in which Kirk and Spock were not allowed to touch each other. *sighs*
A look of horror came to dwell on Kirk's features as his body went limp. "You wouldn't dare," he said quietly, wondering nonetheless if he'd finally tempted the fates once too often.
The Vulcan merely shook his head as his fingers pressed firmly against pliant flesh. "In this universe," he replied, "you are wrong, James Kirk!"
Without another thought to the matter, he injected himself into the human's unshielded mind.
After Kirk submits to the meld (He took a deep breath, tired of fighting, and surrendered to the pleasant vertigo which accompanied the meld) they uncover the memories that prove they're meant to be together, and they struggle together to right the universe. In setting it right, they both are mortally wounded and die together under the stars (while cuddling):
Giving in to his human half, Spock leaned more heavily against Kirk, resting his head on the warm shoulder. . . There wasn't much time...but that no longer seemed important. He had found his contentment as well. "Then come with me," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper against the human's shoulder.
They die locked in a mind-meld. *swoons* Then the real Spock and Kirk have to deal with the repercussions of remembering their love and decide if they want to start a relationship in the real world (in a heavily-coded but obvious conversation in Spock's bedroom about whether they should, you know, meld).
If you look to buy this book, make sure you get the 1985 edition. Later editions have all the physical contact and some of the slashier lines edited out. *hugs her ratty 1985 edition* There seem to be some on Ebay...
Slashiness: 10/10. Off the fricking scale.
Plot/Writing: 6/10. The writing is not great, but mostly it doesn't get in the way. The plot is actually pretty good.
OCs: 5/10. It's definitely the Spock and Kirk Show, but there are still some good new characters: Jim's roommate who has dreams where his sullen roomie is the Captain and can't understand why; the canine Yeoman S'Parva; and the Romulan commander from "The Enterprise Incident" gets a nice role here as well.
The Crew: 3/10. McCoy's not bad, but again is there mostly to serve as a person to think about how Spock and Kirk are totally meant to be together.