Sargent, Pamela: Earthseed
Earthseed (1983)
Written by: Pamela Sargent
Genre: YA/Science Fiction
Pages: 293 (Mass Market Paperback)
Series: Book One of Three (?)
I can't tell you for certain where I first learned about Pamela Sargent. I suspect it was through one of the critical feminist SF texts I read by either Joanna Russ, Justine Larbalestier, or Ursula K. Le Guin (if you're interested in said critical feminist SF texts, click here). At any rate, I heard about Sargent's The Shore of Women and stuck it on a wait-and-see list, and it's now currently out of print (not that I'm worried: that's what PaperbackSwap is for). While waiting, I learned that she had written some YA science fiction, which also remained on my periphery until November, when I learned about the release of Seed Seeker, the third book the trilogy/series. I thought, "Okay, there's two books ahead of this. Let's get them and see what they're about." Earthseed is the first. Farseed is the second and currently making its way to me via BookCloseouts. Mind you, I bought Farseed before I'd even read Earthseed, but that's okay. I'm up for the challenge. :)
The premise: ganked from BN.com: Ship hurtles through space. Deep within its core, it carries the seed of humankind. Launched by the people of a dying Earth over a century ago, its mission is to find a habitable world for the children--fifteen-year-old Zoheret and her shipmates--whom it has created from its genetic banks.
To Zoheret and her shipmates, Ship has been mother, father, and loving teacher, preparing them for their biggest challenge: to survive on their own, on an uninhabited planet, without Ship's protection. Now that day is almost upon them . . . but are they ready to leave Ship? Ship devises a test. And suddenly, instincts that have been latent for over a hundred years take over. Zoheret watches as friends become strangers--and enemies. Can Zoheret and her companions overcome the biggest obstacle to the survival of the human race--themselves?
Review style: There's actually a lot to discuss regarding this book: how its age affects the modern reader, my guess as to some now-published authors I think were inspired by this book, and most important, the nature of violence and the role in plays in this YA novel, which eventually stops feeling like a YA novel at all, and how's there's a strange discord with that. Spoilers, yes, as I notably want to talk about the nature of violence and how it plays out in the story, so if spoilers bother you, just skip to "My Rating" and you'll be fine. Everyone else, onward!
Some books stand the test of time. Some books don't. And some books can simply given a little more leeway because they were written x-number of years before you finally got around to reading it. Does that make sense? In other words, if you're aware of when something's been published and you can remind yourself that the world was dealing with x, y, and z at the time, then the author's content might make a little more sense in light of social/economic/political concerns at the time the book was written/published.
So I kept reminding myself of that while reading. It was published in 1983, likely written before then. I was 2-3 years old at the time. The reminder wasn't because I needed historical context though, but to remind myself that YA fiction has taken leaps and bounds in terms of its prose and storytelling, and simplistic levels of storytelling, these days, isn't aimed at teens but rather middle-schoolers or younger. Now, that may have originally been Sargent's target audience, I don't know. But I do know that at the start of the book, it felt young. Really young.
Something changed while reading though. Part two, when the teens moved from the inner comforts of the ship and out to the Habitat (still on the ship, mind you, but essentially an environmental preserve/training ground for planet fall), everything suddenly became more mature and serious, even though the kids hadn't aged. Perhaps it was the actual experience of leaving the comfort and rule-focus nature of Ship (read: parent) and into the harsh wildlife with no-rule nature of the Habitat (read: the real world). There was an especially poignant moment on page 89, where Zoheret is lying in Dmitri's arms:
It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought. She had even learned to enjoy the lovemaking, which at first she had endured only for the sake of his companionship; love hadn't even been necessary. Often she felt more caring of Dmitri when they were in a group than when they were alone. They smiled at each other, or held hands gingerly, because that was what others expected. She wished that she had waited, wondering if Dmitri would still have been her friend if she had.
She swallowed and trembled slightly, then took a breath and closed her eyes as tightly as she could.
"You're not going to cry, are you?"
"No," she managed to say.
"I can't stand it when you cry."
"I don't cry much."
"You didn't used to. You'd get mad instead. I liked that more."
You made me weaker, she wanted to say. She lay very still, letting him hold her until she was in control of herself.
Mind you, these kids are fifteen. But isn't that a powerful passage? Maybe it's me, but this resonates deeply, because this seems like such an adult thing to feel (especially given the context that when Zoheret usually drinks when spending the night with Dmitri, implying that she can't do it sober). Once I read that passage, the book was easier to stomach, because it had moved, slightly, from that innocent, black vs white feel to a more mature, black vs. white feel.
Yes, there are many instances here of black and white, despite the book trying to provide motivations for various parties' actions. The problem is that no matter whose behind the violence, there isn't always a solid motivation behind the act. Some characters, like Ho, are violent because they can be. Even Zoheret realizes that something must be wrong with Ho that he acts this way as a first resort to handling problems. Certain characters act in such a way that I'm not sure what the intent is, what the target audience is supposed to get out of it.
For example, I get the whole "kids will be kids" notion: the popular boys will sleep around with the willing girls, and don't understand why all girls aren't willing because hey, they're the popular boys. I had this problem with Manuel, who was set-up to be Zoheret's primary love interest. Page 43:
Manuel moved closer and put his arm around her.
She froze, unable to move, and felt his breath on her face. He began to stroke her shoulder. "Take your hands off me."
"If you don't want my arm there, then take it away."
She shoved his arm. He grabbed her wrist with the other, forcing her on her back. His hand groped her shirt. "You like me. You try and act like you don't, but you do." His lips found her cheek.
She raised her arms and pushed him as hard as she could. He rolled over; she heard him chuckle. She had wanted him to hold her; she had wanted to respond. She got to her feet, trembling.
I get that when you're a teen and the hormones kick in, your body's sending your brain all kinds of mixed signals and it's easy to get confused. And I get that, as I said before, the popular guys are used to getting what they want when they want it, so they don't think twice about the way they act.
What bugs me about this passage is the conflicting message it's sending. On one hand, it's an aggressive scene. If Zoheret hadn't tried to assert herself and make him stop, who knows how far it would've gone? On the other hand, she's berating herself for not responding, because she DOES like him, so because she likes him, it's okay for him to treat her so roughly?
I don't know: I will say I don't think the author is trying to tell teen girls that you should let popular boys have their way with you, nor do I think she's trying to tell teen boys that you should be forceful to get what you want. But the scene disturbs me nonetheless, because I worry how that it COULD be construed that way, when I think the real message is that sometimes, girls fall for guys who clearly aren't good for them, and instead of giving into desire, you should fight back. That maybe you should fight back BECAUSE of the desire.
I will say that this book isn't primarily a romance. The scenes I've quoted so far indicate otherwise, that this book is all worried about teen relationships and whatnot, but it's not. Zoheret's relationship with Manuel kind of falls away until danger strikes, and when it does, they're at first on opposing sides. He still likes her though, and tries to help. At the end, when they settle on the planet, he pleads with her to give them a shot, because she's the only person who doesn't put up with his shit, and because he's the only person who really knows what's going on in her head. There's no promise of happily-ever-ever here: he knows he's a looker and that other girls will grab his attention, but he wants to try really hard to make it work with Zoheret.
So on one hand, I applaud the complexity and realism here; on the other, I worry it's so subtle that some readers will take their YA paranormal romance experience of hot bad boy and heroine means TRUE LOVE FOREVER and try to apply it in this case, even though Manuel is clearly flawed in worrisome ways.
All that being said, this was written YEARS before that particular craze, so of course, the author had no way of knowing that this craze was something that needed to be fought against. I wonder how different this book would've been if it'd been written now instead of 1983?
At any rate, that's all my concerns on the romance. Let's talk violence now.
It bugged the living shit out of me.
Again, here's where context is important, especially given this is SF. The United States was suffering through the Cold War and everyone was afraid of their neighbors. There was the fear that we'd grow so powerful we'd destroy ourselves (in fact, we had--grown powerful that is, not destroy ourselves), so I can see the influences driving this story, how people wanted humanity to start over elsewhere bereft of their history so that maybe, a better place could be achieved. It's wonderfully idealistic. And of course, you can only expect so much when it's a spaceship (named Ship) as the primary caregiver. Over and over, I found myself wishing these kids had the lessons displayed in James Morrow's The Philosopher's Apprentice (though, that didn't turn out ideally either), simply because the kids were obviously bereft of any type of moral and ethical upbringing (and furthermore, there was no mention of religion at all. I'm sure that's intentional, as these kids were meant to start a new world without relying on what made Earth go bad, but it still irked me a bit. No mention AT ALL, you know?). They acted accordingly due to rules, not due to any intrinsic sense of right and wrong. Of course, that doesn't mean every character was horrible, that every character resorted to violence. This wasn't Lord of the Flies time, though there were shades of that in some sections of the book.
I think that, ultimately, the level of violence was supposed to bother me, because among the characters who used it as a first resort, like Ho. Then there were the original creators of the project who stowed away on the ship: I was horrified that even they, who surely grew up with a moral code, resorted to violence first thing when they didn't get their way. But what is the message here? I think that ultimately, Sargent's saying that humans are violent creatures, and we can't escape that no matter what. I also think she's saying that even if we're raised to know better, if we find there's no repercussions for our behavior, especially if we're in power, then violence is easy to fall back on.
I don't think she's saying that violence is the answer to everything, mind you. But I do think she's saying that no matter how primitive or advance civilization is, we can't escape it. Some characters have better control over their actions than others. Some characters aren't capable of violence at all. Others, that's all they know. It's interesting that this series focuses on the word "seed" in some form or fashion, and I'm very interested to see how this seed of violence grows to create new worlds. As far as I can tell, we're certainly going to read about a new generation in Farseed and a newer one in Seed Seeker. That's going to be fascinating, I hope.
I promised I'd talk about some current authors I thought might have read this book. The most obvious is Dom Testa, whose Galahad YA series is quite similar: a ship full of teens seeking to colonize a new world. There's differences, obviously: Testa's books are more hopeful, and his teens actually grew up on Earth and were trained for their mission. They're supposed to be the very best Earth has to offer, and as of book two, no one's gone Lord of the Flies on their crew mates. But if Dom Testa were to say that Sargent's book was an inspiration, I wouldn't be surprised.
I thought of Mary Doria Russell too while reading, though I doubt Sargent's book served as inspiration. Russell writes religious-focused literary SF that's quite fascinating, and in her The Sparrow, the characters also travel to a planet on a refitted asteroid. Cool.
Finally, for reasons I can't fully explain, this book brought to mind Allen Steele's Coyote series. Other than the colonization element, and how being away from Earth can bring out the worst in people, I can't pinpoint why the books remind me of the other. And that's not a bad thing either, it's just an observation.
Let's see… I have a nitpick with the style, though I suspect that was indicative of the accepted writing style at the time: say you have three characters in a scene, and they've all been named. Two girls, one guy. Note this paragraph (page 125):
Lillka and Brendan exchanged glances. "If you can work it out with him," the blond girl said, "then go […]"
Zoheret got up and went to fetch Bonnie.
Two girls, one guy. Why the hell do we have to insert "the blond girl" instead of the character's name? Or simply say, "she said" because in the previous paragraph, it's obvious Zoheret is who's speaking? I saw "The blond girl" and I went "Blond girl? What blond girl? Is there a character I don't know about in this scene?" before remembering that the author was referring to Lillka, who has blond hair.
I'm willing to roll with the mostly likely fact that this style was what was acceptable at the time, but I don't like it. It kept tripping me up. Newer writers should take note: this is no longer an accepted style. It's confusing, and often a sloppy and unnecessary way to remind your readers what hair color (or eye color or skin color or whatever color) the speaker has. Please, don't do it.
My Rating
Give It Away: For the most part, I'm glad I read it. There's plenty of food for thought here, especially if you sit down and really think about what the author may be trying to say about various situations. It'd be easy to dismiss the book as relying too heavily on violence and showing bad romantic pairings, but it's more interesting to see what those choices are saying rather than assuming the author is an idiot. This might be my first book by Sargent, but I can tell the author isn't an idiot. The book is a product of its time, and it's definitely got something to say. That's what's interesting, and that's what's going to hold my interest with the second book, unless Sargent's style has evolved, and then that will likely hold my interest as well. Overall, Earthseed is a fast read, especially once you get to part two and the characters mature a bit more. Fans of Dom Testa's Galahad series will likely get into this book, but I should note that Testa's series definitely has a more optimistic note, whereas so far, Sargent's series tainted a bit by the darkness humanity can't escape. Again, it's interesting, and I think there's enough action to keep teen readers entertained. But for my part, this isn't a book I'll cherish and keep, so once I catch up on the series, I'll likely be passing the titles on.
Cover Commentary: I don't feel the cover is entirely representative of the book. The whole of the book takes place on Ship, and while there is certainly a nature preserve of sorts (called the Habitat) where the teens have to survive for most of the book, this cover certainly does not depict it. I'm not sure who all the characters are either: I'm guessing it's Zoheret at the top, then Ho with the mohawk, and then lastly Manuel. Maybe. I do, however, like the vibrant colors of the cover, and while I can't explain why, I like the font used for the title.
Next up: Happy Hour at Casa Dracula by Marta Acosta