Science Fiction Though the Decades

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

1984: The Best from Universe (Carr, Terry [editor])

Aligned with the Nebula Awards, if that’s your thing (4/5)

It’s a little odd that I’ve been reading science fiction for eight years now yet I’ve never opened an anthology by Terry Carr. I’ve read one of Carr’s short stories (“The Dance of the Changer and the Three” [1] [2]) but wasn’t too impressed by it. Once the editor of the Universe anthology series (1971-1987), Carr compiled his favorite nine stories from the series in 1984. The Best from Universe would ideally be a cross-section of all the stories published, but rather than being back by Carr’s subjective tastes, the anthology feels aligned with Nebula Award nominations (Ellison, Leiber, and Varley) and Nebula Award winners (Silverberg, Wolfe, and Waldrop).

For the most part, the stories are quite good—the notable exception of Ellison’s story “On the Downhill Side”, which I didn’t care for the least bit. Aside from Ellison’s fantasy tale of unicorns and death, Carr includes the bizarre—courtesy of Lafferty and Silverberg—, the steamy and intellectual—courtesy of Leiber—, and the literary—thanks to Wolfe.

------------

Silverberg, Robert: Good News from the Vatican (shortstory, 1971) – 4/5 – The narrator, along with a bishop, a rabbi and a couple, wait at a café just outside of the Vatican for word of the election of the new Pope. It’s widely rumored that the new Pope will be a robot in order to appease the population of the automata. The rabbi, himself, has seen the mirrored figure as a keynote speaker one time and he had his charms. From the chimney rises the white smoke of decision—one of oppressive mirrors or one of impressive smoke? 9 pages

Lafferty, R.A.: Nor Limestone Islands (shortstory, 1971) – 4/5 – Of the millions of clouds floating above our land, it’s rumored that thirty of so of them are actually lands of granite and marble. How they stay aloft, no one knows for sure but there are instances where their existence is ponderable. First the man who said his marble quarry was only three miles away who also had the reputation of flinging stones; then, there’s the photographer considered batty for the shots of the clouds; and lastly, someone please explain the 400-meter tall pagoda. 13 pages

Ellison, Harlan: On the Downhill Side (shortstory, 1972) – 2/5 – Disembodied as a ghost haunting the Quarters of New Orleans, Paul Ordahl and his trusty unicorn steed innocuously roam the streets of the day’s twilight. Lizette, too, strolls the street where the unicorn allows her to stroke its muzzle—a sure sign the young lass is a virgin. Her stories date her more than a hundred years old while Paul is a more recent death, his prior life haunted by foiled marriages. As dawn approaches, so too do their fates. 14 pages

Le Guin, Ursala K.: Schrödinger’s Cat (shortstory, 1974) – 3/5 – Both notable for their speed, earthworms will crawl or speed about under feet while birds will swoop of break the sound barrier above head. As one man’s house, a postman or perhaps a dog knocks at the door and marvels at the coincidence of having Schrödinger’s box and seeing Schrödinger’s cat in the house. The man is initially leery of performing the experiment, but the cat jumps into the box and experiment begins, but where and when does the experiment cease? 8 pages

Wolfe, Gene: The Death of Doctor Island (novella, 1973) – 5/5 – Orbiting Jupiter, an island of spherical glass houses an ocean and its own sandy island. On this island tread the fractured minds of once isolated individuals: Diane with her occasional yet incurable catatonia; Ignacio with his homicidal tendencies, anti-social yet thriving; and Nicolas with his general lassitude toward social conformity and a penchant for fire. The convalescence sphere oversees their recuperation but not their safety in the space-warping bucolic hospital. 53 pages

Pangborn, Edgar: The Night Wind (novelette, 1974) – 3/5 – Having committed a taboo in his community, Benvenuto flees the once secure village in favor of isolation and personal safety. Though brought up to read and write by the bishop, all of the sudden, after his so-called heinous act, Benvenuto is labeled a monster but still clings to the vanity of once being called beautiful. He reflects on his past history with his lover Andreas and his filial affection for the chandler’s wife—Mam Miriam. 17 pages                                                                                                  

Leiber, Fritz: A Rite of Spring (novelette, 1977) – 5/5 – Cooped up in the top of a cube in the desert dedicated to theoretical and applied sciences, Matthew is pleasantly disrupted by the cherubic grace of young Severeign Saxon. Initially awkward, the chance encounter in his room takes a playful turn as the two play the Numbers Game—naming all things grouped by seven. After a brief round and a brief kiss, Matthew relishes her return and her mysterious origin. Playfulness becomes foreplay, innocence becomes guilt. 35 pages

Varley, John: Options (novelette, 1979) – 3/5 – When cheap and easy sex changes were first introduced, it was outside the norm of society and catered to a specific demographic. Now twenty years later, people of all ages and all walks of life are cloning their reverse-sexed bodies to live as it for some time. Cleo, a wife and mother of six, though mutually agreed to non-monogamy, takes an interest in becoming Leo. With the change in full, Leo experiences life as a man married to a reluctant man. 28 pages

Waldrop, Howard: The Ugly Chickens (novelette, 1980) - 4/5 – Paul Lindberl is working on his master’s in ornithology and is a biology assistant at the University of Texas. While on a bus thumbing through his book on extinct and rare birds, one woman comments on how she used to see those ugly chickens—the dodo—all the time when she was young. Paul follows the lead to a country shack where he gathers the old bits of shells and bones, but he needs to take it one step further: How did the dodos end up in America and where is the photographic proof? 23 pages


Sunday, November 9, 2014

1975: Caution! Inflammable! (Scortia, Thomas N.)

Forgotten curiosity of a curious but unremarkable sort (3/5)

Few readers know of Scortia but if they do know the name, they probably affiliate it with The Glass Inferno (1974), a disaster novel that was made into a Hollywood movie titled The Towering Inferno in the same year. He typically writes novels in collaboration with one other more famous science fiction author—Frank M. Robinson, notable for his solo novel The Dark Beyond the Stars (1991). I don’t think any of the other four collaborative novels proved to be as popular as The Glass Inferno.

Eventually, while Robinson made a name for himself, it seems like Scortia has been largely forgotten about. After reading Scortia’s sophomore solo novel—Earthwreck! (1974)—I was intrigued by its (1) unique balance of ham-fisted writing (you’re right, Joachim), (2) long passages of scientific indulgence, (3) gay innuendos, and (4) curious characters. I really wanted to see if Scortia’s short stories could reflect the interesting traits of Earthwreck! And, indeed, there are some scraps morsels which stir the mind in all four regards.

In Theodore Sturgeon’s introduction to the collection, he makes two guarantees: (1) “there will be stories that you will not like” and (2) “there will be stories that will bowl you over” (xi). On the first guarantee, he’s certainly right there; many of the stories feel flat, petty, whimsical or predictable. On the latter guarantee, some stories (the 4-star stories) feel smart, but definitely not enough to bowl me over.

Rather than lament on the analogies, metaphors or reflections on human nature of each story, I’ll synopsize the stories for the sake of archival and research… this post is already 1,900+ words anyway.

------------

Caution! Inflammable! (1955) – 3/5 – Perched high above the city, a phoenix makes its nest on the top of a skyscraper. With curiosity piqued, one reporter ventures up to the phoenix and its makeshift nest to understand its motivation and gain an understanding of its existence. Indeed, it will be reborn from its own ashes; indeed, it can predict the future; but no, it needs to help for ignition from the friendly newspaper journalist. 3 pages

Sea Change (1956) – 3/5 – George and his wife sit next to Bart while George lectures on and on about the hazards of “those robot ships” (15) which are inhuman and pilot passengers to Mars. Meanwhile, Bart sits at the bar, himself being a pilot who ships men to Mars, converses with his love interest in real time across space; he ignores George’s ignorant comments and concentrates, with his excellent capacity, on saving his lonesome girl from destruction by collision with a ship. 15 pages

Though a Sparrow Fall (1965) – 4/5 – The subjective so-called answer to life has been quested after for many ages and by many people through many disciplines. At a university interdepartmental get-together, Gerten, a biochemist, says he has found that same answer to life by studying the content analysis of the human nucleotides. Perhaps it’s not so much an answer as it is a message written by someone or something. 5 pages

John Robert and the Dragon’s Egg (1957) – 3/5 – Out in that there swamp, the little rascal John Robert proudly comes home with an egg of some sort, which he duly reckons it to be a dragon egg. In the coming days during its incubation, Grandpa Riley sees to the egg’s needs. When the beast hatches, neither can believe their luck and Aunt Bess wants nothing to do with the cloak and dagger routine… that is until she and Uncle Ben witness its grandeur with dollar signs in their heads. 13 pages

The Last War (1975) – 3/5 – The pacific otter-like alien race which has visited Earth requests one thing: an area with which they can emigrate unless their species dies out in the next hundred years. though giving them Tasmania is a kind gesture, their reproduction cycle scares the future of humanity. Gifted with limited telepathy, the otter-like race can communicate only between sexes and are incapable of violence or lying. They depart Earth after leaving a gift of their own. 7 pages

When You Hear the Tone (1971) – 3/5 – Eighty-two years old, convinces he’s dying even when the doctor says he’s sound, and cooped up in a room where, below, the vultures of his family wait for his to die, Mark Fleiker is full of hate. Dialing on his phone, Mark repeatedly gets the same voice on the line but from earlier and earlier times than his 1970. Convinced he’s in love, he calls the girl again and again until he hears the voice of Alexander Graham Bell. Hate becomes love. 14 pages

Woman’s Rib (1972) – 2/5 – Plain and well-aged, Dr. Ellen Marsden takes pride in two things: a) her work in biochemistry and b) her incredibly attractive, much younger suitor, Frank. Though frail and weary, Frank is at the center of her personal and sexual life, and he’s actually the center of her private professional life. His charms and her frailty are apparent at a party where Frank woos the guests and Ellen makes the rounds while she’s feeling more and more tired. One wallflower catches both their eyes. 13 pages

Morality (1969) – 4/5 – A fledgling king of a land once came across a monster starving and dying. Capitalizing on the opportunity, the king rescued but imprisoned the fearsome beast. Without the tacit fear of the beast, the king would not wield the power he now has; without the supply of human flesh, the beast would not be able to continue living. Their relationship is tense, but the princess has an idea in mind for the monster, who only seeks to be with his own kind. 13 pages

The Worm in the Rose (1972) – 2/5 – Miffed by his girlfriend/s emotional games, John stomps off to the park’s public restroom, where, at the long urinal, a man stares him down. The stranger’s touch and eager mouth excite young Johnnie. With the strange man knelt in front of him, the police bust the scene, both men claiming it was their first time. The expresses worry about his wife while Johnnie about the military police, but the there are scarier repercussions for Johnnie at night. 8 pages

Flowering Narcissus (1973) – 3/5 – Honcho is a man’s man; he’s impressed with his muscles, rides a hog, and shamelessly a womanizer. He’s also hard up for cash so enlists for an experiment where he sleeps for a week, only to awake more than a century later. Attended by an android because all other humans are dead, CTX-25, and androgynous android, soils Honcho with his every desire: food, drink, a bike, drugs, and the shapeliest woman he’s ever laid eyes upon. 15 pages

The Icebox Blonde (1960) – 4/5 – On a business trip from England to America, Mr. Foringham is continually disgusted by the uncivilized and barbarous behavior of the Yankees. His wife adds insult to injury by actually socializing with one young man. Most of all, Mr. Foringham can’t believe what the supermarket has for sale:  a frozen woman; however, he finds himself repeatedly in the store glancing down at the body while his wife and her fancies are away. 14 pages

The Bomb in the Bathtub (1957) – 2/5 – Sidney Coleman has a very unique problem—a hydrogen bomb has manifested itself in his bathtub and won’t stop singing. Specializing in odd complaints, the private investigator named Caedman Wickes takes the case believing there always exists some sort of internal logic. When he sees the bomb in situ, Caedman deduces he needs a number of things including rigged dice, newspapers, and a bassoon recording. 15 pages

Judas Fish (1970) – 4/5 – In the deep ocean of the Kuwaka Deep, Jefferson Boyer is cooped up alone for three months while directing probes toward schools of fish. With the billions of people on Earth in 2000 nearly starving yet always rioting, he must direct the schools into pressurized storage in order to feed the millions. But just outside his shelter swim the over-sized and organized squid, stealing his prey and eyeing him through the thick glass window. 14 pages

Fall Out One (1972) – 3/5 – Soured to the point of constant dethatched depression by his experience in the Korean War and being passes up for promotion, Major Jim Archer will let nothing change what he wants to keep—his family. However, in the living room, a dead boy is sprawled on the floor pooled in blood. His wife is frantic and his feeble daughter cowers, but Jim is cool. He assesses the situation and sees exactly what needs to be done. 8 pages

By the Time I Get to Phoenix (1972) – 4/5 – Simple and sexless, a lone man in the desert whittles away time reflecting on an unfortunate war accident which took his manhood. Suddenly from outside, an explosion rocks him to his knees. When he visits the crash site, a naked female with malformed limbs mimics his speech and penetrates his thoughts. Regrets of sexlessness and feelings of love for the similarly sexless being pervades his thoughts as the woman ages, dies, and morphs. 9 pages

Gee, Wurlitzer! It’s a Dad! (1971) – 3/5 – Lennie Parsons grew up right thanks to his mama and became an upright moralist named Leonard Parsons. Morality his concern yet programming his job, Leonard programs the ANAVIC computer with the necessary data and some of his own reading material. When he has qualms with a pretty girl and her popularity, Leonard lament so the computer who makes a decision based on the logic fed to it. Given a gallon of one liquid and a thimbleful of another, Leonard has the answer. 14 pages

Old, Old Death in New, New Venice (1975) – 2/5 – An Earth poet of certain repute, Conrad travels to terraformed Mars, and specifically to New Venice where he’s invited to a soiree thrown by a contessa. His words of pleasure and pain, deriving the former from the latter, has sparked admiration among many of the revelers, including the ugly disfigured contessa and the cherubic boy Demetrios. When invited to partake in the very works of his words he lauds, he clams up at the indecency. 19 pages

The Premier’s Lady (1975) – 3/5 – Though the fanciful wife of the Premier, some things are still left to be desired. The Lady’s age-old fling with Peter, now the Premier’s press secretary, is marred by her accident of crashing the Porsche and having Peter’s leg amputated. Her relationship with the Premier is marred, too, after witnessing an assassination attempt where metallic fragments entered his skull. Now a changed man, he doesn’t appear to be the same man she once married. 14 pages

The Goddess of the Cats (1973) – 4/5 – Miguel cherishes his roots as an Aztec commonfolk, but he makes amends in California as a muralista as a building complex. By night, he makes loves to Senora Martin; by day he tiles the mural of a mermaid. Proud of his work, he shuns additional work of labor and oversight pushed by his employer Duchotte. Angered by his unwillingness, Duchotte covers up Miguel’s work with brick and marble, only to be destroyed by Miguel’s prideful wrath and lineage. 16 pages

The Weariest River (novelette, 1973) – 4/5 – Immortality is finally realized by the genius of Malcolm while researching for a pharmaceutical company. Little did he know that the gears of consumerism and the corporate world are very well oiled; his invention is pawed off to an insurance company and becomes a dominate world force. Malcolm is over three hundred years old and, like his body, the world is decaying but refuses to die, Malcolm, however, knows the secret of real death, for when the time is right. 41 pages

Thursday, November 6, 2014

2014: The Abyss Beyond Dreams (Hamilton, Peter F.)

Detoured return to the Void of expectation (3/5)

Of Hamilton’s sixteen-book bibliography, I’ve now polished off eleven of the tomes, including the Night’s Dawn trilogy (1996-1999) which I read earlier this year ([1] [2] [3]). Though that trilogy isn’t his earliest work—a sticky -note factoid which belongs to the Greg Mandel trilogy (1993-1995)—everything which made the trilogy a popular success (subjectively, no) can be found is the rest of his work. It’s difficult to boil down the essentials and give it a name, but technology, horror, telepathy, and investigation play a heavy hand in most of his novels—that goes for Great North Road (2012), somewhat. Now, after reading The Abyss Beyond Dreams (2014), I realize that these same themes are becoming redundant.

The Commonwealth Universe series of novels (minus Misspent Youth [2002]) started off with a bang in Pandora’s Star (2004) and continued unabated through more than a thousand pages in its sequel Judas Unchained (2005). I was hyped by the announcement of the Void trilogy (2007-2010) and actually found the storyline in the Void to be more interested than the storyline in the Commonwealth! But after the third book—The Evolutionary Void (2011)—I was getting a bit tired of the bucolic supernatural world of the Void and wanted the sharp tang of a technological fix from the Commonwealth. The conclusion to The Evolutionary Void finished, satisfyingly, on that same note and many overtones for teasers into The Fallers duology.

In my review for The Evolutionary Void, I mentioned four threads which were left hanging, possibly as an enticement for the continuation of the Commonwealth series. Two of these threads turned out to be dead ends in regards to The Fallers duology, but two of the same ones I mentioned hit the nail on the head: What happened to the far-flung colonists aboard the Brandt Dynasty ships? What happened to Nigel and his trans-galactic fleet?

In Judas Unchained (2005), Nigel’s fleet is first mentioned as an escape for his Dynasty from the possible defeat by the Primes:

Nigel had authorized eleven of the vast ships, with initial component acquisition consent for another four. In theory, just one ship could carry enough equipment and genetic material to establish a successful high-technology human society from scratch. But Nigel had wanted to begin with more than the basics, and his Dynasty was the largest in the Commonwealth. A fleet would make absolutely sure any new human civilization they founded would succeed. (622)

Very early, The Dreaming Void (2007) mentions both fleets:

The last major departure had been in AD 3000, when Nigel Sheldon himself led a fleet of ten starships, the largest craft ever built, to set up a ‘new human experience’ elsewhere. It was strongly rumoured at the time that the ships had a trans-galactic flight range. (323)

But Mellanie’s Redemption was a fine ship, she should be able to make the trip out to the Drasix cluster, fifty thousand lightyears away, where the Brandt Dynasty ships were said to have flown. (324)

The Evolutionary Void (2010) also mentions Nigel’s fleet:

Nigel Sheldon had offered Ozzie another way out, a berth on the Sheldon family armada of colony starships. They weren’t just going to the other side of the galaxy to set up a new society. Oh, no, not Nigel; he was off to a whole new galaxy to begin again. A noble quest, restarting human civilization in a fresh part of the universe. Then in another thousand years a new generation of colony ships might spread to further galaxies. After all, as he’d pointed out, this one is ultimately doomed with the Void at the center, so we need somewhere that’s got a long-term future. (410-411)

And then, this fleet magically triples in the timeline of The Abyss Beyond Dreams: “3000: Sheldon Dynasty colony fleet (thirty starships) leaves Commonwealth, believed to possess long-range trans-galactic flight capability” (ix).

The Abyss Beyond Dreams starts off with a 94-page ordeal of one of the nine Brandt colony ships—the Vermillion. It seems that all of the ships passing near the Void had been transported into the Void universe. Crew are being thawed from their sleep only to suffer unpleasant side-effects of the Void’s technological restrictiveness, just as their ship experiences limitations, but they have all the benefits of the seemingly supernatural telekinesis and other powers Edeard had. Two objects pique the interest of those on the Vermillion: the planet on which they may land and the curious crystalline Forest. The planet, however, isn’t the fabled planet of Edeard. It still looks inhabitable, so the Vermillion aims for the planet while a splinter group investigate the odd emerald crystal Forest—Laura Brandt is among that crew and she absolutely loves the word “bollocks”, which she says twenty-five times in 94 pages. Unfortunately, the crystal resists their persistent probing as automatic probe simply disappear from sight, then even the Vermillion and the planet disappear. Still enticed by its mystery and uncertain of the Skylords’ vague dialogue, they push on to attain a sample from crystalline egg sacs at its extremes. Once the human crew touch the eggs, they become absorbed. Laura, still on the observation ship, later sees them return yet acting oddly. Horror quickly falls upon the observation ship as they devour its human crew, yet Laura miraculously escapes to the surface of the planet. This is only the beginning of her personal horror.

This opening premise is a great start because it captures the imagination with the “lost fleet”, the idea that a fleet of humanity became stranded and experiences the hardships of its locality. This location isn’t a desert island with cannibals, but it’s The Void in all its weirdness. All readers of the Void trilogy are aware of Edeard’s planet named Querencia, but it was just an assumption that this was the only planet it the void. Also an assumption, people believed that the Skylords were native to the Void and that they were the only bizarre manifestations within the Void. It’s a bit of a stretch for the reader to experience two new revelations from the Vermillion: there’s another planet and there’s another oddity; also, that oddity had the oddest of qualities and is perhaps even the key to understanding the Void and—boom!—it’s right on their doorstep.

The vigilant Raiel maintain a million-year sentry post around the Void, fearful of its ever-consuming growth. The Raiel are able to enter the Void universe, but their mighty warship fleet had never been heard from again. They tracked the Brandt colony ships across space and become concerned about their possible penetration into the Void, a rather odd development considering it has never happened in one million years. Though powerful in innumerous regards, they need the help of one man to unravel the mystery of the Brandt fleet’s disappearance: welcome back to the scene and the series Nigel Sheldon!

For some reason (nostalgia, perhaps?), Nigel invites Paula Myo along for the Void mission. However, she’ll stay aboard the observation vessel along with Nigel’s original self. Nigel’s clone is the one who must do the dirty work and investigate two things: What happened to the Brandt colony fleet? How can the Void be destroyed? As the cloned Nigel in the Void experiences the planet of Bienvenido, his “dreams” are broadcast to the original Nigel in the normal universe. Just as Edeard and the crew of the Vermillion have extra-sensory powers, Nigel, too, wields the same; Nigel is most aware of Edeard’s powers because he and Paul had snuck in and witnessed all of Edeard’s dreams, stolen from Inigo the Dreamer and cult leader of Living Dream. This also seems like a stretch, a hastily included act to set the precedence for Nigel’s infiltration to the Void. So, while the initial 94 pages are an intriguing start to the novel, the next section where Nigel, Paula and the Raiel plan their infiltration is a bit of a hasty rush, something which I’ve never said for any Hamilton novel… slow and steady, that’s typically his pace until the conclusion and only then is it a hasty retreat.

The novel opens up a third story, which remains the focus of The Abyss Beyond Dreams: Planet-bound on Bienvenido, Slvasta is a simple commanding officer for the regiment in charge of protecting the village of Cham from bandits and Fallers. Bandits may be a daily fear, but the Fallers are a three-millennium long fear engraved into the conscious of every human on Bienvenido. Slvasta’s squad is called to investigate one such Faller alert. Though the scientists regard the green Forest in space as the source of the Fallers, they have no way to track their movement toward Bienvenido and are only alerted when they streak groundward. They know a few other things, too: (1) the heaven-fallen eggs enrapture humans near it thus drawing them into it, eggsuming them, and creating an evil twin which cannibalizes living human bodies and (2) they can be destroyed in egg form or ersatz human form.

This is, again, all a curious development because Edeard’s city and planet were never hampered by these falling demons from the Forest. The Forest and the Fallers are both an entirely new development which was never mentioned in any of the three books in the Void trilogy. Again, this seems like a desperate attempt on Hamilton’s part to explain the mysteries of the Void after already having developed the mysteries without the answer… kind of like BSing on an exam. Taken by itself or taken in context with the other Commonwealth books, this book is just odd as the majority of the storyline (other than Nigel, the Void and the Raiel) does not reflect its predecessors.

Thereon, in itself a good story, Slvasta makes some revelations about the need for progress and change through revolution—the seed for this revolution was planted by Nigel himself when they crossed paths on the riverside while Slvasta was out seeking Fallers. Nigel, wise for more than a thousand years, impresses Slvasta with the kernel of truth: Bienvenido will not change itself nor will it change from the top; it will only change from its core—the people. After Slvasta is given a seat of power so that he can stop the culling of modified animals (remember the genistars from the Void, mind-crafted animals for a specific purpose?) because they are easily controlled by Fallers and a clear threat to humans, he doesn’t lie still for long. Witnessing the turgid bureaucracy of his government, Slavasta realizes he is in a position to make those changes that Bienvenido needs—a revolution is at hand!

Slvasta’s story thread of social upheaval doesn’t garner much interest. Behind this storyline, there are three lurking agents of change which that impinge on the flow of events: (1) The Captain and his mansion, (2) Nigel and his farm, and (3) Laura Brandt and he perpetual descent.

The Captain and His Mansion
More than three thousand year ago, the Brandt colony vessel named Vermillion made landfall and established exactly what it was intended to do, just not in the same universe. The captain—Captain Cornelius—was the first “Captain” of Bienvenido and, three thousand years later through direct lineage, Captain Philious now reigns with an iron fist, quashing any protest or revolt. Under his palace lay the remains the Vermillion, rich with ancient Commonwealth technology but sitting idle as much of it doesn’t work under The Void’s bizarre quantum structure. Much of this is unknown to the commonfolk of Bienvenido, but Nigel knows and Nigels sees opportunity.

Nigel and His Farm
To avoid suspicion from the locals, Nigel establishes a farm on the town’s outskirts. However, being the eclectic man he is, Nigel pushes the limits of technology on this backwater world where electronics don’t work: steam engines are created, unique genistars are produced, and other scientific dalliances abound. He’s definitely up to something. Ultimately, his goal to is destroy the Void and free the humans from the grip of its quantum tyranny, but he must tick off a long list of mental exercises so that he can accomplish his personal goal and as a favor to the Raiel. Once such jaunt is to the Desert of Bone, which is rumored to be piled with bones and watched over by a monster; however, once there, Nigel witnesses a massive heap of expods, the exact same exopod that Laura used to save herself and enter the atmosphere… just multiplied by hundreds of thousands.

Laura Brandt and Her Perpetual Descent
In the back of the reader’s mind, there should rest of curious case of Laura Brandt. She descended to Bienvenido in her exopod with a shattered ankle only to see the exact same exopod fall from the sky on top of hers, whereby she cracks the hatch and kills her new self. Multiply this scene by three thousand years; it’s grisly, it’s cool. The ramifications of this oddity are blurry but enticing, one thread of the novel which had my mind reeling.

And… if you’ve been reading Hamilton’s work for a while, you there some sex stashed away somewhere! I remember a few vivid scenes—not necessarily good scenes, mind you—in the Void trilogy. Abyss only has one sex scene but, boy, is it a doozy. It’s so bad, I actually guffawed aloud and read it to my colleague:

Her hands were fumbling with his shirt. He used his teekay to lift her dress off. They fell back onto the mattress, touching and caressing skin as it was freed from the restriction of clothes. When they were naked, she straddled him, surrounded by bright sunlight pouring in through the bay window behind her. He used his teekay to pull her down, impaling her. The sunlight seemed to flow around her, turning his world to a glorious white blaze as she cried out. Then she was riding him, letting him into her thoughts to reveal her body’s secret demands, pleading with him to perform them. He responded with equal intimacy, sharing his physical appetite. And a completely uninhibited Bethaneve used her hands and mouth and tongue and teekay to delight him in all the ways he’d always fantasized she would. (284)

 ------------

If you’re familiar with the Night’s Dawn trilogy, a few facets from there will certainly surface in Abyss: the existence of souls and the evilness of those changed. If you’re familiar with the Commonwealth and Void series, you see a few thematic reflections in Abyss: the sexualized young girl who can change the world, the bucolic hardships of the Void, and scientific progress à la Nigel and Ozzie. There’s something recognizable about Hamilton’s writing, in the thematic sense, and it’s becoming apparent that he has a formula that hasn’t changed with the times. This may be because I indulged gluttonously, though not with great satisfaction, on all three Night’s Dawn books this year. But there’s also the expectation of continuing a series without dropping all this new razzle-dazzle on the plate of the reader, very little of it familiar. There’s that word again—familiar. For something of the unfamiliar, try Hamilton's collection Manhattan in Reverse (2011).


So, some element of Abyss are agreeably familiar while others are disagreeably familiar. One might think a one-off novel might stray from this familiarity but even Great North Road suffers from these ubiquitous similarities, though it fared better than Abyss. To-date, Abyss is one of Hamilton’s least generous novels, one that doesn’t match expectations and one that doesn’t ignite the imagination.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

2014: War Dogs (Bear, Greg)

A trove of questions with a booty of intrigue (4/5)

I’ve been well through the thick and the thin of Greg Bear’s bibliography, through the old and the new, through the series and the stand-alones. However, I have not been drawn to two of his recent projects: (1) his annual publication of a videogame-linked novel expanding the Halo universe and (2) the collaborative Mongoliad with Neal Stephenson and others. I was quite keen on his last stand-alone novel Hull Zero Three (2010) but loathed his slightly earlier City at the End of Time (2008). These ups and downs span more than twenty years: Hegira (1979) was pretty good while Psychlone (1979) was not; Darwin’s Radio (1999) was also great while its sequel Darwin’s Children (2003) was not.

When I learned that Bear was penning another series (a sequel is currently being written), I had mixed feelings. Aside from the fluctuations of quality writing from Bear, one of my main gripes with actually picking up the novel was my avoidance any novel with the word “war” in it, that being an instant turn off; the glorification of wars and soldiers doesn’t fill me with patriotism; rather, it makes me pity the state of the country and its blind folk. I experienced dread when I saw the dedication page: “to all those who served … in WW2, Korea, and Vietnam”.

Inside flap synopsis:
“One more tour on the red.
Maybe my last.

They made their presence on Earth known thirteen years ago.

Providing technology and scientific insights far beyond what mankind was capable of. They became indispensable advisors and promised even more gifts that we just couldn't pass up. We called them Gurus.

It took them a while to drop the other shoe. You can see why, looking back.

It was a very big shoe, completely slathered in crap.

They had been hounded by mortal enemies from sun to sun, planet to planet, and were now stretched thin -- and they needed our help.

And so our first bill came due. Skyrines like me were volunteered to pay the price. As always.

These enemies were already inside our solar system and were moving to establish a beachhead, but not on Earth.

On Mars.”

------------

Michael Venn (master sergeant) used to be the average American WASP—“a white boy from Moscow, Idaho, a blue-collar IT wizard who got tired of working in cubicles” (5)—but he got burnt out in the corporate world and made the decision to join the Skyrines under the united flag of International Sky Defense (ISD). The ISD and the Skyrines who fight do not do so under the familiar sky of Earth, but tens of millions of miles away under the bleak, ruddy atmosphere of Mars. But mankind doesn’t fight another sect of mankind… they aren’t even fighting their own fight; mankind is fighting for the reclusive yet benevolent Gurus against an opponent they know nothing about.

The Gurus first landed in the Yemeni desert, away from so-called civilized humanity. They accessed communication networks and amassed assets while anonymously posting online “a series of pretty amazing puzzles that attracted the attention of the most curious and intelligent” (8). From these puzzles, technological improvements were discovered and the Gurus made their presence known to world leaders; however, their physical presence had never been seen as human Wait Staff act as their intermediaries or liaisons, limited to a few dozen. Most importantly, the Gurus bought technological gifts and “a thorough understanding of our own biology, chemistry, and psychology” (189). Humanity didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and blindly accepted the gifts without asking what, exactly, the so-called benevolent race expected in return.

Gurus were not just being magnanimous with their gifts of tech. They needed our help, and we needed to step up and help them, because these enemies were already inside the far, icy margins of our solar system, were, in fact, trying to establish their own beachhead, but not on Earth. (10)

And so, mankind physically went to Mars for the second time. The first wave of colonization was funded by the pooled resources of Jeff Bezos, Richard Branson and Elon Musk. Each of the original colonists paid in the 8-9 figures for their historical moment and later became known as Muskies (after Elon Musk), but the half of them died in transit through the vacuum of our solar system. The “idealism and pioneering spirit” (133) of the colonization drew solid backing for the enterprise but soon parallel grievances struck: the investors never got a return and “the last reserves of [the colonists’] sanity dwindled” (134). Isolated from Earth, Mars became a different sort of ideal—that of a dumping ground for malcontents:

Then arrived the third wave, including hard-core folks who found Earth too civilized, too restrictive—too stupid. Rugged individualists, political fanatics, IQ theorists seeking to isolate and improve the human gene pool. Diehard bigots and supremacists, happy to turn Mars into a spaghetti western … Mars was pretty much a lost cause. (79)

The hard-core attitudes of the first three waves eventually became distilled and purified by later generations of settlers, transmogrifying utopian idealism into “a tale of patriarchal tragedy, rigorous discipline—or hypocrisy and cant” (100), their ethos “statistical, mathematically sound … Atheists by law, strict dogmatists, reductionists … Techno-racists. Libertanianism pushed to the ultimate extreme” (185).

Amid their self-enforced strife on Mars, their planet has been invaded by the unwelcome Skyrines and the even more unwelcome enemy of the Gurus, now the common enemy of mankind: the Antagonists (Antags or Ants for short). The Gurus are limited in numbers because of they report that, even though they are technologically advanced, transportation across the vastness of space is prohibitively expensive even for them. The Antagonists, it seems however, are able to amass their numbers and their equipment to mount a defense on Mars… exactly what the Antagonists or the Skyrines are defending, nobody knows or nobody is telling; after all, they are taking orders from the reclusive and secretive Gurus.

As for Michael, his fifth tour of duty on Mars has ended. He’s in Seattle with words of warning from his Skyrine friend Joe; he’s to avoid ISD and lay low. Michael expects Joe to personally debrief him on what his experience on Mars meant to him as a man and to him as part of humanity; however, he’s met by a zaftig lass by the name of Alice. She doesn’t understand the depth of his experience, but she can offer him more than just a bowl of seafood chowder, to which Michael latches to and spill forth his incredible story:

When Michael Venn’s squad of Skyrines get shot from the sky, he finds himself in a peculiar dilemma of being without bearing or command with his fellow soldiers; their mission is to survive on the surface of Marks with only their skintight to protect them. They survive hypoxia by finding a Russian tent on the surface, they survive a meteor barrage impact by the skin of their teeth, and they survive to meet a tent full of high-ranking ISD officers—a very, very strange and/or foreboding circumstance. Though now numbering nearly twenty, the Skyrines and their COs still face death from starvation, dehydration, and hypoxia; with tunnel vision making Michael Venn succumb to his lack of all three, rescue comes in an unexpected form: a Muskie vehicle plods its way toward them and out steps a gorgeous female. Condescendingly called a “ranch wife” by the Skyrines, Michael reflects for all the saved Skyrines:

Those of us who can, follow her directions … I am deliriously grateful. I feel the way a pound mutt must fee, rescued just before they seal the hatch on the death chamber.

We’re all War Dogs, adopted by a very tall, strong ranch wife. (75)

Self-exiled from her community of Green Camp, Tealullah Mackenzie Green—or Teal for short—guides the men to a place of refuge which her father told her about. The Drifter, as it’s known, is a subterranean mine which has been excavated by a few camps for its “big lodes of iron, nickel, platinum, iridium, aluminum” (102). Though many once thought Mars to be an arid dust ball, aquifers actually hold so much water that the mine floods occasionally, prohibiting the colonists from mining. Now empty, save for the numerous rumors of its mysterious innards, they seek shelter in its labyrinth after an aerial germ needle attack by the Antags. With some their number convulsing under the dim light of a Martian day, Teal, Michael and a handful of survivors make it inside.

Michael’s squad realizes that he’s closest to the “ranch wife” and assign him to understand more about who she is, where they are, and they the hell they’re going to do. Teal indicates that one thing may assist them in finding the answer to the latter question; within the jumpsuit Michael pulls on, he finds a small platinum slug which has a “long, coiling string of tiny numbers and letters” (94). He palms the coin and continues to explore the maze of tunnels in the Drifter, all the while kicking up the green dust which ubiquitously lines the each and every tunnel, of which sneezing only becomes the first symptom.

On the horizon, they spy two things: (1) a dust devil that indicates the workings of a reputed Antagonist machinery of unknown capability and (2) dust plumes that indicate an oncoming convoy. Though the machinery is never seen, they are thankful for the arrival of some fellow Skyrines, whom they call sisters. The male Skyrines admire their gung-ho sisters, but the women emote a far from sororal attitude as they take command of the subterranean situation. They take stock of material, asses their needs, and keep captive the Voors whom they found in the Martian desert. The Voors—with an unpleasant disposition to say the least—rant about the sovereignty of their Martian soil, which falls on the deaf ears of everyone, except Teal who has gone missing. Meanwhile, the Antagonists have surrounded the Drifter.

Michael’s squad is plagued by a number of questions about their confinement in the Drifter, but two top the heap: Why hadn’t the Gurus told them about the Drifter? Is this intrasolar war being fought with Antagonists for control of Drifter?

Obviously having survived the onslaught on Mars, Michael asks himself the age-long question: Why me? Why us?

------------

I mentioned in the introduction that I have a low tolerance for hero worship, especially blindly worshiping soldiers who are simply agents of war, many of whom probably don’t even want (or deserve) the title of “hero”. Thankfully, Greg Bear doesn’t get all sentimental about the Skyrines and doesn’t pump the same soldiers full of bravado. Most of the male soldiers are down on their luck and live hour by hour near death, only to be saved repeatedly by women—first, Teal; then, their “sisters”. The men hardly get off a single shot to glorify their status as a Skyrine. The premise of War Dogs strongly suggests that the novel is one punctuated by the terror/excitement of war, but the reality of the novel is the boredom of having life stretched and stretched on Mars.

Also downplayed is the limelight on the two competing alien races; the Gurus are only referred to and the Antagonists are only given a brief burst of importance. Michael Venn and all of humanity, aside from the Wait Staff perhaps, don’t even know what either race looks like or what their intentions are. Given the limited amount of information provided in the narrative, the two alien races had to take a backseat ride (though very interesting occupants they may be) to (1) the Muskies, (2) capitalism and art of the twentieth century, and (3) the Drifter.

The Muskies
One confusion I experienced when reading War Dogs was the timeframe. Michael Venn identifies the narrative as taking place in “the twenty-first century” (1) but there are some facts about the Muskies which stretch the timeframe.

A one-way trip to Mars looks like it could be a reality by 2025 for the Mars One Project. Bear doesn’t mention the Mars One Project, so he could be speculating a later date for mankind’s first colony of Mars. Let’s speculate that the colony is set for 2040, a year which would make the three primary investors fairly geriatric: Jeff Bezos (1964) at 74, Richard Branson (1950) at 80, and Elon Musk (1971) at 69. As a projection for the future of the world’s richest people, this seems a bit shortsighted.

Enough time passes on Mars that a third “wave” of colonization occurs and enough time has passed that language has changed: “there are now several kinds of accents and dialects and even some newly birthed languages” (74). This is the most interested part of the Muskies. The spoken language of Teal (whose name origin I’ll come to in a bit) is called “thinspeak… pronunciation adapted for high altitude or thinner air” (72). This makes the dialogue a tad difficult to understand, but I found it easy to adapt to and follow.

Tealullah Mackenzie Green is an amalgamation of three names: first, Elon Musk’s wife’s given name, Talulah; second, Jeff Bezos’s wife’s given name MacKenzie; and last, the surname of Sir Philip Nigel Ross Green, currently the sixth richest British by net worth (just ahead or, surprise, Sir Richard Branson). This leads credence toward the speculative fact that the Mars in the later part of the twenty-first century was, in fact, heavily inspired by the efforts of some of the investors… and perhaps a shared fixation with Michael Venn’s obsession for brand names and nostalgia.

Capitalism and Art
At first, as I was reading through War Dogs and recognizing so many company names, brand names, and references to pop culture, that Greg Bear simply dumped these in the novel for  a fixed reference to the past which readers could identify with. This is about 50% true. The other 50% of my inkling rests with Tealullah’s name and its own references to billionaires. Venn mentions some modern big companies or their products: Roomba, Starbucks, Maersk, Jeep, eBay, Perrier mineral water, Walt Disney, Tootsie Roll, Cheez Whiz, and Tinkertoys. Further, Venn also delves into movie history and trivia: All About Eve (1967), Wind and the Lion (1975), The Dirty Dozen (1967), Castle Keep (1969), and Kelly’s Heroes (1970)—all films within a span of eight years (Greg Bear would have been sixteen in 1967). Author indulgence, perhaps?

Finally, there’s a nod toward some fiction which perhaps inspired Bear, too: Dune (1965), Lord of the Rings (1954), John Carter of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars (1917), Daniel F. Galouye’s Simulacron-3 (1964), Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer character in Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876), and Jack London’s “The King of Mazy May” (1899), and Kim Stanley Robinson for his Mars trilogy (a colony camp is named after him along with Green [as mentioned above], Amazonia [Bezos], and McClain [source unknown]).

The Drifter
Mars is the hook of the novel, but the Drifter is the sinker. The mysteries are slow to unravel but are tantalizing when considering that War Dogs is but one book to a duology or trilogy (no official word). When the mysteries do begin to unravel, so many unresolved questions ricochet off the inside of the reader’s skull, definitely whetting their appetite for book two. I can’t spoil anything about the Drifter for the reader… just be sure, it’s the center point piece of War Dogs. Mars is like your mom’s poinsettia on the dinner table on Christmas morning; the Drifter is the ham on the bone that comes for lunch.

Not everything is a stone waiting to be turned over, however. Aside from my qualms about the difficulty of pinning down a date and the echo of corporate importance through the decades, there are only three annoyances.

(1) I love new words. Considering that War Dogs is a first-person perspective novel, perhaps the vocabulary is a tad high for the direct storytelling. Michael Venn describes Alice, the woman who has come to Seattle to debrief him, with a number of adjectives. Aside from small and pretty, Venn describes her as “zaftig” four different times. Hey, that’s a new word to me, but there are some synonyms which could be used rather than repeat it for fun: e.g., pulchritudinous, buxom, shapely, curvaceous, sonsy, and stacked.

(2) So, mankind finally learns it’s not the only species inhabiting the galaxy. Some nations accept the gifts the Gurus have to offer while others shun them. The end. The only repercussion of the contact is technological and its effect on the economy; there cosmological or spiritual side of learning this new ‘they are out there” truth isn’t even glanced at let alone touched upon. And it seems the humans are all too eager to go join another war—aren’t those human ever so predictable?

(3) Greg Bear puts a good effort into creating new technologies for weapons (e.g., weak-field disruptors and strong-field suppressors), but at times the reach for a new technology feels uninspired, unseen, or simply forgotten. I estimate the timeframe for the narrative to be around 2090, so it’s a little surprising when “Alice is speaking on her cell” (217). If there are automatic taxis and round trip trips to Mars, certainly cell phones would be outdated by then, or at least called by a different name.

------------

If you’ve got patience for a constant struggle of a handful of soldier on the surface of Mars, you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the bounty of mysteries buried in the Drifter and the repercussions it may have on mankind’s relationship with the Gurus, the relationship between the Gurus and the Antagonists, and, ultimately, mankind’s relationship with itself. Though the Guru’s have superior knowledge of humankind’s “biology, chemistry, and psychology” (189), only mankind can tell itself what its true place and purpose is in the mechanism of the universe…


…when’s that sequel coming?

Sunday, October 19, 2014

2003: Asura Girl (Maijo, Otaro)

Teenage drama morphs into the surreal and the horrific (3/5)

Having read science fiction heavily for seven years and having run the gamut of all the genre has had to offer, I’ve finally decided to concentrate on one particular focus: translated science fiction. This focus has been slowly developing for the last two years while reading Stanislaw Lem, Franz Kafka, Albert Camus, and some Japanese short fiction. Then, after I read Sakurazaka’s now popular All You Need is Kill (2004), I decided to become proactive in procuring more translated science fiction, specifically Japanese science fiction. Thus, I put the word out and received positive feedback from a couple of publishers: Haikasoru (of the USA) and Kurodahan (of Japan).

Eager to delve into the fiction which has been out of my reach for so long, I opted to start with something modern, something glossy (as glossy as a PDF can be) and new… so new, in fact, that it’s not even available yet (November 18, 2014)—thanks to Haikasoru for providing me with a pre-release of Asura Girl, as translated by Stephen Snyder. Regardless of receiving the book for free, it has been agreed that the review be honest rather than favored by bias.

Asura Girl was originally published in Japan in 2003 under the title Ashura Garu. The author, Otaro Maijo, won the Yukio Mishima award in 2003 for this novel. He has had only one other story translated into English—“Drill Hole in My Brain” (2003)—and this was included in the collection Faust Vol. 1 (2003), which highlights “fiction and manga from the cutting edge of Japanese pop culture”.

Book’s own synopsis:
“Seventeen-year-old Aiko lives a life of casual sex and casual violence, though at heart she remains a schoolgirl with an unrequited crush on her old classmate Yoji Kaneko. Life is about to get harder for Aiko, as a recent fling, Sano, has been kidnapped, and the serial killer Guru-Guri Majin (Round-and-Round Devil) has begun slaughtering children. The youth are rioting in the streets, egged on by the underground Internet bulletin board known as Ten-no Koe, the Voice from Heaven. Expecting that Yoji will come and save her from the madness, Aiko posts a demand for her own murder on Ten-no-Koe, but will she be left waiting... or worse?”

-----------

Kendo and tennis may be Aiko’s passions, but her girlish admiration is saved for Yoji; however, Yoji’s attention isn’t paid to her good looks or her cute matching set of bra and panties, a situation which frustrates Aiko’s libidinous attempts. There are been other boys, for sure—including that creep Sano and his attempted facial—but those are merely transient phases while Yoji is the foundation of her being. In the background of her own character lies the idle sub-persona of Kerstein, an invention of her mind—“a Swedish exchange student who has come to American for high school” (16). Kerstein is Aiko’s better half but Aiko sometimes loses herself in the sub-persona’s dreamt-up personal history.

Mildly ashamed of her nocturnal fling with the famous Sano—now infamous to her mind—Aiko arrives at school with a self-defense planned, but she isn’t prepared to be cornered by a group of peers and slapped in the face by Maki. Though Maki may be beautiful and powerful, Aiko springs into violent action and beats the pulp out of the alpha female, shocking the onlookers. After blood has been spilled, only then does Aiko learn of their interrogation of her: Sano has been kidnapped and his little toe sent to this parents’ house. Suddenly, Yoji arrives and takes her away from the scene, so much like the hero she wants him to be… but she also wants him to the same reckless boy she used to know, willing to try anything once and damn the consequences. Sadly, this rebel attitude doesn’t extend to his sex life, much to Aiko’s dismay.

With a distinct online presence yet nebulously existing in her reality, the Voice of Heaven (VoH) is a loose organization of upper teenagers who are bent on catching the infamous killer named the Round-and-Round Devil, whom they believe to be a middle school child. The Devil had kidnapped and mutilated the triplets of a local couple but had never been caught, so with the mindlessly synergetic postings on the VoH’s web board, the mindless teenagers set out to maim, if not kill, all middle-schoolers so as to send a message to the killer: we’re after you.

Aiko entertains her own theories about Sano’s kidnapping—mainly that he has faked his own kidnapping and cut off his own toe for want of the ransom, but VoH or the Devil might also have something to do with it; the realities of his kidnapping at endless. However, Yoji spots a few flaws in her theory and, being the rugged guy he is, sets off to find Sano. At the same time, Aiko’s brother also leaves her at home in order to mount a counter-attack to the brutal tactics of the members of the VoH, leaving Aiko at home alone and worried about her safety as the VoH’s campaign begins to manifest itself in the city: fires burn, children are ran over, blood is spilled, and the din of violence grows closer to her home. Yet, the violence that does meet her at her own doorstep isn’t the violence she was expecting.

------------

The above four paragraphs only outline the initial 102 pages of the 224 page novel, which isn’t quite a majority of the novel but it is the most linear and relatable… yet also the least inventive and penetrating.
With a copious amount of swearing, sexuality, and minor drama, the book immediately smacks of being geared towards teenagers. I felt out of my reading comfort zone (a broad expanse including literature, sci-fi, the bizarre, and travelogues… but definitely not teenage novels). When the minor drama shifted into the dramatic horror of the city, I began to invest myself more so into the novel.

The novel is divided into three parts: (1) Armageddon, (2) The Gate, and (3) Jump-Start My Heart. The linear yet—at times eye-rolling-ly—dramatic episode of the novel entirely takes place in Part One. This plot involving Aiko and VoH is revived again in Part Three after an extensive interlude in Part Two.

Part Two—entitled The Gate—is more like a passageway or a tunnel which the reader must traverse rather than simply step through, to which there are two equal sections: (1) surrealism in “The Cliff” and (2) horror in “The Forest”.

(1) The surrealism in “The Cliff” is a slippery slope which only becomes steeper and steeper as the reader pushes on; it starts somewhat realistically but soon becomes detached, bizarre, ironic, impossible, and altogether nonsensical. The tentative bridge which links it to Part One is gossamer-thin and relies on Aiko’s unreliable memory about previous incidences. Compound her fractured memory with surrealistic imagery and the result, itself, is fractured and blurred. The 32 pages of detachment have curious veins of either telepathy into Aiko’s dream-state or unconscious inclusion into the lucid circumstances of her escape and rescue.

(2) Another 32-page foray follows the odd, detached surrealism; the scenes of horror have an even more tenuous connection with Armageddon but, if taken by itself, provides an excellent read. Going beyond Aiko’s tenuous grasp of reality and her connections to fragments of her imagination in “The Cliff”, the horror in “The Forest” slides even deeper into her intricately warped mind. Here, Aiko’s alter ego Kerstein is the protagonist. Amputated limbs speed off through the forest towards tree of children’s limbs that stands erect amid the lush vertical growth. Not only is an unnervingly eerie, but it also has symbolism more apparent than “The Cliff” and introduces the book’s third and final part, Jump-Start My Heart.

------------

There’s no one facet of Asura Girl which would draw the mainstream SF crowd, unless you’re a teenaged reader with a palette for the bizarre. The initial so-called dystopia of the book is mildly drawing, the surrealism of the semi-conscious Aiko is bizarre, the horror of Aiko’s sub-persona is definitely creepy, and the return to normality in the conclusion has cursors of intrigue which point back toward some previous revelations.

Posted simultaneously at SF Potpourri and Tongues of Speculation

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

1979: Ambulance Ship (White, James)

Dulled by repetition and all-out revelations (2/5)

I guess “xenological medical science fiction” used to sound pretty enticing. James White is a notable science fiction author exactly for this reason, having penned the Sector General series. In 2008, I read my first Sector General book—Final Diagnosis (1997)—and loved the entertainment of it; however, subsequent forays into Sector General have become repetitive where White rehashes many main points and plots the book like a paint-by-number picture. The three parts of Ambulance Ship epitomize this disease as they all suffer from these same symptoms: rehash and monotony.

Rear cover synopsis:
“There was a lot of talk about the vital importance of his new assignment, but it still seemed like a demotion to Senior Physician Conway. After twelve years of outstanding service—and the most incredible experience imaginable—Conway couldn’t quite appreciate the “honor” of becoming an ambulance attendant at this stage of his life.

True, the insectile empathy, Dr. Prilicla, would be with him—and so would the eminently desirable Nurse Murchison—but it was definitely a comedown for a Senior Physician of his status to be conscripted as part of a first-aid team for disabled spacefarers.

Then the first call came—and Conway faced the problem of treating a spaceship crew’s mysterious ailment… without wiping out every patient and doctor in Sector General!”

------------

Initially, Conway is miffed at being designated to the newly establish ambulance ship. His superior, Chief Psychologist O’Mara, insists that he is the man for the important job as it’s able to handle environments and medications for a large range of species. Far from being a ambulance of the pettiest manner, the new ship—donned the Rhabwar—has been fitted to handle the most difficult of all emergency cases: to rescue crews of stricken ships. Conveniently, due to come quirk in physics, all intersolar ships—be they human, of known alien origin or unknown alien origin—operate their distress beacons on the same frequency. These frequencies are monitored and, when discovered, Sector General sends out the Rhabwar to investigate the emergency, be it near or far.

The first story (“Contagion”, a novelette, 2/5 by itself) follows Conway, Captain Fletcher and a host of regulars and irregulars who dart off to recover the crew of a human ship that had collided with another derelict of substantial mass. On the way, the Rhabwar intercepts the distress transmission from the Tenelphi and Conway is certain that the speaker is a medic because of his terminology. Going to the scene, they find most the human are incapacitated and, desperate to find conscious survivors, they begin to scan the wreckage of the derelict generation ship. Deep inside the main portion, Conway finds the missing medic while every human back on Rhabwar begins to experience the similar symptoms of headache. If no alien virus can be transmitted to other species of alien, why is it that all the humans are getting sick?

The second story (“Quarantine”, a novella, also 2/5 by itself) sees Conway and Rhabwar’s crew face the debris of an organic ship which had met a curious fate. The unknown species briefly poses a problem of classification and treatment but Conway and his expertise clear the matter up rather abruptly. They take the tiny survivor—perhaps a juvenile, but they’re unsure—back to Sector General while a Contact unit is dispatched to make themselves known to the new species. But while in the surgery ward, the alien awakens and makes most of the Senior Physicians surrounding the being drop unconscious. Conway, however, is one of the unaffected and is in charge of figuring out the source of the distress, which has caused a “Contamination One” warning throughout the entire hospital. Sealed off from the rest of the ship, Conway must understand the problem before he begins to find its solution.

The third and last story (“Recovery”, a novelette, moderately better at 3/5 by itself) contains the mystery of a ship which houses two unrelated alien races. The unusual situation spurs a number of theories, but all theories are useless unless actually applied; while two survivors have been found, physically getting to them proves to be difficult as a bizarre system of defense blocks their way. When accessed and understood, the history of the vastly different small and large race of alien couldn’t be more unusual or sympathetic.

------------

As mentioned in the introduction, White has the annoying habit of rehashing generalities into each and every story. If you’ve a couple of Sector General stories, you’ve seen everything there is to see regarding the series. White repeats the (1) that no alien virus can cross species; (2) that subsuming tapes can alter the mentality of the physician; (3) that the designation of species depends on a variety of factors; and (4) that the station itself plays host to a very large variety of species, of which he must always mention the most exotic. It feels like these passages have been copied and pasted directly from other stories, so if you’re a comprehensive reader of White (like I nearly am), it feels like all of this material is padding for the new reader, which dulls any reward for the established reader.

As for the paint-by-numbers plot, each story (here and in other Sector General stories) has a familiar flow: (1) all is normal in Sector General, (2) an unforeseen emergency arises, (3) Conway is on the case with the empathetic Prilicla, (4) Conway runs the gauntlet of possibilities, (5) the obvious conclusion is reached, and (6) Conway relaxes by flirting with Nurse Murchison. Word for word, you could apply that too all the stories.

Aside from these normal gripes, White is also prone to one huge annoyance of mine: the last-minute all-inclusive revelation that describes all the nuances of the problems faced in the previous pages, leaving very little to the imagination. “Quarantine” and “Recovery” have this same glaring flaw, but the last story manages to be moderately better in its inherent oddity than the prior.

------------


Unfortunately, the reader is not able to procure “Recovery” by itself without having to purchase the entire collection of Ambulance Ship. I guess if you were to buy the three-story collection, you might as well read all three stories, which may hone your tastes for the last story… otherwise, the other two are a waste of time. Like White’s Galactic Gourmet (1996), this collection is only for White completists or first-time readers of White.