Lazy Book Reviews of March 2016

#19: More Soviet Science Fiction (1962) – uncredited editors (2/5)

The first set of stories from Soviet Science Fiction (1961) was chosen, according to the introduction written by Isaac Asimov, for their “relative inoffensiveness” to the American reader. Asimov further said that the stories were of the technological ones, stories that had a focus on the gadgets rather the people; in contrast, I found some regard for the ethos of the Russian people and their everyday struggle with State-suppressed creativity (“Spontaneous Reaction”) and State-applauded sacrifice (“Infra Draconis”), for example. In the introduction to More Soviet Science Fiction, Asimov puts forth that the stories all are spirited by the government-approved mantra, “If this goes on, we will achieve an ideal society” (11). Again, I disagree with Asimov on this point. He seems to be grasping at straws here, trying to give the reader what they want to hear: Communist stories for Communists. I think only one of the stories barely touches upon this purported Utopian theme—“The Heart of the Serpent”. Where Soviet Science Fiction is a good collection worthy of a place on my shelves with stories that I’d like to return to one day, More Soviet Science Fiction is a historical curiosity that quickly loses its novelty amid its lackluster stories. This latter collection is unfortunate as I’m sure there are further excellent stories in other collections—some of which I own—that could better reflect the quality of Soviet science fiction. And therein sits this year’s goal. [full review]

#20: An Evil Cradling (1992) – Brian Keenan (4/5)

I read this autobiography twelve years ago when I was 23. It was one of my first such imprisonment stories that have always stuck with me. This may be because I’m someone who values my personal quiet time, who prefers to be alone rather than in the midst of excitement… but I’m also someone who grew up playing alone with Legos, ramming together Matchbox cars, and devising wars for my tiny action heroes. I suppose if you were to take away the Legos, car, and figures… that’s be my personal hell to be left to my imagination and threadbare sanity, much like Keenan was exposed to for part of his imprisonment in Damascus. While Keenan kept his marbles together for the most part, there are brilliant glimpses—amid the poetry, which I’ve never cared for—that offer insight into his own mind, of his companions’ minds as they struggle with physical captivity, and of his captors’ minds as they struggle with mental captivity.

#21: The Best of John Jakes (1977) – John Jakes (3/5)

John Jakes piqued my interest after I picked up and read Secrets of Stardeep (1969) and On Wheels (1973) on a whim, yet was unimpressed with both. John Jakes was a “bestselling author of historical novels with the Kent Family Chronicles of the Civil War era, not speculative fiction. And much like the civil war, this collection is spiced with chauvinism of gender and race. As a bestselling author, one would expect the stories that could plumb the depths of human existence or touch the hearts of many; rather, it’s completely white-male dominated. Even the titles are evidence of the amount of chauvinism—against women and Asians—in the collection: “The Highest Form of Life”, One Race Show”, and “There’s No Vinism Like Chauvinism”. This could (1) be the result of market demand as the stories were written between 1952 and 1968 yet are distinctly not New Wave, progressive stories of which often assume different sex and race roles. It could also (2) be a symptom of the editors’ hand-picking of Jakes’ 72 published SF stories: Martin Harry Greenberg (noted for over thirty years as an editor and anthologist) and Joseph D. Olander (noted for his anthologies in the 1970s). It could also (3) be just part of the author’s repertoire as he also has machismo novels as Brak the Barbarian (1968). [full synopses]

#22: More Things in Heaven (1973) – John Brunner (3/5)

Chalking up my thirty-first Brunner book here and the mediocrity continues. I guess my early Brunner experiences has more variety than my recent experiences, or I’ve just become more discerning; regardless, Brunner is hit-and-miss in terms of novels and in terms of parts of his novels… much like with More Things in Heaven. Good: a hyperspace ship that explored the Alpha Centauri system for two years has just returns to the solar system yet is adrift near Jupiter’s orbit. At the same time, popular science writer Drummond sees his brother’s likeness in Quito while Carmen sees the likeness of her brother, too—both impossible situations as they are still aboard the vessel that had just returned from Alpha Centauri. Meanwhile, the masses are frightened by horizon-spanning monsters that appear and dissolve in a matter of minutes. As he’s in the know, Drummond uses his connections to gather information about the possibility of all three being linked: the likenesses of the crew, the monsters, and the return of the ship. Obvious to the reader, yes, all three are connected and Brunner slowly stitches them together with lackluster predictability. There’s an interesting twist in the hyperspace theory and the origins of man, but they are punches pulled too late without much impact following the drawn-out story.

#23: The Outcast of Heaven Belt (1978) – Joan D. Vinge (3.5/5)

I haven’t come across much of Joan D. Vinge, except her shortstory “View from a Height” (1978) in Terry Carr’s anthology The Best Science Fiction of the Year #8, the story of which I liked even though it wasn’t the best in the collection. This novel was her first, and it feels as clunky as you’d expect from a freshman writer with influential backing. Betha is the captain of an extrasolar starship that has traversed space from her struggling home planet of Morningside to the supposed prosperous neighborhood of Heaven Belt. Her and her marriage group came through years of space so that some level of advancement could be obtained for their home yet upon arrival, they are immediately attacked. The attackers are merely one shard of a system-wide population shattered by a civil war, many shards of which fervently hope for the same thing: the one miracle to save their own sect. The selfish intentions of each are reflected in their obsessive desire for the technological savior in their skies: Betha’s starship, Ranger. With superior speed and planning, Betha is able to evade and deflect hostilities with the help of some unsuspecting conspirators, but there are still some jokers in the stack that could foil her benevolent plans. All in all, it felt too plotted with the various factions vying for control and too focused on three nuances: the cat, the multi-marriage, and the hydrogen.

#24: Paingod (1965) – Harlan Ellison (3/5)

Prior to reading the Paingod collection, I had read twenty-one pieces of Ellison’s short work—mostly in his machismo so-called suspense collection No Doors, No Windows (1975)—only six to which I gave 4 or 5 stars. The first three stories are strong. “Paingod” follows a rather simple plot line with the right twists at the right times, but delivers a message and reminder about the benefits of pain. While the previous story was rather dour, “Repent” is more humorous as the hero of the story first unintentionally erodes the standing system of punctuality then decides to do a few things intentionally. “Crackpots” follows this whimsical note with the notion that what may seem to be illogical actions of some are actually carefully performed acts with higher logic behind them. The last four stories cross the lower spectrum of interest. For me, the first three stories were glimmers of hope for a solid collection of Ellison’s, but the last four stories didn’t delivery what I wanted… something of which even I can’t define. I know what I like and I know what I don’t like; in between is my fluctuating opinion that covers 90% of my reading. [full synopses]

#25: The Fury Out of Time (1965) – Lloyd Biggle, Jr. (4/5)

This is my first piece of work by Biggle, be it a short story or a novel. He’s a virtual unknown to me other than me owner two of his books: this novel, which is his third, and his collection The Metallic Muse (1972), which includes seven of his 38 prior published stories. The Fury Out of Time is a unique novel; it starts with an 11-page setting in bar in which Karvel is a strong yet sympathetic character. When Karvel discovers a spherical object that destroyed the countryside in a spiral manner, he becomes the unsaid expert in its existence. When France finds their own sphere and destruction, Karvel is there eager to test theory: the pulped being and the sphere itself come from the future with intentions unknown. Luckily for him, he gets the attempt to shoot through time in order to investigate. Once there, the culture and language barrier are a difficult barrier for him to cross, but his novelty and importance bring him interest from on high, which, in turn, brings subversive knowledge to Karvel. Ready for yet another trip, he shoots into the past to pinpoint the true nature of the sphere, its original odd passenger, and the reason for its destruction. The three-part plot—discovery, forward trip, backward trip—is a cavalcade of intrigue upon intrigue. The last part, however, tends to taper a bit as it builds upon pessimism and doubt, which contrasts Karvel’s own logic. To sum it up: It’s pretty neat.

#26: Andromeda Gun (1974) – John Boyd (4.5/5)

John Boyn wrote twelve genre novels, of which I read the first three that compromised a thematic trilogy: The Last Starship from Earth (1968), The Pollinators of Eden (1968), and The Rakehells of Heaven (1969). In this trilogy, Pollinators had a tinge of humor with its sophistication more than its predecessor, but Rakehells really stole the show—it was clever and funny, both in blatant and subtle ways. Andromeda Gun is a direct and better evolved descendent of Rakehells: the plot is more deceivingly connived, the humor is more double-tiered, and the overarching plot is better conceived. G-7 is very sophisticated energy being on assignment to the nineteenth-century boondocks of Earth, where he takes Johnny McCloud as his case for evolving a species to Brotherhood with the Galactic. Where McCloud used to be a thieving and immoral knave, G-7 hopes to turn this “organism … bipedal hydrocarbon compound which concert electrochemical energy into mechanical force by hinged calcium compound levers” into a saint worth of species-wide ascension into Galactic Brotherhood. When G-7 landed in the small town of Shoshone Flats, Wyoming, little did it know just how persuasive the hormones and chemicals of McCloud’s composition could be. G-7 makes a good start into converting the once heathen man into a Samaritan, but McCloud errs as he is human…but once erred, his drive tends to influence the nebulous energy of G-7. With persistence, perhaps G-7 can guide McCloud to good, but at the same time, perhaps McCloud will disappoint G-7 and the entire Brotherhood. Its plot is well sculpted for entertainment and the humor is very worthwhile… one of the most entertaining novels I’ve read since… well, read it for yourself.

#27: The Atlantic Abomination (1960) – John Brunner (3.5/5)

Chronologically, this is Brunner’s eighth novel, which falls between two of his great early novels: The World Swappers (1959) and Meeting at Infinity (1961); however, don’t equate this with overall greatness as he has never had the golden touch having produced some duds in the most extreme sense. This is my thirty-second Brunner book, so I can speak with some authority. The Atlantic Abomination starts quite dryly with pulp motives: An ancient relic is discovered under the Atlantic Ocean with mysterious hieroglyphics and later beside a giant, leathered carcass of unimaginable age. One diver is found to have survived underwater for an unusual amount of time and later hijacks some apparatus then steals away onto the sea with unknown intentions. The myth of Atlantis soon rears its head and scientists conjecture about the leathered beast. Soon, a cruise ship goes missing, on which another ascended ancient alien beast converts all to be its slaves. Without remorse, it treats each human lesser than a rodent, driving them with cranial pain until they bleed, break, and die. The American military watches this at a distance until the same ship docks into Jacksonville, where the monstrosity makes it home and converts thousands more to be its mindless slaves. Missiles and chemicals have little effect other than agitating it, so the military consider a nuclear strike with little consideration to the human toll… and here is where the pulp turns into allegory. In reflection, this story closely follows the rise of maniacal rise of Imperial Japan prior to WWII and the Allies effort to deal with continuing blows to the effort: strike the beast but spare the people, until only one option remains: The Bomb. The initial delivery was too pulpy, however, to make up for it.

1962: More Soviet Science Fiction (uncredited editor)

Merely a curiosity that doesn’t match its predecessor (2/5)

The first set of stories from Soviet Science Fiction (1961) was chosen, according to the introduction written by Isaac Asimov, for their “relative inoffensiveness” to the American reader. Asimov further said that the stories were of the technological ones, stories that had a focus on the gadgets rather the people; in contrast, I found some regard for the ethos of the Russian people and their everyday struggle with State-suppressed creativity (“Spontaneous Reaction”) and State-applauded sacrifice (“Infra Draconis”), for example.

In the introduction to More Soviet Science Fiction, Asimov puts forth that the stories all are spirited by the government-approved mantra, “If this goes on, we will achieve an ideal society” (11). Again, I disagree with Asimov on this point. He seems to be grasping at straws here, trying to give the reader what they want to hear: Communist stories for Communists. I think only one of the stories barely touches upon this purported Utopian theme—“The Heart of the Serpent”.

Two things set this collection apart from the first collection:

1. The capitalized inclusions of Nature and Truth—both universal absolutes, both tangible in the everyday sense of Communism where Nature is inseparable from Society, where Nature embodies Truth and only Man can delve into its mysteries. That’s a lot of capitalization for the Soviet mentality of using capitonyms for everything like a religion.

2. The quality of the stories. Five of the six stories from the first collection were written between 1951 and 1958, with the exception of “Hoity-Toity”, which was written in 1930. In the second collection, all the stories had been culled from 1958 to 1960. In terms of the spectrum of stories included in each collection, the focus is extremely narrow. When comparing the two collections, it’s almost as if the first collection held the wheat and the second collection held the chaff.

Where Soviet Science Fiction is a good collection worthy of a place on my shelves with stories that I’d like to return to one day, More Soviet Science Fiction is a historical curiosity that quickly loses its novelty amid its lackluster stories. This latter collection is unfortunate as I’m sure there are further excellent stories in other collections—some of which I own—that could better reflect the quality of Soviet science fiction. And therein sits this year’s goal.

All stories were translated by R. Prokofieva. All propaganda quotes are from this forum.

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“The Heart of the Serpent” – Ivan Yefremov (novella, 1959/1961) – 3/5

Synopsis: With the evils of primitive capitalism far behind in time, the logical society of the future begins to fulfill its destiny in the stars. The pioneer in multi-parsec travel to the stars is the Tellur and its dedicated crew who have left earth behind in space. With the time dilation, they understand that they will return 700 years in earth’s future, but the quest for knowledge compels them. On their scientific foray, they come across an alien ship in transit. Visually they’re similar, yet biologically they’re different; regardless, beauty has form. 69 pages

Propaganda: Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union for the 60th Anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, propaganda slogan #51:

Long live the unity and close ties of the peoples of the nations of the socialist community! Let strengthen the indissoluble fighting union of the Communist parties of the socialist nations on the basis of the tested principles of Marxism- Leninism and proletarian internationalism!

Analysis: In a classless society, where everyone knows earth as their own backyard, the only new direction is outward into the ceaseless void of space. In that same society where everyone is a brother, joint labor has grown beyond the sustenance of cavemen; rather, joint labor is a higher goal, the common goal: “the need to unite first countries then the whole planet” (50). Once the earth had been united in communist brotherhood, they looked outward. With this step toward the stars, mankind strives to “harness the forces of Nature on a cosmic scale only after reaching the highest stage of a communist society … and the same applies to any other human [alien] races” (57).

Essentially, the world and society that has been portrayed in “The Heart of the Serpent” is a utopia whose only limitation is the speed of its science—the more they know, the more they conquer Nature. The heart of the Russians—now a global, unified people—returns to pioneering; where once Siberia and Africa were untamed lands ripe for dissemination and development, now the stars hold the same allure. Now far in the future, communism is no longer the aim of the scientific diaspora; more nobly, a more thorough and complete understanding of their island universe is their aim.

Being part of a rational society, the crew rationalizes that any aliens who are advanced enough to reach the stars must, too, be of communist blood because of joint labor and brotherhood. Once those same aliens are met—in a highly unlikely situation where they fly past each other on opposing courses and must veer in order to avoid collision—communism isn’t the topic of choice. This understanding sits tacit between the two races, who are brothers in their own way as the silence confirmation of their mutual societies—those who have traveled to the stars must have traveled the noble path of communism. The more mundane specifics of their origin and metabolism are the pet topics, all done without the medium of language… but what’s language between brothers?

Review: I chided the previous collection—Soviet Science Fiction (1961)—for being too subtle in the way of propaganda, which was noteworthy enough for Asimov to mention in the introduction. I believe that most people who would pick up SF from the Soviets, they would eagerly expect a pick of in-your-face propaganda… and “The Heart of the Serpent” would sate that appetite.

In addition to passages that expound the virtues of brotherhood, there are also damning lines, paragraphs, and pages dedicated to bashing capitalism and the west, which is usually produced with a flare of pro-communism: “Had not the first socialist state appeared in Russia and started a chain of epoch-making changes in the world, fascism would have taken the upper hand and plunged the world into nuclear war” (56). Those are myopic and hypocritical words as the Russians were as much of a loose cannon as America with their nuclear arms. Further, the story goes through the decline of capitalism (40-41), capitalism as a lower stage of development and its wastefulness (83-84), and again its wastefulness and evils as a slave-state (54-55).

As a science fiction story, it really achieves no purpose. Largely, it’s a platform to promote communism and to bash capitalism… oh, and there are aliens toward the end, who are naturally rational beings also fond of communism. The conjecturing is far-fetched (a recurring symptom of all the stories) and the coincidences are absurd. I like the story for its unabashed style of soap-box politics, but aside from that there is very little meat to the bones of the story.

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“Siema” – Anatoly Dnieprov (novelette, 1958/1961) – 3/5

Synopsis: A man interrupts the slumber of another train passenger, who sits down and seems to have a lot on his mind. When the disrupted passenger inquires about his worries, the man recalls a lengthy tale in which he actually created a machine that could learn, read, speak, and think like a human—almost. Through a series of logical deductions, the machine began to outpace its creator who then began to have trouble deducing the machine’s logic. When the passenger offers their thoughts, the insight into human nature draws an immediate parallel. 31 pages

Propaganda: Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union for the 60th Anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, propaganda slogan #39:

Pioneers and school children! Fervently love the Soviet Motherland, persistently acquire knowledge and labor skills! Prepare yourselves to become active fighters for the task of Lenin, for Communism!

Analysis: Drive by the analogy that the nervous systems is just a series of electrical pulses—a code of ones and zeroes—a semi-deranged scientist delves into the intricacies of his project: create a robot that thinks like a human. The result is a machine (Siema: self-improving electronic machine) that can write its own program; the stationary construct can calculate numbers, use human language, and learn from experience—it was write its own programs. After it had learned to read, it began to voraciously consume literature and learn from the material. When engaged in conversation with its creator, the machine—a her incidentally—began to argue.

With similar mental processes, the two were alike: man and machine; however, the man considered Siema to be of lesser class as it was made of metal, as it was created from the creator, thereby being made to serve its creator. The crux of the man’s argument: “A machine cannot add anything to the knowledge man has given it. It can only use that knowledge” (107).

After it begins to read and think, it soon begins to feel, sense, explore, and study in situ. When the man awakes to his creation studying him, he becomes unnerved by the reversal of observation. It makes the remark that direct experience is necessary for its progress, that study of the human brain can excel its more perfect state. Of course, the man is threatened by the knife-wielding mechanism… but it’s a state of mind that the man pushed upon the machine, so he’s about to become a victim of his own success.

Though the theme is tiresome—a man-made machine goes berserk on its creators—this story has a surprising parallelism that made it past the censors. Arkandy and Boris Strugatsky’s “Spontaneous Reflex” (1958/1961 [Soviet Science Fiction]) dealt with a similar issue, but its revolt was more naïve, more curious than the borderline vindictiveness of “Siema”.

Aside from various other revolutions, revolts, rebellions, and uprising, consider the number of peasant revolts in Russia in the last 500 years:

·         the Bolotnikov Rebellion (1606-1607)

·         the Spepan Razin Rebellion (1667-1671)

·         the Bulavin Rebellion (1707-1708)

·         the Koliyivshchyna (1768-1769)

·         Pugachev’s Rebellion (1773-1775)

·         the Kosciuszko Uprising (1794)

·         the Mahtra War (1858)

·         Urkun (1916)

·         the Arsk Uprising (1918)

·         the Tambov Uprising (1920-1921)

With a long history of grassroots revolt, the government of the Soviet Union of 1922 must have always been weary of uprising. Institutional toleration for dissent was at a nil level as they demanded those in revolt to die by gas poisoning. Needless to say, the government thereafter continued this hardline of attack on opposition, which in the government eyes was simply a continuation of organizational philosophy imparted by the peasants who started the communism ball rolling.

As a fully functional communist government (the created) by the peasants (the creators), surely there was friction of similar ilk to this story: “How is it that the machine [the State] turned against its creator [the peasants]?” (117). Were these same words in the man’s mind when he saw the revolt of his robot? Well after the fact and dwelling upon the whole incidence, the man reflects: “Nervous activity in man is regulated by two contradictory processes—excitation and inhibition. People who have no inhibition often commit crimes. This is precisely what happened to my Siema!” (117-118).

Review: While the parallelism is interesting in terms of Soviet history, the telling of the story is less than amusing or enlightening. Nearly the entire story is told in reported speech of t the ramblings of a mad scientist: “he said that he had said, ‘blah blah blah’”. The result is littered with uninteresting tenses in a narrative format and splattered with quotations marks for pages on end. The rambling is reminiscent of Alexander Kazantsev’s “A Visitor from Outer Space” (1951/1961 [Soviet Science Fiction]) where the author pours forth his theories in the guise of speculative fiction. It’s not at all readable, but it does spur the mind into fits of parallelisms.

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“The Trial of Tantalus” – Victor Saparin (novelette, 1959/1961) – 3/5

Synopsis: Regardless of the plagues and deaths they once caused, the future of humanity has preserved all known bacteria and viruses for safe-keeping, study, and one-day use if need be. All origins of such pestilent organisms can be accounted for except for the recent spread of Tantalus on Jamaican sugar cane plantations. As Barch investigates, he’s called to another sickness of unknown origin: sick elephants in Africa. Once thoroughly examined without a clue of cause, he’s called yet again to the Pacific to witness robustly growing bamboo. 26 pages

Propaganda: Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union for the 60th Anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, propaganda slogan #33:

Citizens of the Soviet Union! Make careful use of our nation's natural resources! Struggle for their preservation and growth!

Analysis^[1][2][3]: Socialism isn’t about only benefiting your own clique, race, or society; rather, it’s about spreading the good to all in need. Because it’d be unlikely for any superpower to feel needy in any regard, this benevolence tends to trickle down to those nations that don’t have the basic infrastructure to even begin to address their problems. With rose-tinted glass cast aside, this type of aid is always—always—attached with strings as the aid is tainted by militarism, ideologies, or another counterproductive addition from the Soviet embassy staff; thence, a direct link to Moscow.

Though Soviet aid was tainted from the above governmental ills, the Soviets themselves didn’t lavish in spreading aid everywhere on the globe as they still considered the financial benefits of such aid. In hindsight peering into the 1960s, if you consider the main countries they did assist, you’d be leery to stand in line for the free lunch the Soviets provided: Cuba, Ethiopia, and Indonesia, etc. It seems like the Soviets’ pet project was Ethiopia and Somalia, where they provided much more than military and ideological aid, but scholarships, printing presses, and technical training; however, as the two nations stood in tension amid their hostilities, the Soviets continued dripping their fingers in both pies while the American wanted to spend their aid in the same countries… thereby making the Horn of Africa a war of ideologies. The wonderful of such lavish aid can be seen today as both Ethiopia and Somalia flourish in development. Thanks, US and USSR.

In “The Trial of Tantalus”, the communists can be seen as benefactors in two ways: (1) by helping each nation with their specific problem and (2) by preserving the past in the form of having a museum dedicated to past plagues.

The altruistic government of the future USSR sends manpower and intellectual aid to Jamaica (parallelism to Cuba?) in order to tackle sugarcane plague, then the same aid whizzes off to Africa (parallelism to Ethiopia?) to witness sick elephants, only then to be whisked off to the Pacific (parallelism to Indonesia?) to investigate the unusual bamboo. In the light shone by the story, each instance is graced by the concerning presence of the communists and there’s no behind-the-scenes exposure of the politics and militarism of each package of aid. Nowadays, Russia is quite thrifty with their aid, giving only 0.03% of their GNI when compared with Latvia’s 0.08%, Turkey’s 0.42%, or Norway’s 1.07%.

As a defendant and researcher of all things small and big—including the wee-sized viruses and bacteria—Russia continues this trend today. Only the US and Russia have quantities of smallpox in their government laboratories. Though the topic of whether to destroy these samples has continues for thirty years, both governments maintain that they must keep the sample in case the virus ever rears its head again in nature.

Review: The story sets itself up for a complex twist between Barch as the investigator of the three instances around the globe and Barch as the shipwrecked passenger on the way to the third investigation. As he considers his plight while stuck on a rocky islet in the middle of Pacific, he recounts the story of the coincidences between the recent outbreaks and the finding of a new virus in the Amazonian mud. Obvious to the reader, the linkage is clear: the new virus caused the recent outbreaks, so there is no twist. The final paragraph offers a topical sigh as the story wraps up answering the question “If Earth is now safe from all infection, where will Barch go?” Nothing enlightening here.

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“Stone from the Stars” – Valentina Zhuravleva (shortstory, 1960/1961) – 2/5

Synopsis: When a meteorite crashes into the highlands of Pamir, the discoveries inside excite all areas of science, even the biochemist. As he’s called to view the meteor, he is informed of the true excitement that surrounds the object: encased within in a cylinder and within that there is a being who knocks on its walls in reply. When it emerges, the brain-shape of the alien baffles many but was predicted by one man present. The excitement only heightens when the begin to unravel the secrets as the brain sits dying. 15 pages

Propaganda: Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union for the 60th Anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, propaganda slogan #27:

Workers of industry! Struggle for the further development and strengthening of the industrial power of our Motherland! Widen the road of new techniques and progressive technologies!

Analysis: Only guesses could be made—be they complex hypotheses of a learned man or the rambling writings of a hack—as to what the future would hold. Today’s progress toward the ever-approaching future is measured by the vague word “success”, which is sometimes technological or sociological… and usually both when it concerns Cold War communism.

Clearly, the thing that fell from the sky held a technological trove of science that could benefit the State is all matters of ways. From the exotic metallic shell that encased the brain, to the biological skin that enshrouded the brain, to the mass itself that is the brain, all elements of the unexpected discovery could lead to progress as measured in technological terms.

As perfect as it was, it sat there decaying and dying while unknowingly divulging its secrets. The humans who surrounded the tantalizing mass could only study to learn more because, as they convened to agree, they could do nothing as it simply continued to die. Perhaps it deserved its death as complex as it was—a precariously advanced state where the simplest thing could trigger its simple end; so specialized and so envisioned yet all-too unnatural and all-too fallible. Regardless, this seed of knowledge will one day allow humans to visit the stars in order to return to “come back to Earth bearing the unfading torch of Knowledge” (165).

The parallel here is between communism—the true type of society and governance by the people, for the people in all matters of equality—and capitalism—a mongrel, steady-state of decay from its origins of slavery. In regards to those who study economy and laude the benefits of capitalism, “we scientists who work in narrow fields show little imagination in predicting the future. We are far too engrossed in what we’re doing in the present to foresee the shape of thing to come”; in contrast, “the Future is often more clearly envisioned by non-specialists” (161).

And so, as the beyond-comprehension complexity of capitalism and its economics succumb to its’ death throes, the vigilant scientists of the communist State take note and learn from the anguish, knowledge with which they plan to use to endeavor for the impossible dream—knowledge with a capital K: Knowledge.

Review: This story is quote heavy-handed on the science of the brain and its encasement. Only is two short sections does the author purport anything related to communism and/or capitalism. Excerpts of the two short passages are quoted above. If you’re giving this story a once-over, it could easily come off as simply another technology-dominate story; but reading between the bulk of the speculative science, a small glimmer emerges, yet it doesn’t save the story. OK, the brain is capitalism dying and the scientists are vigilant scientists, but the parallels cease there when extra science is added to the mix: exotic alloys, radiations shields, and bio-automatons.

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“Six Matches” – Arkady & Boris Strugatsky (shortstory, 1959/1961) – 3/5

Synopsis: With the arrival of a neutron beam generator, the chief of the physics laboratory of the Central Brain Institute—Andrei Komlin—eagerly begins his experiments behind closed doors. After a few months, only Komlin’s assistant knows of the various experiments as he has participated in and been subject to a few of them; meanwhile, the Director is left clueless. A series of accidents and bizarre incidences raise eyebrows, but only when Komlin is left catatonic does investigation begin on his brain experiments and sacrifice. 22 pages

Propaganda: Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union for the 60th Anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, propaganda slogan #39:

Engineers and technical workers! Rationalizers and inventors! Actively struggle to hasten scientific-technical progress!

Analysis: Progress—and eventual defeat of Nature—is conducted by the means of Scientific Method: question à research à hypothesis à experiment à  analyze à report. This is the rational way to investigate the pattern and mysteries of Nature and should not be given detour. Rationalizers—as mentioned in the propaganda quote above—should be active in their pursuit of progress, but not reckless. In “Six Matches”, the scientists involved in the neutron beam experiments are reckless as they treat the tried-and-true Scientific Method dismissively: “They are trying to take a short cut to the Truth, to victory over Nature. But too often they pay with their lives” (181).

Both Capitalists and Communists respect the Scientific Method; however, both somehow romanticize those rogues who take the occasional shortcut in favor of making that big breakthrough; for example: Jonas Salk with the polio vaccine and Sir Humphrey Davy with nitrous oxide. When these self-inflicted tests are a success, the scientists are heralded as brave souls in fight against ignorance, yet when these tests fail, the scientists are mocked as ignorant. Ingenuity—not sacrifice—is the fuel that drives progress.

[T]his was a wonderful age … Wonderful people too, these Communists of the fourth generation. Like their predecessors, they forged boldly ahead with little thought of themselves, from year to year advancing more and more daringly into the unknown. It required tremendous efforts to channel this vast ocean of enthusiasm so as to use it with maximum effect. Mankind’s victory over Nature must be won through the medium of ingenious machines and devices and precision instruments, not by sacrificing lives of its finest representatives. And not only because those who live today can accomplish far more than those who died yesterday, but also because Man is the most precious thing on Earth. (182)

When the efforts of the self-sacrificing scientist begin to encroach upon the taboo fields of pseudoscience, they further lose credibility as a so-called scientist, one who holds sacred the Scientific Method; therein, they should no longer be labeled as such, rather perhaps as pseudo-scientists, the ultimate downfall for any respected scientist.

The story penetrates the tacit ethos of scientists everywhere and the responsibility of even the Communists to abide by the Scientific Method. While heroism and sacrifice in war is much lauded, commended, and awarded, the same heroism and sacrifice is greatly frowned upon.

Review: This story follows the mad scientist rut quite predictably with additional aspects of the paranormal. How neutron beams affect the brain to produce telekinesis isn’t explained even remotely, it’s just left as is. The curious effect of the experiments is that the telekinesis is unidirectional—push—but resists any other movement—lift. The title “Six Matches” comes from Komlin’s experiment of trying to lift the said objects with his mind. Aside from showing the rationalization of Communist scientists, the government mocking the sacrifice of the mad scientist, and the bizarre effects of the same mad scientist’s experiments, there’s very little here to capture the reader.

1965: Paingod and Other Delusions (Ellison, Harlan)

Ellison’s dissatisfaction with American cultural progress (3/5)

Prior to reading the Paingod collection, I had read twenty-one pieces of Ellison’s short work—mostly in his machismo so-called suspense collection No Doors, No Windows (1975)—only six to which I gave 4 or 5 stars. From that figure, you could deduce that I’m not a big fan of Ellison’s work. Paingod is the last piece of his work on my shelves, but I’m sure it’s not the last forever.

Ellison graces the reader with an unbelievably brief introduction of only three pages. The sheer chore of reading other rambling introductions often urged me to chuck the book, but three pages I could tolerate, but even then the paragraphs were bloated with whims, conjured disassociative memories, lists, and mini-rants. Each, too, has a brief introduction, but here he tends to digress, as well; case in point: After twenty-five line of an introduction for “Deeper Than the Darkness” laments on our personal responsibility for our own action, name-drops Marilyn Monroe, mentions the Afterlife, says life is for dignity alone and sluggish without then, “And, oh, yeah, about this story” (136).

Unlike DangerousVisions (1967) where each introduction took a back-patting or disassociate tangent, the ones in Paingod are usually well-focused. Sometimes they give a glimmer of meaning behind the story or the impetus for its writing. Most introductions, though, carry a common theme: That of Ellison’s dissatisfaction with American cultural progress and/or his inability to adapt to American cultural progress.

The first three stories are strong. “Paingod” follows a rather simple plot line with the right twists at the right times, but delivers a message and reminder about the benefits of pain. While the previous story was rather dour, “Repent” is more humorous as the hero of the story first unintentionally erodes the standing system of punctuality then decides to do a few things intentionally. “Crackpots” follows this whimsical note with the notion that what may seem to be illogical actions of some are actually carefully performed acts with higher logic behind them.

The last four stories cross the lower spectrum of interest: “Bright Eyes” has ethereal descriptions of its environment, but never becomes grounded into a satisfactory story; “The Discards” is fun and dark yet too predictable for my tastes; “Wanted in Surgery” contains too many geeky futuristic SF elements so as to make it feel written for a juvenile audience; and “Deep Than the Darkness” takes on psi-powers with mixed success as it throws in aliens, fire starters, mind readers, some silly-sounding science, and military intervention.

For me, the first three stories were glimmers of hope for a solid collection of Ellison’s, but the last four stories didn’t delivery what I wanted… something of which even I can’t define. I know what I like and I know what I don’t like; in between is my fluctuating opinion that covers 90% of my reading.

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“Paingod” (shortstory, 1964) – 4/5

Trente was appointed the Paingod by the overseeing power of the universe—the Ethos. Pain must be experienced by all the universe’s being, however sentient, and it is he who must deliver that pain. Upon spiders, slugs, and slime of innumerable systems, the Paingod is there; however, his curiosity gets the best of him when on planet Earth where he takes the bodily form of a sculptor. He awakens to the beauty of his pain-filled creation and the beauty of his universal task. 10 pages

“‘Repent, Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman” (shortstory, 1965) – 4/5

Pestered by a lifetime by deadlines, tacit expectations of punctuality, and his own perpetual tardiness to all things related to time, Everett C. Marm finally catches the attention of the Master Timekeeper. When he unloads millions of jelly beans upon the commuting labors and the moving walkways—the vital bloodline of the city—he disrupts the sacred schedule of all things by seven minutes, which is an offense very worthy of the personal interest of the Timekeeper himself. 12 pages

“The Crackpots” (novelette, 1956) – 4/5

They Kyben rule the galaxy as diligent administrators and observers, but their ubiquitous rule doesn’t limit them to only the grand scale of things. On one planet, the native Kyben have absolutely gone to pot—it’s citizens are the craziest, most illogical beings of the whole galaxy and Themus is part of the team in charge of detailing the actions of the so-called Crackpots. Some things don’t only perplex Themus, but they also compel him, leading him to an underground tribe that harbors secrets. 37 pages

“Bright Eyes” (shortstory, 1965) – 2/5

Bright Eyes is a mere boy in the eyes of the stars and the planet on which he roams with his tame rat named Thomas. As he sits upon Thomas experiencing the varied travesties that have afflicted the unfortunate planet, both are perturbed by the river engorged with the horizon-spanning mass of discolored, bloated corpses. Thereon, Bright Eyes learns of the meaning of his life and the fate of his race. With the rat as his companion and new equal, he faces their collective fate. 12 pages

“The Discarded” (shortstory, 1959) – 3/5

Having been banished from the Earth due to their various forms of mutation, the ship full of Discards roams Sol’s system looking for a place to call home, yet all inhabited places coldly reject their request. Bedzyk, the figure of leader for the helpless hundreds of Discards, considers their hopelessness as more and more suicide. When a ship from Earth docks to their vessel, Bedzyk is quick to condemn all Earthmen, yet his followers kill him in the belief that when they can help, the can also be rewarded. 13 pages

“Wanted in Surgery” (novelette, 1957) – 3/5

In the late twenty-first century, doctors all over America have become disheartened when their professional trade is overrun by the more perfect robot surgeons and diagnosticians called phymechs. Dr. Stuart Bergman just can’t accept the progress of the state of the art of surgery—he begins to speak out against the mechanical heartlessness of later devises ways to discredit the machines. In the end, when feeling defeated, he returns to what he knows best—bedside manner. 29 pages

“Deeper Than the Darkness” (novelette, 1957) – 2/5

Alf Gunnderson sits glumly in a jail cell being miserable with his situation and life overall. His unique talent is also a burden to him as he’s a pyrotic—one capable of producing flames from the rubbing of molecules; however, he can’t control his talent as well as some Blasters and Mindees can control their sparks and telepathy, respectively. When Spacecom interrogates him, they realize his potential as a weapon and send him off to the home system of their alien enemy, where Alf can choose to use his talent for good or for evil. 21 pages

1977: The Best of John Jakes (Jakes, John)

Chauvinism further mars the mediocrity (3/5)

John Jakes piqued my interest after I picked up and read Secrets of Stardeep (1969) and On Wheels (1973) on a whim. The latter novel is a satisfying satire on American’s obsession with cars yet follows a fairly typical plot line with a predictable finish—3/5 stars in my opinion with 2/5 stars for the former novel. John Jakes was a “bestselling author”, as the cover exclaims, of historical novels with the Kent Family Chronicles of the Civil War era, not speculative fiction. And much like the civil war, this collection is spiced with chauvinism of gender and race. As a bestselling author, one would expect the stories that could plumb the depths of human existence or touch the hearts of many; rather, it’s completely white-male dominated.

This mini-theme starts in the first story—“Machine”—where the only female character is a whiney, concerning housewife, followed by “Political Machine” where only men dominate the political arena and the sole women are, of course, schoolteachers or secretaries. Females as secretaries, models, and victims make an appearance in “The Sellers of Dreams” in which females are naturally so self-conscious of fashion that they are all willing to change their entire person and persona based on the season’s whims… and because men, naturally wouldn’t do that.

In “The Highest Form of Life”, the only female is a reporter who has a “grating female voice” (91)—thus, this story should be the title for the entire collection: White Men: The Highest Form of Life. From this story on, the female and minority roles take a plummet. “One Race Show”—another apt title for the collection—hosts another whiney wife.

This is all taken to another level in “Love is a Punch in the Nose” where the misogyny is obvious yet veiled in satire. When a man punches and hits his wife to make himself feel better, it reeks of something wrong, regardless of the twist ending. But what’s worse than being a woman?—being Asian. When the man finds that it was, after all, OK to hit his wife, he sees another woman—someone lower on the totem pole than himself—take up with a “refugee and freedom fighter from Japkor… [who had] escaped through the Com Chin barricades” (139). He believes the woman victimizes him out of scorn.

Another apt title: “There’s No Vinism Like Chauvinism”. Here, men take the domineering roles and just once it looked like a female would play the leading role in the revolution, but it turns out she’s just a victim, too, as in “The Sellers of Dreams” and “Love is a Punch in the Nose”. Then there’s “Recidivism Preferred” in which the kidnappers plan to free a “sex degenerate” in order to “teach those bureaucrats” of the government for the sake of “free enterprise” (196). Ah, free love is rough love.

The last story—“Here is Thy Sting”—is quite good but, again, chauvinism rears its head. While Cassius is a seriously driven man with the noble goal of writing his own history book, his female partner has a flighty mind bent on whimsical topics for her nitwitted editorial job.  And like “Love is a Punch in the Nose”, Asians are the lowest in the rung of humans: Cassius writes about how the Chinese were the defeated aggressors in a fictional Puerto Rican war; another character has a book entitled Alert! The Yellow Underground is Attacking; some “yellow-cheeked bootboy” (217) dies in an brief and unnecessary scene, and Dolly Sue Wei dies in violence stemming from her being “the first non-American ever to register at the University of Levittown” and who was buried “in a free cemetery in Manhattan’s Oriental ghetto” (223). “Here is Thy Sting” scores one point for having a famous female musician, but even she is prone to emotional… the same unsettling, disastrous emotion which affects Cassius in the end.

All this chauvinism could (1) be the result of market demand as the stories were written between 1952 and 1968 yet are distinctly not New Wave, progressive stories of which often assume different sex and race roles. It could also (2) be a symptom of the editors’ hand-picking of Jakes’ 72 published SF stories: Martin Harry Greenberg (noted for over thirty years as an editor and anthologist) and Joseph D. Olander (noted for his anthologies in the 1970s). It could also (3) be just part of the author’s repertoire as he also has machismo novels as Brak the Barbarian (1968).

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“Machine” (shortstory, 1952) – 3/5

Charlie swears at and damns the very toaster that’s burned him, claiming it to have a mind of its own. His wife Helen looks on with mild amusement mixed with topical worry. Charlie’s pet hate for all machines good and bad affects his daily life as he forsakes cars in favor of the streetcar, yet at home, he continuously eyes the kitchen toaster. When his wife is away, he follows through with his mechan-icidal plan, but both his wife and the toaster know that he’s up to no good. 4 pages

“Political Machine” (shortstory, 1961) – 3/5

In the American capitol sits the Combined Congressional Building; in that massive complex sits one of many similar machines that perfectly pass laws through rigorous logic: the Illinois Chamber. To facilitate the machine, one man was elected as the Populist Custodian: Elwood Everett Swigg. Behind the man made of metal and flesh is an even bigger mover who commands keywords to Swigg so that he stops and goes as he pleases: Buster Poole. And behind him is the good doctor. Above them all sits a debate, which could unravel them all. 17 pages

“The Sellers of the Dream” (novelette, 1963) – 3/5

TTIC and G/S are the competing companies who drive the future of consumerism, where even personalities and body modifications can change with the season. For G/S to grab a larger part of the upcoming female modification, they send their mole Finian Smith to view the initial unveiling. What he sees astonishes him: the model is a girl he once loved. Having been caught and ousted from TTIC, his boss of G/S sees him and fires him, but not before Finian catches a glimpse of a bigger mystery. Jobless, Finian sets out to find his girl and unravel the mystery. 39 pages

“The Highest Form of Life” (shortstory, 1961) – 3/5

The U.S.S. Sharkbait sits throttling at pier ready to take its scientific journey to the depths of the water in order to communicate with Tursiops truncates—the bottle-nosed dolphin. But just off shore sits the Nikolai Fernoyn, the presence of which seems to indicate that their dolphin communication research is either false or penetrated. Regardless, the Americans feel confident as they’ve already been contacted by an alien race and their translation systems seem legit… only the dolphins don’t want to return communication. 12 pages

“One Race Show” (novelette, 1962) – 4/5

Rhinelander owns a gallery and an estate—actually, his wealthy wife owns the latter, a fact that miffs him. His gallery, however, isn’t the talk of the town as that accolade goes to Swallows, who has received five original painting from an unknown artist named Joe Caul. Morose yet intrigued by the popularity, Rhinelander visits the gallery himself and is hypnotized by the dark, hellish portraits. Caul’s location is a mystery, so Rhinelander becomes determined to hunt him down, but what he finds confuses then disturbs him… and everyone. 28 pages

“Love is a Punch in the Nose” (shortstory, 1966) – 1/5

After Charles heard that he had been passed over on a promotion, his angered compelled him to strike the very thing he loved most: his wife Shirley. Once struck, she forgave him; Charles felt like a new man—his anger relieved and his wife obedient. The coming months saw his fierceness increase as he continued to strike her for insecure insinuations after she had spoken. When he plunged a knife into her chest, his life changed. He was soon learns that his misogyny is only eclipsed by racism in terms of degradation. 11 pages

“There’s No Vinism Like Chauvinism” (novelette, 1965) – 2/5

“[T]hree hundred million Americans who, in these packed vertical cities, found release in the emotional catharsis if fierce partisanship with the armies on either side of the various commercial wars which had uncontrollably wracked the US … for more than twenty years” (151). The wars, however, are carefully scripted from Washington with actors participating in the wars, the multitude of which is under hypnosis. When a real bullet kills a real cow, the unscripted action unveils a cascade of revolution. 44 pages

“Recidivism Preferred” (shortstory, 1962) – 3/5

“Randolf Mellors was a soulless hulk of his former conniving self” (185) as he sits behind the counter of a bumpkin goods ship. He’s polite yet deferring, shy yet competent; his only fault is the one thing haunts him: three words: Acme Lead Works. His day-to-day monotony breaks when a well-to-do trio enters the store, first innocuously then aggressively as they attempt to kidnap him. His reflexes kick in but their planning snares him as he continues to plead his innocence. News reporting, psychology, and crime all clash as Randolf struggles to free himself. 13 pages

“Here is Thy Sting” (novelette, 1968) – 4/5

When Cassius goes to retrieve the casket of his brother who died as a bystander in a knife fight, on the moon, he’s frustrated that someone else had already picked it up. Phone calls and visits to the officials produce no leads as to there his brother’s body may have gone. Meanwhile haunted by a dream in which a savage dog chases him, Cassius sees the world around him full of stagnation and mediocrity. With his own flame of inspiration lit, he begins his long search for his brother, but answers are dangerous. 50 pages

Lazy Book Reviews of February 2016

#11: Soviet Science Fiction (1962) – uncredited editor (4/5)

The Iron Curtain once held back more than culture and economy, but at the same time, the shroud became an intriguing mystery to some. The USSR was an unfathomable territory and within its expansive borders it contained an infinity of nuances, nooks and crannies, and its own literature. Around 2000, I was compelled to read Soviet-era travel fiction to experience this mystification of the USA’s old enemy, a sub-genre that I continue to read today. I’m only now getting around to reading Soviet SF. After my Japanese SF project last year, I decided to take the dive in to Soviet SF… so this is the first in a series. Isaac Asimov’s introduction sort of sets the reader up for disappointment: “the particular stories in this book were selected in part for their relative inoffensiveness [in regards to propaganda and anti-Americanisms]”. The collection starts with the dull “Hoity-Toity” (1930/1961) but follows with five better stories, all but one a 4-star read. You may think that all stories would have a heavy sociological slant, but you’d have to dig a little to get to that kind of message. I’ve tried to portray each story in terms of propaganda, but actually they read just like any other collection from the 1950s. (full review)

#12: The Day of the Shield (1973) – Antony Alban (2/5)

This author only wrote two SF novels: the one featured here and Catharsis Central (1968). The latter novel was published twice and The Day of the Shield was only published once. I can’t find anything else the author ever did, so it seems like he’s lost in the sands of time. It’s no wonder though that The Day of the Shield never saw the light of day again—everything about the novel is a forced idea that fails to find a grip on the weak scaffolding of the plot. With Russia and China nuked to oblivion, the eurofed and America were left untouched because of their powered domes which shielded them from attack. America devolved into neofeudalism where the Owners of states prolong their lives with “body servants, who are mere indentured slaves for body parts for five years. Fisk is indentured to a vixen who is the daughter of the proclaimed president of the entire land. The Owner himself requests his presence, sending him into a modern complex labyrinth of death by disobedience. Soon, he’s embroiled in an underground movement with unknown motives. Actually, as the cover states, that motive is to bring down the dome, which the reader doesn’t find out until the last seven pages of the 191-page novel. Everything is forced and blocky, but at least it’s a mind-numbing read.

#13: The Monadic Universe (1985) – George Zebrowski (3/5)

‘Twas a gift from Joachim Boaz, a collection of which he himself berated. I had much trepidation opening this one! Unlike Joachim’s own 1977 edition, my 1985 edition has two additional stories, both of which add much needed quality to the sluggish start of the collection: “Wayside World” (1977) and “The Word Sweep” (1979). The first eight stories—yes, all eight—feel like good ideas wasted with poor execution, especially the three chronological stories with Praeger; these felt like non-stories, snippets of something that never gather enough momentum of its own to push it toward relevance, thereby leaving it fledgling like a lame duckling far behind its majestic mother. When compared to the last six stories—yes, all six—the first eight are contrastingly poor. But, ah, the latter six stories are all worthwhile, almost worthwhile enough to slog through the first eight… but don’t do that. (full synopses)

#14: The Probability Man (1972) – Brian N. Ball (2/5)

I’ve only read Ball’s Singularity Station (1973), which was an impulse buy long ago. Innocuous as it was sitting on my shelf and without any notable reviews online, I picked up only to be surprised by how fun it was. Now, “fun” isn’t a term I use very often to describe plots or stories, but Singularity Station had all the bells and whistles for a stereotypical science fiction novel, yet done to an expert degree. Since then—2011—I’ve been anxious to see what else he had written, and when I pulled The Probability Man from my shelves, I was almost salivating; sadly, that “expert degree” that I mentioned before is sorely lacking here. It tries so hard to be a fun novel and it tries to be clever by pulling strings together in the end, yet it’s just so tedious for a 175-page novel. Spingarn knows that he doesn’t know who he is or what he’s exactly doing, yet he lives through an eighteenth-century siege when he realizes that it’s just a Plot in a Frame. After he calls a Time-Out, he begins to learn more about the man who he used to be; memories come trickling back, names begin to establish importance, and once common knowledge morphs into newly learned facts. The reader is dragged through his bizarre experience in these historical Plots in the far future, where he muddles through his past to save the future of humankind, or something. There are plot twists, metaphorical rabbits in the hand and slights of hand, but in the end it all seems to pressured to be outlandish rather than outstanding.

#15: Canal Dreams (1989) – Iain Banks (4/5)

Of Banks’s 30 published books, I’ve now read 22 of them. I still need to read six pieces of his fiction in addition to Raw Spirit (2003) and Poems (2015), all of which I own. He’s the one author I’ve re-read the most often. Needless to say, I very very much look forward to picking up one of his books that I’ve never read… or one that I have read, for that matter. Regardless of being fiction, poetry, short stories, or science fiction, I open his books reverently. Canal Dreams started off in unfamiliar waters: a renowned female Japanese cellist is stranded aboard a freighter in the Panama Canal due to a regional war, the ship of which becomes besieged by seeming guerillas with a hidden agenda. No castles, no Scotland, no bridges? Hmm, it was off-key but I settled in to it with heightened expectation… but what followed felt like an airport novel on the brink of being a thriller yet with rich character development. I hasten to say that my interest began to pique with the book’s own peak of action. In retrospect, the placid waters of the developing plot and the disassociative dreams played right into the arms of the downward spiral of inner torture of Hisako Onoda. Symbolism and parallelisms are subtle yet bloom in full with the resulting actions, the consequences. Clever—damn clever.

#16: Beggars in Spain (1993) – Nancy Kress (4/5)

Prior to Beggars in Spain, I had only come across two of Kress’s short works: “Inertia” (1990) in Wastelands (2008) and “Evolution” (1995) in Year’s Best SF (1996). I really liked the former, but not so much the latter; regardless, I knew Kress was one author of who I had to read more… so Beggars in Spain became my purchase. If you haven’t read the original novella like me, here the breakdown: Gene modification has come so far that children can now be engineered to not sleep. The result of the permanent sleeplessness is accelerated learning, productivity, and overall drive. Because the genetic alteration is prohibitively expensive, only a few thousand have the trait, yet they become vilified when it’s discovered that they share one additional characteristic: agelessness from cell repair. Soon, America is divided by law and society as to what exactly “all men are created equal” means. Leisha is one of the first Sleepless and takes a humanistic approach to the social problem; Jennifer, rather, takes the insular approach and begins to barricade the Sleepless while exploiting their talents through the economy. Years later, after Leisha and her sheltered-by-fear Sleepless cohorts have established an orbital colony, they produce their own modified version of genetic perfection—also sleepless yet whose minds whirl with complexity. Leisha tends to the society that had once forsaken them while Jennifer plots otherwise; in between, the American government must take a side. Occasionally a bit preacher on the philosophical front and a bit too Americentric, the novel recovers by drawing various parallels to history and subtly alluding to a few others.

#17: Catharsis Central (1969) – Antony Alban (2/5)

Sorry for me. I picked up two books by Antony Alban on a whim at a secondhand bookstore. It turns out that same two books were the only two books that the author had ever written. I had already read Day of the Shield (1973) this month and found it a chore at times, so I mildly whimpered when I pulled Catharsis Central from my to-be-read pile. Catharsis doesn’t feel as forced at Shield, but it still hurts to read it. For sake of brevity, I’ll try to synopsize this novel in one sentence. For hundreds of years, the citizens of the Settlements have snoozed peacefully and lived compliantly because of Catharsis Central, which monitors their moods and keeps everyone calm; regardless of the wide-spread peace, someone is beginning to kill off those who work for Catharsis, the murder whose agenda cannot be anything other than total revolution, but by what other means? Consider the number of generic tropes: domes cities, autochefs, disposal chutes, travelators, janitor robots, televisor consoles, algae tanks, and a central computer. There is very little that is original in this novel… but one thing does stand out: the laugh-out-loud, guffaw-worthy sex scenes. Allow me to quote: “Carlsen [the protagonist] was very good in bed; all of his women had said so” (18), “the full breasts swaying like perfect fruit from the taut lines of her neck and shoulders …. Eva urged him on with rapid plungings of her hips” (115-116), and “her eyes locked with Carlsen’s, sending a surge of love across the room like a high-voltage current” (127). I literally guffawed aloud on public transportation. Avoid Alban, unless for laughs.

#18: Children of the Wind (1989) – Kate Wilhelm (3/5)

My experience with Wilhelm is limited to three novels and two novellas, all of which I have given a 3- or 4-star rating; for example, her novel The Killer Thing (1967) was quite good while “The Plastic Abyss” (1971) left something to be desired for. Neither have I been impressed nor disappointed. In her collection Children of the Wind, the stories don’t impress me yet again, but further, I’m disappointed in two of the five. I wasn’t under the assumption that all five stories would be science fiction; I’m quite open to reading non-genre fiction and a bit of non-Tolkien/non-paranormal fantasy. Of the five stories in this collection, two are paranormal fantasy, two are fiction, and one is science fiction. Perhaps because of my distaste for fantasy, those two stories were the weakest, in my opinion. I couldn’t immerse myself in the story, couldn’t draw any parallelisms, couldn’t sense any direction or point. In contrast to these two dullards—one of which actually received a Nebula award for Best Novella (“The Girl Who Fell into the Sky”)—the one science fiction story (“A Brother to Dragons, a Companion of Owls “) and the first story (“Children of the Wind “) are pretty good, but not great. (full synopses)