This is the best Miles story to date (going by internal chronology). The main reasons for thaStoryline: 3/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 4/5
This is the best Miles story to date (going by internal chronology). The main reasons for that are Bujold’s success in turning the protagonist’s challenges into genuine puzzles with capable allies and worthy adversaries. Prior to this, our protagonist has largely succeeded through his madcap adventures through luck and pluck. This volume is a considerably less silly and more believable, much more enjoyable as a result.
This is also some of the best worldbuilding Bujold has presented through the series, surpassing even that in Barrayar. I think I am beginning to see the merits of Bujold’s Vorkosigan series, even though I still have some fairly strong reservations. She uses Cetaganda in this novel as a way to incorporate real-life political, cultural, and social themes, but less as social commentary than as fantastical exploration. It is less of a message book, then, than a speculative fiction. She picks interesting cross-sections of society to include in her fantasy world, combining them in intriguing combinations. As a fantasy worldbuilder, she gives fans a lot to experience and ponder. This volume is certainly science fiction, but it uses the science fiction to describe a fantastical world rather than using the science as a way to explore possibilities and decisions.
One of Bujold’s most serious weaknesses, I’ve decided after this sixth (following internal chronology) book in the series, is that her writing skills are not as strong as her insights. She has an intuitive feel for the right needs of the book: anguishing decisions, moments of glory, cultural observations, etc., but Bujold does not build these up or deliver them in such a way to satisfy or delight. The elements are there, but I regularly recognize them for what they are after the fact—I understand intellectually that I was supposed to be wowed or troubled rather than feeling it emotionally. In that way, the reader has to come out of the story and bring back something with them because Bujold does not supply all that is necessary for the impact for which she aims.
I am going to read on in the series, in part out of duty, and in part, out of hope. Some of the later books in this series made it onto my reading list, so I am determined to get to them. This book was also enough of an improvement to give me hope that the rest of the series will live up to its reputation....more
I was pleased with the way in which this began. Bujold made a good decision to jump forward iStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 2/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 1/5
I was pleased with the way in which this began. Bujold made a good decision to jump forward in time. The series could easily have gotten bogged down in medieval conflict for the throne minutiae, with us painstakingly watch Miles grow up year by year. I was delighted to have skipped those intervening years and to meet up again with Miles as he is approaching adulthood. It was a great place to begin learning who he was going to be. Unfortunately, I did not much like the Miles that Bujold presented. The reasons we had for cheering for him—namely the fact that he was the protagonist and that he faced undue hardships—were insufficient to make up for what seemed to me to be debilitating character flaws. Miles, simply, was not someone who deserved to succeed or someone for whom I wanted to cheer. Worse yet, Bujold undermines the worldbuilding associated with the Vorkosigan family and the planet Barrayar, having not only Miles but also Bothari make decisions that are inconsistent with the cultural values and character attributes that are supposed to ground them.
Most of the plot, actually, read like a satire, or at least a comedy. I might have been able to laugh at it if I felt that that was Bujold’s purpose. By all appearances, however, this was supposed to be serious, and the events of Miles’s adventure are supposed to be variously dramatic, surprising, and enamoring. I found them, instead to be predictable, repetitive, and irritating. Bujold’s main problem was in establishing Miles as an intellect of his father’s abilities. I had previously been impressed with the tactics and strategy in the books with Lord Aral Vorkosigan. I was looking forward to seeing those qualities interjected into a young, developing character. Bujold did not manage it, unfortunately, and to compensate made all the characters around Miles simpleminded. Through the contrast Miles could appear a genius. The book carries these flaws forward with momentum, the upside being that one gets through all that is bad rather quickly. When one finally comes to the end, they cannot look back on much having been developed, just a lot having happened. The failure to do more than sketch aboard-ship life or the worlds Miles and company interact with was the final evidence that this one had been written in a hurry and as a sidepiece to other interests Bujold had at the time.
The book did end on a redeeming note, one that I could focus on and which allows the reader to think on The Warrior’s Apprentice more favorably. (view spoiler)[The epilogue featured Miles as I wanted to see him, and it is possible to think of the preceding 21 chapters as Miles’s period of maturation. In this reading, Miles is genuinely not to be esteemed and progresses not through merit but through undeserved luck. Surviving that experience prompts him to be a man more like and worthy of his father. The Miles we see at the end is a Miles transformed. (hide spoiler)] Now, I don’t actually think Bujold wrote it that way, but it makes it easier to look forward to the rest of the series pretending that she did. ...more
I was not sure that I was going to like Barrayar, early on it appearing to be a world-buildinStoryline: 4/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 4/5
I was not sure that I was going to like Barrayar, early on it appearing to be a world-building, filler kind of story rather than one progressing the overarching plot. Somewhere around the half-way point, I had changed my mind and knew I was going to count myself as a fan. This follows immediately after Shards of Honor and in some printings is bound together with it. Having read three Vorkosigan books now, I am impressed by the versatility of the author. Though this one was much more like Shards of Honor than Falling Free, following the same primary characters and following close in chronology, Bujold does very different things with those characters and in this time. It is indeed a worldbuilding book, and readers get to share with the main character the experience of learning its odd customs, culture, politics, and personages. Bujold accentuates this by having the main character come from a scientifically and culturally progressive society with which she contrasts the scientifically limited and culturally medieval society. Bujold is hardly the first to do this, but it is a solid trope with which to build. Though the story does not offer any great insights or contrasts, it provides both humorous and thoughtful confrontations from which the reader is supposed to extrapolate to the real world. Bujold’s take on social and cultural issues of our (then, 1986) world were intriguing, clearly she was pushing boundaries and hinting at real world concerns. She upsets the expected at times, often laying criticism on and flaws in the progressive side, having the character and the narration see the upside to or real worth in conservative viewpoints or practices. The “progressive” character was at times hedonistically liberal in her social mores but at other times was a grounded conservative on popular social issues. The mix made for a complex character, one whose effect is to remind readers that the bundle of issues normally associated with progressivism and conservatism do not necessarily logically belong together or follow from one another. The worldbuilding and the culture building were fantastical and thoughtful in this way, great speculative fiction.
The attribute that stuck out above all others, however, was that this was written from a feminine viewpoint. I am way too late to comment on current gender trends of the 1980s, but one of the promises of feminism and one of the reasons for supporting female authors was that they would show us something different than male authors, from even those men writing on the same topics or the same genre. Too often I have been sorely disappointed with science fiction’s female authors (or is it with feminism?) for failing to provide that. Too often the works of 20th century science fiction works written by women seemed to offer the same product that men were offering. I had come to want and expect something better. Women’s increasing presence in science fiction was undoubtedly rewarding merit, it was giving readers more to read, and it was even contributing to an increasing equality between the sexes. It was not, however, producing enough that was superior to that which came before. Tastes and the genre undoubtedly had been formed by the men of the past, and I found too few women science fiction authors breaking free of that and giving us something really different. Bujold’s character is not simply a woman. Men can write women. Many women have written women characters that were largely indistinguishable from the ones men had written. Bujold’s Cordelia, however, is feminine in how she thinks, the way she perceives, and what she wants. Bujold is careful not to let her become a one-dimensional, however, giving her opportunities to defy stereotypes of both the created world and the readers’ world. This colored the story with an appealing hue and accentuated the other good things Bujold was doing in the book.
There were some weaknesses to the book, some already hinted at. This was not the most original tale, and though Bujold did well with what she took on, its worth is somewhat diminished for those having read many of the other similarly-themed military science fiction works. Also, the main character has that unfortunate jill-of-all trades superhero quality where she seems to have every ability that the situation demands. Some of these abilities and qualities seem to contradict her portrayal in Shards of Honor. Also, I regularly found the different “Vor” characters difficult to distinguish, in part due to the similarity of their names but also due to their sporadic appearance and similar characterization. The principle cast of characters, however, took on so many roles and featured in so many scenes, that I began to tire of many of them. The roles and situations they were thrust in started to seriously strain credulity. Overall, it was a very good complement to Shards of Honor; these two would be much more seriously regarded had they originally been one story....more
I come to Shards of Honor as my second Vorkosigan book, immediately following Falling FreeStoryline: 4/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 3/5
I come to Shards of Honor as my second Vorkosigan book, immediately following Falling Free. It is a very different work, much more of a space opera, intent on navigating the reader through the nature and participants in a military conflict. It was character-centric, like Falling Free, the main character’s identity not as smoothly complementing the narration, however. Bujold’s prose here is minimally embellished, giving the telling an understated but perceptible flavor. Bujold was most effective with her dialogue, with the internal monologue and omniscient descriptions the weaker side of the telling. It was the plotting and changes that I most enjoyed. The initial site of the story and the complexities there were interesting and well-developed. As the story grew to include more participants and bigger concerns, Bujold slipped new information in not as major revelations but as escalations in our heroine’s journey. The distance from where it began to where it ends is vast, and the author makes the trip through it illuminating and enjoyable. One of the main strengths to the volume was the lack of weaknesses: Bujold does not do much wrong. All of the fundamentals were adequately handled and that plotting added just enough to it to make it an above-average military science fiction story. I enjoyed it much more than I did Falling Free, which was the first of the series to enjoy critical acclaim. I also thought the title was great, and the theme which it indicates a thoughtful point which one could seriously contemplate....more
Bujold started this expansive series in 1986, and I’m reading my first Vorkosigan (and BujoldStoryline: 3/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 3/5
Bujold started this expansive series in 1986, and I’m reading my first Vorkosigan (and Bujold) novel in 2021. I’m also starting them (approximately) following internal chronology rather than publication order. My experience reading them today and in this way is just not going to match what it was like in 1986 with Shards of Honour.
It was this book, Falling Free that first turned the series to critical acclaim. That the series has gone on to be one of the more famous ones in science fiction, created a lot of expectation. While Falling Free had merits, it is hard to understand how it made it on the list of Hugo finalists and to the status of a Nebula winner. In its favor, it had a main character whose identity and view of the world was convincingly and interestingly tied to his profession. The world seemed expansive, even though we readers were experiencing but a very small part of it. The crisis and villain were dramatic enough to entertain. Bujold even put some real thought into the smaller details of the science fiction environment, making it more believable and enjoyable.
Everything was done just well enough, however, to make it slightly better than a generic science fiction paperback from the 1980s. The main character was developed just enough to make the reader realize that Bujold had considered that aspect of the story. Similarly, we get just enough of the world to let us know that she has not overlooked the appeal of depth, even it was illusory. The drama and villain were affecting without really giving the reader anything new to contemplate. Those science fiction details would disappear for long sections at a time, only to resurface as a reminder that the author was dutifully checking off that box. These many embellishments were a positive addition to the story, but their varied, sporadic, and perfunctory appearance became the main identity to the story. There was no single element, then, that stood out as great or overwhelmed me with its execution.
Falling Free was an easy, fast, enjoyable read. I am somewhat encouraged by the fact that this was an earlier novel in the series; thus, there is reason to hope that the later volumes might develop these many tendencies and commit to an identity. If this is the best the series has to offer, however, I will be greatly disappointed. ...more
I like that the Hugo Awards offers variety in their selections. This was neither mainstream sStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 2/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 1/5
I like that the Hugo Awards offers variety in their selections. This was neither mainstream science fiction nor epic fantasy but a nostalgic historical fiction set in a largely realistic WWII America with just the smallest bit of flair. Guessing what that flair was going to be and how it was going to fit with the rest of the story was a nice source of anticipation. I also found myself enjoying the sports-based theme and was convinced (until some internet searching afterwards) that Bishop himself must have played in the CVL, traveled to those away games, and boarded with those roommates. I enjoyed the budding camaraderie early in the story and the evident love of a sport. I was less enamored with the fantasy revelation and development. I thought the historical fiction and the fantasy intersected in just about the most tepid way possible. In fact, aside from love of the game, I found most everything to lack emphasis and connection. There are a lot of themes in the story, but they’re not there for development or social criticism but as backdrops for the tale. I could see the will put into closing the book out with significance and force, but nothing had been sufficiently built up for us to be shocked, satisfied, or wowed with. I am surprised to find (again, with some quick internet searching) that Michael Bishop is a well-known, regarded, and awarded author. Neither the ideas nor the execution sets this above the many generic and most-forgotten books that sit on used bookstore shelves. I am not inspired to read from the author again. ...more
This is the most original book of the Alliance-Union universe (since it began with The Faded Storyline: 2/5 Characters: 4/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 4/5
This is the most original book of the Alliance-Union universe (since it began with The Faded Sun: Kesrith in 1978). It is also very good science fiction. What Cherryh has done here is worthy of being compared to what Asimov did for robots; she simply does it for clones. Finally, it is also much better than average Cherryh. Each of those explained in more detail below.
Cherry is one of the most nominated science fiction writers of her era (and it was a long era). A lot of her work was not particularly original, however. The Mri Wars (or Faded Sun Trilogy) was really a (view spoiler)[ link: Dune (hide spoiler)] knockoff. While it had its own benefits and angles, it was derivative. The seven part Company Wars and the five part Chanur series was classic space opera with some small Cherryh twists (I admit to not having read the last written Chanur volume). Really, though, the personal touches on the subgenre were somewhat unfortunate in the former and of limited worth in the latter. The Union-themed 40,000 in Gehenna was an especially thoughtful take on a yet different subgenre(view spoiler)[: first contact (hide spoiler)], and one of the best books I have read of the Alliance-Union universe. In Cyteen, however, she puts cloning to the forefront of the story in a way that I have not seen anyone else do. Cheers to Cherryh for doing something out of the mainstream and doing it with care.
If I were to make a shortlist of science fiction novels I wanted the non-science fiction reader to try, I would consider putting Cyteen on it. It is an excellent book showcasing both the strengths and weaknesses of the genre. It is stamped through with speculative science. There’s a great nature versus nurture debate in here that does not involve infodumps or pedantry. Defining humanity and confronting whether being human makes us superior is another strong thread. These were approached in a fresh manner and with different problems and nuances, making it a provocative read for the veteran science fiction reader while keeping it approachable for the newly introduced. There are also a lot of socio-political possibilities that Cherryh introduces. What Cherryh lacks in detail and explanation she makes up for by keeping the story from being didactic. If introducing science fiction to a non-science fiction reader, I would want to go ahead and show them some of my favorite genre’s failings as well. Cherryh and Cyteen are useful for that. Cherryh is unpleasant to read. Cherryh does not write well. Cherryh throws a lot of neologisms out there. Cherryh does very little with fanfare, spectacle, or grandiosity. What Cherryh does it to wear the reader down into accepting that a mostly boring, psychologically-damaged, and aimless character is worth reading about. She insists on our visualizing and coming to accept as home the small, enclosed, and artificial environments which our characters inhabit. Cherryh demands that we come to dread or anticipate disagreements in meetings, professional rivalries, and strongly worded personal correspondence, for these are going to be our main source of drama. There is real value in Cyteen despite all these demerits.
For Cherryh’s Alliance-Universe readers: there are three books (among those I’ve read) that stand out for attention. Downbelow Station is understandably her most famous book. It is the most accessible of the early Alliance-Union books and is a fine space opera entry. I think there is much better space opera out there, however, so I would not select it as a favorite of mine or something I am eager to showcase to others. So much of the rest of the Company Wars, Mri Wars, and Chanur series are simply painful to read. Cherryh favored an experimental form similar to the cryptic slang and grammar of cyberpunk. The writing was often both confusing and repetitive. Both 40,000 in Gehenna and Cyteen are much easier to read, much more like Downbelow Station. Cyteen is a much better-than-average Cherryh book because it does not include so many of Cherryh’s worst features. It is so much easier to follow. The lingo is more limited and better explained. It is a much more clear text. There’s also a variety of forms and characters that break up the monotony of the story. Admittedly, Cherryh might have been successful here because she has set the bar so low with so many of her other works. Someone going directly from Downbelow Station to Cyteen (which I think one could do), might not be as forgiving.
As much as I liked this, there were (beyond the aforementioned) serious problems with it. Most important among them was the lack of a good plot arc. That lack was glaring throughout, but I found the characters, the science, and the society engaging enough to carry me forward. I think that what is good in here is really, really good. And it had to be to make up for the problems. Unfortunately, Cherryh never sets a goal for the story—nothing the reader can follow and assess progress by. I had no idea how the book would end or what the plot climax would even be about. That was probably good since there really was not much of a climax. The ending was particularly bad because the story kind of fizzled out without making a point or bringing resolution to the many possible subplots introduced. Still, the feeling upon finishing is that I’ve thought about and considered new science fiction possibilities in a way that kept me intrigued....more
My reading quest in science fiction has as its goal finding the best. A Deepness in the Sky iStoryline: 4/5 Characters: 5/5 Writing Style: 4/5 World: 5/5
My reading quest in science fiction has as its goal finding the best. A Deepness in the Sky is worthy of consideration for ranking as one of the ten best books science fiction has to offer.
Vinge is admittedly not pursuing the deepest of questions, he is not showcasing the most inventive technologies, the writing does not stand out for beauty or for wit, nor is there a reflective lens showing the reader their innermost self. What the novel lacks in depth, however, it achieves in breadth; because there are interesting questions, provocative technologies, embellishing narrative techniques, and a long stare into human foibles.
What A Deepness in the Sky does the best with, however, is simply not messing up. Seven hundred and seventy four pages is a lot of space in which to make mistakes; it gives ample opportunities to lose the thread or allow misgivings to build. Vinge uses those pages effectively, though, and is steadfast in building up our trust in him. He planned out twists and turns, conflicts, and reprieves to entertain the reader. The author uses foreshadowing and flashbacks, multiple perspectives and points of view to add new angles for understanding and awareness. A Deepness in the Sky is a novel that builds. The questions and the implications grow. The participants and the potential for conflict expand. The story wraps around and through very human characters and their lives, fantastical civilizations and professions, grand goals and intense conflicts. It knits them together and pushes the reader into a world and a circumstance that is arresting. The biggest prize for the reader is not having to prematurely leave Vinge’s universe. You get every reason to stay and none of the excuses to leave. There are a scant few science fiction works that take on as much as Vinge does in this story and fewer still that so fully enable the reader to get lost in the world and retain their suspension of disbelief. A Deepness in the Sky offers a wonderful reading experience which receives my enthusiastic endorsement.
P.S. A word of advice for enjoying this fully: allow Vinge to go where he wants with the story. There were a couple of times that I got frustrated in the telling, when I thought I knew where things were going or where I wanted them to go and Vinge turned elsewhere. Once I let go of trying to evaluate the story on my standards and simply let Vinge set, reveal, or change them as he saw fit, it was very satisfying.
P.P.S. It is not necessary to have read the first in the series. This is a prequel, and readers having started with the first can anticipate some revelations that characters in this book are ignorant of, but no knowledge of characters, events, or technologies from A Fire Upon the Deep is necessary for appreciating this book....more
The first page of Holy Fire introduces us to a character whose profession is that of a medicaStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 4/5 World: 5/5
The first page of Holy Fire introduces us to a character whose profession is that of a medical economist. It is there, at the third sentence. Already one is prompted stop and ponder what exactly a medical economist would do, what kind of world would require, even permit such a profession. The pages and chapter thereafter are going to reveal those answers. In doing so, Sterling is going to build one of the most comprehensive, tantalizing, and believable near future visions of human society that I have ever encountered. It is a world in which the profession of medical economist makes perfect sense. It is a world where characters, problems, technology, ambitions, and politics fit together to create a genuinely coherent possible future. Holy Fire is a book worth reading, remembering, and discussing if only for that, but Sterling is going to do more. That more involves some flamboyant and fun technology, several outrageous characters, and some provocative philosophizing.
The supporting cast of characters do an especially good job supplementing and enriching Sterling’s world. The main character was, unfortunately, a weak point. The protagonist’s place in the story is to witness, learn from, and interact with the other characters and the world. Her role and presence in the story are important, but the author made some choices that kept her from being fully appreciated. Sterling employed the unreliable narrator tactic at times, but he seemed to forget to turn it to the “OFF” position occasionally, leeching uncertainty and confusion into passages and sections that were never intended to have such ambiguity. Fortunately, the author is juggling more than one object at a time, and one’s attention can drift away from the protagonist to one of the more dazzling objects in the performance.
The intriguing worldbuilding and philosophizing are going to take some unexpected turns, particularly for a book that is often regarded as belonging to the cyberpunk subgenre. Our story is going to lead us to the centers of fashion and style, taking us on a tour to meet artists. The defiance of the rules of society and the refusal to bend to the regulations of the ruling class, which define the criminal, cyber cowboy culture in works such as that of William Gibson, are here presented in the pushing of artistic boundaries and the everlasting pursuit of creativity by iconoclasts. Most of these characters are going to get an opportunity to pontificate on the nature, purposes, and direction of art. Most of them are going to disagree with one another. The substance of these conversations—supplemented marginally by the behaviors and interactions of the artists—is going to be the heart and message of the book. Most of the character development, a lot of the wordcount, and even a fair bit of the drama is going to take place in repeated instances of pontification. This makes for a thoughtful, albeit often a slow read. The writing in these sections is particularly good. There are some poetically moving and very witty observations as well as dozens of passages worthy of quoting. This made for pleasant reading in chunks but left the overall narrative with little momentum. A strategy like this needs to make up for the slow pace with a truly powerful ending. All the different ideas and possibilities have to be brought together in a final statement with meaning. Sterling, however, returns to the meager plot for the closing of the book, opting for a soft outro bringing the story to a close.
I had read Sterling’s Islands of the Net not too long ago. That was flashy and action-packed, quite unlike Holy Fire. Both novels suffered from pacing, Islands of the Net moving so fast that it was difficult to understand what was happening and Holy Fire so slowly that the book was sometimes a chore to return to. Both are informed by and concerned with political and economic systems, and particularly with some form of neoimperialism. Holy Fire was much more subtle in its treatment of the political and far more enjoyable because of it. Here Sterling, unlike in Islands of the Net did not need to give name to the forms of politics and economics he was discussing; he simply showed us how they functioned and what they meant for individual people and society at large. Of the two, I found Holy Fire to be far more meaningful and memorable, even though it lacked the edginess and bite of Islands of the Net and cyberpunk in general. ...more
Not every story needs grand ambitions in order to be enjoyable. The distance between one’s amStoryline: 4/5 Characters: 4/5 Writing Style: 4/5 World: 4/5
Not every story needs grand ambitions in order to be enjoyable. The distance between one’s ambitions and one’s actual achievements with the story can very easily turn into a measure of success, so there is risk in aiming too high. Shaw’s tactic was to promise very little and overdeliver.
This was a very clean tale. “Clean” as in free from extraneous matter. There was something sparsely effective about the writing. Rarely embellished, mostly utilitarian, it also seldom provided anything unnecessarily, focusing rather on the basics: relating the emotion, encountering the unknown, instilling the excitement. The characters were drawn well enough to serve their roles in the tale, but then each was given a single, or perhaps a few, moments in which to vividly bring out their inner selves. These small accentuations suggested a fullness to the characters that other books fail to achieve with more words and effort. The world is built in the same manner. The story occurs on a different planet, perhaps even within a different universe. Differences from our own world, both small and large, are introduced early on, fostering an awareness of possibility. With form and sparseness Shaw again draws more with less. This is a fantasy story, but because of the level of development at which the author’s world resides there are opportunities for technological discovery and innovation. These have the potential to do to the planet and their civilization what science fiction stories do for Earth: introduce radical change. Because of all these components, the story is engaging from beginning to end. When the reader is not unraveling the mysteries of the created world, they are enmeshed in the tensions of conflict, when they are not being led to implicitly make comparisons between the real and the fantastic, they are shown the inner thoughts of relatable characters, and when they are not struck with the breadth of vision, they are busied with the steps taken to achieve goals.
There were times that the sparseness tended to paucity. There were several scenes, characters, technologies, and places that would have been brought to fullness with only a little bit more. More color, components, observations, musings, interactions; there were opportunities for more emotional and fantastical climaxes. Because Shaw was so selective in what he tinkered with in his world, he does tend to adopt certain tropes as backdrop; these sometimes diminished the originality of the tale. Additionally, the story ends satisfactorily without a good hook to make the reader want to read on to the other two volumes in the series. In fact, it is not even obvious that Shaw had planned further volumes at the time of this writing. I have doubts as to whether I want to read on in the series. It is not the abandonment of a series that was unenjoyable but the feeling of being mostly sated and worried that consuming more will take away from the pleasantness with which I now sit....more
This does not read like a work from one of the most awarded and recognized science fiction auStoryline: 3/5 Characters: 2/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 4/5
This does not read like a work from one of the most awarded and recognized science fiction authors of the 20th century, not like a story from a Grandmaster and Hall of Fame Inductee. It does not read like a book that was recognized by the Hugo, Nebula, National Book Award, and Locus. There is no effort at beautiful prose; Pohl’s writing is purely functional. There is no new, striking idea; this setup had been done before. The book does not even offer a thoughtfully or carefully constructed plot; it gets where it is going with little foreshadowing, intersections, or buildup. It does, however, read like a provocative piece of science fiction that would have captured a wide array of interests at the time of its writing.
This was a much better as a book of high political intrigue than it was a work of science fiction. Not that the science fiction is merely embellishment. Pohl uses the science fiction possibilities to accentuate the political trends in which he is interested. There is a question at the heart of the book: will politics as normal continue as humanity extends itself to space? And the “politics as normal” is the best part of the book, Pohl writing in the Cold War but offering intriguing speculation on where it would go. Pohl’s vision of the future was where the bipolar ideological cold war gave way to a multipolar cartel stalemate. This was an especially interesting idea and future, following from the implications of mutually assured destruction. Alliance members were very different from they looked like in the Cold War or today, once enemies now thrown together and longtime allies split. It is a future, while very different from what actually happened, which seems like it could have happened or could still happen. And that question of what politics we will take with us to the stars is one very much worth asking and exploring.
One of the more unsettling characteristics of the book is that for most of the telling one is not sure when Pohl is describing and when he is embracing. It is a very politically incorrect book. The slurs have changed, the specific minorities or nations who are discriminated against are different, and women seem to have more standing and options. Still, Pohl has his characters speak denigratingly of one another, disparage each other’s origins, and “playfully” sexually harass women, simply within the context of his future culture. Ultimately, I could not tell when Pohl was lamenting these as failings of civilization and meriting condemnation or defending them as essential parts of human nature undeserving of censure. For most of the book, the science fiction and political messages also had this ambiguity. Some truly terrible decisions are made and tragic events occur. There is a lot of ambiguity about what should be done and who is responsible. Moral ambiguity can be a particularly interesting technique in a story, but only when there are real dilemmas. Too often, Pohl’s characters behave unjustifiably and without showing awareness of what seem like obvious dilemmas. Either Pohl was ignorant and oblivious with his science fiction speculation, or he chose a bizarre way to introduce uncertainty into the story. As a consequence, it becomes easy to both dislike and distrust Pohl.
The author’s most intentional and definite point is political, but there is also a lack of clarity around it. This time the lack of clarity is caused by poor writing. The last chapter is really an epilogue, and the place where Pohl gives his answers. There was still suspense at this late juncture because it had been so unclear throughout just what Pohl was endorsing or trying to say. Pohl is going to try to remedy that in the epilogue, but it is sloppily written, open to too many interpretations or simply confusing. This was not the deliberate ambiguity that one might have credited Pohl with on the earlier themes in the book; this was him trying to make is big, final point but bungling it. And in those places where it was clear what was going on and what he was saying, it was simply unbelievable. I could hardly believe that this was what the story came to, that this is the message that we were supposed to take from this. If this is what Pohl believed and the lesson that was supposed to be drawn, then readers had good reason to both dislike and distrust Pohl throughout the book. It was all the more unfortunate because the story had so much weighing on that final chapter. That epilogue could have taken all the doubts and shown the reader that our author really was aware. It could have taken all the remaining questions and given them interesting, consistent answers. It could have finally given us a message that pulled the various tidbits scattered across the novel together, showing that something thoughtful and impressive had truly been planned all along. So, there is suspense going into that last chapter. From there it could have turned into an amazing book or a mediocre one. I am unsure what the voters of the various awards for which this book was nominated were meriting when they voted for this one. I have difficulty imagining people cheering for it because of how it came together at the end. I can most charitably imagine people applauding the book for its cynicism, for its unwillingness to look at civilization approvingly, for its refusal to show us better than we truly are....more
The Butterfly Kid is best appreciated by approaching it as a work of fiction with some sciencStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 4/5 World: 2/5
The Butterfly Kid is best appreciated by approaching it as a work of fiction with some science fiction trappings rather than as a work of coming from the science fiction genre. It is a Kurt Vonnegut Jr. kind of novel, little concerned with plot and more interested in tone. The foreword gives a succinct preview of Anderson’s tone. It is worth quoting in full. (view spoiler)[
I always feel vaguely cheated by first-person novels wherein the name of the narrator is not the name of the author. This is irrational, but there it is. I never claimed to be particularly rational.
Therefore, I made myself a character in this book, using my own real name (with, of course, my permission). Having gone thus far, I modeled the character of my friend, roommate and manager on my real-life friend, roommate, and (quondam) manager Michael Kurland (with whom I collaborated on Ten Years to Doomsday--advert.), using, with his permission, his real name.
Both of these characters, however, are purely fictitious. They are only based on us; they are not in reality us. All other persons, all places, situations and events, are 100 percent fictitious (would you believe 95 percent?), and any resemblance to real persons, places et cetera is both coincidental and ridiculous.
This is especially true of Greenwich Village, where most of this story happens. Do not be deceived: there is no Greenwich Village. Never was.
Pure fiction, all of it. Ask anyone who’s lived there.
And there is more where that come from. I kind of hated this but not so much to blind me to its merits. I hated it because it is one of those jovial drug-binging environments where the primary preoccupation for characters is the escape from reality. I also hated it because it was basically one long inside joke. Anderson draws in his friends and their favorite hangout spots and delights in reminiscing (and exaggerating) their antics. My most heartfelt hatred for this book comes because it is so eminently smug. Our author thinks he and his cohort so very cool, is completely aware of how much of a spectacle they put on, and fully enjoys performing life as art. There is a thick layer of self-deprecation overlaying this smugness, however. Anderson is at least able to see himself and his friends the way outsiders do, aware of what makes them deserving of derision. One cannot help but grinning at a lot of the scenes, despite of—or perhaps because of—their ridiculousness. Anderson is also regularly witty, with a biting humor the complements the tale, the environment, and the characters. The whole thing reaches that level of awfulness where different standards of evaluation and appreciation have to be used. So, I kind of hated it, but it sure was a spectacle.
This would have made for a cult classic if filmed as an adult-themed cartoon in the 1960s and meant to be viewed while on LSD....more
Know yourself before stepping in and playing the role of Harry Dresden, Wizard. Know that whaStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 2/5 Writing Style: 2/5 World: 3/5
Know yourself before stepping in and playing the role of Harry Dresden, Wizard. Know that what you want through these 401 breezy pages is to play the part of someone who is thoroughly awesome. The kind of awesomeness where only your ever-so-talented self can save the day. An awesomeness that will superficially pantomime some small token of humility before stepping up and taking charge. This level of awesomeness permits—no requires— you to condescend to both the well- and ill-intended, for only you can comprehend the stakes, take the risks, know and be capable of doing what must be done. You will have to bring some level of self-aggrandizement with you when starting the adventure. Butcher will help you along at times, particularly at action climaxes where our protagonist is artfully silhouetted, with enigmatic and powerful weapon in hand, and adversary in mid-air. Those moments are good, our getting to play the part of Harry Dresden as he, burdened as no one else, digs into that last reserve of energy or tricks, and overcomes. Satisfaction, that. Having your own store of a will-to-greatness will come in handy, however, when our author does not bother to close off alternatives to self-sacrifice and heroic feats. All too often Butcher leads us down paths where a few words would have resolved some misunderstanding or where our ending up in danger is the result of an obviously foolish decision. Too often the author’s story takes us places where, if our own sense of self-importance fails, we might start asking questions about the necessity of the risk, the competence of our protagonist, the reasonableness of the decision. Such questions are a hindrance to momentum, a distraction from willful delusion. Do not succumb. When the adrenaline wanes or the crisis seems unnaturally forced, embrace and appreciate the novelty of the magical world and its queer mix of the exotic and quotidian. This is another source of your awesomeness, from which you are among the few privileged to access. Enjoy it while it lasts, savor every moment. For when the tale ends you have to go back to being normal, everyday, not-magically empowered you. Unless…..unless you go on to the next of the fifteen remaining books in the series…...more
All of my C.J. Cherryh reading has been done within the 27-volume (34 when counting short stoStoryline: 3/5 Characters: 4/5 Writing Style: 2/5 World: 5/5
All of my C.J. Cherryh reading has been done within the 27-volume (34 when counting short story anthologies) Alliance-Union universe. So far I have read the Faded Sun trilogy trilogy, the Company Wars heptalogy, three of the four Chanur books, and now, the first of the three Unionside books. Forty Thousand in Gehenna is the best of the bunch, and it can be read as a standalone. Still, I can only offer a cautious recommendation. That is in large part because Cherryh is hard to read. I have found no other major (to be defined as some combination of being prolific, awarded, and widely read) science fiction author to be as consistently unpleasant to experience. Forty Thousand in Gehenna is less cryptic and incoherent than most, but it still features some of the hallmarks of Cherryh’s writing style. She takes what could be bright and paints it clouded, what others would have flowing and turns it disjointed, what should be exhilarating and makes it uncertain. These heavy weights, dragging the story down, are offset by the remarkable take on a staple science fiction subgenre (view spoiler)[planet colonization (hide spoiler)].
The time scale, the geography, the big picture questions are excellently plotted out to make for a fascinating read. Cherryh manages to touch on several big questions without getting bogged down in most of them, instead letting them lay as foundations for her bigger ambitions. This makes it to my recommendations list, even with the disclaimers, because it such good science fiction. The asking of and exploring of interesting questions, the showing of different possibilities, the confrontation with an other, and that so very consuming question of What would you do?. The reader, through the lives of the characters, gets to feel what is like being an outsider as well as being the central focus, all while being reminded of both the smallness of our individual lives and the grandness of civilization. The combination of themes taken on here, the creativity with which they are put together, and the overall vision makes this book one of the best of its sort.
That is not to say that the book is perfect aside from the writing. I was particularly disappointed that Cherryh came up against a wall that has proved impassable to so many other authors. She can raise questions about such slippery concepts as intelligence and show examples of ethnocentrism but without ever coming out on the other side and giving us answers or demonstrating other possibilities. She opens eyes so that we can see more but never orients us to the place for the best viewing. Also, there were a couple of moments in the story where it seemed we were being given some surprising and significant revelation, but a dedication to minimalism and suggestion left them incomplete. There were some across-book disappointments as well. All of the individual subseries of hers that I have read have been largely independent of one another. Supposedly they are set in the same universe, and every so often one comes across a glimmer of connection, but for the most part they have little to no bearing on one another. That is beneficial to newcomers to the series because it gives them entry points into the universe. It is disappointing to veterans of the series. I have only the vaguest idea how this connects to The Company Wars, but it would have been much more satisfying if there were more subtle links and developments for longtime readers.
Forty Thousand in Gehenna, though very much a C.J. Cherryh book, is not very representative of most of what else I’ve read from her. If you want to read only one Cherryh volume, I, at present, recommend this one. Downbelow Station remains perhaps the most accessible, readable, and passively enjoyable of those that I have read, but Forty Thousand in Gehenna just does so much more....more
What Glasshouse does well, it does really, really well. What it does badly, it does ever so bStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 4/5 World: 4/5
What Glasshouse does well, it does really, really well. What it does badly, it does ever so badly. The initial writing is excellent; dynamic sentences stuffed full with suggestive prefixes, creative compounds, and a recognizable science fiction argot. One slows to read and even rereads in order to appreciate all that is conveyed by the wild interplay of words. The reader is thrown headfirst into the deep, the world far from everyday experience and demonstrating a mind-blowing far future life. When one isn’t completely absorbed by trying to figure out the many reality-defying rules of society, the mind is lured further into a tale with shocking violence. And then there’s the hook, that provocative science fiction possibility full of ramifications. That creative idea anchored into a custom-fitted setting, demanding one’s attention. This is the kind of science fiction from which I derive delight.
Stross then decides to change things up. Our author is classed among those British, far future, hard science fiction writers that portray radical political ideas as realities in their envisioning. Much of their futures are concerned with freeing us 21st century Earthlings from our present constraints, whether they be technological, genetic, or cultural. Rather than show the reader those possibilities in the future, as the novel had so far proceeded, Stross decides to more directly confront the present. The fun to be had and the points to be made are still a form of juxtaposition, but instead of implicitly contrasting readers’ own subjective conditions with those written on the far future, Stross does so baldly. This replaces subtlety with directness, which might have been okay had Stross not been so hamfisted about our present. It was shocking to see someone so insightful and imaginative about the future to be so obvious and trite about the now. And not only did the inventive reversals and inside-out looks at culture stop, but a sloppiness slipped into the worldbuilding and plot as Stross tried to add in additional mysteries and revelations. For about 70 percent of the telling, I was aghast at what had become of the story and what we were being expected to accept. Those initial chapters, however, were just so fabulously engaging that this novel should not be written off entirely. In fact, one enjoying shocks and twists might find the bulk of the tale gratifying. I’ll look back on it as a story that ended up averaging out the stylishly portrayed post-human future with a ghastly political commentary and confused mystery/thriller....more
Oh let me sing the praises of Ken MacLeod’s Learning the World. As is my wont, those praises Storyline: 4/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 4/5 World: 4/5
Oh let me sing the praises of Ken MacLeod’s Learning the World. As is my wont, those praises will be accompanied by some criticisms, but permit me to state early on that I thought this a standout book.
Learning the World gives us a solid, far future, science fiction tale, one wielding technology and developments to sate the veteran science fiction reader’s craving yet just accessible enough to not completely overwhelm readers encountering such ideas for the first time. There is very little, if any, new in here by way of gadgets or alterations to natural laws. MacLeod takes a time-honored tale from science fiction, then splices and weaves it with other pieces and possibilities, creating a pattern that has yet to be witnessed on this Earth. What readers get, then, is a good, albeit a little uneven, story bringing about those feelings that science fiction is so primed to deliver: speculation, awe, and wonder. As a science fiction writer doing the science fiction thing, MacLeod delivers a perfectly acceptable tale, one offering a little more technological flair than perhaps is average yet also one without any great twist, creation, or character that would make it universally acclaimed.
It is remarkable, nonetheless, and for an attribute not to be expected. It was—of all things—subtle. I know! Subtlety! Since when is the author known for that, and when is that valued in science fiction? But there it is. Imprinted on page after page. MacLeod forgoes the omniscient narrator who might otherwise dispose a reader to a particular desired outcome. He leaves out the narrative foreshadowing that would leave you no doubt as to what is to soon develop. There are no monologues, diatribes, expositions, or even info dumps. The text shuffles us around limited third person views from characters with vastly different world experiences and philosophical outlooks. Anticipation is here a worry, a concern instilled in the reader who just cannot see how things can be reconciled in the end. Tension comes from knowing the disparate parties’ abilities, limitations, and intentions and foreseeing the possible calamitous interactions that are bound to follow. Readers are trusted to bring in their own knowledge, without the proddings from MacLeod, and apply them to anticipate possibilities and developments. A rich political and economic world is presented without ever using a label. No proper nouns ending in ism. No tedious explanation of rules or founders of political thought. For those having read MacLeod’s The Fall Revolution or Engines of Light series, you will be able to appreciate what a radical change this is for MacLeod. Here the author simply shows us a radical polity living together, the characters indifferent to the intellectual history of that body. On top of the political is an overlay of the economic, this too shown rather than defined. It would be an exaggeration to say that it is gentle – the future is too far, too distant for that – but the reader is left to meander the created world rather than told to sit and study it. It must have been immensely effortful to pen a story that had the superficial appearance of being unguided. That guiding is definitely there, but it is done craftily behind the scenes, allowing the reader to think that they are the ones figuring everything out. Not only did MacLeod trust the reader, he played to our vanity. Well done, sir.
I am always on the lookout for the next “great book” to add to my collection. Something to consider a new favorite. And Learning the World was frustrating because it came so far only to fall so short. I do have a small collection of books whose merits make me want to shout out and proudly recommend them to all who will listen, but whose demerits are significant enough to make me worry that another reader will disregard what I found so meritorious. The demerits are significant enough that I could understand another becoming distracted from the wonder to focus on what I was able to overlook, thereby decreasing the enjoyment of the story. Learning the World makes it to that second tier, not quite in their with my favorites, but close enough that if I come across the likeminded, I will heartily recommend it.
Regarding those demerits: There are some real gems scattered throughout this novel, but they are genuinely scattered. Much of the tale rolls forward somewhat placidly. Coming across those gems is enriching and every bit worth the effort, but more and bigger gems would have been appreciated. Everything about the story needed just a little bit more. A little bit more worldbuilding. A little more character depth. A little bit more excitement, wonder, and surprise. The plot climax was abrupt. My heart was beating and my breathing was rapid—the most I’ve been affected in some time— but it did not last long enough. And the resolution was perhaps the most disappointing of all. It was an afterthought, it was penciled in at the end and without much care. But this could have been the most important part of the book. It was here that MacLeod had the chance to bring together the political, economic, ethical, and philosophical. After so much time in disparate viewpoints, we needed more time at the intersection. Instead, MacLeod went for the powerful jolt at the end, and it was, unfortunately, a dud. There just hadn’t been enough in the story for it to end on that note and with those implications. In fact, there were a few things started that needed a little extra attention before the book was brought to a close – the piece bearing the namesake of the novel, for instance. Ultimately it did not read like an author’s completed masterpiece but more like a work finally given up on.
So was it great? No, but it was really good....more
Offbeat, not a typical fantasy. Reamy works with so very little, effectively drawing out a shStoryline: 3/5 Characters: 4/5 Writing Style: 4/5 World: 3/5
Offbeat, not a typical fantasy. Reamy works with so very little, effectively drawing out a short story. The plot is simple, the characters easy to distinguish, the fantastical entirely predictable. But one gets to anticipate the plot developments regardless. What befalls each character is memorable nonetheless. The fantastical is delightfully phantasmagorical. Reamy is a writer, a gifted writer working magic with limited material. Blind Voices is also just a little bit sordid, Reamy walking close enough to the line to peer over at horror. It is rare that I get to experience a book whose execution exceeds its ambition. Recommended for those valuing style over substance, brevity in place of length, juxtaposition instead of exposition, and some grotesqueness tainting innocence....more
I think that Sawyer can best be appreciated by a very particular audience: Canadians that watStoryline: 1/5 Characters: 2/5 Writing Style: 2/5 World: 2/5
I think that Sawyer can best be appreciated by a very particular audience: Canadians that watch a lot of television and who do not have much science fiction reading experience. Take the Canadian thing first. It is obvious that Sawyer thinks Canada is great and wants everyone to know it. It is not a bad book strategy, that appeal to the vanity and familiarity of readers. I know I get a particular delight from reading about places that I’ve lived, buildings I’ve visited, or events that I might have attended. Sawyer’s love, however, simply isn’t infectious. His guided tour is long-winded and dry and lacks discernment as to which facts and information are worth sharing. Furthermore, I don’t have much experience with Canada, so all the nostalgia and name dropping is lost on me.
The television watcher: I’ve yet to read a Sawyer book that did not seem like it was written for television. And I mean 1980s and 90s type television shows where the budget was cheap, the dramas resembled the soap operas, and the scripts were just awful. I did grow up with that; I remember how the sensationalism and drama can be addictive and arresting. But I can also look back on it and realize it was mostly melodrama when it wasn’t simple. Sawyer’s success with drama here was not a good one. He gets the distinction of writing what is perhaps the most pathetic love story I’ve ever read. And even the better parts were bits of anticipation as you watched characters making unbelievably stupid decisions. Not at all out of place in 80s and 90s television but unwelcome in a book in the 2000s. Also, though this might have 313 pages, I’d really like to see a wordcount. It felt like it could have been printed on less than half that number of pages.
The science fiction novice: Sawyer is great with hooks. And they’re undeniably science fiction hooks: provocative questions, events, or technologies that immediately make one want to know more. And Sawyer finds ways to slip in theories and technologies into what are oftentimes very grounded, simple stories that vary very little from our everyday life. The treatment of those science fiction ideas, here as well as with his other books, is usually superficial, however. So he can introduce and can have solved the Fermi paradox in a paragraph. He can explain SETI, how it is misunderstood, and the right way to think about it, in even less space. There’s something very easy and gentle about this. Just right for a novice science fiction reader. Those more experienced with the philosophies, theories, technologies, and big questions are bound to find Sawyer’s treatment of the issues wanting.
I’ll give Sawyer credit. This is my eighth novel of his, and he is remarkably consistent. He obviously has a dedicated fanbase and following. Many people read this and liked it. I did not. So how to explain his fandom? Could they all be Canadians that watch a lot of television and who do not have much science fiction reading experience? Feel free to comment and explain how I'm wrong and what I’m missing....more
This is a duology I’m going to remember. I’ll remember it more for the first book, however, tStoryline: 3/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 3/5 World: 3/5
This is a duology I’m going to remember. I’ll remember it more for the first book, however, than the second. There’s probably a unique formula to constructing the duology, something that allows it to do something that a standalone volume cannot while also providing an arc distinct from that predominant in trilogies. Whatever essential ingredient it is that brings out the best in a 2-volume series, Williams did not have it. This is one of those books that rides on the successes of its predecessor. And that predecessor had a lot to extol. The urban worldbuilding was imaginative. The mechanics of the magic-as-science were entertaining. The themes on race and class were confrontational. The authorial voice was measured. City on Fire, at least for the first half, is essentially a continuation of the first book. That first 50% would not have been out of place tacked onto Metropolitan. It fit well enough as the first half of a second book, but the worldbuilding and insights had mostly been expended in book one. This left the beginnings of City on Fire more as the resolution to the first story than the start of the second. The second half of City on Fire does finally turn to promising and intriguing matters. Hints of worldbuilding and that measured insight and commentary slip back into the story. Oddly, this half ends abruptly with only the barest conclusion. Williams needed those 280 pages he used at the beginning of the story. If this second was to best the first, it needed more space with which to develop its own identity. Williams seemed to realize too late what he wanted to do with the tale and did not leave himself enough space to work with. So we get an ending, but it is hard to believe that this is really the ending Williams wanted to tell or fans wanted to read.
Even though I found this to be inferior to the first, the series does make me want to look more into the author. Today it might be less acceptable for a middle-aged white man to write from the point of view of a young minority woman of color, but I was impressed with the attempt. Both of these had a romance angle to them that I found a little repetitive, but I’m curious to see what else he dabbled in and created....more
Perhaps there is an appropriate stage of life in which to read Pangborn’s Davy; I obviously eStoryline: 2/5 Characters: 3/5 Writing Style: 2/5 World: 2/5
Perhaps there is an appropriate stage of life in which to read Pangborn’s Davy; I obviously encountered it at the wrong time. Maybe this coming of age tale is written for younger adolescents. But insistence on explaining and referencing sexual arousal and satisfaction does read like something written by a (and intended for like-minded) sex-crazed teenager (that Pangborn was 55 when this was published can come off as either insightful or creepy). Maybe intended for later adolescents, then. However, there are those repeated descriptions of the sexual experiences of nine-year olds (scratch insightful and definitely choose creepy). I really just do not know who this was for.
Throughout I was reminded of Huckleberry Finn. Panborn creates a new linguistic cadence, not unlike a Southern drawl. The book has a definite rhythm – a rambling, stream-of-consciousness, no-transitions, chapters-as-paragraphs way of relating the story. And it is an adventure story – albeit one in a post-apocalyptic, lost civilization future with strange connections to then-current history. And there’s definitely satire throughout, the object mostly religion. A lost-civilization Huckleberry Finn is a neat idea. It has been too long since I read Twain, however, to know how the two compare. Today, Davy was mostly a painful experience. The linguistic cadence was too cumbersome to easily understand. The rambling sentences that stretched on end without paragraph breaks or transitions sentences was taxing. The future world gets very little description. The tirade against religion never deepened or broadened; the complaints obvious early on with no new revelations or insights as the tale drags on. Pangborn seemed to think he was doing something terribly witty with the “book within a book” format and with the split perspectives. Perhaps not terrible, but definitely not witty. The story gave a lot of unfulfilled foreshadowing, and the ending could hardly have been more uninteresting. There is a somewhat satisfying coming-of-age tale mixed in to all those elements. And amidst the drawl and run-ons, there were some quoteworthy musings or observations. I’m still not sure whether to credit Pangborn with trying something difficult and falling short or with throwing something together and slapping the name “art” on it.
Apparently this was the first in a series. I did not realize that at the time of the reading. There is no need to read further; this one comes to a conclusion. I am not reading on further, and there is no one I would recommend this book to....more
Loading...
