tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5272977446889257622024-03-12T18:25:20.523-07:00The Hugo ProjectReading and blogging the Hugos, 1953-2008The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-31892076983069258112010-07-26T15:02:00.000-07:002010-07-26T18:01:16.393-07:002010 Hugo NomineesA quick rundown on the 2010 Best Novel nominees:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepKnKct_Z1ZY6J3xb2hb07v5W0vevc3uMEfl_dBXAd9LgrCdmOzvQmb3BYXvWupORpoZz1Bupg00CvEKqHCShyJ_8Mb7IXSe_mwllO0l7-yiAqk4hPET9owHaxIU_IQLaqmHZsvf095ac/s1600/Boneshaker.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepKnKct_Z1ZY6J3xb2hb07v5W0vevc3uMEfl_dBXAd9LgrCdmOzvQmb3BYXvWupORpoZz1Bupg00CvEKqHCShyJ_8Mb7IXSe_mwllO0l7-yiAqk4hPET9owHaxIU_IQLaqmHZsvf095ac/s200/Boneshaker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498339942158623938" /></a> One thing out of the way: <b>Boneshaker</b> is a zombie movie, put into text. It's a well-written, well-plotted, interesting zombie flick, but it's difficult to avoid the feeling that this is a novelization of a B movie, with the well-worn cliches that this implies; there is fog, things jump out at ragtag survivors at inopportune moments, and so on. As in many of this year's nominees, the real star is the city - a steampunk Seattle, covered in corrupting mist, populated with the few diehards who wouldn't leave their homes after the zombifying disaster; their underground world, seen from separately from the eyes of a mother and child is simultaneously terrifying and enchanting. <b>B</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WuggV6jWUkJmZSvJwMhyphenhyphenrmMV43EqQHv-_sIflozDzmQnmlgf0qjo7OCnLY1-jBfld02xlYhmAUepz8Q67cAkXubqvqixPr1M8Ej9ZsECg_SrhNGeyP8YpevQX6hYrhBd-32Y9ApZ1JNF/s1600/Wake.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WuggV6jWUkJmZSvJwMhyphenhyphenrmMV43EqQHv-_sIflozDzmQnmlgf0qjo7OCnLY1-jBfld02xlYhmAUepz8Q67cAkXubqvqixPr1M8Ej9ZsECg_SrhNGeyP8YpevQX6hYrhBd-32Y9ApZ1JNF/s200/Wake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498341302723496978" /></a> What I've seen of Robert Sawyer's work has been characterized by interesting ideas, tripped up by poor characterizations and occasional (to be kind) ham-handedness. <b>www:wake</b> continues that trend, following the development of a collective intelligence in the Internet, as seen through a mis-configured ocular implant of a blind girl. Characters aside, where my <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/02/robert-j-sawyer-hominids.html">earlier gripes apply</a>, Sawyer throws out quite a few tidbits of neat math and computer science - <a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zipf%27s_law">Zipf's Law</a> comes to mind. Unfortunately, these might as well be copied directly out of the Wikipedia pages, as they don't really cohere, or create a great deal of insight into the plot. Spider Robinson also tried the whole sentient Internet gig, with less technical mumbo-jumbo and more interesting characters - see <a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Callahans-Legacy-Spider-Robinson/dp/0812550358">Callahan's Legacy</a>. <b>B-</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaHw8-D2uOHW8uPxW3yg8Qe_w6RJ6bb4v0YAxPJ0CMFWH1cxj-P75DLZLp4IlCf0o02VI71AtBCmHR5T_296M24cUYLsfbnJHsTxPayqPUpaP5g40cnfOT4KlZvp6xGy1jWVdX3KLmal5/s1600/Julian-Comstock.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaHw8-D2uOHW8uPxW3yg8Qe_w6RJ6bb4v0YAxPJ0CMFWH1cxj-P75DLZLp4IlCf0o02VI71AtBCmHR5T_296M24cUYLsfbnJHsTxPayqPUpaP5g40cnfOT4KlZvp6xGy1jWVdX3KLmal5/s200/Julian-Comstock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498352650663747426" /></a><br /><br />I wanted to like <b>Julian Comstock</b>. A conservative Christian dystopia, with an evil empire headquartered in Colorado Springs? Hell, I'd write that book. But Wilson not only didn't managed to reproduce the brilliance of <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/06/spin-2006-and-accelerando.html">Spin</a>, he also managed to turn an adventure story into a slog; the novel's intentionally slow-witted narrator and the faux-oldtimey speech don't help. Much of the world he creates, which has reverted to a roughly 18th-century technological level in the aftermath of oil exhaustion and environmental catastrophe, seems skimmed in equal parts from other post-apocalyptic and industrial revolution fiction. <i>A Canticle for Leibowitz</i>, in particular, does the "distortions of past events become gospel" trick quite well. <b> B-</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbv1oEHcx0Yl8hz6-0_H_rQdcsqdOrXt6VzIPZUCrvaXVzvhojYWhbl05_uVX84FMLeb3yj58b9GL4ZU3_mfKuNtiP4sqxP-DJs-NUE23nsv8bNIxFXAsrPt8qLAev9j8A9fGiE9-TFZMU/s1600/city.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbv1oEHcx0Yl8hz6-0_H_rQdcsqdOrXt6VzIPZUCrvaXVzvhojYWhbl05_uVX84FMLeb3yj58b9GL4ZU3_mfKuNtiP4sqxP-DJs-NUE23nsv8bNIxFXAsrPt8qLAev9j8A9fGiE9-TFZMU/s200/city.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498363962693304066" /></a> Since I hadn't managed to finish China Mieville's <i>Perdido Street Station</i> yet, I wasn't expecting great things from <b>The City and the City</b>, and my expectations dropped further when I saw the dedication namecheck Raymond Chandler and Kafka side by side. Surprisingly, that pairing actually gives a reasonable impression of the book to follow, which is more a study in fantastic absurdism than a novel of science fiction or fantasy. Though the gumshoe parts aren't the most original, and the ending is a little unconvincing, I don't think I've seen anything quite this bold, or insane, in quite a while. <b>A-</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKk3dIYFNLY7rqQ88XeSA4B3sJMWmH-hkAtAYnxsf5f2sRF_mYekz-pLM8yPyAqPmD1wrJqxbWx_tEM7fPWQ0B1815auTs4kEIrMkEuTB-N_q8XUyuv9qU0ePT-hrtCV24HJMMrBcE7Het/s1600/palimpsest.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:10px 10px 0 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKk3dIYFNLY7rqQ88XeSA4B3sJMWmH-hkAtAYnxsf5f2sRF_mYekz-pLM8yPyAqPmD1wrJqxbWx_tEM7fPWQ0B1815auTs4kEIrMkEuTB-N_q8XUyuv9qU0ePT-hrtCV24HJMMrBcE7Het/s200/palimpsest.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498359829179863346" /></a> To my knowledge, <b>Palimpsest</b> sets the record for most sex scenes in a Hugo nominee. Surprisingly, this never feels exploitative - the end result of a plot in which access to a fantastic underworld is sexually transmitted. It's a pity that an equally appropriate title, "Sex and the City," was already taken, preventing me from making puns on Sex and the City and The City and the City. Valente's work has a real lyricism, with beautiful sentences and a dreamlike, but brutally real alter-world, though at times the writing devolves into something stylishly overwrought. Her characters strive and sacrifice, but the novel doesn't reward them with a satisfying finish, stopping all too abruptly. <b>B+</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfRY3eDqaVEGTVk45irlgrBGUOBjwBIcPwvJcVUhEZz-aqDhJAczDq5cylKi1hMu8_sxXZqGZPbMeMItDZW5mR3TXJn1edjYZYHVZbN1FZp5kXWKJbOIsgUo-aHqHPBQ6q9vi1nh15Sj2/s1600/WindupGirl.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 131px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfRY3eDqaVEGTVk45irlgrBGUOBjwBIcPwvJcVUhEZz-aqDhJAczDq5cylKi1hMu8_sxXZqGZPbMeMItDZW5mR3TXJn1edjYZYHVZbN1FZp5kXWKJbOIsgUo-aHqHPBQ6q9vi1nh15Sj2/s200/WindupGirl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498368749094004690" /></a> Like <i>Julian Comstock</i>, <b>The Windup Girl</b> is a story about adapting to a world of scarcity; energy and safe food sources are precious as oil is exhausted and mutating plagues scour genetically modified foods. Bacigalupi's particular fixation on food problems occasionally becomes overbearing, and there are some science issues (I can't imagine using large animals to generate electricity ever being efficient, even with massive carbon taxes), but the half-medieval, half-modern Bangkok is a remarkable setting. The characters are mostly not sympathetic, but I don't see that as the point; in <i>Windup</i>, science causes catastrophe and prevents it in the same breath, and each character is trying to come out on top, while their own self-interest keeps Bangkok on the edge of disaster. I should note, though, that the experiences of the "windup" herself, a genetically-designed secretary/sex toy, are more than a little horrifying, but it's almost played out as erotica - which is a little unsettling. The character and her nightmarish job make sense in the world portrayed, and given the cruelty of the other characters - it's not in there for prurient interest, exactly - but nevertheless, the tone is questionable. <b>A-</b><br /><br />For the Hugo, I keep switching between <i>The Windup Girl</i> and <i>The City and the City</i>, as the former is probably a better all-around novel, while the latter is a more interesting work that inspires a great deal of fairly weird thought.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-53756690818083841662009-06-29T20:41:00.000-07:002009-06-30T03:02:24.817-07:00Spin (2006) and Accelerando<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQetVk9TzcYkwlKbepSvHcZwDnYBQMpWpkL9BdUH2y9nDYqcKP_kwFklhcTpq7c2lChpU2ySlW6IQVmPD5vF2wn3nIwMYJ7UtCWqgO2qWE_q44sel2D745-ZZF6PRnJHWZdVz5occaGUTE/s1600-h/spin.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 127px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQetVk9TzcYkwlKbepSvHcZwDnYBQMpWpkL9BdUH2y9nDYqcKP_kwFklhcTpq7c2lChpU2ySlW6IQVmPD5vF2wn3nIwMYJ7UtCWqgO2qWE_q44sel2D745-ZZF6PRnJHWZdVz5occaGUTE/s200/spin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352961584164409042" /></a><br /><br />Space is, as Douglas Adams noted, big. Depressingly so, if you're a hard science fiction writer. Earth is a good few light-years away from anything interesting, and so a lot of space opera handwaves faster-than-light travel, gleefully ignoring relativity and providing the ability to skip across large swaths of space. <i>Spin</i> and <i>Accelerando</i> take a different route, playing with our ideas of time, making stories (mostly) isolated to the solar system have a much larger scope. They are both excellent books - and beyond that, have very little in common. <br /><br />Robert Charles Wilson's <b>Spin</b> is, at its heart, a classical slow puzzler like Clarke's <i>Rendezvous with Rama</i>, where the protagonists try to decipher all of the consequences of "the night the stars disappeared from the sky." It also holds the record for the shortest time to fascinate me of any of the books I've read so far, from the first chapter heading: "4 x 10<sup><font size = "1">9</font></sup> A.D." <i>Spin</i> only has one idea (which I won't spoil), but it's a new idea and well-developed; the book captures some of the audacious joy of discovery, as if you were watching Bohr and Heisenberg debate quantum mechanics.<br /><br />The first time through <i>Spin</i>, I was mostly charmed by its central idea, but on the second go-round, I started to appreciate how well it did everything else. The alternating present-and-flashback storytelling moves a plot that might be a little meandering otherwise, and the characterization is excellent. <i>Spin</i> covers a period of many, many years, but by keeping the narrative focused on three friends, Wilson builds a very strong emotional center to the novel. Wilson creates a profound mood of uncertainty, tracing society's response to events that might be either millennial or apocalyptic, and at the same time matching it with the personal growth of his protagonists. Of the books I read (for the first time) for this project, <i>Spin</i> is probably my favorite. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqJ5ei3QqkSR8Pz0FHKkm6lY6j3c0GhYBtkWE1Kv57Mz0uzrbEYED_Xe9pJGUDzHbvgEsbEA8hpN6ZOZ1PYPRZe57Qj8yCyuLfN_48N5WM7BWMvv5I-f3Hc08eDEBLv40ZvR6qdnqgtZ5/s1600-h/Accelerando.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqJ5ei3QqkSR8Pz0FHKkm6lY6j3c0GhYBtkWE1Kv57Mz0uzrbEYED_Xe9pJGUDzHbvgEsbEA8hpN6ZOZ1PYPRZe57Qj8yCyuLfN_48N5WM7BWMvv5I-f3Hc08eDEBLv40ZvR6qdnqgtZ5/s200/Accelerando.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352961661174731730" /></a> <b>Accelerando</b> is <i>Spin</i>'s polar opposite; think <i>Neuromancer</i> if you made it ten times more ambitious and replaced William Gibson with someone who has actually used a computer. Thirty pages in, I loved the relentless pace, the constant flow of ideas, the newly sentient lobsters, everything. Stross has the knack of making world-building exposition very funny, much like the opening of <i>Snow Crash</i> or the interludes in <i>Stranger in a Strange Land</i>. About sixty pages in, I felt like a whole story had already gone by, and I realized (not so surprisingy, I guess) that the pace wasn't going to slow at all, and I started to get tired. <i>Accelerando</i> pitches its details quickly, making the reader sort most of them out, but also tries to catch people up - so there's a cycle of confusion, understanding, and repetitive summary. The pace eventually makes some of the ideas lose their interest; at times, the sheer volume of new concepts thrown out can make it feel like Stross is playing scifi madlibs. I think he gets away with this high density in part because many of his topics - simulated realities, emergent AI, the singularity, et cetera, have been done in more detail elsewhere (Gibson, Vernor Vinge, even <i>The Matrix</i>). It also helps to have a background in, um, random computer science and physics - there's a few plot details I wouldn't have caught without having read Ken Thompson's <a href = "http://cm.bell-labs.com/who/ken/trust.html">Reflections on Trusting Trust</a>. If you're not that type of nerd already, reading <i>Accelerando</i> and googling anything you don't understand will make you one. <br /><br />The most powerful and new aspect of <i>Accelerando</i> is how well it conveys the bewildering depth of technological change - you understand how Thomas Jefferson would feel in today's society, and wonder if it will happen to you in ten years. That transformation over orders of magnitude of society is something I haven't seen before, and Stross deserves a lot of praise for it. However, <i>Accelerando</i> never gelled as a novel for me; it was written as separate novellas, and the seams show badly at times, in occasional plot disconnects and flat characters. <br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> In another year, <i>Accelerando</i> could certainly have won, but <i>Spin</i> is close to my idea of perfection for a sci-fi novel: one brilliant idea and the joy of discovery, all grounded in believable characters. <i>Accelerando</i> rates <b>A-</b>, <i>Spin</i> the solid <b>A</b><br /><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li>2006 was apparently a good Hugo year - John Scalzi's <i>Old Man's War</i> was another strong contender. If you ran out of Heinlein novels, and are looking for some methadone, you could do worse.<br /><li> Never, ever read the back covers of science fiction novels - you mostly end up spoiling the surprise. This goes double for <i>Spin</i>.<br /><li> Here's another one where Stross is either serving up world-building in two words, or is just creating word salad:<blockquote><small>The main course - honey-glazed roast <a href = "http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/long_pork">long pork</a> with sauteed potatoes a la gratin...</small></blockquote><br /></ul>The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-14458783430167808092009-06-23T14:42:00.000-07:002009-06-23T14:42:51.600-07:002009 Hugo Nominees: Anathem, The Graveyard Book, Little Brother, Saturn's Children, and Zoe's TaleAs a preemptive strike, I added the 2009 Hugo nominees to my list, if for no other reason than to be able to grouse more effectively when the winners are announced. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOwXjRNGK-aT3F_nbeg51Ww5P_ZCFfkjFpiJFa7OVCKF7FlWOMH3Lh6ISRB3rpZZyk0Pw_LYB-jbWj6MgJH38hLFF65eqx-SCJ8qcQAdylvTIxgCb1Irp1EGQ6EpkRq27AwwgQuHmeBqq/s1600-h/anathem.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOwXjRNGK-aT3F_nbeg51Ww5P_ZCFfkjFpiJFa7OVCKF7FlWOMH3Lh6ISRB3rpZZyk0Pw_LYB-jbWj6MgJH38hLFF65eqx-SCJ8qcQAdylvTIxgCb1Irp1EGQ6EpkRq27AwwgQuHmeBqq/s200/anathem.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350383415445534050" /></a><br /><b><a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Anathem-Neal-Stephenson/dp/0061474096">Anathem</a></b> is Neal Stephenson's latest, initially set within a monastic city that has limited contact with the outside, more technological world, while still embracing scientific and mathematical studies. The monkish focus, the initial emphasis on world-building, and the connection between intricate philosophy and epic events all remind me of Umberto Eco's <a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Name-Rose-including-Authors-Postscript/dp/0156001314">The Name of the Rose</a>. This may have colored my experience, because though I found <i>Anathem</i> incredibly enjoyable, the plot struck me as comparatively weak. Most of the negative reviews I have read have focused on the initial development of the monks' lives, but I feel this was the strongest part of the novel, setting up the society inside the monastery walls by direct example, and the outside one by contrast. Yes, it takes hundreds of pages to get to any real plot development, but it hardly matters when the world is so engrossing. The real failure of <i>Anathem</i> is a lack of ambition in its second, faster-moving half; having set up this complex society, complete with conflicting philosophies and an alternate history, Stephenson puts up a fairly shallow resolution that occasionally feels like an action movie. The ride is fun, but I can't help feeling a little let down that <i>Anathem</i> isn't just a little bit better. <b>B+</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJjqu7SYAcRBE7xG3ZOiAJznEJCSeuiZV9gOfnMS_owyLI8zHvk0oqjNR4sIp-zCr8bqich0kI87yMXfJxDzJHJ94QA1G2yV8aQJB4rvd-q6GYbdW7RrYxo0g-higUdQZnBWlwAl5MybO/s1600-h/graveyard.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJjqu7SYAcRBE7xG3ZOiAJznEJCSeuiZV9gOfnMS_owyLI8zHvk0oqjNR4sIp-zCr8bqich0kI87yMXfJxDzJHJ94QA1G2yV8aQJB4rvd-q6GYbdW7RrYxo0g-higUdQZnBWlwAl5MybO/s200/graveyard.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350394920050906002" /></a><b><a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Graveyard-Book-Neil-Gaiman/dp/0060530928">The Graveyard Book</a></b> is Neil Gaiman's interpretation of <i>The Jungle Book</i>, but with a child raised by ghosts, not wolves. I can shrug a lot of analysis off just by pointing to the author's name - you know the book is going to be creepy, mythologically inspired, and well-written. Gaiman brings his A game, but his ambitions are smaller than in <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/05/american-gods-2002.html">American Gods</a>; <i>Graveyard Book</i> is an excellent children's book, but doesn't wander too far from the boundaries already set up by Kipling, Dahl and others. (And for a personal "it-just-bugs-me," I've noticed that I always want to know either more or less about Gaiman's villains - they always seem to be in an uncomfortable place between inexplicable horrors and well-developed characters.) <b>A-</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjLPV2w8pShug74xU7va1NpojckRQChsm0NKYJaNC_JsgwdFkmpqKpQReTLVzKmbw6bVSbFZs3U78alThJVMC-yS-ahZs7XBm0khPrd-9CQ3ozJAukDsgirH4wpxjhLmgYh0YdEPg17PO/s1600-h/littlebrother.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjLPV2w8pShug74xU7va1NpojckRQChsm0NKYJaNC_JsgwdFkmpqKpQReTLVzKmbw6bVSbFZs3U78alThJVMC-yS-ahZs7XBm0khPrd-9CQ3ozJAukDsgirH4wpxjhLmgYh0YdEPg17PO/s200/littlebrother.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350398272334208642" /></a><b><a href = "http://craphound.com/littlebrother/download/">Little Brother</a></b> is set a good five or six minutes into the future, in that paranoid, metal-detector-surrounded, hormone-fueled hell known as high school. All of this year's Hugo nominees except, ironically, <i>Saturn's Children</i>, focus on children and adolescents, but this was the one that had me continually flashing back. The focus is on civil disobedience in a technological age, facing an overzealous, data-mining, Department of Homeland Security, over-responding to a terrorist attack. Cory Doctorow: where was this book in 2002, when we needed it more? I can think of many similar stories just from my high school, about students screwing with school technology, getting tear-gassed while protesting, getting into fights over the "patriotic" reaction to terrorism, and so on. Doctorow really grabbed the combination of cynicism, naiveté, and stubbornness that characterizes many smart high schoolers. The strident tone, adolescent characters, and focus on technology make <i>Little Brother</i> occasionally read like <i>Slashdot: The Novel</i>, but there is ambiguity behind the sermonizing, as the protagonist's cohort are shown to be 21st century <a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yippies">Yippies</a>, with all the mixed feelings that invokes. As I said, this book would have been better in 2002, and I'm not at all convinced it will age well - but it's certainly a powerful anti-authoritarian mover now. <b>A-</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCH3AsanDJiT3Hz_qHR6PzmSH5JOwxLnl2LyXHHKvotzvoRL5WW3y0922fzUpwrHin5ySwX4SqY5ZCEXQlhfRpFwIMB-LrFaM9KMXC5NQv4zUP-Oe5m80b-l0rUwWHBE40W75VIFkBb-OE/s1600-h/saturnschildren.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCH3AsanDJiT3Hz_qHR6PzmSH5JOwxLnl2LyXHHKvotzvoRL5WW3y0922fzUpwrHin5ySwX4SqY5ZCEXQlhfRpFwIMB-LrFaM9KMXC5NQv4zUP-Oe5m80b-l0rUwWHBE40W75VIFkBb-OE/s200/saturnschildren.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350407454809407586" /></a>Charles Stross has been previously nominated for five Best Novel Hugos, but I don't think <b><a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Saturns-Children-Charles-Stross/dp/0441015948">Saturn's Children</a></b> is his breakthrough novel. The central idea (How can a robot society designed to serve humanity evolve after humanity's extinction?) is interesting, and the plot is a reasonably exciting adventure story, but Stross owes too large a debt to his clear inspiration, Heinlein's <a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Friday-Robert-Heinlein/dp/0345414004">Friday</a>. Stop me if this sounds familiar: Freya, initially designed for pleasure but now uniquely suited as a courier, becomes involved with a conspiracy, faces hatred because of her design, goes globe-trotting and along the way has sex with everything. Freya even uses Friday's name as an alias! The theft is well-acknowledged, so I'm not going to hold it against Stross, but <i>Friday</i> is so packed with ideas (including a dead-on parody of California's gubernatorial recall, written years before it happened) that <i>Saturn's Children</i> looks worse in comparison. <b>B</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJuAwhiXz0WKetLdC6SuChRuFhiZdjFivsTz2X-gm9vPgbZ5DEjLugIUgeHomKSWhiQxUU7AZW3uyRBk7SkFDBcJmSVKFYdwO8yGXymqWFMk9EwRCj5N6QD5vlh99TZfa2o3nfno_Us0U/s1600-h/zoestale.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJuAwhiXz0WKetLdC6SuChRuFhiZdjFivsTz2X-gm9vPgbZ5DEjLugIUgeHomKSWhiQxUU7AZW3uyRBk7SkFDBcJmSVKFYdwO8yGXymqWFMk9EwRCj5N6QD5vlh99TZfa2o3nfno_Us0U/s200/zoestale.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350415921156033458" /></a><br />John Scalzi is another writer with a clear debt to Heinlein, but though <b><a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Zoes-Tale-John-Scalzi/dp/0765316986">Zoe's Tale</a></b> has a little bit of <i>Tunnel in the Sky</i> going on, Scalzi's <i>Old Man's War</i> universe is its own beast. Sadly, very little new in that universe actually ends up on display in this novel; this may be because <i>Zoe's Tale</i> is revisiting an earlier Scalzi novel (one I haven't read) from a different perspective. Scalzi doesn't meet the gold standard of this trick, Orson Scott Card's <i>Ender's Shadow</i>, and though I enjoyed the novel, it seemed empty compared to his earlier <i>Old Man's War</i>. While the teenagers are interesting characters, Zoe's maturing is too neatly matched with the events around her, and the end result feels like a little too much like an episode of the Wonder Years. <b>B</b><br /><br />Given all that, who would I give the Hugo to this year? In what might seem a surprise given my grades, I'd have to choose <b>Anathem</b>. <i>Graveyard Book</i> is almost perfect in what it attempts, but it attempts much less than <i>Anathem</i>, and while I loved <i>Little Brother</i>, it's not a book for the ages. <i>Anathem</i> isn't a complete success, but it is a beautiful monstrosity. <br /><br /><b>Notes</b><br /><ul><br /><li> I now feel very silly that I didn't think to ask <a href = "http://www.longnow.org/people/board/">Danny Hillis</a> what he thought about Anathem when I met him. <br /><li><a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/03/case-of-conscience-1959-with-little.html">I also wrote a little</a> about Anathem in an earlier entry<br /><li><i>Little Brother</i> is available <a href = "http://craphound.com/littlebrother/download/">for free online</a>, for those of you who like ebooks. <br /></ul>The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-38607085788353374542009-06-17T17:43:00.001-07:002009-06-17T19:25:05.001-07:00Roundup: They'd Rather Be Right (1955), Gateway (1978), The Fountains of Paradise (1980), and The Snow Queen (1981)Special, extra-glib edition of The Hugo Project!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnYfqKP_2LR530Nf1r3qQrYMJdmtHV7I5enhScV3IxlhJMng1-bWjlA0BC9Bw5xn3Ld_qG_-Ngb2n77RI0FexkeGaD80o3gULOKbLyak4j27BtkndKIhWapKwcqRncd6aZ6wQLjGnU8zx/s1600-h/theyd-rather-be-right.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnYfqKP_2LR530Nf1r3qQrYMJdmtHV7I5enhScV3IxlhJMng1-bWjlA0BC9Bw5xn3Ld_qG_-Ngb2n77RI0FexkeGaD80o3gULOKbLyak4j27BtkndKIhWapKwcqRncd6aZ6wQLjGnU8zx/s200/theyd-rather-be-right.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348486853924272594" /></a><b><a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/They%27d_Rather_Be_Right">They'd Rather Be Right</a></b> has not aged well, and I think the culprit is bad philosophy. The writing is certainly not blameless, but the only co-written Hugo winner would have managed to trudge along with a certain retro flair if it hadn't been for the silliness of its central conceit: scientists have built a machine that can psychoanalyze everyone's physical problems away by replacing their prejudices with scientifically-approved fact. The almost complete disappearance of "psychoanalysis" as a buzzword and the stubborn refusal of scientific facts to be immutable come together to make <i>They'd Rather Be Right</i> look not only quaint, but wrong; the "therapy" comes off as complete brainwashing. Science fiction can overcome bad science, but <i>They'd Rather Be Right</i> doesn't - it's a serviceable 50s pulp scifi novel, complete with sex and psychics, but sadly no aliens. <b>C-</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtlRiD2VupDR3dD3QBEwOG48TZFOzgRS2bO5TaaVyV8tlBKB4bNf8Qzr7cMuiqaUONI7TpBSH6w5P_VOvJgTJNfHgYaLSTGcd-zrxT9DGCOiGX5VMP70X176B4hN8tFF4ccQx_dJPT8D8X/s1600-h/gateway.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtlRiD2VupDR3dD3QBEwOG48TZFOzgRS2bO5TaaVyV8tlBKB4bNf8Qzr7cMuiqaUONI7TpBSH6w5P_VOvJgTJNfHgYaLSTGcd-zrxT9DGCOiGX5VMP70X176B4hN8tFF4ccQx_dJPT8D8X/s200/gateway.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348486933389316738" /></a><br /><b><a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Gateway-Heechee-Saga-Frederik-Pohl/dp/0345475836/">Gateway</a></b> is an interesting contrast, as it, too, features a computerized therapist, but one far more in line with our current ideas about what therapy can and can't do. Frederick Pohl's novel is told primarily in flashback, as Bob remembers his prospecting missions to the well-programmed Sigfrid. In the world of <i>Gateway</i>, humankind has found remnants of an older culture, including their spaceships - they can start the ships, but have no way of controlling when, where, or if they stop; exploration becomes a very lethal process of trial and error. This is a brilliant setup for an adventure story, but Pohl stays close to home for the most part, focusing on the death-is-cheap society built up by the prospectors. I really wish <i>Gateway</i> had been longer - between the wonderful setting and the cowardly, unreliable narrator it could have been great, but as written it feels like an extended short story. <b>B+</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DlGDIUy-foyeZsuIgVpiZtDWL3qEu_c1fcE4rGaHJ0nw2Ox-EAmHMV9yD3AuOd4GemjsXLjbqo-wZen89Q1dDOX6OsOaTBWYf1QoiOjWdwPu3DNYD2Yuhvo4ovBjAwr3GVJf5-O8YH_U/s1600-h/fountains-of-paradise.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DlGDIUy-foyeZsuIgVpiZtDWL3qEu_c1fcE4rGaHJ0nw2Ox-EAmHMV9yD3AuOd4GemjsXLjbqo-wZen89Q1dDOX6OsOaTBWYf1QoiOjWdwPu3DNYD2Yuhvo4ovBjAwr3GVJf5-O8YH_U/s200/fountains-of-paradise.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348487162225864114" /></a><b><a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Fountains-Paradise-Arthur-C-Clarke/dp/0446677949/">The Fountains of Paradise</a></b> is Arthur C. Clarke's novel about the building of a <a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_elevator">"space elevator."</a> If you've read <i>Rendezvous with Rama</i>, some of the structure will feel familiar to you, especially the way the book can sometimes feel like a series of problems and solutions rather than a real narrative. This worked brilliantly for <i>Rama,</i> where the slow unraveling of these puzzles captures the mystery and frustration of first contact with aliens, but it doesn't help this slightly more grounded story. Clarke's book must have been groundbreaking in 1979, but I feel it's been overshadowed by other skyhook stories - some of my favorite parts of Kim Stanley Robinson's <i>Mars</i> trilogy are focused on a space elevator on Mars. <b>B</b><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeGHhLJ2umlEgO28tbquP3pkZLFz4tjk0xZpi6IKW-tiWoyl192hfZFc0V6k6qFvD-6-b1CtqsoDGd9VvbGMgerEYvCa0dAxlZaHuy8uD46njopa7qXJLwATlNjeYW0EgbMXZIb7FZeEL/s1600-h/the-snow-queen.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 129px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeGHhLJ2umlEgO28tbquP3pkZLFz4tjk0xZpi6IKW-tiWoyl192hfZFc0V6k6qFvD-6-b1CtqsoDGd9VvbGMgerEYvCa0dAxlZaHuy8uD46njopa7qXJLwATlNjeYW0EgbMXZIb7FZeEL/s200/the-snow-queen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348487295690652386" /></a><b><a href = "http://www.amazon.com/Snow-Queen-Joan-D-Vinge/dp/0446676640">The Snow Queen</a></b> is in an interesting place between fantasy and science fiction, inspired by Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale of the same name, but stocked with a good dose of genetic manipulation, cloning, and space travel. Joan Vinge's story follows separated childhood sweethearts who are pulled from a peasant-like existence and thrust into two different aspects of the broader technological universe. I don't know how much of the plot is poached from Andersen, but the world of Tiamat stands on its own, as its legends and fantasy are discovered to be science in disguise. As you could guess, <i>The Snow Queen</i> uses one of those great tools for exposition - ignorant main characters - but extends it to their whole society. This has been done in other books, both more (<i>Dreamsnake</i>) and less (<i>Old Man's War</i>) skillfully, but never with quite as interesting a focus on the <i>injustice</i> of keeping a population ignorant. <b>B+</b>The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-25148793155548860592009-05-03T00:16:00.000-07:002009-05-03T23:57:36.173-07:00American Gods (2002)<b>Subgenre:</b>Fantasy, mythology<br /><br />Eventually, Neil Gaiman may have to come up with a new plot. Everything I've read (or seen, in the case of <i><a href = "http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0327597/">Coraline</a></i>) of his has been built on top of the Alice in Wonderland, outsider in a fantastic world foundation. That is one of my favorite story structures, but after reading <i>Neverwhere</i>, I was fairly disappointed, and started getting a little bit cynical about Gaiman. <i>Neverwhere</i> wasn't exactly bad - enjoyable but disposable, almost redundant. In fairly sharp contrast, <b>American Gods</b> was even better the second time through. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCeqk8vCS4-0hCCn9IMeev5NHN8DQ8JxP9bunKCWN-tEgPhHsuoVl9Y0nQp6adIS75_BQ7TLIgfNS8Ue3atKAN457mPNpR9QHJTBCCQu5ynzcQQgsu_fWretodrzfD_58Yj76EqcCJBL0/s1600-h/americangods-hard.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCeqk8vCS4-0hCCn9IMeev5NHN8DQ8JxP9bunKCWN-tEgPhHsuoVl9Y0nQp6adIS75_BQ7TLIgfNS8Ue3atKAN457mPNpR9QHJTBCCQu5ynzcQQgsu_fWretodrzfD_58Yj76EqcCJBL0/s200/americangods-hard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330010131206514354" /></a><br />Let's get some of the bad parts out of the way first. Novels that try to say something about the American condition, way of life, Dream, whatever, are doomed to fail where they make that ambition most explicit - they succeed where they tell the stories of interesting characters. I think Gaiman falls into the cheap nostalgia trap a little, talking up roadside attractions and folksy Americana without examining where that image came from. Luckily, the idea of America that informs the gods - well, that's a lot more complex and interesting. Gaiman also uses the classic fantasy novel jerk-around, telling the main character exactly 10% less than he actually needs to know at any given time, which should probably be renamed the "Dumbledore Gambit." Of course, this is verging on believable in <i>American Gods</i> because the main character is essentially in traumatic shock for most of the novel.<br /><br />Part and parcel of the escapist fantasy structure is something to escape from - evil parents, for <i>Harry Potter</i> or any Roald Dahl book, or a hectoring fiancée in <i>Neverwhere</i>. For <i>American Gods'</i> protagonist Shadow, it's the death of his wife, a few days before he was about to get out of prison. Though this smacks of soap-opera plotting, it works, and sets Shadow on his essential task of surviving after his world has been torn apart first by this double shock, and then by being plunged into the affairs of down-on-their-luck gods. Like <i>Cloverfield</i>, a movie I am probably giving too much credit to, it's possible to completely submerge the supernatural elements and treat them as an ongoing metaphor for the protagonist's emotional upheaval. Or, in this case, for a clash of cultures in America - but I think the Gaiman's book is much less successful on those terms.<br /><br />Though <i>American Gods</i> is quick, compelling reading, it isn't a novel like <i>Nine Princes in Amber</i> where the main character is caught up in trouble and never stops moving; Shadow's adventures meander a little, and sometimes seem disconnected from one another. The book could almost be split into a few novellas with common themes, except for Shadow's slow evolution.<br /><br /><i>American Gods</i> succeeds on a lot of different levels. The plot is enjoyable in its own right, but the deeper, more personal story is about flux. The tragedy of struggling to keep up with a changing world is repeated throughout the novel, with the gods' immigrant stories complementing Shadow's personal life. Wednesday's two-bit scams, the drunken belligerence of Mad Sweeney, the careful professionalism of Ibis and Jacquel, they all have this desperation behind them, the fear of acknowledging the inevitable. The matched piece is the Lake Wobegon-esque town of Lakeside, showing the costs of pretending that all is well. That small town is a far more effective commentary on America than the battle between new and old gods. I often felt as if the Lakeside sections were the real story, and the gods just a stalking-horse - for instance, I remembered the Lakeside twist much better than the larger-scope ones. <br /><br /><b>Notes</b><br /><ul><br /><li> Gaiman gives shouts out to <i>Stranger in a Strange Land</i>, as well as <i>Gravity's Rainbow</i> (in one of the more emotionally powerful moments), and possibly <i><a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/02/stand-on-zanzibar-1969.html">Stand on Zanzibar</a></i>, naming one of the Lakeside characters Chad Mulligan, after Brunner's provocateur.<br /><br /><li> Of course, citing all the mythological references is impossible, but there's certainly also a little bit of <i>Gawain and the Green Knight</i> that I picked up the second time through.<br /><br /><li> Gaiman does <a href = "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LampshadeHanging">hang a lampshade</a> on one of my frustrations:<blockquote><small>"What I'm trying to say is I don't want mysteries... What I want is explanations. Jackal in Kay-ro. This does not help me. It's a line from a bad spy thriller."</small></blockquote><br /></ul><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Yes - certainly a better, more important novel than <i><a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/04/curse-of-chalion-paladin-of-souls-2004.html">The Curse of Chalion</a></i>. I give it an <B>A</b>.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-1286248294521231252009-04-25T23:25:00.000-07:002009-04-26T23:28:29.613-07:00The Curse of Chalion / Paladin of Souls (2004)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMSoIx4siVool3L2ilqA_CXpSM_saUbzPoQ_HnOymyktPihpEKqHzFBzWslzT92CLlrbhxXmi0l4GKx8X54EJvSTY5xYVmATh2GNtqERtVQIhrLwcx9iBCmXyO2F1WOVmUHMc7S4ISnkO/s1600-h/curse-of-chalion.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMSoIx4siVool3L2ilqA_CXpSM_saUbzPoQ_HnOymyktPihpEKqHzFBzWslzT92CLlrbhxXmi0l4GKx8X54EJvSTY5xYVmATh2GNtqERtVQIhrLwcx9iBCmXyO2F1WOVmUHMc7S4ISnkO/s200/curse-of-chalion.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327416481678335474" /></a><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Fantasy<br /><br />I have a confession to make: before I started this project, I had never heard of Lois McMaster Bujold. This made it a little surprising when I learned that she had won four Best Novel Hugos - tied with Heinlein for most ever. Having now read the Hugo-winning <b>Paladin of Souls</b> and the first-runner-up <b>The Curse of Chalion</b>, I'm starting to understand both why she won and why I hadn't heard of her. Fair warning - I haven't yet read any of her science fiction novels, so we'll see how foolish this sounds three books later.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR28B975KIWtHJOi2XMCvZDBz75hGcIDwouwITKXPGcAx6WVf06kjmOJltIm6Ym6MDdpbZWod7nA5L4aiLoKwSUleOdtAl1TVyaqNxu7uFzhi4fqZB3tds7Ytqx4lPAqSC13dI2vBSHoed/s1600-h/paladin-of-souls.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR28B975KIWtHJOi2XMCvZDBz75hGcIDwouwITKXPGcAx6WVf06kjmOJltIm6Ym6MDdpbZWod7nA5L4aiLoKwSUleOdtAl1TVyaqNxu7uFzhi4fqZB3tds7Ytqx4lPAqSC13dI2vBSHoed/s200/paladin-of-souls.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327416546600578386" /></a><br /><br /><i>Chalion</i> and <i>Paladin</i> are both set in your standard warring-countries with battles, swords, bows, etcetera. It would be nice to occasionally read a fantasy novel that didn't feel like it was set in the War of the Roses with the names changed round. (After writing that sentence, I read the wiki which claims <i>Chalion</i> is sort of a retelling of Isabella and Ferdinand's unification of Spain, so I got the time period right but the country wrong). <i>Chalion</i> follows the recently-returned-from-slavery Cazaril, who mostly wants to be left alone, but gets dragged into the affairs of state by being just too damned talented. Between the plotline, the sense of humor, and the supertalented main character with a C-name, I kept on assuming that <i>Chalion</i> was actually a Zelazny novel - fairly high praise. <i>Paladin</i> follows a minor character from <i>Chalion</i> on a very different quest, and though it could be read independently, it would spoil some of the interesting surprises in <i>Chalion</i>.<br /><br />Both <i>Chalion</i> and <i>Paladin</i> are well-written, compelling fantasy novels, well-executed by any standard. I went out and bought <i>Paladin</i> immediately after I had finished <i>Chalion</i> - they are very good books. But I can't imagine them becoming my favorite books - they have too large a dollop of caution for my taste, and they didn't ever tell me something new. In the best of these Hugo-winners, the ones I recommend to people, and the ones I've had recommended to me, there are moments of revelation - the realization of the piggies' actions in <i>Speaker for the Dead</i>, the end of <i>Stranger in a Strange Land</i>, and pretty much all of books like <i>Spin</i> and <i>A Fire Upon the Deep</i> - and despite some definitely enjoyable plot twists, neither Bujold book reaches the heights of those novels. Still, I can't imagine her writing, say, <i>I Can Fear No Evil,</i> either, so it's not all bad. <br /><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li> I do like the sense of humor of these books - <blockquote><small>"His lips tasted of soot, and salt sweat, and the longest day of her life. Well, and horsemeat, but at least it was fresh horsemeat."</small></blockquote><li> Both novels wrap up far, far too neatly for my taste.<br /><li> Ista's story in <i>Paladin</i> is one of the few Hugo-winners I would characterize as being an explicitly feminist narrative, especially with its early focus on oppression by social structure. The only other examples I can come up offhand are Ursula K. Le Guin's two winners.<br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> If all of Bujold's books are this strong, they could easily be the best books in a given year - I can see how she wins Hugos. <i>Paladin</i> and <i>Chalion</i> are both <b>B+</b> books in my mind, but <i>Chalion</i> was up against <i>American Gods</i>, and rightly took second place.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-13957572567100599542009-04-19T21:26:00.000-07:002009-04-19T21:27:06.516-07:00Uplift Trilogy - Sundiver, Startide Rising (1984), The Uplift War (1988)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvchB2iQJFCK1xEixpfcXMQJmLGDgDpxMw6uE1-mYjvqKhfGQ3G5LHb6PK78n_6hwWi-yGzPwtqZFgZcCm4BfkzJyToIM_pGB_LCEptXCIHzkh74jRwm77bIn1o_hg_joKzz0NAfYUonfn/s1600-h/sundiver.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvchB2iQJFCK1xEixpfcXMQJmLGDgDpxMw6uE1-mYjvqKhfGQ3G5LHb6PK78n_6hwWi-yGzPwtqZFgZcCm4BfkzJyToIM_pGB_LCEptXCIHzkh74jRwm77bIn1o_hg_joKzz0NAfYUonfn/s200/sundiver.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326599337876316082" /></a><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Enhanced evolution<br /><br />In David Brin's Uplift series, civilizations of thousands of alien species exist within a galactic culture in which each race has been brought from semi-sentience to spacefarer status by the intervention of a more advanced species. Only Earth, with its unknown patrons, seems to be the exception. The social-status-sensitive Galactics would have ignored Earth, except that humans had already uplifted two species on their own: dolphins and chimpanzees. The three books of the first Uplift trilogy each explore slightly different aspects of this universe; the rough emphasis is on humans (<b>Sundiver</b>), dolphins (<b>Startide Rising</b>) and chimpanzees (<b>Uplift War</b>). Of these three, the latter two won Hugos, in 1984 and 1988, respectively, and they are clearly better-written novels, but in some ways <i>Sundiver</i> is still my favorite. <br /><br />The Uplift trilogy is not like, say, Kim Stanley Robinson's <i>Mars</i> trilogy - there are no common characters (beside a few cameos) or even planets between the three novels. You could read these out of order and not spoil much, but I don't recommend it - each individual book is well worth your time.<br /><br /><i>Sundiver</i>, Brin's first novel, is framed as a mystery story. Its protagonist, broken-down "scientific detective" Jacob Demwa, is a sort of cross between Sam Spade and the problem-solvers Powell and Donovan of Asimov's robot stories. Demwa is called in as a consultant to an alien-human mission to untangle a mystery in an experiment designed to travel into the Sun. This is clearly the least polished of the three, and some of Brin's explorations of human culture's relation to aliens ("shirts" and "skins") is a little clichéd, but a lot of flaws are swept under the compelling story and the interesting development of Demwa's fractured character.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemzBylbqE8T6uXrV5oeWM_ZGiPl15w0zhanczEcM9mOiKxbjsL8nut3tTU-E0pVQFFPADcRJnLRvpCFG8Tgp37PiL07bxfdGc6wrdX61A_2LxqAs3-rR6fjTqW9uIHVrDRByDv0QOc9hH/s1600-h/startiderising.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemzBylbqE8T6uXrV5oeWM_ZGiPl15w0zhanczEcM9mOiKxbjsL8nut3tTU-E0pVQFFPADcRJnLRvpCFG8Tgp37PiL07bxfdGc6wrdX61A_2LxqAs3-rR6fjTqW9uIHVrDRByDv0QOc9hH/s200/startiderising.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326608155692303186" /></a> <br /><i>Startide Rising</i> covers the flight of the first dolphin-captained starship, <i>Streaker</i>. In the process of routine exploration, they discover something that may have deep religious significance for (pretty much) the rest of the universe, setting a massive fleet on their tail. <i>Startide Rising</i> is my least favorite of the three, and I think it's partially because the threat feels a little contrived - the story of the dolphins and the story of intergalactic war don't touch as closely as I'd like, except near the end. However, Brin puts a great deal of effort into developing an interesting dolphin society, and manages to make them both understandable, and more than humans with flippers and fins. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBKsUzTYDHRdhbIE-pNzpPpG-ijlu8ElXvH-ZFiR1cKPuU2fpr21kLT4O2qkEZLUyoxMQOQ28suWG3ivRF1Sl8iIYS9wZ4PvHm00EjlDlP0ccXjDzKyKemQ-TO0wRI739-k0P2fmPAM5G/s1600-h/upliftwar.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBKsUzTYDHRdhbIE-pNzpPpG-ijlu8ElXvH-ZFiR1cKPuU2fpr21kLT4O2qkEZLUyoxMQOQ28suWG3ivRF1Sl8iIYS9wZ4PvHm00EjlDlP0ccXjDzKyKemQ-TO0wRI739-k0P2fmPAM5G/s200/upliftwar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326610784235235858" /></a><br /><br /><br /><i>Uplift War</i> covers a small consequence of Streaker's discovery - one of Earth's colonies, populated mostly by humans and neo-chimpanzees, is held hostage. Though the chimpanzees are the supposed stars, I felt like they were upstaged by one of Earth's ally species, the Tymbrimi, who are inveterate practical jokers. The Tymbrimi are a species with a sense of dramatic irony, and Brin spends a lot of the book trying to cultivate the same taste in the reader - with some success. Like in <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/02/connie-willis-hugos-doomsday-book-and.html"><i>To Say Nothing of the Dog</i></a>, you have a little idea of what's coming - just enough to season your expectations - but the whole kick in the pants will probably come as some surprise. <br /><br />Having read all three books back-to-back, there are a few common compliments and complaints. The romantic pairings are fairly blah, with Brin not putting much tension or interest into the relationships - it came off as a fairly predictable pro forma attempt to include a love story in each novel. The strength of all of these books is the depth of portrayal of alien species (and our own aliens, the dolphins and chimps). Each species is given a unique (and actually interesting) culture, without letting those characteristics overwhelm the characters (commonly known as Klingon syndrome). I'm particularly fond of the somewhat daring way that Brin uses the patron/client dynamic to explore race and class distinctions in our society. Uplifted species are by long-standing tradition indentured to their patrons for thousands of years, something humanity has declined to pursue in the case of chimps and dolphins, but even in the absence of this larger sin, condescension and misunderstanding run both ways. One particularly sly moment in <i>Sundiver</i> has Demwa discuss the benefits of assimilation into the galactic culture in an oblique, parabolic story of his Amerindian ancestors; Brin trusts the readers to understand Demwa's true feelings, even though his sarcasm is well-disguised. <br /><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li> Apparently David Brin had words with his publisher, because the Uplift books are almost unique in that the covers actually represent something from the story (and do so reasonably well). Also, there's <a href = "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBKsUzTYDHRdhbIE-pNzpPpG-ijlu8ElXvH-ZFiR1cKPuU2fpr21kLT4O2qkEZLUyoxMQOQ28suWG3ivRF1Sl8iIYS9wZ4PvHm00EjlDlP0ccXjDzKyKemQ-TO0wRI739-k0P2fmPAM5G/s1600-h/upliftwar.jpg">a chimp with a gun</a>.<br /><li> <i>Startide Rising</i> has another <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/03/prop-8-and-orson-scott-card-enders-game.html"><i>Speaker for the Dead</i></a>-like ending, which doesn't actually resolve the plot but still doesn't feel like a cop-out (a la <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/02/hyperion-1990.html">Hyperion</a> or any Neal Stephenson book).<br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> I pretty much agree with the voters - I'm personally fond of <i>Sundiver</i>, but I'm not sure it's a better novel than <i>The Snow Queen</i> or <i>Ringworld Engineers</i>, two of its competitors. The other two deserve their prizes.<br /><ul><br /><li> <i>Sundiver</i> - <b>A-</b><br /><li> <i>Startide Rising</i> - <b>A-</b><br /><li> <i>Uplift War</i> - <b>A-</b><br /></ul>The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-83907464102811832972009-04-14T00:07:00.000-07:002009-04-14T00:18:22.642-07:00Dune (1966)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9PAgbRJKIhcqrUjN-pZ1FXaIYqTv-e6Ox-DEdfIV7NJHrfKl7uT7sGCG_Mq4RYXll5kNJwgYMU180SUJMWaB0ToJ7-tHasKvBNceCcj9VdRH2ZTtE3OZvu48KDnUBnfNmQ3kHSODlS26G/s1600-h/dune_frank_herbert.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9PAgbRJKIhcqrUjN-pZ1FXaIYqTv-e6Ox-DEdfIV7NJHrfKl7uT7sGCG_Mq4RYXll5kNJwgYMU180SUJMWaB0ToJ7-tHasKvBNceCcj9VdRH2ZTtE3OZvu48KDnUBnfNmQ3kHSODlS26G/s200/dune_frank_herbert.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324082436189595394" /></a><br /><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Ecology, superhuman abilities<br /><br />A few days ago, I read an article <a href ="http://www.avclub.com/articles/things-we-want-to-experience-again-for-the-first-t,26141/1/">on media you want to experience "for the first time" again</a>, and couldn't help being a little disappointed by the focus on music and movies. Except for one predictable choice (<i>Catcher in the Rye</i>? Come <i>on</i>...) no one mentioned any books. I'd love to watch <i><a href = "http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/515VPMDKQML.jpg">Charade</a></i> without knowing the ending, or listen to <i><a href = "http://puzzle.suchfun.net/deerhoof/">This Magnificent Bird Will Rise</a></i> and fall in love with Deerhoof again, but that all pales to the chance to read <b>Dune</b> through as a clean slate. <br /><br />Some books take hold of you, and if you're the right age, become an inextricable part of your childhood. <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/03/prop-8-and-orson-scott-card-enders-game.html">Ender's Game</a> is a common one, but mine were different, including <i>The Westing Game</i>, <i>Catch-22</i>, <i>Foundation</i>, and <i>Dune</i>. Of these, <i>Dune</i> stood out to me as being the most compulsive reading. I remember picking it up by chance, and spending all night reading. The next day, my parents had to force me to put the book down and talk to the people we were visiting. I remember the book's smell; I remember its texture. I'm not the only one who had this experience - I have seen many, many people with tattoos of the <a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bene_Gesserit#Litany_against_fear">Litany against Fear</a>. Why is <i>Dune</i> so compelling to a certain type of youngster?<br /><br /><i>Dune</i> paints a world where flesh, politics, and the vast sweep of history can be controlled by the intelligent and disciplined mind. Its protagonist, Paul Atreides, is an isolated, intelligent fifteen-year-old with extraordinary mental powers, driven by things he doesn't fully understand. Maybe it's not surprising that a teenager or pre-teen would be compelled by this story - at one level, <i>Dune</i> reads like an extended metaphor for adolescence, paired with the appealing dream that sheer logic can remake the world. Of course, there's more than this - as Herbert himself notes in one of the book's many aphorisms:<small><blockquote>Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.</blockquote></small> The hero's-triumph story is paired with a complementary tragedy: Paul's battle with predestination, attempting to work against giant, inevitable forces. Does Paul choose the best of all possible worlds? Does he, in fact, have a choice at all, or does his prescience just create the illusion of free will? Maybe Paul's self-interest drives him; Herbert makes genes the mechanism for fate, and Paul never chooses a path that would lead to his own destruction. But I don't really want to talk about this - it's difficult to talk about the success or failure of Paul's plans without the later books coming up, particularly <i>Dune Messiah</i>, and that would be opening a can of (no pun intended) worms.<br /><br />I have read <i>Dune</i> many, many times - enough that a lot of that initial excitement has faded, and what's left is appreciation for how well Herbert builds such a complex world. There are a few keys to this: every trait of a political group is matched with an anecdote, almost every plot development is foreshadowed, and though a vast array of new words and concepts are thrown out, they are either not crucial to the main plot, or explained quickly. Take for example: <small><blockquote>"Kanly, is it?" the Baron asked. "Vendetta, heh? And he uses the nice old word so rich in tradition to be sure I know he means it."</blockquote></small> Look at the first scene in the book; Herbert doesn't just tell the reader that the Bene Gesserit are ruthless and manipulative, he has one torture a child for the sake of a convoluted ideal. The <i>gom jabbar</i> scene ("What's in the box?" "Pain") is iconic, and it's six pages in.<br /><br />Throughout the entire novel, but especially in the first part, Herbert breaks the story down into relatively small scenes, moving the plot along with character-oriented vignettes. He keeps the characters manageable by making them memorable and tagging them, "Gurney the valorous," "Yueh the traitor," and so on. That last one reminds me - Herbert is not worried about keeping secrets from the reader. Most of the plot is laid out in the first fifteen pages, and the moment we meet Yueh, we are told he's a traitor (and also the next time we see him, just in case we forgot). Because the characters are clear, and the plot is laid out well, following the standard forms, we have time to soak up all of the side details. And of course, that's where the meat of <i>Dune</i>'s power comes from - the detail of the world. I don't really want to write yet another paen to the ecology that Herbert invented, or the clever repurposing of aspects of various different cultures (later novels characterize the "Zensunni" religion), because it's been done. However, reading C.J. Cherryh (and, to a lesser extent Kim Stanley Robinson) has taught me that all of the world-building falls apart without that character-plot skeleton that Herbert manages so efficiently. <br /><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li> Like I was going to get away without quoting this one: <small><blockquote>"Think you of the fact that a deaf person cannot hear. Then, what deafness may we not possess? What sense do we lack that we cannot see and cannot hear another world all around us?"</blockquote></small><br /><li> I wonder if <i>Dune</i> would have grabbed me in the same way if I had been a girl - there isn't a strong (young) female character - Chani is woefully underdeveloped, and part of the compelling part of the story (from the adolescent perspective) is Paul knowing better than his mother, eliminating her as a possible role model<br /><li> Hat tip to the Onion's <a href = "http://www.avclub.com">AV Club</a> at the top for inspiring this one (and also because I stole my format from their TV Club articles)<br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Should be in pretty much every best-of, especially for extending "hard" science fiction beyond physics and into ecology. <b>A</b>The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-41312346599061370342009-04-05T23:19:00.000-07:002009-04-05T23:24:24.801-07:00Downbelow Station (1982)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2fbDYaacyvTru4BlDr5WNNmeTjLBcm3xdVSqyhIFWTJ7wAtHpHbaz6iOGeVS0UWdJMuVqYswnmUZMhvX1t1ls-rlqwJ8hMaE1w4b_CSPCTRU5BGSbbW1WthnKCvrQbNEFmcQUJrSsTQB/s1600-h/downbelowstation.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 118px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2fbDYaacyvTru4BlDr5WNNmeTjLBcm3xdVSqyhIFWTJ7wAtHpHbaz6iOGeVS0UWdJMuVqYswnmUZMhvX1t1ls-rlqwJ8hMaE1w4b_CSPCTRU5BGSbbW1WthnKCvrQbNEFmcQUJrSsTQB/s200/downbelowstation.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321413384886188802" /></a><br /><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Space opera, politics<br /><br />After three novels and about 2000 pages, I've come to the conclusion that I just plain don't like C.J. Cherryh's novels that much. Essentially, all of my objections to <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/02/cyteen-and-regenesis.html">Cyteen</a> apply to her first Hugo-winner <b>Downbelow Station</b>, but there are fewer good bits. <i>Downbelow Station</i> is set in the same universe as <i>Cyteen</i>, and describes the origin of the balance of power in that novel, the war between Earth and far-space interests, all from the perspective of a single, supposedly neutral space station. Like in <i>Cyteen</i>, we get dumped into a complex political situation with history-book exposition, and after a while it sort of blends into sameness. Some of this is a genuine knock on technique, and some a matter of opinion, and I'll try to break down my problems with the book into those categories.<br /><br />Part of my frustration came from the organization of the novel; I often felt very little sense of place in the story - the hooks to keep the reader focused weren't very good. This is not because of the sheer size of the book, because though Cherryh's novels are long, they have a fairly narrow scope, never seeming as epic as similar character-filled politics-fests like <i>Red Mars</i>. Once again, this meant I didn't really enjoy the book until about two hundred pages in. It's difficult to connect to the book immediately because the characters aren't really given meaning apart from the grand politics of the novel, and so you don't understand their motivations until you acclimate to the world, and you don't acclimate to the world because you don't care about the characters. It's a <a href = "http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0707454/quotes">vicious circle</a>. It sounds sort of like I'm demanding training wheels for my books, but I don't think that's so. Even a classic slow-starter like <i>The Name of the Rose</i> pulls you into the characters faster, and the <a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire"><i>Song of Ice and Fire</i></a> series handles more characters and politicking than <i>Downbelow Station</i> without blinking.<br /><br />The other reasons I have for not enjoying <i>Downbelow Station</i> that much are less objective. I just don't seem to find the same aspects of science fiction appealing that Cherryh does. A large part of the appeal of scifi is its ability to present genuinely new ideas, even if they wouldn't work in the real world. Cherryh can do this - her take on redesigning humans in <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/02/cyteen-and-regenesis.html">Cyteen</a> was compelling - but large portions of her novels are devoted to political machinations that are depressingly familiar. Resource wars in space are still resource wars, and refugees are still refugees. It seems a great way to write - put realistic people in a new situation, and ask "What happens?" - but if it doesn't tell you something new, why do it?<br /><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li> Boy, finding another intelligent alien race didn't seem like a big deal. "Okay, we're not alone in the universe. Let's get us some servants."<br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Not in my opinion. After a while, I got into it, but it really suffered by comparison to David Brin's <i>Uplift</i> series, which were the next books I read. Downbelow Station rates a <b>C+</b>.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-56676074332591010152009-03-29T18:30:00.000-07:002009-03-29T19:57:49.776-07:00... And Call Me Conrad [aka This Immortal] (1966)<b>Subgenre:</b> Superman scifi fantasy?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOP4aZvafmV-2zBsu3NAS3RDKQ0i7Y6o1CFikeC2iN622FJ9bf__xtg0PvQ7cR7wwEHwS6uuL16qtQhRSRL9_B2NDnjJtqDYTQsxdODdKIuHzEQmjTUz-AbAjxufuP0tJCxX_0n4N2Ijdl/s1600-h/zelazny-immortal.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOP4aZvafmV-2zBsu3NAS3RDKQ0i7Y6o1CFikeC2iN622FJ9bf__xtg0PvQ7cR7wwEHwS6uuL16qtQhRSRL9_B2NDnjJtqDYTQsxdODdKIuHzEQmjTUz-AbAjxufuP0tJCxX_0n4N2Ijdl/s200/zelazny-immortal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318789170245969074" /></a><br /><br />Roger Zelazny's novels have some fairly consistent characteristics - superpowered protagonists, playful language, and dribblings of mythology that don't quite fit together - and they're all on display in his first novel, serialized under the name <b>...And Call Me Conrad</b>, and later republished as <b>This Immortal</b>. The novel tells the story of an immortal, unsurprisingly now known as Conrad, acting as an alien's guide to a partially-uninhabitable, radioactive Earth. Zelazny has written a couple of my favorite books and short stories, and considering that this novel tied with <i>Dune</i> for the best novel Hugo in 1966, my expectations were high. What I failed to take into account was that this was a first novel: the energy of the later books is there, but not the relative sophistication, and the result is somewhat of a mess.<br /><br />Zelazny writes pulpy adventure stories; take out the fantastic elements, and you have a Dumas novel, or put the characters in capes and you have Golden Age comic books. Of course, they're more than that - but where Asimov has the puzzle at his novel's core and <a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/02/cyteen-and-regenesis.html">Cherryh</a> has the politics, Zelazny has adrenaline. Just <i>try</i> to read <i>Nine Princes in Amber</i> in more than one sitting. What lifts Zelazny's novels over, say, <i>The DaVinci Code</i>, is the creativity of the setting. Here, <i>This Immortal</i> doesn't disappoint, with its pleasantly post-apocalyptic planet and overseeing aliens (I can't call them Vegans without snickering, sorry). Nevertheless, the characters are not well-developed, and the story occasionally seems a little disjointed and filled with <i>deus ex machina</i> - possibly because of its origin as a serial.<br /><br />My largest problem with this novel is that Zelazy has done all of it better, elsewhere. Supermen stride through the <i>Amber</i> series, the aliens of <i>Doorways in the Sand</i> put these to shame, and even <i>Lord of Light</i>, which I remember as being a little bit muddled, did the mythology bit better, with a better narrative flow. Maybe if I had read this when it came out, I would have been stunned - Zelazny's casual, almost lyrical style is like very little else - but I find it difficult to consider this novel as anything but a good rough draft. <br /><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li>Seriously, read <i>Nine Princes in Amber</i> and <i>Doorways in the Sand</i>. <i>Doorways</i> actually exploits Zelazny's occasionally-disconnected prose style to put together really interesting cliffhangers.<br /><li> To be fair, I liked seeing a part of Greek mythology beyond the gods<br /><li> There's a certain pattern with the covers:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtqJCQi39-0RdVDymP4rrjZRW-WfswJ5IDOCVKC29i2TwDPb3QlWUfaXYiqcYo1wbZL6f_GxRhOSnzdX5qKBfdeIXhESI3uNJnZvr6cGSUzhh3OLw56RElnklTpgDVKpJeegrjdlTG9Jh/s1600-h/this-immortal-covers.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtqJCQi39-0RdVDymP4rrjZRW-WfswJ5IDOCVKC29i2TwDPb3QlWUfaXYiqcYo1wbZL6f_GxRhOSnzdX5qKBfdeIXhESI3uNJnZvr6cGSUzhh3OLw56RElnklTpgDVKpJeegrjdlTG9Jh/s400/this-immortal-covers.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318807513888785554" /></a><br />Also, how did Panther come up with that? I'm pretty sure the description was "disfigured Greek man," not "blond mop-topped hipster." <br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Not compared with <i>Dune</i>, no. I'd give <i>Conrad</i> a <b>B</b>.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-64716920953294200782009-03-22T22:02:00.000-07:002009-03-22T23:40:04.749-07:00A Case of Conscience (1959) with a little Anathem on the side<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6HLB1zDXXWY_dkq1Pt2qJ3fv5MRx1ii4-ikOUeghyphenhyphenNs8ZGGOoUtRSYMccYkYfnv7QFC13xD_9HO0k6oAvPL5b9pSpWxyGVMd_CbeoR94ZB9QaEZ3bXqeTHVgi9DFUy7Xjz0UTnz3NOru/s1600-h/case-of-conscience-james-blish-large.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 148px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6HLB1zDXXWY_dkq1Pt2qJ3fv5MRx1ii4-ikOUeghyphenhyphenNs8ZGGOoUtRSYMccYkYfnv7QFC13xD_9HO0k6oAvPL5b9pSpWxyGVMd_CbeoR94ZB9QaEZ3bXqeTHVgi9DFUy7Xjz0UTnz3NOru/s200/case-of-conscience-james-blish-large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316246490126589090" /></a><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Anthropological, religion<br /><br />Well, the <a href = "http://anticipationsf.ca/English/Hugos">2009 Hugo nominations</a> are out, and hopefully at some point, I'll get around to finishing them all, but one nominee is Neal Stephenson's <i>Anathem</i>, which, in a roundabout way, reminded me of this week's novel, James Blish's <b>A Case of Conscience</b>. (Maybe next week I'll get to Stephenson's <i>The Diamond Age</i> and other nominee Neil Gaiman's <i>American Gods</i>). <br /><br /><i>Anathem</i> and <i>Conscience</i> are both novels focused on the ideas and philosophies of their characters - and both remarkably good books that still come across as sloppy and flawed, but for completely different reasons. <i>Anathem</i> goes for the complete perspective of a world, complete with <a href = "http://www.xkcd.com/483/">famously overzealous invented vocabulary</a> - think Umberto Eco's <i><a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_name_of_the_rose">The Name of the Rose</a></i> set in the future - and in my mind succeeds admirably in this, but tells a relatively disappointing story, even in a brilliant setting with likable characters. <i>Conscience</i> is nearly the polar opposite of <i>Anathem</i> in this.<br /><br /><i>A Case of Conscience</i>'s setting is inevitably less well developed - its entire 250-some pages is the length of <i>Anathem</i>'s prologue - but actually tosses out some sincere dilemmas. <i>Conscience</i> is an anthropological story at first, and a clear precursor to <i><a href = "http://thehugoproject.blogspot.com/2009/03/prop-8-and-orson-scott-card-enders-game.html">Speaker for the Dead</a></i>, trying to discover the secrets of a race of aliens for whom emotion, genetics, and logic are inseparable. The protagonist, Father Ruiz-Sanchez, is both a Jesuit and a biologist, and his religious perspective makes <i>Conscience</i> into something entirely beyond most science fiction novels. I found myself constantly wondering about Ruiz-Sanchez's interpretations, my non-religious expectations interfering with his almost-reasonable logic, and wondering if this was a book where God was part of the science fiction - and the novel makes it quite clear that this ambiguity is intentional.<br /><br />Where the novel falls down is characterization and attention to detail. Outside of the conflicted Ruiz-Sanchez, most characters are stereotypes, bloodthirsty or idiotic without deeper motivations, which makes some of the novel before the first "reveal" a little awkward. Some of the scientific details seem a little off, too - having the Lithians understand semiconductor physics better than humans, but have no idea of quantum physics, for instance, seems unlikely. <br /><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li>Blish, who would later write the Star Trek novel <i>Spock Must Die!</i>, was well aware of how artificial the emotionless alien conceit seems, and performed the single greatest <a href = "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LampshadeHanging">Lampshade Hanging</a> I have ever seen - it's so good, it's a spoiler. <br /><li> Neal Stephenson take note: <i>this</i> is how you write an ending.<br /><li> Speaking of Hugo noms, I have to plug awesome webcomics and graphic novel nominees <a href = "http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php">Girl Genius</a> and <a href = "http://www.schlockmercenary.com/">Schlock Mercenary</a>. <br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Naturally. This is the <i><a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vertigo_(film)">Vertigo</a></i> of Science Fiction - flawed but essential. No letter grade - I couldn't in good faith grade it an A given its problems, but it belongs next to books like <i>Stranger in a Strange Land</i>, <i>Speaker for the Dead</i> or <i>The Stars My Destination</i>.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-68735242912511497082009-03-15T21:34:00.000-07:002009-03-15T23:32:43.401-07:00Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (2005)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgDtOJ4SJnBULGEEWrTIHbHtCWtaq45LrlSJuxFWVjsXe8rTzX2Tqg9AYkxpZtI1jJQQbmSXMk_rYAta3tmofye4UIpIhstSs2y4dfGOjhVNUeKKsRiGVvgeNQBSPG7rqlHMgzM3hMKS6/s1600-h/strange2.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 196px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgDtOJ4SJnBULGEEWrTIHbHtCWtaq45LrlSJuxFWVjsXe8rTzX2Tqg9AYkxpZtI1jJQQbmSXMk_rYAta3tmofye4UIpIhstSs2y4dfGOjhVNUeKKsRiGVvgeNQBSPG7rqlHMgzM3hMKS6/s200/strange2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313639768084483250" /></a><br /><br /><b>Subgenre: Fantasy</b><br /><br />The Hugo awards have always technically been for both science fiction and fantasy, but the Best Novel award has been dominated by science fiction. In fact, until this decade, I couldn't pick out a single real fantasy novel: here there be no dragons. Apparently, Harry Potter made fantasy too big to be ignored, because since 2000, there have been four fantasy winners, of which <b>Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell</b> is the latest.<br /><br />If you like science fiction, the next sentence is going to be a little frightening, so refer to the clumsy visual metaphor I've got above: this is an 800-page book I've read three times. With that out of the way, I can tell you that the three things that immediately jump out at you in this book are fairies, footnotes, and Jane Austen. <i>Strange & Norrell</i> is not really a fairy tale, but an alternate history of early 19th century England. In this alternate world, stories of magic and fairies are recent history rather than legend, and though magic is not practiced, theoretical magicians endlessly debate the finer points of spells they have never performed or even seen. For obvious reasons, this is particularly funny to me. The novel spans the reemergence of "English magic," as heralded by two practical magicians: the fiercely bookish Mr. Norrell and the impassioned dilettante Jonathan Strange. <br /><br />Populating a novel with scholars makes for scholarly affectations; since most of the characters are motivated by knowledge, we have to understand their world of books, and from the very first page Clarke uses footnotes to do this. The notes gloss details of the world, and tell side stories, preserving some of the illusion of this being a book written about real and recent events. The text itself is written in a pastiche of the 19th-century novel, and most people think of Jane Austen first. Of course, Jane Austen never wrote about fairies living in underground palaces decorated with human bones, despite what a particularly strange adaptation of <i>Northanger Abbey</i> I once saw might suggest. The style shouldn't put you off, though - it's dryly funny and the story moves at a good trot. <br /><br />The most characteristic part of <i>Strange & Norrell</i> is how thoroughly magic is tied up with English culture, and vice versa. Mr. Norrell disdains fairies as too wild and unrefined, and tries to rewrite history to avoid them as much as possible, imposing his own sense of Englishness on magic. But just the same, this alternate England's culture has grown up around magic and fairies, and this world is not the aristocratic one Strange and Norrell live in:<blockquote><small>"Can a magician kill a man by magic?" Lord wellington asked Strange. <br />Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. "I suppose a magician might," he admitted, "but a gentleman never could." Lord Wellington nodded as if this was just as he would have expected.</small></blockquote> The battle over English magic is a battle over English identity, and as a result, <i>Strange & Norrell</i> carries cultural weight beyond its essential story.<br /><br />Notes:<br /><ul><br /><li> This book took ten years to write. Ye gods.<br /><li> I think <i>Strange & Norrell</i> has one of the best depictions of the interior of madness I've ever read.<br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Yep, I love this book. <b>A</b>The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-80233730788947775512009-03-08T17:58:00.000-07:002009-03-08T23:18:18.937-07:00Prop. 8 and Orson Scott Card: Ender's Game (1986) / Speaker for the Dead (1987)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0uuaAH7WMfZEHIenW-1QITvzjAPq1IbF5MRrESfBDmAyI01ZYCZPi6fCTLLVe-yf9I4j2lmZ6LP8t8MUJZaSPyvehQoRNmZ72SDSU4rdPt20f2b0P3KQm_nQCcpHmlPd923S-XZ8j52F/s1600-h/endersgame.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0uuaAH7WMfZEHIenW-1QITvzjAPq1IbF5MRrESfBDmAyI01ZYCZPi6fCTLLVe-yf9I4j2lmZ6LP8t8MUJZaSPyvehQoRNmZ72SDSU4rdPt20f2b0P3KQm_nQCcpHmlPd923S-XZ8j52F/s200/endersgame.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310992849943055202" /></a><br /><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Military and anthropological fiction, respectively.<br /><br /><b>Ender's Game</b> and its sequel <b>Speaker for the Dead</b> won both the Hugo and the Nebula awards in consecutive years, an achievement that has never been matched. <i>Speaker</i> is easily in my top ten, and maybe my top five favorite science fiction novels, and I recommend it - as a book - almost without reservation. I'm not writing this article because of that; I'm writing because at this moment, the California Supreme Court is considering Proposition 8, a constitutional amendment that prohibits gay marriage, which was previously allowed in California. <br /><br />Orson Scott Card, as a prominent representative for a Mormon church that has a <a href = "http://abcnews.go.com/US/Story?id=6238226&page=1">fairly strong anti-gay-marriage position</a>, wrote several articles, including <a href = "http://www.ornery.org/essays/warwatch/2004-02-15-1.html">this essay</a> and <a href="http://www.mormontimes.com/mormon_voices/?id=3237">this more recent one for Mormon Times</a>. I read most of the <i>Ender</i> series before I read these articles, and I've spent a lot of time trying to reconcile the idea that the same person who wrote <i>Speaker</i>, which is a paean to compassion for aliens, and <i>Ender</i>, with its focus on a child persecuted for being different, that this person could write that homosexuals "suffer from sex-role dysfunctions," and advocate overthrow of governments that supported gay marriage. <br /><br />My initial feelings were ones of betrayal, and to judge by various internet firestorms I'm not alone. <i>Ender's Game</i>, with its focus on precocious children, grabbed many of us young, dragging us into science fiction. I wasn't one of those kids; though I loved the story for its adventure, I was bothered by some of the violence and the ruthlessness of Ender's character. I also feel that <i>Ender's Game</i> betrays its origins as a short story, with some parts of the novel feeling bolted on. However, I fell for <i>Speaker for the Dead</i> almost immediately - it mixes an anthropological mystery about an alien race with the dysfunction of a human family - think <i>The Mote in God's Eye</i> (another favorite) filled with <a href = "http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SP1kKcZtnkQ">Christopher Titus's family</a>. Ender, the titular Speaker for the Dead, performs the simple duty of telling the truth about the dead - not merely their actions, but their intentions - which demands a remarkable compassion.<br /><br />Had I misunderstood one of my favorite books? How could such articles come from the author of such a humanitarian work? I have close friends who oppose gay marriage, and are good, compassionate people - the contradiction that bothered me most was not there, but in the almost vicious tone of these essays, the absence of any consideration for the humanity of homosexuals. So I set out to reread <i>Speaker</i> with this dilemma in mind, and see what understanding I could come to.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiCNJCiqWyyMbyCeOEb8pLjJT2Zjrhjy_t2dDdBRZx4u4ZsjbUgIQEX6X62_-rtnIh7h0sh6ZZGu_4BwWSfz2sJq1YtIjl_wYsgQtMLwVr__cDzlwnUmYb7vPlYigDTjduNkl7goP4cVLk/s1600-h/speaker-for-the-dead.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiCNJCiqWyyMbyCeOEb8pLjJT2Zjrhjy_t2dDdBRZx4u4ZsjbUgIQEX6X62_-rtnIh7h0sh6ZZGu_4BwWSfz2sJq1YtIjl_wYsgQtMLwVr__cDzlwnUmYb7vPlYigDTjduNkl7goP4cVLk/s200/speaker-for-the-dead.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311031475600479234" /></a><br /><br />It turns out that <i>Speaker</i> overall holds up very well to a second reading, even with Card's essays in mind. This is partially because <i>Speaker</i> is almost a secular humanist novel. I think this drives some of the feelings of incongruity between it and the gay marriage issue, which is often fought over religious lines. Ender is nonreligious, and most of the main characters are at least unobservant. Religious characters are respected mostly in measure with their rationality:<blockquote><small>"The Filhos are as ardent as any unordained Christian could hope to be," said Dom Cristão. "But since we have no priesthood, we have to make do with reason and logic as poor substitutes for authority." Bishop Peregrino suspected irony from time to time, but was never quite able to pin it down.</small></blockquote> In fact, <i>Speaker</i>'s first impression is significantly less religious than one of Card's admitted influences, James Blish's <i>A Case of Conscience</i>. Of course, the essays on gay marriage are also secular in content and focused on logic, even arguing from biology - though no doubt Card's axioms have been influenced by his faith. <br /><br />Card even includes some fairly nontraditional relationships within his novel - Ender's partnership with the artificial intelligence Jane is cast within the framework of a romance, and he sees his relationship with his sister Valentine as reflecting the chaste marriages of San Angelo's monks. Even the romances that are doomed by the plot are treated with sympathy, but there is a clear pattern: relationships driven by individual desire are selfish. These desires break families, ruin research, and occasionally cause fleets of warships to be sent across interstellar space. Marriages are, to Card, something different: "Marriage is a covenant between a man and woman on the one side and their community on the other." These ideas, of course, are not all so surprising - anyone who's been to a wedding recently has probably heard something similar.<br /><br />The most telling commentary on marriage in light of Card's essays is actually quite early in the novel, in a line I overlooked in the first reading:<blockquote><small>Pipo never thought to ask them about their marriage plans. After all, he thought, they studied biology from morning to night. Eventually it would occur to them to explore stable and socially acceptable reproductive strategies.</small></blockquote> Let me repeat that last: "Stable and socially acceptable reproductive strategies." That's the core of marriage, to Card - reproduction made socially acceptable, with safety ensured. To Card, society exists for the sole purpose of furthering our offspring's survival chances - a remarkably clinical and evolutionary perspective (once again, part of the reason I perceived <i>Speaker</i> as a secular humanist book). From the 2004 essay: <br /><blockquote><small>"There is a very complex balance in maintaining a monogamous society, with plenty of lapses and exceptions and mechanisms to cope with the natural barbaric impulses of the male mating drive... even though civilized individuals can't pursue the most obviously pleasurable and selfish (i.e., natural) strategies for reproduction, the fact is that they are far more likely to be successful at reproduction in a civilized society."</small></blockquote>First, I'd be remiss if I didn't remind Card that in this species, females also have a mating drive. Second, though, is the crucial point: there is more involved in the maintenance of a civilized society than the regulation of individual desires. Yes, there are individual sacrifices made so that, evolutionarily speaking, the species can survive. But in an increasingly intelligent species such as ours, this only functions if the society guarantees some level of individual freedom - I would not prescribe arranged marriage as a cure for our society's divorce problems. I see free choice of marriage partner, irrespective of fertility, class, etc... as a fundamental right - the right to form contracts and associations freely. <br /><br />So have I come to some resolution, an agree-to-disagree with the author of one of my favorite books? Not really. Even with the context of Card's personal beliefs, <i>Speaker for the Dead</i> is a remarkable achievement, a monument to honesty and empathy, family and science, and it remains one of my favorites. I also recognize that I have some base-level disagreements with Card - after all, I have no particular desire to normalize gender roles, as I consider human rights and responsibilities to be preeminent over male or female roles. I could come to an understanding of his words if it were merely these axioms with which I disagreed - but the inflexibility and self-righteousness of those essays is repellent to me. Perhaps Card would see himself as Ender, with that mix of compassion and mercilessness in the service of a good cause, but I see him instead in Ender's line:<blockquote><small>"They aren't stupid," said the Speaker. "This is how humans are: We question all our beliefs, except for the ones that we <i>really</i> believe, and those we never think to question."</small></blockquote><br /><b>Notes:</b><br /><ul><br /><li> Because of Card's writing and LDS support of Prop. 8, I no longer feel comfortable buying his books, and I'd ask you not to, either. If you'd like to read one, I'll loan you my copies.<br /><li> It might be worth taking a look at <a href = "http://archive.salon.com/books/feature/2000/02/03/card/print.html">Donna Minkowitz's interview with Card</a><br /><li> <i>Xenocide</i> isn't as good, though that's mainly because of the terrible ending.<br /><li> I can't pass this one up:<blockquote><small>"If we had to observe your university under the same limitations that bind us in our observation of the Lusitanian aborigines, we would no doubt conclude that humans do not reproduce, do not form kinship groups, and devote their entire life cycle to the metamorphosis of the larval student into the adult professor. We might even suppose that professors exercise noticeable power in human society."</small></blockquote><br /><li> Seriously, are the restrictions on the anthropologists not the best parody of the <a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prime_directive">Prime Directive</a> ever?<br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Yeah - <i>Ender's Game</i> is about a <b>B+</b> and <i>Speaker for the Dead</i> an <b>A</b>.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-69000366985918814182009-03-01T20:52:00.000-08:002009-03-02T00:09:52.659-08:00The Demolished Man (1953)<b>Subgenre:</b> Proto-cyberpunk? (Best I can come up with)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9roCxXOHgLlSj0wl0o3nYOLR84cPl6HlZURjWvm_Na9foFlsiT8oAOB1Te4CCuZlff-Du-MldGFGE3RnrJIPWMVczb24AKJ0HuHAKYITUcconkdK5aRqzvyhpIrI5hJK0aCCEI4wMe1Xq/s1600-h/The_Demolished_Man.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9roCxXOHgLlSj0wl0o3nYOLR84cPl6HlZURjWvm_Na9foFlsiT8oAOB1Te4CCuZlff-Du-MldGFGE3RnrJIPWMVczb24AKJ0HuHAKYITUcconkdK5aRqzvyhpIrI5hJK0aCCEI4wMe1Xq/s200/The_Demolished_Man.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308433605784507602" /></a><br /><br /><blockquote>"I have prepared four general murder plans which may help you."</blockquote><br /><br />I don't know how the Hugos started, but please - nobody tell me. I'd like to keep the image in my mind, which is that one year God (or Isaac Asimov, whatever) read <b>The Demolished Man</b> and said: "Give that man a statue. And make it phallically shaped." And <a href ="http://www.locusmag.com/2002/News/hugo2002.jpg">so it was</a>. <i>The Demolished Man</i> is a singular murder mystery, where the even the thought of the crime has to be suppressed for fear of mindreaders, and we know the murderer but the motive is concealed from us. It is probably one of the best science-fiction novels ever written, and, somewhat painfully to us less-talented writers, it's Alfred Bester's first novel. It's also only his second-best book (but more on that later).<br /><br />It's not unusual to have novels that mostly take place inside characters' heads - but in a world with telepaths, that concept has a little more oomph. You could almost think of the telepathy as a conceit to bring a deeply psychological novel into action, and while the main plot has most of the Freudian timebombs, the side characters deal with a society where telepathy may give others more insight into your thoughts than you have.<br /><br /><i>The Demolished Man</i> takes risks, tossing out out a big clue to the mystery in the first chapter, trusting the reader to follow interlocking dialogue, and though it'd be difficult to avoid the tag "experimental" entirely, the stylistic excursions aren't there just to be cool. Bester gives the impression that he's transliterating an qualitatively different sort of communication onto the page, and this makes the society of telepaths believable and compelling. I think this is why the telepath-talk works, but the news jabber in <i>Stand on Zanzibar</i> comes off as forced - new languages and new cultures are inseparable. Of course, some of it comes off as silly - I'm thinking of the character named ¼maine - but on balance, it's one of the most effective pieces of text experimentation I've seen in science fiction.<br /><br />First prize in that category, though, belongs to Bester's third novel - <i>The Stars My Destination,</i> which is a neat counterpart to <i>The Demolished Man</i>. Bester starts <i>The Demolished Man</i> with the note: "There have been men without number suffering from the same megalomania; men who imagined themself unique, irreplacable, irreproducible" - and the protagonist Ben Reich, though powerful, is unable to change the nature of his world. In <i>The Stars My Destination</i>, a man is motivated by revenge to a much greater end - and I won't say more than that about that novel, except to note that it exudes the same sense of comic-book energy, and has possibly the single funniest evolution joke ever.<br /><br />In the process of reading the Hugos and writing these little comments, I've developed a few chips on my shoulder- and one of them is <i>Stars</i>, which, along with <i>The Mote in God's Eye</i> is one of the best novels to not win a Hugo. (No Best Novel Hugo was awarded in 1957, the appropriate year). So until anyone tells me a better 1957 novel, I'ma give an imaginary Hugo to <i>The Stars My Destination</i>. <br /><br /><ul><br /><li> "Like those advertising jingles you can't get out of your head." "Oh. Pepsis, we call 'em."<br /><li> Wikipedia claims that "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao"'s Man with No Face was influenced by Bester's - there's another book I have to reread. <br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> Duh. It's probably only an <b>A-</b> book - there is some clumsiness and unnecessary hyping of Reich's role in the world, but it's the explosive kind of clutter, like good Philip K. Dick novels.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-68233859706610753732009-02-22T21:16:00.001-08:002009-02-27T01:13:08.478-08:00The Wanderer (1965)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhqZQ-cKQxrUoAAxGcVvexZuYgSSTBrVjBqc0K3LZSzGRUhaGNXhE4L6FVhMFVvKkPOpvueKsRanzlBYVhyphenhypheni1wDyk_33HCZCMM8ZTulyax3Oo-0BwWTnxw_ru1FSM_6js8-knFp67bhxg/s1600-h/the-wanderer.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhqZQ-cKQxrUoAAxGcVvexZuYgSSTBrVjBqc0K3LZSzGRUhaGNXhE4L6FVhMFVvKkPOpvueKsRanzlBYVhyphenhypheni1wDyk_33HCZCMM8ZTulyax3Oo-0BwWTnxw_ru1FSM_6js8-knFp67bhxg/s200/the-wanderer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307347709168660242" /></a><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Hard scifi, disaster<br /><br />Science fiction often has a shorter shelf life than most fiction, which is canonically explained away as us being very bad at predicting the future. After all, regular authors don't have to worry about having the entire basis for your story invalidated (Larry Niven's "The Coldest Place" is set on a tide-locked Mercury that doesn't exist), or having calculations show your inventions are astronomically unstable (Niven's "Ringworld") or having one of your crazy ideas becoming a punchline (Larry Niven's contributions to the Star Wars program). But it isn't these stories that have aged poorly - it's the "vintage sexism" of Star Trek miniskirts, and the racism of some of the Golden Age stories in which white scientists travel to different worlds - and battle the savages. Another perfect example of this is Fred Hoyle's novel <i>The Black Cloud</i>, which is compelling (though poorly written) - but so thoroughly stuck in 1950s gender roles that the primary responsibility of the female astrophysicist is to make tea for the real brains. <br /><br />Books feel dated if they whole-heartedly accept and use the stereotypes of their era; there are lightyears separating 1956's <i>The Stars My Destination</i> and <i>The Black Cloud</i>, and it's because Bester writes real (if large-scale) characters and Hoyle doesn't. <br /><br />I mention all of this, because I'm not entirely certain where on this spectrum Fritz Leiber's <b>The Wanderer</b> fits. On one hand, it has a real hard science fiction premise, capably executed - "What if an earth-sized planet suddenly appeared near the moon's orbit," and treats it squarely and honestly. Like <i>Stand on Zanzibar</i>, <i>The Wanderer</i> uses a broad cast of characters with disconnected stories, but it doesn't work as well here. <i>Zanzibar</i> uses the gimmick to show the breadth of its world, and to illustrate a society the reader doesn't know - but <i>The Wanderer</i> is trying to show how the 1960s United States (for the most part) would cope with a disaster. Unfortunately, most of the cast end up being stereotypes rather than individuals - the useless stoners, the loner in the ocean, the "loose" type, the gold-digger, and so on.<br /><br />In fact, <i>The Wanderer</i> ends up as a fairly interesting portrait of the 1960s in its own right; watching as southerners try to hold to segregation even in the wake of massive devastation was particularly heartbreaking. I only wish that some of the side characters had been granted the same quality of characterization - the central group of UFO nuts (with the exception of the plain-vanilla protagonists) is weird in a very sincere, accurate way. Leiber gets the dynamic of outcast friendships right - mutual tolerance motivated by mutual interests and different talents - and it makes those characters stand out from the crowd. <br /><br />Notes: <br /><ul><br /><li>Apparently, Leiber believes everything in life can be made better by inappropriate sex (inappropriate either in location, sexual orientation, or species). As a hint, <a href = "http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n0/n793.jpg">this was the first cover a google search returned</a>.<br /><li>Great quote: <blockquote><small>They called the little moon-type rocket ships "Baba Yagas" because - Dufresne had first thought of it - they suggested the witch's hut on legs that ... runs about by night on those legs. It was rumored that the Soviet moonmen called their ships "Jeeps."</small></blockquote><br /></ul><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> I think so - this is classic hard sci-fi, and even though it doesn't approach the perfection of <i>Rendezvous with Rama</i>, and hasn't aged as well as some of its contemporaries, it's still a worthy title. <b>B-</b> (for today's readers)The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-81741805012334386832009-02-22T20:20:00.000-08:002009-02-22T22:33:59.465-08:00Stand on Zanzibar (1969)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiePB-i9WgBAz9GN0s38QMdcPggdjXI8IB1a1iSgadd_O9HPl-VX7tLABII6bPhIXryqQSTjKrM4T624D_KpPO0e52caSJ1MZg7q5E_A9uiOQZpnA1-hDzqkAFYBsYDb6z24SH7f0fCTh3X/s1600-h/StandonZanzibar.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 127px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiePB-i9WgBAz9GN0s38QMdcPggdjXI8IB1a1iSgadd_O9HPl-VX7tLABII6bPhIXryqQSTjKrM4T624D_KpPO0e52caSJ1MZg7q5E_A9uiOQZpnA1-hDzqkAFYBsYDb6z24SH7f0fCTh3X/s200/StandonZanzibar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305860054619048530" /></a><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Population explosion / eugenics; experimental<br /><br />Up until now, I've covered mostly recent novels, where for "recent" you should read "after I was born." For the next few articles, I'm going to delve into ancient history (this sentence is designed to make my parents feel old). I'm going to talk a little bit more about how science fiction ages in a later post on Fritz Leiber's "The Wanderer," but let me delay that, because <b>Stand on Zanzibar</b> does not feel like old sci-fi. Part of the reason for this is the storytelling style, which owes a great deal to the idea of a montage, and (apparently) to Marshall McLuhan. I mention this mostly to be able to show this scene from <i>Annie Hall</i>:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OpIYz8tfGjY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OpIYz8tfGjY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><i>Stand on Zanzibar</i> also has, in my estimation, the single best Hugo-winner title. I saw this title ten or fifteen years ago (I think on my parents' bookshelf) and have been planning on reading it ever since. That's how you choose a title. Its only competition would be <i>To Your Scattered Bodies Go</i>,since <i>The Stars My Destination</i> was (horrifyingly) passed up for a Hugo. The relevant section of the book, which I'll quote for flavor, is:<br /><blockquote><small><p>Bennie Noakes sits in front of a set tuned to SCANALYZER orbiting on Triptine and saying over and over, "Christ what an imagination I've got!"</p><p>"And to close on, the Dept of Small Consolations. Some troubledome just figured out that if you allow for every codder and shiggy and appleofmyeye a space on foot by two you could stand us all on the six hundred forty square mile surface of the island of Zanzibar. ToDAY third MAY twenty-TEN come aGAIN!"</p></small></blockquote><br />From that quote, you can see almost everything coming down the pike - a wide array of characters, a society hemmed in by overpopulation, new slang and new culture. Procreation is prohibited for those with imperfect genotypes (hemophilia down to colorblindness); temporary violent insanity is so common it's a part of the language. The central threads of the plot focus on potential disruptions of these two nightmares - the possibility of genetic manipulation to "cure" defective embryos, and the chance of peace, coming out of a destitute but inherently sane and peaceful culture, the imaginary African country of Beninia. <br /><br />Frustratingly, Beninia is yet another example of a well-worn trope - the poor utopia. Somewhat paradoxically, science fiction seems to be just as susceptible to waxing lyrical about the poor but honest types as any Republican pitching "small town values." In fact, just taking a quick gander at the <a href ="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugo_Award_for_Best_Novel">Hugo list</a> I see three or four other books featuring this sort of culture - <i>A Case of Conscience</i>, <i>Hominids</i>, <i>Foundation's Edge</i>, and <i>The Dispossessed</i>. I was also strongly reminded of <i>Cat's Cradle</i>'s San Lorenzo. <br /><br />The best of <i>Stand on Zanzibar</i> is remarkable, and its society is well-captured, even predicting some features of our society (the "new poor," who can afford televisions but not health insurance, for instance). However, especially at the beginning, the collage of characters and narration and television cut-ins end up distracting from the novel, and I feel as if it was unnecessarily over-the-top - perhaps because I, in the real 21st century, don't need to be beaten over the head with media omnipresence. <br /><br />Notes:<br /><ul><br /><li><i>Zanzibar</i> actually invented <i>Rock Band</i>: "...my old hobby of vicarious music... I don't have the talent to go through a Cage score on my own jets, and I do love the feeling of actually creating the sounds with my fingers."<br /><li>Some of the Chad C. Mulligan "hipcrime" epigrams are priceless: "POPULATION EXPLOSION: Unique in human experience, an event which happened yesterday but which everyone swears won't happen until tomorrow."<br /></ul><br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> I think so - though this form of experimental storytelling seems to have dropped out of science fiction (possibly for good reason), <i>Stand on Zanzibar</i> is an apt and influential dystopic vision, and once the plot kicks in, it's quite a good read on top of that. <b>B+</b>.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-35792370469390464422009-02-18T00:14:00.000-08:002009-02-18T01:28:33.976-08:00The Yiddish Policemen's Union (2008)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoY307zWoIZunwfpXtLRBieKQ0JYIsL2Mxpflhjr5Zv7WlwULLZdnCCcO8PfEoq1iW0RkV3Q925-6ZDyEV9GxnVoI9Pu6gMC6i-Vcu5VbQu_YhihvwHiK0xpD0AjIj6HtwO7Jg9guKgsm/s1600-h/yiddish.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoY307zWoIZunwfpXtLRBieKQ0JYIsL2Mxpflhjr5Zv7WlwULLZdnCCcO8PfEoq1iW0RkV3Q925-6ZDyEV9GxnVoI9Pu6gMC6i-Vcu5VbQu_YhihvwHiK0xpD0AjIj6HtwO7Jg9guKgsm/s200/yiddish.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303307346142760242" /></a><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Alternate history<br /><br />From <i>Hyperion,</i> a novel that is more fantasy than science fiction, I come to a novel that isn't really fantasy or science fiction at all, but belongs to the broader category of "Speculative fiction." That isn't a complaint - this book is well in the science fiction tradition of asking "What if..." - but it's hard to look at this, possibly the most grounded Hugo-winner, in the context of novels like <i>The Moon is a Harsh Mistress</i> or <i>A Deepness in the Sky</i>. <b>The Yiddish Policemen's Union</b> supposes that, instead of being excluded from the United States, Jews escaping from the Holocaust were permitted to settle Alaska - a proposal actually advanced by a member of FDR's cabinet, but never implemented.<br /><br />In the 2007 of Chabon's fantasy world, Jews live a threatened existence, their quasi-state about to be dissolved. Meyer Landsman, drunk and living in a cheap-ass junkie's motel, as befits a detective, has a few murders left to investigate, and a touch of corruption to fight. It's your basic Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett, except that everyone's Jewish and very, very cold. Due diligence: I think I'd love any book that had that description. I mean, one of my favorite novels has "hard-boiled" right in the title, and Michael Chabon wrote another - <i>Wonder Boys</i> is probably the best story about a sketchy professor I've ever heard, including all the true ones. <br /><br />So how does it work? Chabon uses the archetypes from detective fiction as a base, freeing him to do characterization based on personal relationships. He doesn't need to describe a world-weary detective: we all know Sam Spade already. Instead, we see Landsman's relationship with his father, his ex-wife, his gigantic Tlingit Jew of a partner. The alternate history aspect exploits our knowledge as well, the real-world history used as the backdrop for the novel, subtly informing our understanding of the Alaskan Jewish state and their relationship to the native Tlingit. The world is always characterized in casual opposition to ours - a quick reference to President Kennedy's second wife, Marilyn Monroe, or a Manchurian space program. This distorted mirror of our times plays a strong role in the climax of the novel, and I wonder if it will carry the same impact twenty years from now. <br /><br />Notes:<ul><br /><li> Glad to see Landsman's another Jew who can't stand blintzes.</li><br /><li> Characterization in a line: "Bina accepts a compliment as if it's a can of soda that she suspects him of having shaken."</li><br /></ul><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b> I'm a little surprised at the selection, honestly, because it falls so solidly in mainstream fiction. Hugo voters did pick a Harry Potter book at one point, though, so this isn't the strangest pick yet, and it's certainly a deserving novel. <b>A</b>The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-35823206265196073822009-02-15T22:49:00.000-08:002009-02-27T01:22:46.916-08:00Hyperion (1990)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvw_LFCZUHfO1NZVy13VJ2xe_kaG0rhIx8i3XWNtjiXLv8g-Hy6ogxwMPcF5X7U3Z82abQnn0X4z8FRs0P-ShKaHgGUxcPrBy6HBXFGo1-zt-7AaK4jDFBnrHhUeGnP-LjxDLqdstHgB8/s1600-h/344px-Hyperion_cover.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 115px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvw_LFCZUHfO1NZVy13VJ2xe_kaG0rhIx8i3XWNtjiXLv8g-Hy6ogxwMPcF5X7U3Z82abQnn0X4z8FRs0P-ShKaHgGUxcPrBy6HBXFGo1-zt-7AaK4jDFBnrHhUeGnP-LjxDLqdstHgB8/s200/344px-Hyperion_cover.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303284007721670866" /></a><br /><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> Science fantasy, all sorts of random ideas<br /><br />I nearly stopped reading <b>Hyperion</b> after the first sentence:<blockquote><small>The Hegemony Consul sat on the balcony of his ebony spaceship and played Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C-sharp Minor on an ancient but well-maintained Steinway while great, green, saurian things surged and bellowed in the swamps below.</small></blockquote> I read that sentence, I took a look at the cover with its shiny spined badass and ship sailing over a sea of grass, and I thought - My God! I've wandered into a horrible fantasy novel!<br /><br />I'm still not sure that my first blink-of-the-eye judgment was wrong - though <i>Hyperion</i> uses the language of science fiction, filled with spaceships, time travel and artificial intelligence, it has its giant spacefaring treeships, mystical omens, and monsters roused by poetry. What makes <i>Hyperion</i> work is not the analytic or speculative character of science fiction, but the sheer wonder - almost every other page, there's something new and weird. <br /><br /><i>Hyperion</i> has the liberty to swing wildly in different directions because of its structure. The basic plot is only a frame story - seven pilgrims are on their way to Hyperion to meet with the destructive Shrike, and each tells the story that brought him or here there. Naturally, the stories end up interleaving and each one further develops the mysteries of the planet Hyperion. About 90% of the book is narrated by the seven pilgrims, each with his or her own voice and biases, and it is this voice that reinforces our understanding of the main characters, even though we rarely see them interact with each other. The unifying presence of the Shrike in all the stories, and the little allusions to Keats throughout the novel also help to orient the story and keep the characters connected. <br /><br />I have two main complaints with this novel, and they're both about a surfeit of ambition. <i>Hyperion</i> often seems over-written, as you might guess from the Bulwer-Lytton-contending first sentence. This isn't a huge problem, but epic language is almost unnecessary, because the scope of <i>Hyperion</i> is truly large and the subjects honestly variegated. The second problem is that once the stories are told, there isn't much of room for anything else in the novel, letting it end somewhat abruptly. It reminds me a little of <i>Speaker for the Dead</i> in that, though the conclusion is satisfying on a character level, it sets up a much larger drama. I only hope that <i>The Fall of Hyperion</i> is a better successor than <i>Xenocide</i>.<br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy:</b> Sure - Hugo is for fantasy, too, and since <i>Hyperion</i> went from "Screw this" to "Well, gotta go buy the sequel now" in a pretty short period of time, I'll cut it some slack - B+.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-20584084534284217232009-02-15T21:31:00.000-08:002009-02-15T22:51:28.289-08:00Cyteen (1989) and Regenesis<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_KMgA6CVWQSbfDOEx3NqsaTj-7tHzcR72QpNp7XBl2vIptL9HQBpr0Bul_h83ejMZm1wPvyhGUlTA17VZI8LSZqtgCOpLNYBdQDbEsJvXZ0JyfBXkPmZBJk4lDUO9pY071vXTEK1A6fH/s1600-h/cyteen.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 129px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_KMgA6CVWQSbfDOEx3NqsaTj-7tHzcR72QpNp7XBl2vIptL9HQBpr0Bul_h83ejMZm1wPvyhGUlTA17VZI8LSZqtgCOpLNYBdQDbEsJvXZ0JyfBXkPmZBJk4lDUO9pY071vXTEK1A6fH/s200/cyteen.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303264182466536514" /></a><br /><br /><b>Subgenre:</b> modified humans<br /><br />Not to be crude, but take a look at that - that is one honkin' huge book. On top of another pretty big book. And until I got to about the point where that bookmark is (around two hundred pages in), I didn't like <b>Cyteen</b> very much. Why? It took less than five minutes for Cyteen to trip a few of my "bad scifi" warnings - the elaborate descriptions of local flora and fauna, the pages of introductory text that read like a history text - all stereotypical of a very frustrating type of science fiction where the author holds their imaginary world more dear than the novel itself. This was compounded by the confusion of the initial plotline, which focuses on two teenagers trying to deal with complexities of politics that they - and the reader - don't understand.<br /><br />Patience is rewarded, though, as we come to understand that Cyteen Station is separated into two classes of humans - the normal citizens and the azi. While both might be genetically manipulated, the azi are designed and sold by the corporation Reseune; they are trained from birth, imprinted with patterns that provide intelligence, conscience, and obedience. In a sense, they are slaves, bought and sold - but the situation is not so simple, as the nature of an azi is to depend on his or her citizen supervisor - they genetically have no will to be free. <i>Cyteen</i> spends a lot of time tracing the differences in psychology between these two breeds of human, and the effects engendered in a society dependent on azi servants. <br /><br />This is not to say that <i>Cyteen</i> is a long, badly-disguised screed against slavery and genetic manipulation. If anything, it takes the opposite stance. Azi and citizens are, in the best cases, symbiotic, and the primary qualms of the characters involved are not whether azi should exist, but how to treat them responsibly and fairly. However, because my immediate reaction to understanding what it was to be azi was disgust, the rest of the novel almost felt like a case of Stockholm Syndrome, as the reader gets more and more involved with the leadership of Reseune, I kept thinking back - "Wait, aren't these the bad guys?" In fact, especially after we learn that [spoiler] <font color = "white">Reseune has specifically modified azi brains to be more supportive of Reseune policy, thereby ensuring their political power is maintained</font>[/spoiler], I found it difficult to cheer for Reseune's success. This contrast between sympathetic characters and occasionally horrifying actions gives a real charge to the novel.<br /><br />Now, why is Regenesis in this post, before the Hugo nominations for 2009 are even announced? Well, a lot of <i>Cyteen</i>'s plot is driven by a murder mystery - one that isn't ever resolved in Cyteen itself. Fans had to wait 21 years for the sequel - unless, of course you were me, and the sequel was published within a month of your first reading Cyteen. Naturally, I couldn't pass it up. <i>Regenesis</i> is a solid continuation of the series, but it still doesn't manage a really satisfying conclusion - Cherryh's world is just far too big to contain in a pair of giant doorstops, apparently. If you wanted a few more hundred pages of scheming, intrigue, and Ariane Emory, read it, but I don't think the novel's release counts as an earthshaking event.<br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b><br />I think so - Cyteen has a remarkable depth, and I loved Cherryh's "human - but a different kind of human" interpretation of the genetically-manipulated azi. Cyteen rates a B+, and Regenesis a B- (docked for mostly being more of the same).The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-47671397355979848182009-02-05T01:18:00.001-08:002009-02-15T22:47:37.503-08:00Robert J. Sawyer: Hominids (2003)<b>Subgenre</b>: parallel universes<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyoxuidFiqNyWk77FtjFxApcKGMWl186t5j_ohnJY7AX1f6t88mGrV-YD7dqFp1LNutW6U49CnSiXWrsUrou3Gdr9rZqcW1IJnjVusCEesb6_bK2SJ85Hv_usPUGWuNNeS_KM_iuhCXyB/s1600-h/neanderthal_skull.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyoxuidFiqNyWk77FtjFxApcKGMWl186t5j_ohnJY7AX1f6t88mGrV-YD7dqFp1LNutW6U49CnSiXWrsUrou3Gdr9rZqcW1IJnjVusCEesb6_bK2SJ85Hv_usPUGWuNNeS_KM_iuhCXyB/s200/neanderthal_skull.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299240542549552514" /></a><br />I started this 2003 Hugo winner with a great deal of anticipation, probably for all the wrong reasons. After having immediately judged the book by its cover, I was excited - we get Neanderthals and neutrino physics, two subjects that I find (possibly inappropriately) badass. And initially, I was rewarded as the novel started out with a nice locked-room type mystery, introducing both the human and Neanderthal worlds cleanly and engendering the sense of wonder that is the hallmark of good science fiction. Then, in Chapter Six, a new female character is introduced and raped in about five pages. This, as you might imagine, sets off all sorts of alarm bells ringing for anyone who's studied portrayals of rape, or even <a href = "http://www.homeonthestrange.com/view.php?ID=4">this webcomic</a>. Look, I'm not an expert on this by any means, and Sawyer clearly put research in before making an attempt to write a woman coping with a difficult situation, trying to develop Mary's character, but it still comes off as shallow - the character becomes defined by her victim status. This draws attention to one of the book's clear flaws - the characterization (at least of the humans) is weak and somewhat cliched - I don't remember the character's names as much as I do "hot female physicist," "victim," "doctor," and so on. Where this would be a forgivable (and, to be honest, common in some science fiction) flaw in another work, it has a whiff of <a href = "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RapeIsTheNewDeadParents">Rape is the New Dead Parents</a> here. This isn't helped by being reminded every ten pages or so how attractive the other female character is, a little tic that set my teeth on edge after the third or fourth time.<br /><br />And that's a shame, because the Neanderthal world that mixes utopia and dystopia is compelling, while the humans are dull. Becoming immersed in this world is the best part of the novel, and even the apparent fact that a species without lawyers can still do a pretty good Matlock impression can't dull that. Unfortunately, on the whole, much of this book has been done better before - Daniel Quinn's <i>Ishmael</i> kept coming to mind re: the noble savage idea, and <i>Stranger in a Strange Land</i> as well. I'm not going to bash <b>Hominids</b> for not being <i>Stranger</i>, but I can't help but want more - more consequences, more characterization, more depth. I realize <i>Hominids</i> is the first of a series, but this didn't really leave me enthused for the next one.<br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b><br />I'd say No on general principle. I haven't read any of the other nominees for 2003, but I can't imagine picking this over a Kim Stanley Robinson novel. I'll give <i>Hominids</i> a C-.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-527297744688925762.post-5901561309228593842009-02-04T23:40:00.000-08:002009-02-15T22:47:30.957-08:00The Connie Willis Hugos: "Doomsday Book" (1993) and "To Say Nothing of the Dog" (1999)<b>Subgenre:</b>Time Travel<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu85ZJQY4Xlem5qEdQiPX__wURZosBjmHWI2fR1jVh39hSYgmTRMqdJULgtTXwnYCiJHOPc-PuZcTWiCYXcu-Ope9yoQ5n-CowgG5cuRQVdklaJUuW97zN7X9yrkPQZm8RS5zXnZe_P464/s1600-h/doomsday.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu85ZJQY4Xlem5qEdQiPX__wURZosBjmHWI2fR1jVh39hSYgmTRMqdJULgtTXwnYCiJHOPc-PuZcTWiCYXcu-Ope9yoQ5n-CowgG5cuRQVdklaJUuW97zN7X9yrkPQZm8RS5zXnZe_P464/s200/doomsday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299236154576468194" /></a><br />Connie Willis, Greeley resident and obvious Anglophile, is in the select category of two-time Best Novel Hugo-winners, which puts her in the company of Isaac Asimov and Orson Scott Card. Now, I'm not planning to cover all of an author's Hugo winners at once, but it was the stark contrast between these two novels that motivated me to write about my Hugo Project in the first place. <br /><br />Both <i>Doomsday Book</i> and <i>To Say Nothing of the Dog</i> are novels about time-travel to England, but though the books are set in the same universe, and written only six years apart, they are vastly separated in tone, content, and execution. <i>Dog</i> is part <a href = "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Men_in_a_Boat">Jerome K. Jerome</a> pastiche, part intricate puzzle, whereas <i>Doomsday</i> is a classic thriller. The former sparkles with Victorian academic absurdity, and the latter is haunted by the specter of disease. <i>Dog</i> quickly became a personal favorite of mine, but <i>Doomsday</i> impressed me more as a very depressing rough draft. After consideration, both are excellent novels, but reading <i>Dog</i> first colored my appreciation of <i>Doomsday,</i> and I found myself repeatedly frustrated with small plotting and tone inanities that had been gracefully avoided in the second novel.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjioV3l-ifuoQFry8c0AgQtY7vduAev4RuBgNteuE7DcwQvxfrnDrf6emZL7Sr57tp0OieuQ0D7AH6Vg-kupE_Q3vUibwofoKxSpyvE3VhmumQg74dR89rMyk_a3Vsq2-tTof5fiBF1aM3V/s1600-h/to_say_nothing_of_the_dog.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjioV3l-ifuoQFry8c0AgQtY7vduAev4RuBgNteuE7DcwQvxfrnDrf6emZL7Sr57tp0OieuQ0D7AH6Vg-kupE_Q3vUibwofoKxSpyvE3VhmumQg74dR89rMyk_a3Vsq2-tTof5fiBF1aM3V/s200/to_say_nothing_of_the_dog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299236301203667186" /></a><br /><b>To Say Nothing of the Dog</b> conjures a world in which time travel has become common to the point that budding history students are shuffled into the past to search out vintage Victorian vases for the amusement of the rich. Now, any time travel story has to define its own little rules, usually spinning between the butterfly effect of Ray Bradbury's "A Sound of Thunder" to the cheerfully demented fatalism of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." The basic principle here is a mix of the two ideas - a sort of studied irrelevance, where reality only permits time travel when it doesn't change the grand course of history. Of course, as always, rules are most interesting when broken, and <i>Dog</i> pours a heavy dose of comedic chaos, with its protagonist caught between the inflexible harridan, the Lady Schrapnell, and the destruction of the universe. There's a lot of foolishness, British bullheadedness, tribulations of absent-minded Oxford dons, and some very clever time-travel looping, some of which I guessed, and some which gelled in the last few pages in classic mystery novel tradition. Also, it's frankly hilarious, even though I haven't read "Three Men in a Boat," which gets a special cameo appearance. <br /><br />Now, take everything that worked well in <i>Dog,</i> played for laughs, insert it in a dramatic novel, and you have <b>Doomsday Book</b>. It was disconcerting to see the broad comedic stereotypes actually driving the action, and I soon realized that the book was in the grasp of an <a href = "http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/IdiotPlot">Idiot Plot</a>, in which the first time travel attempt to a new time period is undertaken with fewer precautions than a typical family vacation. Of course, I noticed this mostly because every single danger that Kivrin faces in <i>Doomsday</i> was dismissed by a few common-sense measures taken for granted in <i>Dog</i>. In a way, this could be a triumphant literary version of how real ingenuity seems obvious in retrospect - but I found that interpretation hard to swallow, because the characters making decisions are portrayed as genuinely, jaw-droppingly naive in <i>Doomsday.</i> The novel also suffers a little from a common malady; written in 1993 but set in the future, it features challenges for the characters that could be solved simply if anyone involved had a cell phone. <i>Dog,</i> written in 1999, has that problem fixed. <br /><br />Despite my laundry list of frustrations, I enjoyed <i>Doomsday Book</i> - its power rests in the characterization of Kivrin, the young historian in medieval England, and her advisor, Dunworthy, each desperately trying to cope with disaster after disaster on each end. I just wonder what it would be like with a better setup plot.<br /><br /><b>Hugo-worthy?</b><br /><i>To Say Nothing of the Dog</i>: Absolutely. I give it an A<br /><i>Doomsday Book</i>: Well, it tied with A Fire Upon the Deep, which I feel holds up much better. I'd probably give the Hugo to Vinge solo, and give Doomsday a pretty solid B.The Hugo Completisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11974137107981124839noreply@blogger.com0