Gravity Dreams
There is a book, by L.E. Modesitt, named Gravity Dreams, that I have read, I think, ten times this year. Yeah, I know. The thing is, I don't know that I can say it's really that good. Certainly, the writing is clumsy, particularly when it comes to interpersonal relationships. And it's vintage Modesitt: young, fairly clueless, man comes into his power and needs a more capable female, usually red-headed, to straighten him out. In Gravity Dreams, particularly, this process is done in a way that makes my professional instincts cringe. Also, the first section is presented jumbled, with three different plot threads out of chronological order for no reason except, perhaps, to hide the weakness of the plot, characterization, and writing.
But, but, but Modesitt's strengths are on display here, as well. His ability to create and describe, in great detail, a different world and give you an idea of how the technology or magic actually works. The fascinating puzzle of seeing if I can recognize the underlying history that he doesn't explicate, like place names. And the exploration of philosophical and political questions about how different technology or culture effects characters and their world-view. Even the wee sniping at the LDS church. But I think the reason I'm reading Gravity Dreams rather than Adiamante or The Parafaith War, which both have similar elements, is the protagonist's arc. Something about this story, in particular, speaks to a desire I still have to turn around one day and find myself in the future, bringing a kind of backwoods innocence and wisdom to a jaded world that feels that it has all the answers.
So, I'm not sure I'd encourage you to run right out and find a copy of Gravity Dreams, but you can't borrow my copy, either.
But, but, but Modesitt's strengths are on display here, as well. His ability to create and describe, in great detail, a different world and give you an idea of how the technology or magic actually works. The fascinating puzzle of seeing if I can recognize the underlying history that he doesn't explicate, like place names. And the exploration of philosophical and political questions about how different technology or culture effects characters and their world-view. Even the wee sniping at the LDS church. But I think the reason I'm reading Gravity Dreams rather than Adiamante or The Parafaith War, which both have similar elements, is the protagonist's arc. Something about this story, in particular, speaks to a desire I still have to turn around one day and find myself in the future, bringing a kind of backwoods innocence and wisdom to a jaded world that feels that it has all the answers.
So, I'm not sure I'd encourage you to run right out and find a copy of Gravity Dreams, but you can't borrow my copy, either.