Game 21, Book 2 (+ book 1 reminder)
Okay. Less that 24 hours left to submit lines for Why I Hate Saturn. And, since we're overlapping fairly heavily (although I'm going to try to avoid there ever being more than two books active at once), let me introduce book 2: John Varley's The Golden Globe
As you may know, John Varley's Steel Beach started with one of the most famous opening lines in science fiction. ("In ten years, the penis will be obsolete", said the salesman.) (Many people misquote it by omitting the last three words, but they're important ones in my opinion.) So that's not a suitable book for this game. But the followup book, The Golden Globe should be fair game.
Inside cover:
John Varley has been compared to preeminent science fiction writeres Robert Heinlein and Frank Herbert, and has earned the praise of such noted authors as Tom Clancy and Spider Robinson. His books won him the Hugo, the Nebula, and a resounding reputation as one of science fiction's great voices. Now Varley presents his long-awaited epic novel of life beyond the great beyond.
All the universe is a stage, and Sparky Valentine is its itinerant thespian. He makes his way from planet to planet as part of a motley theater troupe, bringing Shakespeare-a version of it anyway- to the outer reaches of earth's solar system. He journeys through the outlands, where thousands of artificial satellites drift, conglomerates of junk and rock welded together to support meager communities of human life. Here Sparky plies his trade, transforming himself from young to old, fat to thin, man to woman, by altering magnetic implants beneath his skin. Indispensable hardware for a career actor and an interstellar con man wanted for murder- for while Sparky Valentine may have a song in his heart, he also has a price on his head. But his galactic roamings are bringing him closer to home, closer to justice- and closer to the truth of his strange and prolonged existence...
Excerpt:
"I really did enjoy Sparky and His Gang," said the diminutive agent of the Charonese Mafia. He had moved my chair in front of the door and was sitting in it, feet flat, back straight, bright and alert. He had a pistol of some sort and it never wavered. I had no doubt he could pick which of my eyeballs to hit, shooting from the hip.
"I'd like to get up and give you the frog," I said.
"Just stay where you are. I'll take care of everything."
That's what I was afraid of. With the Charonese there were usually two options: a quick bullet, or prolonged torture.
"Should I order a drink?" I sighted. Don't imagine I was as cool as I sounded. The line and the attitude belonged to Nick Charles, from The Thin Man's Last Stand. ("...nobody could be quite so cool as Mr. Charles in the face of the many dangers he stares down, but Casey Valens had a grand old time making us believe it."-JMMT Channel 70 Minute Reviews).
"Just wait awhile."
"Don't want to make a scene?" I asked.
"It's best to keep these things quiet. When we dock at Honolulu a friend of mine will be coming aboard. You'll leave with us. I can give you a drug to keep you docile if you make it necessary. But I hate to use it. It's annoying. When I'm annoyed, I do things you wouldn't like."
"It won't be necessary," I said. "I'm...say, you never told me your name. Or is that an annoying request?"
"Comfort," he said.
"Beg pardon?"
"Isambard Comfort."
I looked at him dubiously, but he gave no sign he was kidding. I'd asked his name not so much because I wanted to add him to my Christmas card list, but in hopes he would refuse to tell me. Traditionally, if they don't care about you learning their names, it means they plan to kill you. "He can identify you in court, Rocko. Better wax him." However, this was Pluto and the Charonese Mafia, who did more or less what they pleased. His distaste for taking and disposing of me publicly had more to do with decorum on the part of the ferrymen.
But I had a plan.
Poll Game 21, Book 2
As you may know, John Varley's Steel Beach started with one of the most famous opening lines in science fiction. ("In ten years, the penis will be obsolete", said the salesman.) (Many people misquote it by omitting the last three words, but they're important ones in my opinion.) So that's not a suitable book for this game. But the followup book, The Golden Globe should be fair game.
Inside cover:
John Varley has been compared to preeminent science fiction writeres Robert Heinlein and Frank Herbert, and has earned the praise of such noted authors as Tom Clancy and Spider Robinson. His books won him the Hugo, the Nebula, and a resounding reputation as one of science fiction's great voices. Now Varley presents his long-awaited epic novel of life beyond the great beyond.
All the universe is a stage, and Sparky Valentine is its itinerant thespian. He makes his way from planet to planet as part of a motley theater troupe, bringing Shakespeare-a version of it anyway- to the outer reaches of earth's solar system. He journeys through the outlands, where thousands of artificial satellites drift, conglomerates of junk and rock welded together to support meager communities of human life. Here Sparky plies his trade, transforming himself from young to old, fat to thin, man to woman, by altering magnetic implants beneath his skin. Indispensable hardware for a career actor and an interstellar con man wanted for murder- for while Sparky Valentine may have a song in his heart, he also has a price on his head. But his galactic roamings are bringing him closer to home, closer to justice- and closer to the truth of his strange and prolonged existence...
Excerpt:
"I really did enjoy Sparky and His Gang," said the diminutive agent of the Charonese Mafia. He had moved my chair in front of the door and was sitting in it, feet flat, back straight, bright and alert. He had a pistol of some sort and it never wavered. I had no doubt he could pick which of my eyeballs to hit, shooting from the hip.
"I'd like to get up and give you the frog," I said.
"Just stay where you are. I'll take care of everything."
That's what I was afraid of. With the Charonese there were usually two options: a quick bullet, or prolonged torture.
"Should I order a drink?" I sighted. Don't imagine I was as cool as I sounded. The line and the attitude belonged to Nick Charles, from The Thin Man's Last Stand. ("...nobody could be quite so cool as Mr. Charles in the face of the many dangers he stares down, but Casey Valens had a grand old time making us believe it."-JMMT Channel 70 Minute Reviews).
"Just wait awhile."
"Don't want to make a scene?" I asked.
"It's best to keep these things quiet. When we dock at Honolulu a friend of mine will be coming aboard. You'll leave with us. I can give you a drug to keep you docile if you make it necessary. But I hate to use it. It's annoying. When I'm annoyed, I do things you wouldn't like."
"It won't be necessary," I said. "I'm...say, you never told me your name. Or is that an annoying request?"
"Comfort," he said.
"Beg pardon?"
"Isambard Comfort."
I looked at him dubiously, but he gave no sign he was kidding. I'd asked his name not so much because I wanted to add him to my Christmas card list, but in hopes he would refuse to tell me. Traditionally, if they don't care about you learning their names, it means they plan to kill you. "He can identify you in court, Rocko. Better wax him." However, this was Pluto and the Charonese Mafia, who did more or less what they pleased. His distaste for taking and disposing of me publicly had more to do with decorum on the part of the ferrymen.
But I had a plan.
Poll Game 21, Book 2