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The Kraken Wakes by John Wyndham
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
More apocalyptic fiction from John Wyndham that starts with strange fireballs coming from the sky and landing in the deepest parts of the Earth’s oceans. Then ships start disappearing, followed by on-shore abductions. It’s a great set-up, and Wyndham pulls it off in his usual laconic manner, eschewing blockbuster action for a more realistic slow-burn tale in which governments and (most) scientists fail to realize the scope of the problem – or that there’s even a problem – until it’s too late. Suspension of disbelief is required only in the sense that the same story may have played out far differently in the hyper-aware 24/7 media news cycle of 2016. In the early 1950s, countries and villages were relatively more isolated, and news didn’t always travel quickly or comprehensively. And the relationship between govts and media was far more cooperative than it is today. With those caveats in place, it’s a pretty convincing take on how myopic and self-delusional humans can be in the face of global catastrophe – especially when it comes to dealing with an enemy you can't see or even reach, let alone comprehend. And the ending is strikingly topical 60 years later.
The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is something slightly different from Haruki Murakami: a novella kitted out with some elaborate art design and illustration to accompany the storyline – a boy goes to the library to borrow some books, and ends up imprisoned in the library’s labyrinthine basement by an apologetic sheep man. On the surface it’s page-turning entertainment, but it’s also multi-layered and unexpectedly dark in ways that will stick with me for awhile. It also harks back to the weirdness of Murakami’s earlier novels. In fact, it’s the weirdest story he’s published in ages, so if you always liked him more for Dance Dance Dance than Norwegian Wood, this should work for you. As for the illustrations, I’m not sure but there seems to be two versions – mine is the one with the library card pocket on the front. There’s also a version designed by Chip Kidd that looks even more elaborate than my version, with fold-out pages and hidden artwork. I can only speak for the former, but I liked the visual element of it – it adds to the atmosphere of the story without overwhelming it.
Them: Adventures with Extremists by Jon Ronson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Before he hung out with the men who stare at goats, Jon Ronson spent a year in the company of various extremists who had one thing in common: the belief that the world is secretly controlled by a Zionist conspiracy helmed by the Bilderberg Group. Incredibly – and bravely – Ronson (who is Jewish) decided to suspend disbelief and take them at their word in order to find out if this was actually true. He covers a lot of bases, from Islamic fundamentalists, Aryan Nations and the KKK to Randy Weaver (of Ruby Ridge fame), radio host Alex Jones and the actual Bilderberg Group itself. Context helps here – the book was written just before 9/11, when extremism of all stripes was still relegated to the fringe and hardly anyone outside of that fringe took the Bilderberg conspiracy seriously enough to bother writing about it. Consequently, Ronson takes a lighter approach than he may have done post-9/11. The result is a surprisingly funny book that portrays extremists as actual people (albeit absurd, delusional, buffoonish and not always very nice people) rather than caricatures, yet without endorsing any of their toxic views. What’s really striking is the sheer nerve it must have taken to hang out with extremists in the first place. It’s hard to imagine anyone being brave enough to write a book like this in today’s political environment. It may be dated, but it’s still a fascinating ethnographic addition to the conspiracy-theory-history section.
Nemo by Ron Goulart
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This is a re-read for me. I read and enjoyed a lot of Ron Goulart’s SF books when I was in high school and the military, but his many of his books are out of print and hard to find, so I haven't read him for years. Goulart is insanely prolific as a ghostwriter and pulp/comics historian, but he also wrote a lot of humorous SF novels that generally involve technological and societal decay, as well as comic-book plots. This standalone novel tells the tale of Ted Briar, who discovers he’s been leading a secret life as a govt agent with telekinetic powers, and is recruited by political activists to stop an evil plot by the President of the USA. Which sounds more serious than it is – as usual, Goulart tells it in a breezy comic style, though Goulart’s comedy is more about wry satire than belly laughs. Goulart tells his stories with fast-paced bare-bones economy, to include characterization. That probably won’t work for everyone, but he’s not writing the Great American Novel here – he’s essentially writing comic-book stories in a prose format. The story is entertaining enough, though I wouldn't say this is one of his classics. But then I’m really here for his writing style and the cadence of his dialogue, which has been a major influence on me. Reading this again, I remember why I liked reading him.
The Wild Girls by Ursula K. Le Guin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I’ve been enjoying the PM Press Outspoken Authors series, and I’m a fan of Ursula K. Le Guin, so eventually I was going to get to this. The title novella (newly revised) is a grim and harrowing fantasy tale of two girls who are kidnapped and sold into slavery as children, and haunted by the ghost of a baby that died in the same raid. Also included are two essays (on the alleged decline of book reading and the evolution of the word “modesty” as a gender-specific term) and an interview. The novella and the essay on books are the main high points for me. The Q&A is something of a letdown in that Le Guin doesn’t seem to take the questions all that seriously. Then again, her answers do display an unwillingness to play by the rules of convention, or perhaps it indicates that she’s worked hard enough at her art (and done enough interviews) that she doesn’t have to explain herself or reveal any more than she has to. Or maybe she just likes to liven things up. Anyway, there’s plenty here for Le Guin fans to sink their teeth into.
Lock In: A Novel of the Near Future by John Scalzi
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is Scalzi’s not-that-near-future police procedural set 25 years after a devastating worldwide plague kills 400 million people and leaves hundreds of millions more with “lock in” syndrome – fully conscious but completely paralyzed. Thanks to a US govt initiative (and the President’s wife being a lock-in victim), the so-called Hadens are re-integrated into society via virtual reality, android bodies they can control with their brains and – if they can afford it – Integrators (people who are able to let Hadens possess their bodies temporarily). That’s the backdrop for rookie FBI agent (and Haden) Chris Shane’s first case – a murder where the suspect is an Integrator who may or may not have been possessed when it happened. It’s a great premise, and Scalzi handles it well, although his commercial style has two of the usual tradeoffs: (1) he doesn’t dive as deep as he could into some of the sociopolitical issues raised by this scenario, although he doesn't ignore them, and there is a sequel planned, so he’s got room to expand here, and (2) just about every character speaks with the same level of eloquent, snappy snark, which dilutes them somewhat, but it’s very well written snark, which makes for a fast and entertaining read – which is generally Scalzi’s goal, so my expectations were well met.
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My rating: 4 of 5 stars
More apocalyptic fiction from John Wyndham that starts with strange fireballs coming from the sky and landing in the deepest parts of the Earth’s oceans. Then ships start disappearing, followed by on-shore abductions. It’s a great set-up, and Wyndham pulls it off in his usual laconic manner, eschewing blockbuster action for a more realistic slow-burn tale in which governments and (most) scientists fail to realize the scope of the problem – or that there’s even a problem – until it’s too late. Suspension of disbelief is required only in the sense that the same story may have played out far differently in the hyper-aware 24/7 media news cycle of 2016. In the early 1950s, countries and villages were relatively more isolated, and news didn’t always travel quickly or comprehensively. And the relationship between govts and media was far more cooperative than it is today. With those caveats in place, it’s a pretty convincing take on how myopic and self-delusional humans can be in the face of global catastrophe – especially when it comes to dealing with an enemy you can't see or even reach, let alone comprehend. And the ending is strikingly topical 60 years later.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is something slightly different from Haruki Murakami: a novella kitted out with some elaborate art design and illustration to accompany the storyline – a boy goes to the library to borrow some books, and ends up imprisoned in the library’s labyrinthine basement by an apologetic sheep man. On the surface it’s page-turning entertainment, but it’s also multi-layered and unexpectedly dark in ways that will stick with me for awhile. It also harks back to the weirdness of Murakami’s earlier novels. In fact, it’s the weirdest story he’s published in ages, so if you always liked him more for Dance Dance Dance than Norwegian Wood, this should work for you. As for the illustrations, I’m not sure but there seems to be two versions – mine is the one with the library card pocket on the front. There’s also a version designed by Chip Kidd that looks even more elaborate than my version, with fold-out pages and hidden artwork. I can only speak for the former, but I liked the visual element of it – it adds to the atmosphere of the story without overwhelming it.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Before he hung out with the men who stare at goats, Jon Ronson spent a year in the company of various extremists who had one thing in common: the belief that the world is secretly controlled by a Zionist conspiracy helmed by the Bilderberg Group. Incredibly – and bravely – Ronson (who is Jewish) decided to suspend disbelief and take them at their word in order to find out if this was actually true. He covers a lot of bases, from Islamic fundamentalists, Aryan Nations and the KKK to Randy Weaver (of Ruby Ridge fame), radio host Alex Jones and the actual Bilderberg Group itself. Context helps here – the book was written just before 9/11, when extremism of all stripes was still relegated to the fringe and hardly anyone outside of that fringe took the Bilderberg conspiracy seriously enough to bother writing about it. Consequently, Ronson takes a lighter approach than he may have done post-9/11. The result is a surprisingly funny book that portrays extremists as actual people (albeit absurd, delusional, buffoonish and not always very nice people) rather than caricatures, yet without endorsing any of their toxic views. What’s really striking is the sheer nerve it must have taken to hang out with extremists in the first place. It’s hard to imagine anyone being brave enough to write a book like this in today’s political environment. It may be dated, but it’s still a fascinating ethnographic addition to the conspiracy-theory-history section.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This is a re-read for me. I read and enjoyed a lot of Ron Goulart’s SF books when I was in high school and the military, but his many of his books are out of print and hard to find, so I haven't read him for years. Goulart is insanely prolific as a ghostwriter and pulp/comics historian, but he also wrote a lot of humorous SF novels that generally involve technological and societal decay, as well as comic-book plots. This standalone novel tells the tale of Ted Briar, who discovers he’s been leading a secret life as a govt agent with telekinetic powers, and is recruited by political activists to stop an evil plot by the President of the USA. Which sounds more serious than it is – as usual, Goulart tells it in a breezy comic style, though Goulart’s comedy is more about wry satire than belly laughs. Goulart tells his stories with fast-paced bare-bones economy, to include characterization. That probably won’t work for everyone, but he’s not writing the Great American Novel here – he’s essentially writing comic-book stories in a prose format. The story is entertaining enough, though I wouldn't say this is one of his classics. But then I’m really here for his writing style and the cadence of his dialogue, which has been a major influence on me. Reading this again, I remember why I liked reading him.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I’ve been enjoying the PM Press Outspoken Authors series, and I’m a fan of Ursula K. Le Guin, so eventually I was going to get to this. The title novella (newly revised) is a grim and harrowing fantasy tale of two girls who are kidnapped and sold into slavery as children, and haunted by the ghost of a baby that died in the same raid. Also included are two essays (on the alleged decline of book reading and the evolution of the word “modesty” as a gender-specific term) and an interview. The novella and the essay on books are the main high points for me. The Q&A is something of a letdown in that Le Guin doesn’t seem to take the questions all that seriously. Then again, her answers do display an unwillingness to play by the rules of convention, or perhaps it indicates that she’s worked hard enough at her art (and done enough interviews) that she doesn’t have to explain herself or reveal any more than she has to. Or maybe she just likes to liven things up. Anyway, there’s plenty here for Le Guin fans to sink their teeth into.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is Scalzi’s not-that-near-future police procedural set 25 years after a devastating worldwide plague kills 400 million people and leaves hundreds of millions more with “lock in” syndrome – fully conscious but completely paralyzed. Thanks to a US govt initiative (and the President’s wife being a lock-in victim), the so-called Hadens are re-integrated into society via virtual reality, android bodies they can control with their brains and – if they can afford it – Integrators (people who are able to let Hadens possess their bodies temporarily). That’s the backdrop for rookie FBI agent (and Haden) Chris Shane’s first case – a murder where the suspect is an Integrator who may or may not have been possessed when it happened. It’s a great premise, and Scalzi handles it well, although his commercial style has two of the usual tradeoffs: (1) he doesn’t dive as deep as he could into some of the sociopolitical issues raised by this scenario, although he doesn't ignore them, and there is a sequel planned, so he’s got room to expand here, and (2) just about every character speaks with the same level of eloquent, snappy snark, which dilutes them somewhat, but it’s very well written snark, which makes for a fast and entertaining read – which is generally Scalzi’s goal, so my expectations were well met.
View all my reviews
Unlocked,
This is dF