A Stranger in Olondria, by Sofia Samatar

A Stranger in Olondria was nominated for both a Nebula and a World Fantasy Award this year.  And in this case it's easier to understand why.  This is a writer's book, interesting but essentially introspective in style.  The protagonist, Jevik, is a fascinating character, a young man itching to go to the Big City and see the culture for himself--he had been exposed to it by a tutor brought to his remote island by an equally remote father.  He throws himself into the scene and pays the price innocents often pay--he loses that innocence and goes on a journey of discovery. 

That journey is driven by the ghost of Jissavet, a girl dying of a wasting disease thought to be a spiritual sickness.  She is at the end of her life, but manages to convey her bright, disdainful personality when they meet briefly on his chartered ship.  How she comes to haunt him is a long story best read in the book.

There is one parallel to the last book I read, A Natural History of Dragons--the world is made up whole.  But the sensibility feels somewhat South Asian (though Samatar herself is from South Sudan), so the tropes are less familiar.  And Samatar writes from a very foreign point of view within this space.  This is interesting but in the end becomes a critique--my mind grew tired trying to wrap itself around metaphors like "her eyes were as one who had come from the country of herons".  ???  They almost work, you strain to make the connection, but in the end are quite unsure.

Samatar also gives a nod to writers by portraying the role of books in this world as heady, absorbing, dangerous things.  Dwelling on the danger more than the fascination, though not in such a way as to imply that they should be censored.  In this context Jevik is of course very much a bookworm.

A very interesting achievement in this book is an extended portrayal of Jissavet as a haughty, unkind person yet one worth working to get to know.  Jevik certainly thinks so, even in death. 

The book did not continuously hold my interest, it gets a bit carried away with writing and settings.  The plot gets slightly obscured in those difficult metaphors.  But it certainly gave me some mental exercise, and I felt like my boundaries of what I could read were stretched.  I give it three stars for style. 

A Natural History of Dragons: A Memoir by Lady Trent, by Marie Brennan

A Natural History of Dragons was nominated for a World Fantasy Award this year.  It's one of those books that's a bit tough to review.  It's well-written--Brennan picks a style (Elizabethan) and sticks with it.  The protagonist is a feminist role model, at least for her setting.  I finished it and stayed somewhat engaged.  What stands out, for me, is what it lacks:

1. Dragons: The protagonist (the future, but not present, Lady Trent) is obsessed with them, and dragons do figure prominently.  But the cover, title, and early part of the book led me to expect that we would learn much more about them than we do.  We get some anatomy, particularly bone structure and a little social habits, but that's it.  The speculation about sparklings is mildly interesting, I guess it counts.
2. Obsessive detail: Books of this sort can engage by taking a deep dive into their fantastic subject matter, making for geek fun and material for Cons and cosplay.  But see #1, we have not a lot of depth.  And if you don't have detail, you need:
3. Compelling action: There is adventure and danger in this book, but it's pretty carefully described and doesn't arouse much in the way of emotion.  Stuff happens.
4. Grounded culture: Anthiope is a fully make-believe place, though the culture takes an Elizabethan Europe background mostly for granted.  There's some development of what makes Scirland unique, but not much.  It could sort of be anywhere, as long as anywhere is mostly like here.
5. Fresh and insightful social commentary: Lady Trent is minor royalty in Scirland, and bucks current social trends by being a woman interested in science.  Her father and husband "indulge" her.  OK, but it's been done.  For a long time.

So while it's a competent book, it's not compelling in any way.  I see there's a sequel, and there is definitely room to grow here, but not much to say you should start.  I say two and a half stars--never done that before, but you have to start somewhere.

Fire With Fire, by Charles E. Gannon

Fire With Fire was nominated for a 2013 Hugo award.  But for my money it could have been nominated for a 1963 Hugo. 

This is a story of the early period of Earth's interstellar exploration and exosapient contact.  We have all the elements of a very good early Heinlein here:

1. Powerful but limited faster-than-light travel (though not so fully explained)
2. Earth governments cracking under strain, thus a secret organization (named ISIS!) emerges to steer Earth down the right path in confronting the aliens.
3. A "true polymath" of a hero--investigative reporter, capable fighter, upstanding citizen to a fault.  And a hunk/ladies man to boot.  Named Caine Riordan.  How many action heroes have been named Riordan?  I think it's a lot.
4. Really awkwardly portrayed women/sexuality. 

I could go on for a long time.  You name the late Golden Age trope, Gannon hits it.

It's not a terrible book.  Caine generates interest once in awhile, and the diplomatic chess games are somewhat interesting.  But this is 2014.  I looked for any sense of understanding of how we've changed since 1963, and found none at all.  Yes, the book asserts that women are the equal of men--you can find that in 1963 SF too, though the writers mostly didn't fully understand what that meant.  There's no consciousness at all of how technology has changed us socially--it's early 60's mentality with spaceships.

I can see the award nominators' nostalgia in offering this up.  But really, if you want this sort of thing, go back to the originals.  Read Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke, Asimov.  Don't bother with this one.  2 stars from me.

Dust Devil on a Quiet Street, by Richard Bowes

Dust Devil on a Quiet Street is a sort of fictional memoir.  A lot of events appear to be true, but none of it is guaranteed to be.  Definitely the tone of the book is a memoir, more than a novel.  I guess it's OK as a form, but for me it kind of fell short.

Beyond being a memoir, Dust Devil is about gay life in Manhattan, with a strong element of reaction to the tragedy of 9/11.  Bowes poses himself as a self-effaced sort of man-about-town, hanging out with many great writers and getting some nominations but not ever quite enough to make a living at it.  Supernatural elements, mostly low key, are woven in as a natural component.  He sees things because he can.

While he does appear to have been around a lot of famous people, he seems to have changed the names for some of the central characters.  I can't verify Judy Finch (Judy Light, Judy Icon) as a rock singer or Barbara Lohr as a fantasy writer.

Bowes was a reference assistant at a New York university library for 30 years, and librarian personality has sort of infested this writing.  Certainly he didn't start out that way--mostly high, lots of racy scenes and risky sex, and close calls with death.  But it all seems kind of remote.

Many reviewers seem to find this book profound and moving, but really it just never got going for me.  Bowes is so very detached from his own life that it's hard for him to tell us why we should care about his adventures.  Certainly there's an exciting life story here, that leads to something--redemption, recognition--but we don't see it here.  I'm going to give it 3 stars, but I think I'm being generous.

San Diego 2014: Last Stand of the California Browncoats, by Mira Grant

San Diego 2014 was nominated for an award (Nebula, I think--too tired to look it up) last year, but it was only available in electronic format and I don't know how to donate those to the library.  But I was searching for award winners this year and found that my library had acquired it in electronic form.  So by happy chance I am able to catch this up and provide a review.

This is a "prequel" to the Newsflesh trilogy (I have reviewed all three--the link is to Feed, the first one).  Mahir Gowdha, a survivor of the original trilogy's blogging group, is interviewing one of the very few survivors from San Diego Comic-Con 2014, where one of the early breakouts happened.  The novella tells the story of those trapped inside. 

Where Newsflesh was grim, yet sarcastic and humorous, this story tends more toward just grim.  No one gets out alive--it's mostly about their last moments, and doesn't really stand alone.  Best if you have read the original trilogy, since the story is set after the series.  I would say it's worth seeking out if you have.  And the original series is definitely worth the read if you have not.  3 stars for this one.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane, by Neil Gaiman

The last book I read by Neil Gaiman was Anansi Boys.  For some reason I have never reviewed it.  That's unfortunate, for the book was worthy, but I don't think I'll get to it now.  The book I'm here to review is this year's Nebula nominee, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, available as an e-book from my library, which is a great thing.

Our protagonist is departing from a funeral.  Obviously someone close to him, as he appears to have arranged the funeral.  But we don't really find out who it is.  He drifts away from the funeral and ends up at the Hempstock farm, where he has a Proust moment.  Sitting on a bench by the duck pond, he recalls extraordinary events from when he visited there at seven years old.  He meets Lettie Hempstock, the 3rd generation of Hempstock women at the farm.  Together they take on a creature from an alternate world that comes to "give everyone what they want", only it does it poorly.  He is not much use, but is a good friend to Lettie.

The book is beautifully written, as Gaiman's fiction always is.  Compared to Anansi Boys, though, it just feels a couple of sizes smaller.  There's action, adventure, and strong characters, but all somewhat less.  The protagonist is something of a cipher, and though that's quite intentional it leaves something of a hole in the middle of the book. 

What makes it worthwhile, and why I still give it four stars, is the careful thought and wonderful writing that is fully present.  It's a great example of how to write a novel, and yet it's something of a toss-off for Gaiman--the casual backhand down the line, chip shot to within an inch, or easy swing for a home run.  Four stars.  Go read it, it won't take long.

The Red: First Light, by Linda Nagata

The Red: First Light gets comparisons in its reviews to Joe Haldeman's The Forever War and Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers, both of which I read (though not the whole Forever War series) and enjoyed in different ways.  The comparisons are more along the lines of how military SF progresses with its times--from glory to simple slogging to the more complex feelings we have about involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Instead of discoursing directly on this, Nagata tries to embody that ambiguity of modern warfare in her protagonist, James Shelley.  He's an idealist who got caught up in a protest against the US government, then took the Army over a stint in jail. 

One of the more uncomfortable elements of the novel is how fully the Army owns Shelley, and how he both chafes against it and accepts it.  Basically it's become a part of him and there's no way out.  He puts that personal transparency to use in fighting for social justice, and for trying to understand what appears to be a rogue artificial intelligence influencing people's behavior and decisions in a subtle way.  He recognizes its influence more than most--the "hunches" he gets that makes a fellow soldier conclude he has a pipeline to God.

There's plenty of action and the philosophy is well distributed, so the book ends up to be a really well executed thriller that also allows you to think.  I would give it four stars except that for me I couldn't really get going on it right away--took a bit to warm up.  So 3 stars from me.  But definitely worth reading.