Book Review: A Half-Built Garden, by Ruthanna Emrys
A "queer Jewish feminist" SF novel makes First Contact a big talky, fetishy, feelingsfest.
Tor.com, 2022, 340 pages
On a warm March night in 2083, Judy Wallach-Stevens wakes to a warning of unknown pollutants in the Chesapeake Bay. She heads out to check what she expects to be a false alarm-and stumbles upon the first alien visitors to Earth. These aliens have crossed the galaxy to save humanity, convinced that the people of Earth must leave their ecologically-ravaged planet behind and join them among the stars. And if humanity doesn't agree, they may need to be saved by force.
But the watershed networks that rose up to save the planet from corporate devastation aren't ready to give up on Earth. Decades ago, they reorganized humanity around the hope of keeping the world livable. By sharing the burden of decision-making, they've started to heal our wounded planet.
Now corporations, nation-states, and networks all vie to represent humanity to these powerful new beings, and if anyone accepts the aliens' offer, Earth may be lost. With everyone’s eyes turned skyward, the future hinges on Judy's effort to create understanding, both within and beyond her own species.
Bleh. This will probably win a Hugo.
I am down for a first contact story that isn't just "aliens invade!" They don't always have to be BEMs who want our women.
In this book, not only do they want our women (there's a scene where two lesbians have hentai sex with a tentacled boy-alien), but they also want our planet. But in a nice, benevolent way. Don't worry, we can talk it out. There is a lot of talking.
A lot of talking.
So much talking.
Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.
Also a lot of nursing.
Like, the main character's breasts are practically secondary characters. We are never left wondering about the current state of her milkers. Full, aching, sore, pert, droopy, they are definitely there and lactating.
Set about fifty years in the future, A Half-Built Garden is getting Hugo buzz and lots of polite noises for reasons that mystify me. Although it's not badly written and there are some interesting situations, the logical holes in the story and the complete absence of any tension that can't be resolved with a discussion about boundaries and consent, plus the constant (constant) references to lactating boobs, turned me off and made me wonder what kind of book I was reading painted with a thin coating of sci-fi and alienness.
The first person POV protagonist works for the Chesapeake Watershed, an eco-coop that is one of many worldwide who are trying to restore the Earth's ecology and climate. She's going out to check some equipment one evening, and brings her baby along. They discover an alien spaceship has just landed on the shore. An alien emerges with her own brood. We don't get alien boobs described in as much detail, but yup, the armadillo-pillbug thing is nursing too.
The aliens are actually two species, the Tree Folk and the Plains Folk, who made first contact with each other millennia ago and are now building a Dyson sphere to escape the damage they did to their own homeworlds.
They have come to Earth to save humanity from ourselves. They detected what a mess we've made of our environment, and they want to take us into space, where we can thrive and grow beyond the limits of a planet-bound existence, like they have.
The problem is, humanity isn't quite ready to abandon Earth just yet, and the aliens don't want to take no for an answer.
This could have been an interesting novel of hopeful ecological sci-fi, alien diplomacy, and the ethics of trying to "help" people without denying them their agency.
It's not interesting, because the only thing that ever happens is that people (including aliens) argue, about everything from ecological doomsday scenarios to pronouns. We get lots of neurotic internal monologues and external conflicts that read like hormonal fits (look, the author is the one who keeps talking about hormones) and are always resolved by more talking.
This is the most female SF novel I have ever read, which is kind of funny for a story that makes a big deal out of giving everyone xir own unique pronouns and humanity teaching alien armadillos and spiders not to be gender essentialists.
There's definitely an audience for this book. There's an audience for Gor novels too, and while A Half-Built Garden's fetishes may be more wholesome, it's still not my kink.
My complete list of book reviews.
Tor.com, 2022, 340 pages
On a warm March night in 2083, Judy Wallach-Stevens wakes to a warning of unknown pollutants in the Chesapeake Bay. She heads out to check what she expects to be a false alarm-and stumbles upon the first alien visitors to Earth. These aliens have crossed the galaxy to save humanity, convinced that the people of Earth must leave their ecologically-ravaged planet behind and join them among the stars. And if humanity doesn't agree, they may need to be saved by force.
But the watershed networks that rose up to save the planet from corporate devastation aren't ready to give up on Earth. Decades ago, they reorganized humanity around the hope of keeping the world livable. By sharing the burden of decision-making, they've started to heal our wounded planet.
Now corporations, nation-states, and networks all vie to represent humanity to these powerful new beings, and if anyone accepts the aliens' offer, Earth may be lost. With everyone’s eyes turned skyward, the future hinges on Judy's effort to create understanding, both within and beyond her own species.
Bleh. This will probably win a Hugo.
I am down for a first contact story that isn't just "aliens invade!" They don't always have to be BEMs who want our women.
In this book, not only do they want our women (there's a scene where two lesbians have hentai sex with a tentacled boy-alien), but they also want our planet. But in a nice, benevolent way. Don't worry, we can talk it out. There is a lot of talking.
A lot of talking.
So much talking.
Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.
Also a lot of nursing.
Like, the main character's breasts are practically secondary characters. We are never left wondering about the current state of her milkers. Full, aching, sore, pert, droopy, they are definitely there and lactating.
Set about fifty years in the future, A Half-Built Garden is getting Hugo buzz and lots of polite noises for reasons that mystify me. Although it's not badly written and there are some interesting situations, the logical holes in the story and the complete absence of any tension that can't be resolved with a discussion about boundaries and consent, plus the constant (constant) references to lactating boobs, turned me off and made me wonder what kind of book I was reading painted with a thin coating of sci-fi and alienness.
The first person POV protagonist works for the Chesapeake Watershed, an eco-coop that is one of many worldwide who are trying to restore the Earth's ecology and climate. She's going out to check some equipment one evening, and brings her baby along. They discover an alien spaceship has just landed on the shore. An alien emerges with her own brood. We don't get alien boobs described in as much detail, but yup, the armadillo-pillbug thing is nursing too.
The aliens are actually two species, the Tree Folk and the Plains Folk, who made first contact with each other millennia ago and are now building a Dyson sphere to escape the damage they did to their own homeworlds.
They have come to Earth to save humanity from ourselves. They detected what a mess we've made of our environment, and they want to take us into space, where we can thrive and grow beyond the limits of a planet-bound existence, like they have.
The problem is, humanity isn't quite ready to abandon Earth just yet, and the aliens don't want to take no for an answer.
This could have been an interesting novel of hopeful ecological sci-fi, alien diplomacy, and the ethics of trying to "help" people without denying them their agency.
It's not interesting, because the only thing that ever happens is that people (including aliens) argue, about everything from ecological doomsday scenarios to pronouns. We get lots of neurotic internal monologues and external conflicts that read like hormonal fits (look, the author is the one who keeps talking about hormones) and are always resolved by more talking.
This is the most female SF novel I have ever read, which is kind of funny for a story that makes a big deal out of giving everyone xir own unique pronouns and humanity teaching alien armadillos and spiders not to be gender essentialists.
There's definitely an audience for this book. There's an audience for Gor novels too, and while A Half-Built Garden's fetishes may be more wholesome, it's still not my kink.
My complete list of book reviews.