Karen Joy Fowler writes very literary speculative fiction--heavy on character development, speculation to enhance it. This is the pattern in We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves as well.
The narrator, Rosemary, takes us through her life, which is challenging but not particularly extraordinary until she reveals that her sister was, in fact, a chimp. Taken in as her psychologist father's experiment. Her complex relationship with her sister and mostly absent brother carries us through the book.
We get to know Rosemary awfully well. She's not a particularly colorful person--not close to anyone, not violent, not...really very much. Her life is a reflection of the people (and primate) around her, and she pretty much knows it. Rosemary seems a familiar sort--a rather dry person who simply never expects to be happy, and made peace with that a long time ago.
It's pretty challenging to make an interesting story out of such a person, with no gunfire or magic to sustain it, but Fowler manages it pretty well. The book is entertaining and satisfying in a personal sort of way.
I'm not sure how I feel after finishing--not exhilarated, or bored, or intrigued. Just there. Rosemary and her ape sister Fern make their animal rights point fairly gently and move on. Read this as an interesting side track.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Ancillary Justice, by Ann Leckie
Distributed consciousness is probably an underutilized trope in SF--it's a lot of fun if done well. The best example I know of is Vernor Vinge's A Fire Upon the Deep, which included a doglike species where an individual was a pack. Ancillary Justice is centered completely on this concept, taking it to another level and exploring it thoroughly.
The novel is pretty much straight up space opera. There's some interesting social speculation here--the protagonist is a citizen (sort of) of the Radch, a galactic civilization that until recently was completely devoted to expansion. They are pretty ruthless about the process, but direct and fairly honest. At the time of the novel they have been stopped by the Presger, and our protagonist is working on the last colonizing "annexation".
The protagonist herself (gender is not a factor in the Radch, the default is "her") is an Ancillary, a person whose individuality has been removed and is now part of a group consciousness, usually a part of a Ship. Our protagonist is the sole survivor of this Ship's disaster.
I'd say the work is a little subdued for a space opera, but the exploration of distributed consciousness and imperialist social structures is worth the read. Have fun and think a little. Three stars from me.
The novel is pretty much straight up space opera. There's some interesting social speculation here--the protagonist is a citizen (sort of) of the Radch, a galactic civilization that until recently was completely devoted to expansion. They are pretty ruthless about the process, but direct and fairly honest. At the time of the novel they have been stopped by the Presger, and our protagonist is working on the last colonizing "annexation".
The protagonist herself (gender is not a factor in the Radch, the default is "her") is an Ancillary, a person whose individuality has been removed and is now part of a group consciousness, usually a part of a Ship. Our protagonist is the sole survivor of this Ship's disaster.
I'd say the work is a little subdued for a space opera, but the exploration of distributed consciousness and imperialist social structures is worth the read. Have fun and think a little. Three stars from me.
Monday, May 26, 2014
The Ink Readers of Doi Saket
I rather enjoyed the first story of Heuvelt's that I read, The Boy Who Cast No Shadow. This one, The Ink Readers of Doi Saket, not quite so much. It's written as a very light and fun tale, set in Thailand in order to allow a sort of quaint rendering where everyone has a nickname and a descriptive adjective that follows them everywhere. But that's not the point of the story. The people of Doi Saket grant wishes as part of an annual festival. But Tangmoo does not wish for anything--apparently having achieved enlightenment. The story rolls along in a droll sort of way, with various coincidences described in that quaint dialect. I was perhaps too tired when I read it, but just couldn't get into it. Two stars, but you might like it.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
The Water That Falls On You From Nowhere, by John Chu
Gay and lesbian romance is now finally getting its day, so pretty much all the romance in SF is actually bromance or girlmance (I made that last one up. Slightly lame). But SF has never been great at romance, so the GLBT versions give it a chance to go back and get that more right. Would that it didn't feel so fashionable. The Water... is a story of coming out to an unsupportive family, with the SF twist that no one can get away with lying anymore. Why? Instead of noses growing like Pinocchio, people get drenched with water.
So there's a lot you could do with this premise as social experimentation. What really counts as a lie? And that's explored here, but pretty much purely through relationships. It's the trickiest case for the omniscient water-dousers to handle, but handle it they do. Or it does. The source of this new permanent polygraph is not clear.
The story is much more serious than the review. The SF is really window dressing for the fraught family situation, but given the power of the speculation that's kind of a waste. On the other hand, it's a well written story, so 3 stars from me.
So there's a lot you could do with this premise as social experimentation. What really counts as a lie? And that's explored here, but pretty much purely through relationships. It's the trickiest case for the omniscient water-dousers to handle, but handle it they do. Or it does. The source of this new permanent polygraph is not clear.
The story is much more serious than the review. The SF is really window dressing for the fraught family situation, but given the power of the speculation that's kind of a waste. On the other hand, it's a well written story, so 3 stars from me.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
The Lady Astronaut of Mars, by Mary Robinette Kowal
Mary Robinette Kowal has nice range as an author. She can do an effective hard SF story, and also does well in fantasy. The Lady Astronaut of Mars falls on the hard SF side, but it is really more of a human relations story.
We have an alternate history element--in this history Washington, D.C. was obliterated by a meteorite strike early in the space age (insert politician doom joke here). Earth was thus energized to pursue space travel in self defense, trying to start colonies elsewhere in order to ensure continuity of the race. We thus went to Mars with technology similar to that which took us to the Moon.
Our protagonist is one of the first (and very few) female astronauts. She has both taken advantage of this, and been held back by it. But she was one of the most popular figures in the space program. She is now 63, and her husband, who did (and sometimes still does) programming for the space program is in very poor health. They live on Mars.
She is offered the opportunity to travel to a nearby star with an inhabitable planet. Near light speed, but she will still be gone three years. Her husband will die soon. Should she go, or not? That's the frame in which the emotions play out.
It's a good story, and worth the time to read. 3 stars from me.
We have an alternate history element--in this history Washington, D.C. was obliterated by a meteorite strike early in the space age (insert politician doom joke here). Earth was thus energized to pursue space travel in self defense, trying to start colonies elsewhere in order to ensure continuity of the race. We thus went to Mars with technology similar to that which took us to the Moon.
Our protagonist is one of the first (and very few) female astronauts. She has both taken advantage of this, and been held back by it. But she was one of the most popular figures in the space program. She is now 63, and her husband, who did (and sometimes still does) programming for the space program is in very poor health. They live on Mars.
She is offered the opportunity to travel to a nearby star with an inhabitable planet. Near light speed, but she will still be gone three years. Her husband will die soon. Should she go, or not? That's the frame in which the emotions play out.
It's a good story, and worth the time to read. 3 stars from me.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Equoid, by Charles Stross
Equoid is the second story I've read in Stross's extensive Laundry series. The Laundry is part of British civil service, the part that deals with occult threats. And the threat in this one is a doozy. We get a lot of fun action as Bob Howard (not really), computer nerd and office drone, takes on unicorns. I know I've read some similar stories but can't bring them to mind right now, so you'll just have to go read it for yourself. Very good stuff. Reminds me very much of George Saunders' CommComm, so if you liked that one you'll like this one.
Seventy-Two Letters,by Ted Chiang
I took a time out from reading award nominated stories to read one I found somewhat by accident, linked off Ted Chiang's Wikipedia page. Seventy-two letters is a more "normal" SF story than the others I've read by Chiang, which figures because it's from 2001. But really no less inventive.
In this story Chiang invents a place where golems are real, and the science of "nomenclature" is a prominent one--the study of how to create True Names for things, which then can animate them. He describes a discipline emerging from craft and magic into an empirical, engineering type of application. Wrapped in with it is a completely different principle on how reproduction occurs--animal species contain all their future generations in the male line, and each generation is the amplification of some chosen set from the infinitesimal. At the time of the story, we are discovered to have only five generations left.
The action plays out well, but the best SF is about the ideas, and this is a classically written one. Definitely can recommend it. 3 stars.
In this story Chiang invents a place where golems are real, and the science of "nomenclature" is a prominent one--the study of how to create True Names for things, which then can animate them. He describes a discipline emerging from craft and magic into an empirical, engineering type of application. Wrapped in with it is a completely different principle on how reproduction occurs--animal species contain all their future generations in the male line, and each generation is the amplification of some chosen set from the infinitesimal. At the time of the story, we are discovered to have only five generations left.
The action plays out well, but the best SF is about the ideas, and this is a classically written one. Definitely can recommend it. 3 stars.
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