1999/2012: Crystal Silence (Fujisaki, Shingo)

Dense in pages and science with soft impact (3/5)

This is the last book in my trove of from Kurodahan; it’s also the densest of the bounty, which includes the Japanese novels Aphrodite and Administrator, the Japanese collections Speculative Japan 1 and 2, as well as the Serbian themed-collection The Library. The last book of the speculative bunch—Crystal Silence—can also be described as hard science fiction, which is a delineation from much of Japanese science fiction that tends to teem with sub-dermal layers of pulsing culture or warm analogy; on one finger, I can name the one story what deviates from the norm: Koshu Tani’s “Q-Cruiser Basilisk” (1984). Crystal Silence feels as straight forward as many western science fictions of similar ilk: heavy on the science content with a number of token stereotypes to round it out.

Crystal Silence seems to be Fujisaki’s first Japanese publications in fiction, be it of short or long work. The novel is also the only translated work written by the author.

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A transnational distrust has been brewing on Mars since its initial colonization, but now that an ancient and biological artifact has been discovered in the ice mines of the north pole, tensions are at an all-time high and distrust is running deep. Saya Askai is a bio-archeologist in Japan, who studies the Jomon period of ancient Japan, yet is recruited to Mars to study the ancient organism. The relation is vague but she accepts while leaving her beau Keren beyond on Earth. Little does she know, Keren is actually a pawn—yet becoming a greater threat like a rook, queen, or knight—in a bigger scheme dictated by Wild West, which is a weapons manufacture with an interest in keeping humans—on Earth and on Mars—in a perpetual state of warfare. When bombs burst and bullets fly, Saya is trapped on Mars at the same time mysterious forces begin to envelop the habitations of each nation. As the forces progress, so too do Keren’s awareness of his powers and Saya’s vulnerability.

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Mars is presented in the typical fashion in which countries have their own colonies (America, India, China, Australia, Japan, to name a few). The first-tier nations—those who actually colonized Mars first—have access to richer resources and tend to passively strangle the second-tier nations—those who came after the rush. Two chokepoints are under strict control: the orbital platform and the ice fields on Mars’ northern pole, where the stage is set in the novel,

Because of these tensions among the tiers, military power is brought in to maintain the peace but also to act as a layer of defense. When these same power-suited soldiers act on the offense at the northern pole, tensions become strained beyond their usual stress, which is only hampered by the mysterious and intangible domes that seem as if they are constricted the space around her colony. People and supplies can be sent through these domes, but what is there cannot leave: drive as they may, they never reach the dome’s periphery.

Soon it’s discovered that the domes have something in common with another post-husk-finding at the pole: the crystal flowers that alter their weight and fragility. Though this seems impossible by the nature of physics, the flowers are mere curiosities at best. It takes everyone a while—which is surprising—to connect the flowers, the domes, and the husks; obviously, something funny—and only one man is laughing—is happening on Mars and no one knows what may result. But that same laughing man is also the one who hopes to gain most from the confusion, friction, and fright.

The initial connection between the alien biological husks and the ancient yet earthly work performed by Saya is so tenuous, so unlikely that it really fails to hold together through the hundreds of pages. Even at the conclusion, I felt that the connection was never solidly made, so it began to flatten out even among the action of the closing scenes. Further, the reason for the husks’ existence where they are and how they’re placed isn’t explained satisfactorily, either.

While the majority of the novel occurs on Mars, the most progressive past of the novel is Keren’s cyberpunk-esque escapades through information systems on Earth, on Mars, and in the Wile West corporation. Through Saya’s eyes, Keren is merely a boy longing after her, but Keren sees the world through very different lenses, lenses that no human could ever quite comprehend. His association with Wild West goes deeper than revenge; it goes further than his yen for Wild West’s destructions, too, as he has put it upon himself to save two of the most important things in his life: Saya and humanity.

So, to conclude, the novel starts off with a shallow and tenuous correlation between an ancient Earth people with the hollow remains of what seems to be alien food, then it swells to become a Mars-based strife between warring nations and incomprehensible alien technology, and in the background looms some cyber warfare between in an individual and a corporate, between planets, and, later, within something even more incomprehensible.

Fujisaki’s Crystal Silence is a welcome addition to the very limited family of hard Japanese science fiction outside of manga or anime; however, what it boasts in speculation outweighs any nuances, metaphors, or analogies about whatever may lie under the dense husk of its hard science fiction. For those who enjoy the romp of action on Mars and cyberspace, this may be for you.

1973: Earth's Other Shadow (Silverberg, Robert)

Some with significance, some significantly lacking (3/5)

After disliking, to some degree, all of the Silverberg novels I’ve read (3 stars for Hawksbill Station and 0 stars to The World Inside, among others), I decided to stick to his short fiction, which I haven’t received very warmly either (2 stars for all the stories in Next Stop the Stars and 2 stars for “Hot Times in Magma City”); I’ve only enjoyed two stories: “Good News from the Vatican” (1971) and “Flies” (1967), the latter included in this collection.

Four of the nine stories are either amusing (“Ishmael in Love”), poignant (“Flies”), amusing and poignant (“To See the Invisible Man”), or relevant to me (“The Song the Zombie Sang”). The remaining five stories feel like half-efforts (“How It Was When the Past Went Away”) or whims (“Something Loose is Wild” and “Hidden Talent”). The least striking of the nine stories are “To the Dark Star” that features a pointlessly bickering pair of humans and “The Fangs of the Trees” that compares a fifteen-year-old to being a ripe fruit ready to be picked and even compares her breasts to apples twice… she’s the fruit in the family tree.

Something Wild is Loose (1971, novelette) – 3/5

When six men leave an alien planet with their cargo heading for Earth, they unknowingly take an invisible alien stowaway. Invisible and displaced, the alien tries to psychically make contact but their minds are unreceptive while awake. When it contacts a human in sleep, the telepathic touch triggers horrible nightmares and sleeplessness. Once on Earth, it continues trying to contact telepathically, only to scare, maim, or kill each contact. One hospital notices a pattern with the hospital, link it with the flight from the planet, and simply want to help. 34 pages

To See the Invisible Man (1963, shortstory) – 4/5

Having given the cold shoulder to his fellow urbanites once too often, the same man is dealt the sentence of invisibility for one year. This invisibility is not physical in nature, however; it is a legal/social taboo in which he is forbidden by others to simple be recognized. At first, he relishes in the naughty tricks and common misdemeanors can he get away with, but he slowly realizes that eye-to-eye and flesh-to-flesh contact makes a human what they are. The lesson of invisibility strikes deep, ever after the release from his sentence. 12 pages

Ishmael in Love (1970, shortstory) – 4/5

The dolphin with the unit-structural designation of TT-66 previously didn’t have a formal “name” until the ravishing Miss Lisabeth Calkins gave him his new name: Ishmael. Ishmael, however, isn’t just any dolphin; he’s also very handsome for his species, the foreman of the Intake Maintenance Squad for a Seawater Recovery Station, and happens to have a very large vocabulary—his interest soon turns to love. While still naïve about matter of the heart and a different species, his quick thinking saves the station, yet still can’t find a way to Lisa’s heart. 13 pages

How It Was When the Past Went Away (1969, novella) – 3/5

Paul Mueller is a sonic artist whose budding financial venture left him deeply in debt and contemplating foreign sanctuary. The Amazing Montini has the remarkable and marketable talent of total recall, namely from books and conversations. Nate Haldersen lost his entire family in an air disaster eleven years ago during an extra-marital affair; now, his guild-ridden self sits in a psych ward. These citizens, and almost all, of San Francisco are about to partially lose their memory from drinking the drugged tap water… for better or for worse. 62 pages

To the Dark Star (1968, shortstory) – 2/5

On the cusp of death in its billion-year life, a dark star smolders within the darkness of its external shell. Going to watch its collapse are a small-headed alien, a strapping woman from a heavy planet, and a standard Earth male. Inevitably, the opposing sexes are at each other’s throats and trading verbal spars while the alien is calm and acts as a mediator. When the times comes to choose someone to navigate the probe to land on the dark star, the two troublemakers choose each other; a stalemate is born, then things begin to escalate. 12 pages

The Fangs of the Trees (1968, novelette) – 2/5

Holbrook’s orchard of trees—they’re trees, just trees he tells himself—are close to bearing their fruit; Holbrook’s female relative—she’s his niece, jus his niece, he reminds himself—is also bearing the fruit of her body at the ripe age of fifteen. When his thoughts aren’t on his niece’s breasts, his concern for his orchard opens to the plague of “rust”, a disease that is spread among animals, plants, and among planets. When he finds the rust on his carnivorous, tentacled trees, his niece’s love for their nature has Holbrook at an impasse. 23 pages

Hidden Talent (1957, novelette) – 3/5

Having been trained in telekinesis and having been found that his powers were exceptional, Davidson was made to take a flight to a psi-less planet where he can learn to control his powers rather than use his powers for everyday tasks. On Mondarran IV, his motivation for not using his telekinesis is simple: If he is seen using it, the people will thing he is a witch and kill him by burning him at the stake like a witch. He takes a job as a farmhand yet loathes the hard work. Later, outside the farm and roaming the forest, he discovers a pyrotic who knows how to adapt to a psi-less world. 21 pages

The Song the Zombie Sang (1970, shortstory) with Harlan Ellison – 4/5

A great pianist dies and, with him, his spark for creativity and life itself. But capitalism and science know a way to maintain his body and most functions even after death, so much in fact that the same dead pianist is able to perform his great music. Before each performance, he is switched on and after each performance, he is just switched off—so this has continued for fifteen years. One fan/fellow artist is demoralized by his zombie-like performances that lack of that old spark, so she seeks him out to lash out. 14 pages

Flies (1967, shortstory) – 4/5

After an implosion in space, all are decimated inside but only the one person outside—Cassidy—is simply killed. His skull and strands of flesh occupy space until the golden ones—of unknown origin—rebuild Cassidy, awaken him, tell him they’ve made him more sensitive to his fellow humans, and sent him back to Earth. Once there, he visits his three ex-wives: the first, a bed-ridden recovering addict; the second, a well-to-do housewife with an exotic pet; and the last in her seventh month of pregnancy. Acting on each ex-wife, Cassidy transmits each emotion back to the golden ones. 10 pages

Lazy Book Reviews of October 2015

#64: Crystal Silence (1999, 2005/2012) – Shingo Fujisaki (3/5)

Of the Japanese SF collection I own, Crystal Silence takes the prize for being the largest tome of them all. Though only 344 pages, the book’s dimensions are mildly intimidating and the text is dense (comparable to Alastair Reynolds’ Revelation Space or Ian McDonald’s River of Gods). A transnational distrust has been brewing on Mars since its initial colonization, but now that an ancient and biological artifact has been discovered in the ice mines of the north pole, tensions are at an all-time high and distrust is running deep. Saya Askai is a bio-archeologist in Japan, who studies the Jomon period of ancient Japan, yet is recruited to Mars to study the ancient organism. The relation is vague but she accepts while leaving her beau Keren beyond on Earth. Little does she know, Keren is actually a pawn—yet becoming a greater threat like a rook, queen, or knight—in a bigger scheme dictated by Wild West, which is a weapons manufacture with an interest in keeping humans—on Earth and on Mars—in a perpetual state of warfare. When bombs burst and bullets fly, Saya is trapped on Mars at the same time mysterious forces begin to envelop the habitations of each nation. As the forces progress, so too do Keren’s awareness of his powers and Saya’s vulnerability.

#65: Guardian (2002) – Joe Haldeman (3/5)

This is the seventh Haldeman book I’ve read, including but not limited to his collection Infinite Dreams (1978) and his novels The Forever War (1975), Camouflage (2004), and Old Twentieth (2007). Some of his work is modern and penetrating while some of the others are tepid Golden Age ideas wrapped in the garb of modernism resulting in a fairly flaccid story—Camouflage and Guardian. Most of the story is a narration of the detailed life of Rosa Coleman, from her privileged life in South during the Civil War, through the turbulent years of her marriage and motherhood, on through her deserting her husband with their child to seek a better life westward. As a biography, the story would be interesting as it stirs together a rich history with a captivating narration, yet the disappointing twist in it all is the very point which drew the reader—the SF angle. This point is cursory and brief, very much like an after-thought and predictive blobs stuck in the text prior to the big revelation. As the conclusion states, “consider it fiction, or even delusion”; the reader should also consider another option: mediocrity.

#66: Point Ultimate (1955) – Jerry Sohl (3/5)

Jerry Sohl is a man of local fame—local meaning Midwest Illinois rather than central Thailand. Though entering and leaving the world in California, Sohl was a writer for the Panagraph newspaper in Normal, Illinois in the 1950s. At that same time, he wrote science fiction, mainly between 1952 and 1960 before turning his attention to writing for TV and movies; during that time, he wrote nine novels and ten short pieces of SF. In Point Ultimate, he even makes a coy reference to his time in Normal: “Now if we only had a place to wash up and a good meal, we’d be back to normal” (140). This is more obvious in the context of the novel, which takes place almost entirely in Midwest Illinois (a place I was born and raised). At a time when the Soviet Union had already ignited their own nuclear bomb, when China fell to communism, and Korea was lost in a stalemate, Sohl’s novel was published highlighting this fear of over-control by the Soviets. After the bombs fell on America, the Soviets moved in and took control from the population that couldn’t control themselves, thereby instituting rigid laws on marriage, births, and the derelict idea of “pursuit of happiness” while spreading a plague that forces all—well, almost all—to have monthly boosters. Emmett, however, is immune and seeks to rebel against the dictatorship. On his escape from home, he runs across all the right people and falls into all the right situations so that he can find the true source of underground rebellion. All in all, it’s a good glimpse at Cold War paranoia (as SFEncyclopedia has stated) but it’s it too forced and, thereby, predictable.

#67: Neanderthal Planet (1969) – Brian Aldiss (2/5)

I’ve read seven of Aldiss’s novels and have been quite happy with six of them (barring Finches of Mars). This is the fourth collection of his that I’ve read and, like the other three, there’s a mix of the good and bad, the satisfying and the bizarre. In Neanderthal Planet, there are only four stories but judging from the quality, it’s better that the collection isn’t any longer. Three of the stories feel half-cocked, like they were dead-ends to novel-length ideas that fizzled. Sometimes, the stories feel like a patchwork of stories sewed together with the thread of desperation. The only coherent story is “Intangibles, Inc.”, which is speculative in nature but not sci-fi. This is a heartwarming story (those words I use sparingly) of motivation. The rest of the stories… bleh. (full review)

#68: Artery of Fire (1972) – Thomas N. Scortia (3/5)

Secondhand bookshops are great for impulse buys. I don’t check databases or check reviews when browsing the shelves—I savor the surprise of whether the book will be good or bad… sometimes it’s both. I picked up Scortia’s Earthwreck (1974) and wasn’t exactly bowled over, but I was intrigued by one curious thing: gay innuendos. It’s like Top Gun: Once you’re aware of it, you’ll start seeing it everywhere. Scortia’s collection Caution! Inflammable! (1975) was equally as middling. And once again, this novel, Artery of Fire, is just as mediocre. It was his fist published novel after seventeen years of publishing shorter work. On the face of it, this novel is hard science fiction about a beam of manmade ionized elements that are shot to the moon from Pluto in order to solve Earth’s energy problems. When tachyons come into play, the past, the present, and the future begin to intertwine. Meanwhile, the creator of the beam has percolating conflicts with nearly everyone, including his ex-lover who has visited him on a tour of the facilities. Once castration was mentioned in the text (p.41), relating to ending the project, I knew what Scortia was driving at (p.189-190). And there are three mentions of pubic hair: pages 28, 45, and 151 (relevant).

#69: Future Makers (1968) – Peter Haining (editor) (3/5)

You know when collections highlight well-known authors on the cover to get people interested in the content, only to find that the best stories are by none of the popular authors? This collection is a little bit like that as ALL the stories are by popular authors: Leinster, Asimov, Sturgeon, Bradbury, Heinlein, Clarke, Sheckley, and Aldiss. The hitch? All stories are early examples of each author’s work and sometimes even the first published story. In the eyes of the reviewers from yesteryear, all these stories may have been great, but I feel that only half of them have aged well. Where Leinster’s story was reputed to be “one of the funniest stories to ever appear in Science Fiction” (11), I felt it was simple slapstick humor more than anything. It would have been an interesting collection if it were compiled solely of first publications, but it’s a bit scattered; even the lengths are uneven with Aldiss’s novella taking up half of the book. (full review)

1968: The Future Makers (Haining, Peter)

Distinguished authors: token rather than significant stories (3/5)

You know when collections highlight well-known authors on the cover to get people interested in the content, only to find that the best stories are by none of the popular authors? This collection is a little bit like that as ALL the stories are by popular authors: Leinster, Asimov, Sturgeon, Bradbury, Heinlein, Clarke, Sheckley, and Aldiss. The hitch? All stories are early examples of each author’s work and sometimes even the first published story. In the eyes of the reviewers from yesteryear, all these stories may have been great, but I feel that only half of them have aged well. Where Leinster’s story was reputed to be “one of the funniest stories to ever appear in Science Fiction” (11), I felt it was simple slapstick humor more than anything. It would have been an interesting collection if it were compiled solely of first publications, but it’s a bit scattered; even the lengths are uneven with Aldiss’s novella taking up half of the book.

The Fourth Dimensional Demonstrator (short story, 1935) – Murray Leinster (2/5)

Three things are on Pete Davidson’s mind: his possible inheritance from his scientific experimenting uncle, his sociable fiancée named Daisy Manners, and his fiancée’s pet kangaroo names Arthur. When his late uncle’s servant, Thomas, shows Pete the pride and joy of his uncle’s laboratory, Pete has something else on his mind. When the machine seemingly replicates a burnt match, Pete first puts in coins, then cash, and jewelry. His luck runs out, totally, when Daisy, Arthur, and the feds arrive simultaneously. 14 pages

The Weapon Too Dreadful to Use (short story, 1939) – Isaac Asimov (2/5)

Karl, from invading Earth, is the son of a man high in the councils of the Planetary President while Antil, from suppressed Venus, is the hereditary noble for the planet’s largest tribe. Together as friends, they enter the museum/tomb of Ash-taz-zor, they discover a hidden door that houses a Venusian relic of, according to Antil’s translation, unimaginable power; thus they leave as future enemies. When the time comes for their head-to-head, Karl gives Earth a fair yet vague warning; Antil, however, is ready for a fight. 18 pages

Abreaction (short story, 1939) – Theodore Sturgeon (3/5)

A man on a bulldozer knows one tacitly—his job. Letting his hands and feet guide, his body knows what to do while he doesn’t even recall his own name. in the conflict of his existence, he feels that everything is familiar, as if he remembers forgetting before. Just then, he’s ethereally transported from an artificial sight into that of a desert where a shiny-clothed man informs him of his long-ago curious past. Trying to help, he allows the bulldozing man to remember. 13 pages

The Piper (short story, 1943) – Ray Bradbury (4/5)

Kerec is thought to be thelast Martian alive, according to the Jovian overlords who have conquered and colonized Mars. Returning to Mars in some official capacity, Kerec is eager to rediscover his roots in the physicality of his planet. As he plays his flute, a sympathetic echo reaches him; intrigued, he follows its source to a cave where the devolved Martians eke out a so-called existence. He also sees that they’re drawn to his music as much as the Jovians are, which may be a benefit to himself and his kinfolk. 17 pages

Columbus was a Dope (short story, 1947) – Robert Heinlein (3/5)

Appleby is the chief engineer for Earth’s first interstellar voyage named Pegasus. While chatting with a steel merchant and a precision instrument supplier, Appleby remains firm in his belief that the project is worthy and noble even though it’ll be sixty years long. Perhaps it’s the copious alcohol clouding the steel merchant’s judgment, but the argument steers toward Columbus sailing to the New World and all it applies to: part progress, willpower, and adventure; and part stupidity mixed with the spirit of mankind. 5 pages

Castaway (short story, 1947) – Arthur C. Clarke (4/5)

Cast from the sun—its fiery home—a single denizen is placed in the cold cosmic void away from the tight atoms and warm pressure of the sun. Luckily, he lands in the atmosphere of the watery planet not too distant from the sun, where he lies atop the unfamiliar density of water awaiting some form of familiar life. Just over the water making way across the ocean, a military plane spots on its radar a curious huge shape in the water. They near to investigate but watch the web-like mass slowly dissolve. 8 pages

The Hour of Battle (short story, 1953) – Robert Sheckley (4/5)

Upon mankind’s first meeting with the telepathic aliens on their home planet, Richard Everest was there in person. His first thoughts were of alarm but quickly polarized into friendliness; his shipmate recognized the trouble and flew immediately back to Earth. That was years ago and now humankind has a ring of defense near Mars’ orbit awaiting with telepathic detectors—infallible—,guns pointed outward—deadly—,and each manned by three humans—bored, curious, and still bored. Their “what if” scenarios are all too interesting. 7 pages

Equator (novella, 1958) – Brian Aldiss (3/5)

After generations of crossing space from Alpha Centauri, the Rosks have approached Earth practically begging for a place to settle; a base on the moon and part of Sumatra are chosen for them to inhabit. Ap II Dowl is the dictator of the newly founded colony who no one trusts—neither human nor Rosk. Murray is a man recruited to sneak to the Rosk’s moon base, only his small band of men is attacked by the aliens. The repercussions shake Murray as he finds himself in a case of double-sided espionage on Sumatra. 82 pages