LISTEN TO MY FIRST WORDS OF 2024
Jan. 1st, 2024 09:35 am
And that’s that for 2023.
I got my Christmas miracle, so the 2023 Reading Challenge (30 books/year) is complete. You can see that here if you’re really that interested. However, I’m likely to set a lower bar next year, if only for my peace of mind. (For the truly hardcore, you can see my yearly statistics here.)
Anyway, I managed to end the year on a high note, quality-wise (apart from a the first book here), so there’s always that.
And so:
Supernatural Noir by Ellen Datlow
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Someone flagged this 2011 collection to me at some point, and I was interested – partly because I do like the noir and the supernatural genres, so why not an anthology mashup, and partly because I remember that the better anthologies I came across when I was younger were edited by Ellen Datlow. So I figured this was worth a try, despite only being familiar with two of the writers here (Joe R. Lansdale and Caitlin R. Kiernan).
As the title suggests, the stories here are mainly noir tales with a supernatural angle, though it’s worth mentioning upfront that Datlow casts a pretty wide net when it comes to what counts as noir – which is fine, as noir has always been more than just hardboiled PIs and femme fatales cracking wise and whatnot – basically anything involving losers, low-lifes and crime. And here you have a lot of that – an ex-boxer trying to find out who (or what) killed his friend and a room full of gangsters, a detective hired to find out who is desecrating his client’s sister’s grave every night, a couple on the lam check into a weird hotel, etc.
However, many of these are really just straight horror or urban fantasy, even when allowing for the expanded criteria for what counts as noir, so in my opinion the title is a little misleading. Which may be my problem, and that’s fair, but the other thing is that, as straight horror/urban fantasy, most of the stories here didn’t work for me – apparently there’s only so much gruesome violence or drug/sex abuse I can stand these days. Which, again, is my problem. I’m just saying, a few of these stories are quite good, but most aren’t my cup of tea. Fans of horror/urban fantasy may dig it – and maybe noir fans, depending on how they define the genre.
Flux by Ron Goulart
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Continuing my occasional quest to re-read the works of Ron Goulart, this 1974 novel is what you could call the second instalment of the Chameleon Corps, a branch of the intergalactic Political Espionage Office that employs shape-changers as agents. The CC first appeared in Goulart’s short story collection The Chameleon Corps and Other Shape Changers. The protagonist in those CC stories, Ben Jolson, returns here for his first novel-length adventure.
This time he’s sent to the planet Jasper, where a mysterious person called Sunflower is recruiting teenagers to become suicide bombers for his revolution. Jolson’s mission is simple enough: track down Sunflower and stop him. He’s also tasked with locating Bronzini, another CC agent who disappeared after accepting the same mission. As it happens, the districts of Jasper are all divided into themes – for example, one district is designed like the Old American West, where everyone dresses as cowboys, while another is based on 1920s Manhattan, etc. This gives Jolson plenty of opportunity to run through a number of different personas as he goes along.
It's pretty standard stuff for Goulart – the plot is basically a platform for a reluctant agent to play the straight man to all the oddball characters and satirical situations he encounters as he follows each lead. Which is fine, though this one is a little dark in the sense that it’s hard to make light of teenage suicide bombers here in 2023. Also, like a lot of Goulart’s work, his realistic takes on racism, sexism and homophobia will challenge some readers – they don’t dominate the story, but they haven’t aged well, either, to say nothing of his use of love interests, even if he’s being true to the genre he’s satirizing. Anyway, it’s okay for what it is, but Goulart has done it better elsewhere.
SIMONE WEIL THE POWER OF WORDS /ANGLAIS by Weil Simone
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I’ve never read Simone Weil before, but a lot of people I respect tend to quote her a lot, so naturally when I saw this in a local indie bookstore, I decided to give it a try – not least since (as part of Penguin’s “Great Ideas” series) it’s basically a taster of two of her books: The Need for Roots: Prelude to a Declaration of Duties towards Mankind and Selected Essays 1934-43. So I figured it was an easy commitment and a short read. As it turns out, “short” in this case doesn’t equal “easy”. Weil was a serious intellectual and she wrote like one. Moreover, her “great ideas” essentially called for a radical rethink and overhaul of accepted conventions, concepts and institutions by getting to the true heart of the fundamental problem of the human condition.
For example, in the title track, Weil argues that words have power when they are empty of meaning – as they so often are in political discourse – so that words like “fascism”, “Communism” and “democracy” become vacuous labels that men will kill and die for without understanding what those words actually mean, which also prevents us from seeing the true nature of the issue at hand. The second essay, “Human Personality”, is related in that Weil says the term “human rights” in popular discourse fails to capture the essence of what we think of as rights, as opposed to words like “justice” and “truth”. Finally, “The Needs of the Soul” looks at rights in the broader context of the human “obligations” to respect each other and ensure everyone’s physical and spiritual needs are met – which involves not just obvious things like equality, liberty and freedom of opinion, but also order, obedience and punishment.
So yeah, it’s challenging stuff. And that’s a good thing. I won’t say I agree with all of Weil’s ideas, and some of her ideal suggestions for correcting the problems she points out are complex and seem less practical or workable in this crazy mixed up world of 2023 than it did when she wrote these essays in the 1930s-40s. On the other hand, she also sounds like a prophet when she writes stuff like: “A democracy where public life is made up of strife between political parties is incapable of preventing the formation of a party whose avowed aim is the overthrow of that democracy.” What you make of if will obviously depend on your current political outlook and your openness to having your sociopolitical ideologies seriously challenged. For me, I got a lot out of this, and I’ll probably try to find some other writings by Weil.
The Power of the Powerless by Václav Havel
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I read Vaclav Havel’s Disturbing the Peace: A Conversation with Karel Hvížďala in grad school, partly because I knew a little of his role in the Velvet Revolution, and partly because I’d heard he’d smuggled Velvet Underground records into Czechoslovakia in the 60s, which impressed me, being a VU/Lou Reed fan and all. Anyway, it was alright, but I didn’t look for other Havel books. However, almost 30 years later, I’m living in Hong Kong which is fast becoming an authoritarian regime, and a lot of people in the pro-democracy camp have been referencing The Power of the Powerless, which the few remaining indie bookstores in HK still carry. And with those bookstores being harassed by the govt, I decided it was high time I read it. As an act of resistance, you might say.
It's a long essay that Havel wrote in the wake of the creation of Charter 77 to explore how one goes about resisting oppression in a "post-totalitarian" regime – a term Havel coined to distinguish Communist totalitarianism from classical strongman dictatorships, because the power relations work differently. This matters because the key to resistance is in first understanding how authoritarian power actually works in such a system, which in turn is key to understanding what power the people incorporated into that system can exercise to not only resist state authority but undermine it and eventually render it powerless. In essence, Havel argues, it starts with realizing that one does not have play along with the state’s fictional ideological orthodoxy, and taking steps to “live in truth” that eventually leads to “small works” of resistance to that orthodoxy at the community/grassroots level.
It's a great book with a lot of big ideas on how to think about not only peaceful resistance to authoritarianism, but also power structures in general, to include parliamentary democracy, which Havel didn’t feel was the polar opposite of totalitarianism. Havel was also realistic enough to warn that there is risk involved with “living in truth” – indeed, he was eventually jailed by the secret police after this essay was published. There is probably a great debate to be had as to how much any of this would work in HK or mainland China, and I’m sure some find his ideas inapplicable, unworkable or unsatisfying (if only because it's a long game that requires patience and sacrifice). For me, I do agree that “small works” are meaningful, and that it’s better to “live in truth” than blindly accept the lie peddled by the state. If nothing else, the book gives me hope that HK’s slide into mainland-style post-totalitarianism is neither inevitable nor permanent.
Just Out of Jupiter's Reach by Nnedi Okorafor
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Earlier this year, Amazon Original Stories e-published a collection of six new short SF stories by reasonably big-name SF authors under the umbrella title The Far Reaches Stories to Take You Out of This World – free if you subscribe to Prime or Kindle Unlimited (which I don’t), otherwise you can buy them for cheap. They’re unified by the loose theme of interstellar travel, but are otherwise standalone stories, which means they can be read in any order. I’ve read three of the six authors before (Nnedi Okorafor, John Scalzi and James S.A. Corey), and since I needed a quick read to ace my 2023 Reading Challenge at the last minute, I decided to start with familiar territory and opted for Okorafor’s “Just Out Of Jupiter’s Reach” – not least because it's set in the same universe as her Binti stories, which I enjoyed. Specifically, it features interstellar ships that are organic, living and sentient, and the only people who can fly them must be compatible with the ship’s DNA so that they can form a bond with them.
Kármán (the company that designed the ships) offers eligible pilots 20 million euros to help test its first seven ships and collect research data as the ships grow and evolve. The catch: the contract is for ten years in deep space with no human contact, not even with other pilots, except for one pre-arranged week-long get-together at the five-year mark at a docking station near Jupiter. The story opens as the narrator, Nigerian native Tornado Onwubiko, prepares to arrive at the meeting. Okorafor focuses largely on the dynamics of interpersonal relations between people of different ages, cultures and backgrounds, meeting each other for the first time, after spending five years in complete isolation, with another five to go, as well as how their individual ships (which started off looking mostly like prawns) have evolved.
And it generally works, although a couple of the key plot twists would have had more impact on me if Okorafor had more room to build up to them. Similarly, the use of organic ships, while imaginative, could use more explanation – not in terms of scientific plausibility so much as (1) why Kármán decided living ships were better than mechanical ones (apart from it being a cool idea, which it is), and (2) who would greenlight a billion-dollar project to build starships that require pilots with very specific genetic codes – so much so that Kármán wasn’t sure they could even find one match. So it takes a lot of suspension of disbelief to look past that. Anyway, it’s a decent story, but perhaps might work better as a novella.
View all my reviews
Far from home,
This is dF
I got my Christmas miracle, so the 2023 Reading Challenge (30 books/year) is complete. You can see that here if you’re really that interested. However, I’m likely to set a lower bar next year, if only for my peace of mind. (For the truly hardcore, you can see my yearly statistics here.)
Anyway, I managed to end the year on a high note, quality-wise (apart from a the first book here), so there’s always that.
And so:
Supernatural Noir by Ellen DatlowMy rating: 1 of 5 stars
Someone flagged this 2011 collection to me at some point, and I was interested – partly because I do like the noir and the supernatural genres, so why not an anthology mashup, and partly because I remember that the better anthologies I came across when I was younger were edited by Ellen Datlow. So I figured this was worth a try, despite only being familiar with two of the writers here (Joe R. Lansdale and Caitlin R. Kiernan).
As the title suggests, the stories here are mainly noir tales with a supernatural angle, though it’s worth mentioning upfront that Datlow casts a pretty wide net when it comes to what counts as noir – which is fine, as noir has always been more than just hardboiled PIs and femme fatales cracking wise and whatnot – basically anything involving losers, low-lifes and crime. And here you have a lot of that – an ex-boxer trying to find out who (or what) killed his friend and a room full of gangsters, a detective hired to find out who is desecrating his client’s sister’s grave every night, a couple on the lam check into a weird hotel, etc.
However, many of these are really just straight horror or urban fantasy, even when allowing for the expanded criteria for what counts as noir, so in my opinion the title is a little misleading. Which may be my problem, and that’s fair, but the other thing is that, as straight horror/urban fantasy, most of the stories here didn’t work for me – apparently there’s only so much gruesome violence or drug/sex abuse I can stand these days. Which, again, is my problem. I’m just saying, a few of these stories are quite good, but most aren’t my cup of tea. Fans of horror/urban fantasy may dig it – and maybe noir fans, depending on how they define the genre.
Flux by Ron GoulartMy rating: 2 of 5 stars
Continuing my occasional quest to re-read the works of Ron Goulart, this 1974 novel is what you could call the second instalment of the Chameleon Corps, a branch of the intergalactic Political Espionage Office that employs shape-changers as agents. The CC first appeared in Goulart’s short story collection The Chameleon Corps and Other Shape Changers. The protagonist in those CC stories, Ben Jolson, returns here for his first novel-length adventure.
This time he’s sent to the planet Jasper, where a mysterious person called Sunflower is recruiting teenagers to become suicide bombers for his revolution. Jolson’s mission is simple enough: track down Sunflower and stop him. He’s also tasked with locating Bronzini, another CC agent who disappeared after accepting the same mission. As it happens, the districts of Jasper are all divided into themes – for example, one district is designed like the Old American West, where everyone dresses as cowboys, while another is based on 1920s Manhattan, etc. This gives Jolson plenty of opportunity to run through a number of different personas as he goes along.
It's pretty standard stuff for Goulart – the plot is basically a platform for a reluctant agent to play the straight man to all the oddball characters and satirical situations he encounters as he follows each lead. Which is fine, though this one is a little dark in the sense that it’s hard to make light of teenage suicide bombers here in 2023. Also, like a lot of Goulart’s work, his realistic takes on racism, sexism and homophobia will challenge some readers – they don’t dominate the story, but they haven’t aged well, either, to say nothing of his use of love interests, even if he’s being true to the genre he’s satirizing. Anyway, it’s okay for what it is, but Goulart has done it better elsewhere.
SIMONE WEIL THE POWER OF WORDS /ANGLAIS by Weil SimoneMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I’ve never read Simone Weil before, but a lot of people I respect tend to quote her a lot, so naturally when I saw this in a local indie bookstore, I decided to give it a try – not least since (as part of Penguin’s “Great Ideas” series) it’s basically a taster of two of her books: The Need for Roots: Prelude to a Declaration of Duties towards Mankind and Selected Essays 1934-43. So I figured it was an easy commitment and a short read. As it turns out, “short” in this case doesn’t equal “easy”. Weil was a serious intellectual and she wrote like one. Moreover, her “great ideas” essentially called for a radical rethink and overhaul of accepted conventions, concepts and institutions by getting to the true heart of the fundamental problem of the human condition.
For example, in the title track, Weil argues that words have power when they are empty of meaning – as they so often are in political discourse – so that words like “fascism”, “Communism” and “democracy” become vacuous labels that men will kill and die for without understanding what those words actually mean, which also prevents us from seeing the true nature of the issue at hand. The second essay, “Human Personality”, is related in that Weil says the term “human rights” in popular discourse fails to capture the essence of what we think of as rights, as opposed to words like “justice” and “truth”. Finally, “The Needs of the Soul” looks at rights in the broader context of the human “obligations” to respect each other and ensure everyone’s physical and spiritual needs are met – which involves not just obvious things like equality, liberty and freedom of opinion, but also order, obedience and punishment.
So yeah, it’s challenging stuff. And that’s a good thing. I won’t say I agree with all of Weil’s ideas, and some of her ideal suggestions for correcting the problems she points out are complex and seem less practical or workable in this crazy mixed up world of 2023 than it did when she wrote these essays in the 1930s-40s. On the other hand, she also sounds like a prophet when she writes stuff like: “A democracy where public life is made up of strife between political parties is incapable of preventing the formation of a party whose avowed aim is the overthrow of that democracy.” What you make of if will obviously depend on your current political outlook and your openness to having your sociopolitical ideologies seriously challenged. For me, I got a lot out of this, and I’ll probably try to find some other writings by Weil.
The Power of the Powerless by Václav HavelMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I read Vaclav Havel’s Disturbing the Peace: A Conversation with Karel Hvížďala in grad school, partly because I knew a little of his role in the Velvet Revolution, and partly because I’d heard he’d smuggled Velvet Underground records into Czechoslovakia in the 60s, which impressed me, being a VU/Lou Reed fan and all. Anyway, it was alright, but I didn’t look for other Havel books. However, almost 30 years later, I’m living in Hong Kong which is fast becoming an authoritarian regime, and a lot of people in the pro-democracy camp have been referencing The Power of the Powerless, which the few remaining indie bookstores in HK still carry. And with those bookstores being harassed by the govt, I decided it was high time I read it. As an act of resistance, you might say.
It's a long essay that Havel wrote in the wake of the creation of Charter 77 to explore how one goes about resisting oppression in a "post-totalitarian" regime – a term Havel coined to distinguish Communist totalitarianism from classical strongman dictatorships, because the power relations work differently. This matters because the key to resistance is in first understanding how authoritarian power actually works in such a system, which in turn is key to understanding what power the people incorporated into that system can exercise to not only resist state authority but undermine it and eventually render it powerless. In essence, Havel argues, it starts with realizing that one does not have play along with the state’s fictional ideological orthodoxy, and taking steps to “live in truth” that eventually leads to “small works” of resistance to that orthodoxy at the community/grassroots level.
It's a great book with a lot of big ideas on how to think about not only peaceful resistance to authoritarianism, but also power structures in general, to include parliamentary democracy, which Havel didn’t feel was the polar opposite of totalitarianism. Havel was also realistic enough to warn that there is risk involved with “living in truth” – indeed, he was eventually jailed by the secret police after this essay was published. There is probably a great debate to be had as to how much any of this would work in HK or mainland China, and I’m sure some find his ideas inapplicable, unworkable or unsatisfying (if only because it's a long game that requires patience and sacrifice). For me, I do agree that “small works” are meaningful, and that it’s better to “live in truth” than blindly accept the lie peddled by the state. If nothing else, the book gives me hope that HK’s slide into mainland-style post-totalitarianism is neither inevitable nor permanent.
Just Out of Jupiter's Reach by Nnedi OkoraforMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
Earlier this year, Amazon Original Stories e-published a collection of six new short SF stories by reasonably big-name SF authors under the umbrella title The Far Reaches Stories to Take You Out of This World – free if you subscribe to Prime or Kindle Unlimited (which I don’t), otherwise you can buy them for cheap. They’re unified by the loose theme of interstellar travel, but are otherwise standalone stories, which means they can be read in any order. I’ve read three of the six authors before (Nnedi Okorafor, John Scalzi and James S.A. Corey), and since I needed a quick read to ace my 2023 Reading Challenge at the last minute, I decided to start with familiar territory and opted for Okorafor’s “Just Out Of Jupiter’s Reach” – not least because it's set in the same universe as her Binti stories, which I enjoyed. Specifically, it features interstellar ships that are organic, living and sentient, and the only people who can fly them must be compatible with the ship’s DNA so that they can form a bond with them.
Kármán (the company that designed the ships) offers eligible pilots 20 million euros to help test its first seven ships and collect research data as the ships grow and evolve. The catch: the contract is for ten years in deep space with no human contact, not even with other pilots, except for one pre-arranged week-long get-together at the five-year mark at a docking station near Jupiter. The story opens as the narrator, Nigerian native Tornado Onwubiko, prepares to arrive at the meeting. Okorafor focuses largely on the dynamics of interpersonal relations between people of different ages, cultures and backgrounds, meeting each other for the first time, after spending five years in complete isolation, with another five to go, as well as how their individual ships (which started off looking mostly like prawns) have evolved.
And it generally works, although a couple of the key plot twists would have had more impact on me if Okorafor had more room to build up to them. Similarly, the use of organic ships, while imaginative, could use more explanation – not in terms of scientific plausibility so much as (1) why Kármán decided living ships were better than mechanical ones (apart from it being a cool idea, which it is), and (2) who would greenlight a billion-dollar project to build starships that require pilots with very specific genetic codes – so much so that Kármán wasn’t sure they could even find one match. So it takes a lot of suspension of disbelief to look past that. Anyway, it’s a decent story, but perhaps might work better as a novella.
View all my reviews
Far from home,
This is dF
THE WRONG STAR
Dec. 25th, 2023 12:03 amYou’ve probably got a thousand Christmas playlists to get you through the holiday season. But they probably don’t sound quite like this. Apart from the Pogues/Kirsty MacColl song.
And there’s probably a good reason for that. But I stand by it.
Merry Christmas to all of you.
Follow that star,
This is dF
It’s gonna take a Christmas miracle to complete my Goodreads Reading Challenge this year (I need to read four books in the next 30 days), But Joey Ramone believed in miracles, so anything is possible.
Clockwork Angels by Kevin J. Anderson
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
When Rush released what turned out to be their final album, Clockwork Angels, in 2012, the last thing I expected was that it would come with a novelization. But that’s what happened, and apparently it was in the works from the beginning. Drummer/lyricist Neil Peart was good friends with Kevin J. Anderson, and as Peart started writing the lyrics to the songs, he and Anderson (along with longtime Rush artist Hugh Syme) collaborated on fleshing out the concept and lyrics into a full-blown steampunk novel, and even a graphic novel. And while I’ve never read Anderson before, I do like Rush, the album was great, and I’ve never come across a novelization of a concept album – I’m not even sure such a thing has been done before. So of course I had to try it.
Like with most concept albums, the Clockwork Angels LP doesn’t have an obvious narrative arc, but you can tell it’s a sort of Wanderjahr concept set in a land called The Stability, where the Watchmaker maintains total order and control over everything. The novel essentially (and intentionally) follows the Candide formula – teenaged Owen Hardy lives a simple life in the village of Barrel Arbor believing that the Watchmaker is a benign grandfatherly overseer making life easy and protecting his people from the mysterious bomb-happy Anarchist, while his Clockwork Angels offer words of wisdom and encouragement. But Hardy has big dreams of seeing the world and having adventures, and embarks on an epic journey in which a lot of naïve, idealistic bubbles get harshly popped, and everything he believes turns out to be illusions.
It sounds good when you put it that way, and the overarching theme of competing opposite extremes (total order vs total chaos) is a compelling one that makes the eventual outcome quite satisfying to me, even if it does result in quite a few loose ends. However, Anderson’s prose is a big problem here for me – I find his style rather flat and repetitive, and over half the book is “the parts people skip”, as Elmore Leonard once put it. Also, naïve idealist Hardy comes across as a little too corny for my taste, and the story relies too much on the usual tropes for this sort of thing. Still, credit to Anderson and Peart for eschewing an obvious good vs evil tale for something more philosophical, even if they’re borrowing heavily from Voltaire to do it.
Even so, I found myself more interested in the craftsmanship of Anderson fleshing out song lyrics into a proper story with carnies, pirates, rogues, lost cities and a mysterious multiverse bookshop. Also, Anderson clearly had fun working in not only key lyrics from the album, but from other Rush songs as well. Peart was happy with the result, and by his account they had great fun working on it, and that’s all that really matters, I suppose. However, there are two more standalone instalments in the Clockwork Angels saga, and I can’t say I’m keen to read either of them, or anything else by Anderson. It did inspire me to read Candide, though, so there’s that.
Nine Hundred Grandmothers by R.A. Lafferty
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I enjoyed R.A, Lafferty’s second short-story anthology, Strange Doings (1972), and was keen to rewad more of him. Then I found a copy of his first anthology, released in 1970. One of them I’d already read: "Land Of The Great Horses", which appeared in Harlan Ellison’s Dangerous Visions. However, that story didn’t make much of an impression on me at the time, and re-reading it here didn’t help that much. And it turns out there’s quite a few other stories here like that. Luckily they’re in the minority.
The stories here cover a range of scenarios: an aspiring space pulp hero tries to discover the beginning of the universe; a man who wakes up to discover he can move through time at lightning speed; another man who discovers he somehow knows everyone in the world; a bear god named Snuffles; a kid invents a device that can make things disappear; people are replaced by monsters and no one notices at first; a valley that looks five feet wide but isn’t; an Earth that ends up literally hip-deep in friendly aliens; and a team of scientists with a supercomputer to see alternate realities through the eyes of other people. Etc and so on.
The quality of the plots vary, but as before, what makes it work for me is Lafferty’s wild, twisted imagination and playful writing style that swings between lyrical and whimsical. While this does result in characters reacting strangely to weird and dangerous phenomena, I find it a lot of fun to read. Lafferty also seems to be poking fun at standard SF tropes at times, such as the story where scientists try to use time travel to change history whilst assuming that they themselves won’t be changed. It’s one of the funniest stories here, or anywhere, really.
Corona by Greg Bear
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve only ever dabbled in the Star Trek novel series, but after recently reading John M. Ford’s excellent How Much for Just the Planet?, I’ve become a little more open to further dabbling. This one (#15 in the ST:OS canon) caught my attention, mainly because I had no idea Greg Bear wrote a Star Trek novel when his career was just starting to take off. My intro to Bear was Blood Music in 1986, which I enjoyed. I’ve read a number of his books since with varied results, but I was curious to see how he would write a franchise book, and so here we are.
The premise: The Federation receives a 10-year-old distress signal from a Vulcan research team (one of whom, T'Prylla, is a distant relation of Mr. Spock’s) on a planetoid studying a trio of protostars called Corona. The Enterprise is sent to rescue them after previous investigations have failed. Naturally there are complications, starting with the fact that the Federation has just installed a new computer system that monitors command and medical decisions to prevent bad or reckless decisions from being carried out. There’s also a reporter on board, Rowena Mason, who is doing a story on the monitor system and happens to be prejudiced against non-humans. Oh, and it turns out Corona is sentient and can control people and wants to reboot the universe.
On the whole, it’s alright for what it is – Bear’s writing style has always been a bit flat to me, but he has a good grasp of the characters and the “science” of Star Trek, and has a good sense of pace. The main weakness for me is the character Mason, whose xenophobia isn’t really fleshed out enough to make the point Bear wants to make about bigotry, or to make the climax (in which Mason plays a key role) really work. I also think he could have had more fun with the monitors idea. Some Star Trek fans have some canon-based complaints about the novel (especially in relation to Vulcan culture), but these don’t matter to me. Even if you stripped out the Star Trek context, it would still make a decent and readable SF adventure.
View all my reviews
Kirk out,
This is dF
Clockwork Angels by Kevin J. AndersonMy rating: 2 of 5 stars
When Rush released what turned out to be their final album, Clockwork Angels, in 2012, the last thing I expected was that it would come with a novelization. But that’s what happened, and apparently it was in the works from the beginning. Drummer/lyricist Neil Peart was good friends with Kevin J. Anderson, and as Peart started writing the lyrics to the songs, he and Anderson (along with longtime Rush artist Hugh Syme) collaborated on fleshing out the concept and lyrics into a full-blown steampunk novel, and even a graphic novel. And while I’ve never read Anderson before, I do like Rush, the album was great, and I’ve never come across a novelization of a concept album – I’m not even sure such a thing has been done before. So of course I had to try it.
Like with most concept albums, the Clockwork Angels LP doesn’t have an obvious narrative arc, but you can tell it’s a sort of Wanderjahr concept set in a land called The Stability, where the Watchmaker maintains total order and control over everything. The novel essentially (and intentionally) follows the Candide formula – teenaged Owen Hardy lives a simple life in the village of Barrel Arbor believing that the Watchmaker is a benign grandfatherly overseer making life easy and protecting his people from the mysterious bomb-happy Anarchist, while his Clockwork Angels offer words of wisdom and encouragement. But Hardy has big dreams of seeing the world and having adventures, and embarks on an epic journey in which a lot of naïve, idealistic bubbles get harshly popped, and everything he believes turns out to be illusions.
It sounds good when you put it that way, and the overarching theme of competing opposite extremes (total order vs total chaos) is a compelling one that makes the eventual outcome quite satisfying to me, even if it does result in quite a few loose ends. However, Anderson’s prose is a big problem here for me – I find his style rather flat and repetitive, and over half the book is “the parts people skip”, as Elmore Leonard once put it. Also, naïve idealist Hardy comes across as a little too corny for my taste, and the story relies too much on the usual tropes for this sort of thing. Still, credit to Anderson and Peart for eschewing an obvious good vs evil tale for something more philosophical, even if they’re borrowing heavily from Voltaire to do it.
Even so, I found myself more interested in the craftsmanship of Anderson fleshing out song lyrics into a proper story with carnies, pirates, rogues, lost cities and a mysterious multiverse bookshop. Also, Anderson clearly had fun working in not only key lyrics from the album, but from other Rush songs as well. Peart was happy with the result, and by his account they had great fun working on it, and that’s all that really matters, I suppose. However, there are two more standalone instalments in the Clockwork Angels saga, and I can’t say I’m keen to read either of them, or anything else by Anderson. It did inspire me to read Candide, though, so there’s that.
Nine Hundred Grandmothers by R.A. LaffertyMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I enjoyed R.A, Lafferty’s second short-story anthology, Strange Doings (1972), and was keen to rewad more of him. Then I found a copy of his first anthology, released in 1970. One of them I’d already read: "Land Of The Great Horses", which appeared in Harlan Ellison’s Dangerous Visions. However, that story didn’t make much of an impression on me at the time, and re-reading it here didn’t help that much. And it turns out there’s quite a few other stories here like that. Luckily they’re in the minority.
The stories here cover a range of scenarios: an aspiring space pulp hero tries to discover the beginning of the universe; a man who wakes up to discover he can move through time at lightning speed; another man who discovers he somehow knows everyone in the world; a bear god named Snuffles; a kid invents a device that can make things disappear; people are replaced by monsters and no one notices at first; a valley that looks five feet wide but isn’t; an Earth that ends up literally hip-deep in friendly aliens; and a team of scientists with a supercomputer to see alternate realities through the eyes of other people. Etc and so on.
The quality of the plots vary, but as before, what makes it work for me is Lafferty’s wild, twisted imagination and playful writing style that swings between lyrical and whimsical. While this does result in characters reacting strangely to weird and dangerous phenomena, I find it a lot of fun to read. Lafferty also seems to be poking fun at standard SF tropes at times, such as the story where scientists try to use time travel to change history whilst assuming that they themselves won’t be changed. It’s one of the funniest stories here, or anywhere, really.
Corona by Greg BearMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve only ever dabbled in the Star Trek novel series, but after recently reading John M. Ford’s excellent How Much for Just the Planet?, I’ve become a little more open to further dabbling. This one (#15 in the ST:OS canon) caught my attention, mainly because I had no idea Greg Bear wrote a Star Trek novel when his career was just starting to take off. My intro to Bear was Blood Music in 1986, which I enjoyed. I’ve read a number of his books since with varied results, but I was curious to see how he would write a franchise book, and so here we are.
The premise: The Federation receives a 10-year-old distress signal from a Vulcan research team (one of whom, T'Prylla, is a distant relation of Mr. Spock’s) on a planetoid studying a trio of protostars called Corona. The Enterprise is sent to rescue them after previous investigations have failed. Naturally there are complications, starting with the fact that the Federation has just installed a new computer system that monitors command and medical decisions to prevent bad or reckless decisions from being carried out. There’s also a reporter on board, Rowena Mason, who is doing a story on the monitor system and happens to be prejudiced against non-humans. Oh, and it turns out Corona is sentient and can control people and wants to reboot the universe.
On the whole, it’s alright for what it is – Bear’s writing style has always been a bit flat to me, but he has a good grasp of the characters and the “science” of Star Trek, and has a good sense of pace. The main weakness for me is the character Mason, whose xenophobia isn’t really fleshed out enough to make the point Bear wants to make about bigotry, or to make the climax (in which Mason plays a key role) really work. I also think he could have had more fun with the monitors idea. Some Star Trek fans have some canon-based complaints about the novel (especially in relation to Vulcan culture), but these don’t matter to me. Even if you stripped out the Star Trek context, it would still make a decent and readable SF adventure.
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Kirk out,
This is dF
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bedsitter23 , my hot take on the new Beatles track. Meh.
To elaborate: As an audio production guy, I do find it interesting how they used AI to clean up the audio quality of the demo. And as a final product, it’s put together well.
On the other hand, the whole thing comes across to me as a Beatles assembly kit. If you take a cleaned-up Lennon demo of an incomplete song idea, add some verses by McCartney, have Ringo and George Harrison’s son do a couple of tracks, and xenochronize some old George guitar work onto it, is it really a Beatles song?
Now, I know that lots of songs these days are completed by swapping tracks by email, etc, and bands have been recording that way for decades, where, say, the guitarist or singer will dub their parts when the rest of the band isn’t there. And of course there’s The White Album, which famously has all four Beatles on only half the tracks.
So I guess we could say “Now and Then” is kind of like that.
Even so, when I listen to the song, I don’t really hear The Beatles. I hear a Lennon solo project.
I have every album the Beatles ever recorded, and I associate them with a very specific music approach and sound. And in my opinion, “Now and Then” doesn’t slot seamlessly into that in the same way that, say, “Real Love” and “Free As A Bird” did (more or less).
I suppose I get all the fuss about it, and why people like it – especially when you watch the Peter Jackson video.
And I’ll admit it’s fun to think about “if this Beatles had kept going, what kind of music would they be making today, and would it be as good as their classic stuff?” And I don’t think it’s fair or accurate to point at the Rolling Stones and say, “Well, there’s your answer.” Different band, different music approach, different personalities, etc.
Also, we’ve seen the musical directions the individual Beatles took, and I don’t know if it’s fair to say that The Beatles as a band would have eventually produced the songs on Band On The Run, Double Fantasy, Cloud Nine etc and so on. Would they sound like they do on “Now and Then”? Maybe? I don’t know.
All I can really say is that, at the end of the day, “Now and Then” is one of those songs that make people like me say, “I liked their classic period better.”
Get back,
This is dF
I actually forgot to post last month’s update, and almost forgot this month’s update, and considering how much reading I got done, it’s probably just as well. But you’re all here for the book reviews, I know, so here you go.
Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The Historical Jesus and the Heart of Contemporary Faith by Marcus J. Borg by Marcus J. Borg
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Ten years ago, I read The Jesus I Never Knew, in which Christian journalist Philip Yancey revisited the Gospels to reconcile the “real” Jesus with the various versions that churches and religious leaders tend to present circa 1995 when the book was published – i.e. the perfect Anglo-Saxon one you see in paintings, or the All-American one often invoked by the Christian Coalition, etc. Recently I came across this book (published a year earlier) that covers similar ground from a different angle.
Marcus Borg was a scholar who studied Jesus from a historical, secular point of view. But he was also a Christian who, like many Christians, found that the traditional religious image of Jesus he learned as a kid didn’t make much sense as he got older. It was through his research of the historical (which is to say human) Jesus – plus a few revelatory moments – that everything fell into place for him, and he was able to connect the historical Jesus with the “Christ of faith” – which is to say, the Christian traditions that proclaim Jesus as the Son of God.
Obviously, what readers make of Borg’s portrait of Jesus will depend on who Jesus is to them and how open-minded they are to consider other POVs. For me, it adds a new dimension to the human side of Jesus, which I’ve always found more interesting, and more relatable, than the divine side. I also like Borg’s take on Jesus as a “spirit person” [i.e. someone deeply in touch with the spirit of God], subversive sage, radical social prophet and movement founder who truly understood the human condition and offered the most viable solution, albeit one that’s neither easy nor fast.
Materiality as Resistance: Five Elements for Moral Action in the Real World by Walter Brueggemann
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I haven’t read that much of Walter Brueggemann, but I’ve gotten a lot out of what little I’ve read so far. I picked up this one along with his book Sabbath as Resistance: Saying No to the Culture of Now based mainly on the titles. And while Sabbath as Resistance focused (at the risk of oversimplifying) on the role of Sabbath as a circuit-breaker from the endless work cycles of late-stage capitalism that prevents us from loving each other as Jesus commanded, this book focuses on how materiality (not to be confused with materialism) plays a similar role, and how churches should embrace it as part of their ministry.
The problem is that the church has focused more exclusively on the spiritual at the expense of the material realities of our earthly existence since around the 6th Century (not coincidentally, around the time that wealthy people began to dominate churches) on the grounds that – from God’s POV – the material world doesn’t matter as much as the spiritual afterlife. Brueggemann contends that the material world jolly well does matter, and that the Bible makes this clear repeatedly. In essence, God created the physical world for us to live in, while Jesus took physical form on Earth and spent most of his ministry attending to the material needs of people (healing the sick, feeding the hungry, etc). So how then can the material aspect of our existence not be important to God?
Brueggemann breaks this materiality down into five categories – food, money, the body, time, and place – and shows how the Bible tells us the church should be making use of all five as the basis for moral action to reject the consumerist junk-food materialism and endless work cycles that dominate our lives today. Obviously, opinions (and interpretations) will differ, and I’m no theologian. But I found it to be a provocative work that challenges churches – especially wealthy ones – to be more active in alleviating poverty, injustice, oppression, inequality, etc, rather than just telling everyone it’ll be better in heaven. His proposed solutions may seem impractical, but only if you view them as short-term solutions than a long-term goal.
Warm Worlds and Otherwise: James Tiptree by James Tiptree Jr.
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is my second time reading James Tiptree, Jr (a.k.a. Alice Sheldon) after Ten Thousand Light-Years from Home, her debut short-story collection which duly impressed me for the scope of its imagination alone. This collection was published two years later, and seems even more experimental than the first batch, with a number stories featuring a more stream-of-consciousness lyrical approach that I usually associate with the New Wave of SF in the 1960s.
Lead-off story “All The Kinds of Yes” is a good example, in which a telepathic shape-shifting alien lands in California and canoodles with a group of hippie anti-war protesters. An even greater example is "Love Is the Plan, the Plan Is Death" (winner of the Nebula Award for short story in 1974), narrated by Mogadeet, some kind of alien insect trying to comprehend his own life cycle and reminiscing about his mate and their short time together while she is eating him alive.
This collection was more of a mixed bag for me than the previous one, with more stories not really making an impression on me. On the other hand, the stories that do work are as brilliantly inventive as anyone could hope for. They also happen to be the more famous stories here, such as "The Women Men Don't See", in which a govt agent is stranded on a remote island with a woman who – much to his confusion – doesn’t seem to need comforting or protecting, not even when aliens suddenly show up. Also, extra points for "The Girl Who Was Plugged In" (winner of the Hugo Award for novella in 1974) more or less predicting the rise of influencer culture.
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Getting warmer,
This is dF
Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The Historical Jesus and the Heart of Contemporary Faith by Marcus J. Borg by Marcus J. BorgMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Ten years ago, I read The Jesus I Never Knew, in which Christian journalist Philip Yancey revisited the Gospels to reconcile the “real” Jesus with the various versions that churches and religious leaders tend to present circa 1995 when the book was published – i.e. the perfect Anglo-Saxon one you see in paintings, or the All-American one often invoked by the Christian Coalition, etc. Recently I came across this book (published a year earlier) that covers similar ground from a different angle.
Marcus Borg was a scholar who studied Jesus from a historical, secular point of view. But he was also a Christian who, like many Christians, found that the traditional religious image of Jesus he learned as a kid didn’t make much sense as he got older. It was through his research of the historical (which is to say human) Jesus – plus a few revelatory moments – that everything fell into place for him, and he was able to connect the historical Jesus with the “Christ of faith” – which is to say, the Christian traditions that proclaim Jesus as the Son of God.
Obviously, what readers make of Borg’s portrait of Jesus will depend on who Jesus is to them and how open-minded they are to consider other POVs. For me, it adds a new dimension to the human side of Jesus, which I’ve always found more interesting, and more relatable, than the divine side. I also like Borg’s take on Jesus as a “spirit person” [i.e. someone deeply in touch with the spirit of God], subversive sage, radical social prophet and movement founder who truly understood the human condition and offered the most viable solution, albeit one that’s neither easy nor fast.
Materiality as Resistance: Five Elements for Moral Action in the Real World by Walter BrueggemannMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I haven’t read that much of Walter Brueggemann, but I’ve gotten a lot out of what little I’ve read so far. I picked up this one along with his book Sabbath as Resistance: Saying No to the Culture of Now based mainly on the titles. And while Sabbath as Resistance focused (at the risk of oversimplifying) on the role of Sabbath as a circuit-breaker from the endless work cycles of late-stage capitalism that prevents us from loving each other as Jesus commanded, this book focuses on how materiality (not to be confused with materialism) plays a similar role, and how churches should embrace it as part of their ministry.
The problem is that the church has focused more exclusively on the spiritual at the expense of the material realities of our earthly existence since around the 6th Century (not coincidentally, around the time that wealthy people began to dominate churches) on the grounds that – from God’s POV – the material world doesn’t matter as much as the spiritual afterlife. Brueggemann contends that the material world jolly well does matter, and that the Bible makes this clear repeatedly. In essence, God created the physical world for us to live in, while Jesus took physical form on Earth and spent most of his ministry attending to the material needs of people (healing the sick, feeding the hungry, etc). So how then can the material aspect of our existence not be important to God?
Brueggemann breaks this materiality down into five categories – food, money, the body, time, and place – and shows how the Bible tells us the church should be making use of all five as the basis for moral action to reject the consumerist junk-food materialism and endless work cycles that dominate our lives today. Obviously, opinions (and interpretations) will differ, and I’m no theologian. But I found it to be a provocative work that challenges churches – especially wealthy ones – to be more active in alleviating poverty, injustice, oppression, inequality, etc, rather than just telling everyone it’ll be better in heaven. His proposed solutions may seem impractical, but only if you view them as short-term solutions than a long-term goal.
Warm Worlds and Otherwise: James Tiptree by James Tiptree Jr.My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is my second time reading James Tiptree, Jr (a.k.a. Alice Sheldon) after Ten Thousand Light-Years from Home, her debut short-story collection which duly impressed me for the scope of its imagination alone. This collection was published two years later, and seems even more experimental than the first batch, with a number stories featuring a more stream-of-consciousness lyrical approach that I usually associate with the New Wave of SF in the 1960s.
Lead-off story “All The Kinds of Yes” is a good example, in which a telepathic shape-shifting alien lands in California and canoodles with a group of hippie anti-war protesters. An even greater example is "Love Is the Plan, the Plan Is Death" (winner of the Nebula Award for short story in 1974), narrated by Mogadeet, some kind of alien insect trying to comprehend his own life cycle and reminiscing about his mate and their short time together while she is eating him alive.
This collection was more of a mixed bag for me than the previous one, with more stories not really making an impression on me. On the other hand, the stories that do work are as brilliantly inventive as anyone could hope for. They also happen to be the more famous stories here, such as "The Women Men Don't See", in which a govt agent is stranded on a remote island with a woman who – much to his confusion – doesn’t seem to need comforting or protecting, not even when aliens suddenly show up. Also, extra points for "The Girl Who Was Plugged In" (winner of the Hugo Award for novella in 1974) more or less predicting the rise of influencer culture.
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Getting warmer,
This is dF
GET BEHIND ME, SATAN
Oct. 30th, 2023 11:00 pmBecause you can never have enough Halloween playlists, can you?
METHODOLOGY: Who knows? I could say I was inspired by the new Exorcist film, but I haven’t seen it. I really just started with the Halloween theme, which was obviously inspired by the opening of “Tubular Bells” (which was used in the original Exorcist movie), and, well, it kind of just flowed from there. More or less.
Anyway, Happy Halloween and stuff.
Hell’s bells,
This is dF
METHODOLOGY: Who knows? I could say I was inspired by the new Exorcist film, but I haven’t seen it. I really just started with the Halloween theme, which was obviously inspired by the opening of “Tubular Bells” (which was used in the original Exorcist movie), and, well, it kind of just flowed from there. More or less.
Anyway, Happy Halloween and stuff.
Hell’s bells,
This is dF
YOU KNOW MY NAME (LOOK UP THE NUMBER)
Oct. 14th, 2023 11:31 amI made this as a companion piece to my Mass Comms Telephones playlist, because while I was researching that one, I came across some songs with phone numbers in them and – as you do – I thought, “Hey, I wonder if I could make a playlist phonebook?”
Well, turns out I can, but it’s not an especially good one, as many songs with phone numbers for titles aren’t really all that good. So after some fooling around with the formula a little I came up with this.
You’re welcome.
Dial me in,
This is dF
Well, turns out I can, but it’s not an especially good one, as many songs with phone numbers for titles aren’t really all that good. So after some fooling around with the formula a little I came up with this.
You’re welcome.
Dial me in,
This is dF
I am in a library, where Dolly Parton is telling a story to an audience. There is a little girl sitting on her lap holding a box of unpopped caramel popcorn. Dolly illustrates the story by setting the box on fire to make the popcorn.
She continues talking as the popcorn starts popping, and the fire blazes furiously until it consumes the box, the girl and Dolly. Throughout it all, Dolly keeps telling her story and the girl keeps listening, and we keep watching all this.
The fire burns until there is nothing left but a pile of golden brown skulls that shrink in the embers until they are popcorn sized.
The librarian thanks Dolly and tells us it’s our turn to make caramel popcorn.
And then I woke up.
Cooking with fire,
This is dF
She continues talking as the popcorn starts popping, and the fire blazes furiously until it consumes the box, the girl and Dolly. Throughout it all, Dolly keeps telling her story and the girl keeps listening, and we keep watching all this.
The fire burns until there is nothing left but a pile of golden brown skulls that shrink in the embers until they are popcorn sized.
The librarian thanks Dolly and tells us it’s our turn to make caramel popcorn.
And then I woke up.
Cooking with fire,
This is dF
I sure am! Vrooooom!
Monsignor Quixote by Graham Greene
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
It’s been awhile since I read Graham Greene, and I picked this one up partly because I generally like his stuff, and partly because this was a little different from his other books I've read so far: a comic pastiche of Cervantes’ Don Quixote, in which a priest named Father Quixote is promoted to Monsignor after helping a visiting bishop who is stranded in El Toboso. This alarms the local bishop, who doesn’t particularly like Father Quixote’s unorthodox approach to his parish. He tells Quixote to take a holiday first (while he figures out a way to replace him), and so the monsignor departs in an old Fiat named Rocinante with the now ex-mayor of El Toboso (also a Communist), who serves as his Sancho Panza.
Along the way there is much discussion of Catholicism vs Communism over bottles and bottles of wine, as Quixote and the Mayor amiably explore the similarities and differences between their opposing beliefs, and where they see themselves fitting into their respective dogmatic structures. Meanwhile, Quixote – who has never travelled outside of El Toboso and thus has a very innocent view of the world – spends the night in a brothel and watches a porn film, both times without realizing what they are. By the time the national police take notice, word of his exploits get back to the bishop, who decides Quixote has gone mad and takes drastic action.
Having never read Don Quixote, I can’t say whether those who have will get more out of this, and either way your impression of this may also depend how you feel about the Catholic Church, Communism and/or characters who talk at length about both. For me, while it's admittedly slow at times, I was drawn in by the book’s exploration of the price of even gentle non-compliance with rigid, dogmatic authority. Monsignor Quixote is not a rebel – he simply sees the world, the people in it and his faith differently than the Church he serves. It's telling that he gets in trouble mainly for associating with The Wrong People – even though the Gospels tell us Jesus did exactly the same thing. It’s also remarkable in this day and age to see two characters discussing politics and religion without screaming talking points at each other, and remain good friends afterwards. We used to do that, you know. Anyway, I liked it.
Memoirs of a Space Traveler: Further Reminiscences of Ijon Tichy by Stanisław Lem
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Stanislaw Lem’s The Star Diaries is a collection of satirical stories narrated by Ijon Tichy, a scientist cosmonaut who tells tales of his explorations of the galaxy and encounters with all sorts of weird science. When the stories were translated into English, they were published in two volumes – The Star Diaries: Further Reminiscences of Ijon Tichy, and Memoirs of a Space Traveler: Further Reminiscences of Ijon Tichy. (This edition of the latter also includes the story “Professor Donda”, appearing in English for the first time.) I mention all this because while Memoirs of a Space Traveler is essentially more of the same, there’s a reason for that, and it’s also not a bad thing, as I do like Lem, and I enjoyed The Star Diaries.
If there’s a difference, it’s that the majority of these stories (ironically, given the title) don’t involve space travel at all. They mostly chronicle Tichy’s earthbound encounters with crackpot scientists, most of whom either want funding or at least someone who understands what they’re trying to do – several of which involve playing God in some form or fashion (to include an ill-advised attempt to use time travel to re-create the universe so that it turns out better than the original). One exception (and one of the best stories here) is “Let Us Save The Universe”, in which Tichy warns of the devastating ecological impact of rampant space tourism.
As with much of Lem’s other works, the big attraction for me is his tendency to take an idea and run with it as fast as he can in the most insane direction possible – such as “The Washing Machine Tragedy”, which starts with two scientists competing to build a better washing machine and ends with a roomful of lawyers arguing whether a cyberneticist who has transformed himself into a swarm of robots in outer space is (legally speaking) a robot, a human or a planet. Also, while “Professor Donda” may be problematic in terms of its depiction of Africa (as Elizabeth Bear points out in one of the most brutally honest introductions ever), it does foresee a time when Earth becomes so dependent on computer systems that wiping them out would catapult us back to the Dark Age. Prescient!
Capricorn One by Ron Goulart
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I’m a fan of Ron Goulart, but I’ve only ever read his novels and short stories – I’ve never really read any of his series contributions for existing characters (i.e. Vampirella, Flash Gordon, The Phantom, etc) or his film/TV novelizations, mainly because they’re really hard to find. Also, I’m not big on film novelizations these days. But when I saw this one, I had to pick it up for two reasons: (1) Capricorn One is a fun movie, and (2) I wanted to see how Goulart wrote someone else’s story.
And he writes it pretty much the way he writes his novels – mostly dialogue, with minimal descriptions of characters and action. His style of humor also creeps in from time to time, mainly in the scenes with the reporter Caulfield, who here is less like Elliot Gould and more like one of Goulart’s usual protagonists in speech and manner (it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the movie, but I’m pretty sure Gould never once used the word “Yang!” as an expletive).
What’s really striking is how well paced it all is. You probably know the story – three astronauts are forced to fake the first landing on Mars. The movie is fun but does drag in a few places. But when you read it like this, it’s a brisk, zippy page-turner of a story, thanks in no small part to Goulart’s economic prose and pacing. The main downside is that many novelizations expand on certain points to plug in plot holes and help certain story elements make more sense – Goulart doesn’t do that, so the film’s story flaws remain intact. But it’s still entertaining, so there you go. Yang!
FUN FACT: Apparently two novelizations were commissioned for the film. Goulart did the US version, while Ken Follett wrote the other one (as Bernard L. Ross) for the UK market. Apparently Follett’s version expands on Caulfield’s character and his relationship with fellow TV reporter Judy Drinkwater, and adds a coda explaining what happened to him after the final scene in the film.
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Life on Mars,
This is dF
Monsignor Quixote by Graham GreeneMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
It’s been awhile since I read Graham Greene, and I picked this one up partly because I generally like his stuff, and partly because this was a little different from his other books I've read so far: a comic pastiche of Cervantes’ Don Quixote, in which a priest named Father Quixote is promoted to Monsignor after helping a visiting bishop who is stranded in El Toboso. This alarms the local bishop, who doesn’t particularly like Father Quixote’s unorthodox approach to his parish. He tells Quixote to take a holiday first (while he figures out a way to replace him), and so the monsignor departs in an old Fiat named Rocinante with the now ex-mayor of El Toboso (also a Communist), who serves as his Sancho Panza.
Along the way there is much discussion of Catholicism vs Communism over bottles and bottles of wine, as Quixote and the Mayor amiably explore the similarities and differences between their opposing beliefs, and where they see themselves fitting into their respective dogmatic structures. Meanwhile, Quixote – who has never travelled outside of El Toboso and thus has a very innocent view of the world – spends the night in a brothel and watches a porn film, both times without realizing what they are. By the time the national police take notice, word of his exploits get back to the bishop, who decides Quixote has gone mad and takes drastic action.
Having never read Don Quixote, I can’t say whether those who have will get more out of this, and either way your impression of this may also depend how you feel about the Catholic Church, Communism and/or characters who talk at length about both. For me, while it's admittedly slow at times, I was drawn in by the book’s exploration of the price of even gentle non-compliance with rigid, dogmatic authority. Monsignor Quixote is not a rebel – he simply sees the world, the people in it and his faith differently than the Church he serves. It's telling that he gets in trouble mainly for associating with The Wrong People – even though the Gospels tell us Jesus did exactly the same thing. It’s also remarkable in this day and age to see two characters discussing politics and religion without screaming talking points at each other, and remain good friends afterwards. We used to do that, you know. Anyway, I liked it.
Memoirs of a Space Traveler: Further Reminiscences of Ijon Tichy by Stanisław LemMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Stanislaw Lem’s The Star Diaries is a collection of satirical stories narrated by Ijon Tichy, a scientist cosmonaut who tells tales of his explorations of the galaxy and encounters with all sorts of weird science. When the stories were translated into English, they were published in two volumes – The Star Diaries: Further Reminiscences of Ijon Tichy, and Memoirs of a Space Traveler: Further Reminiscences of Ijon Tichy. (This edition of the latter also includes the story “Professor Donda”, appearing in English for the first time.) I mention all this because while Memoirs of a Space Traveler is essentially more of the same, there’s a reason for that, and it’s also not a bad thing, as I do like Lem, and I enjoyed The Star Diaries.
If there’s a difference, it’s that the majority of these stories (ironically, given the title) don’t involve space travel at all. They mostly chronicle Tichy’s earthbound encounters with crackpot scientists, most of whom either want funding or at least someone who understands what they’re trying to do – several of which involve playing God in some form or fashion (to include an ill-advised attempt to use time travel to re-create the universe so that it turns out better than the original). One exception (and one of the best stories here) is “Let Us Save The Universe”, in which Tichy warns of the devastating ecological impact of rampant space tourism.
As with much of Lem’s other works, the big attraction for me is his tendency to take an idea and run with it as fast as he can in the most insane direction possible – such as “The Washing Machine Tragedy”, which starts with two scientists competing to build a better washing machine and ends with a roomful of lawyers arguing whether a cyberneticist who has transformed himself into a swarm of robots in outer space is (legally speaking) a robot, a human or a planet. Also, while “Professor Donda” may be problematic in terms of its depiction of Africa (as Elizabeth Bear points out in one of the most brutally honest introductions ever), it does foresee a time when Earth becomes so dependent on computer systems that wiping them out would catapult us back to the Dark Age. Prescient!
Capricorn One by Ron GoulartMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
I’m a fan of Ron Goulart, but I’ve only ever read his novels and short stories – I’ve never really read any of his series contributions for existing characters (i.e. Vampirella, Flash Gordon, The Phantom, etc) or his film/TV novelizations, mainly because they’re really hard to find. Also, I’m not big on film novelizations these days. But when I saw this one, I had to pick it up for two reasons: (1) Capricorn One is a fun movie, and (2) I wanted to see how Goulart wrote someone else’s story.
And he writes it pretty much the way he writes his novels – mostly dialogue, with minimal descriptions of characters and action. His style of humor also creeps in from time to time, mainly in the scenes with the reporter Caulfield, who here is less like Elliot Gould and more like one of Goulart’s usual protagonists in speech and manner (it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the movie, but I’m pretty sure Gould never once used the word “Yang!” as an expletive).
What’s really striking is how well paced it all is. You probably know the story – three astronauts are forced to fake the first landing on Mars. The movie is fun but does drag in a few places. But when you read it like this, it’s a brisk, zippy page-turner of a story, thanks in no small part to Goulart’s economic prose and pacing. The main downside is that many novelizations expand on certain points to plug in plot holes and help certain story elements make more sense – Goulart doesn’t do that, so the film’s story flaws remain intact. But it’s still entertaining, so there you go. Yang!
FUN FACT: Apparently two novelizations were commissioned for the film. Goulart did the US version, while Ken Follett wrote the other one (as Bernard L. Ross) for the UK market. Apparently Follett’s version expands on Caulfield’s character and his relationship with fellow TV reporter Judy Drinkwater, and adds a coda explaining what happened to him after the final scene in the film.
View all my reviews
Life on Mars,
This is dF
MASS COMMS 301: TELEPHONES!
Aug. 25th, 2023 11:40 amThe new academic year is here! For Mass Comms majors who would rather focus on telecommunications than R&T, here’s your syllabus for the year.
[3 credits]
Radio majors can tune in here.
TV majors, this is yours.
Telecommunication breakdown,
This is dF
[3 credits]
Radio majors can tune in here.
TV majors, this is yours.
Telecommunication breakdown,
This is dF
MASS COMMS 201: SHE GOT A TV EYE
Aug. 19th, 2023 01:43 pmAs the new academic year kicks off, here’s another syllabus playlist for all you Mass Comms majors out there who are planning to specialize in television.
[3 credits]
Radio majors can tune in here.
Drug of a nation,
This is dF
POSTSCRIPT: Yes, I know that song isn't about television, but would it kill you to play along?
[3 credits]
Radio majors can tune in here.
Drug of a nation,
This is dF
POSTSCRIPT: Yes, I know that song isn't about television, but would it kill you to play along?
MASS COMMS 101: THE SPIRIT OF RADIO
Aug. 12th, 2023 10:51 amThe new academic year kicks off later this month. For those of you who are Mass Comms majors, I’ve prepared three (3) syllabuses for you.
In a playlist format. Because you like it like that.
Here’s the first one for those who plan to specialize in radio.
[3 credits]
In a playlist format. Because you like it like that.
Here’s the first one for those who plan to specialize in radio.
[3 credits]
Seven years ago, Lars Gotrich (NPR contributor and curator of the famed Viking’s Choice playlist) started a thing called Roséwave. Technically It started as a one-Tweet joke, and then became an NPR playlist that is now in its seventh season.
What is Roséwave?
To hear Gotrich tell it, Roséwave is not a genre of music so much as a lifestyle – specifically, a lifestyle crafted around the summertime and everything we associate with that time of year.
In summer, we party, we dance, we love. We try to pack in as much bliss as possible, as if the sun will one day stop shining, your favorite ice cream spot could discontinue your favorite flavor or Taylor Swift won't release another album ever again. Summer feels infinite, but also rushed in its impermanence — every moment lasts in memory, but disappears quicker as days become shorter. Roséwave bottles that infinity with a soundtrack that spans generations and genres of music, celebrating the feels, friendships and fizzy drinks of summer.
And furthermore:
You and your besties have waited patiently and saved diligently for that beach trip, that cross-country drive or that music festival overlooking the ocean. Or maybe you're staying home, but in need of a different state of mind — to drift, to dance, to spill a silly drink while in good company with family and friends.
You held onto that special shade of lipstick just long enough for the gloss to pop in the sun. You made a list of saccharine rom-coms to screen in the backyard. Your closet has switched from cotton button-ups to linen barely buttoned-at-all. You just fell in love and quit your job. You've been in love for a long time. You are ready to make Greta Gerwig's Barbie movie your entire personality. Your heart glitters every time you see your bestie IRL even though you just spent all yesterday in DMs.
Rosé is in the name, yes, to signal simpler and sunnier pleasures, but any song that pairs sweetly with a cool beverage (be it seltzer, iced latte, cucumber water, iced tea) and listless singalongs and dance parties is the pink-hued modus vivendi. Roséwave is light and breezy, but not necessarily unsophisticated — the sound of an experience kissed by sweet summer heat.
Like that.
And, you know, great? But as you might suspect, all of this sounds like no summer I have ever experienced in my entire life. Also, official Roséwave playlists are a mixed bag for me at best – much of it is the kind of stuff they play at parties that (thankfully) no one invites me to.
Still, I can’t resist a playlist challenge, and I’ve spent a long time thinking about what my own Roséwave playlist might look like, which meant thinking about what Roséwave is actually supposed to be. “Summertime feels”, basically, but what does that mean to me?
I started by thinking of the songs I associate with summer, although honestly I listened to so much music growing up and throughout my life that it’s all a blur, season-wise. But you gotta start somewhere, so I started with a list of songs I grew up with on the radio, and then I started thinking about the elements of Roséwave that Gotrich mentions, and my experience with them in my own life, and the thing just kept evolving and morphing as I kept thinking of other songs that might fit, and … well.
What is Roséwave? Probably not this.
DISCLAIMER: This is not intended as an anti-Roséwave playlist or a parody. If Roséwave is your thing, then by all means enjoy it. This is me trying to interpret Roséwave in a way that fulfils the basic criteria (“summer feels”) but also reflects the fact that we experience “summer” in different ways.
PRODUCTION NOTE: The official NPR Roséwave playlists run somewhere between 75 and 110 songs. I limited mine to 100, mainly because the embedded Spotify player only shows 100 songs. (For reference, the original unedited list is 230 songs.)
You’ll also notice the playlist run time clocks in at exactly six (6) hours (it says 5 hours 30 min in the browser version, but in the app it's six hours). That’s complete serendipity. I wasn’t planning on a time limit – but when I noticed the run time, I thought, “Well, that’s a nice round number – let’s just stop there.”
In any case, obviously it’s not meant to be listened to in one sitting. You can take your sweet time with it, if you are so inclined.
Enjoy what’s left of your summer.
Roséwave of mutilation,
This is dF
Picking up speed!
Only When I Laugh by Len Deighton
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
I’ve read and enjoyed all of Len Deighton’s Harry Palmer novels and Bernard Samson novels, but this is my first time reading a Deighton novel that’s not a spy novel of some kind. This one is a crime comedy from 1968 featuring three con artists – veteran Silas, his lover Liz and young Bob – who work as a team to stage elaborate cons, typically in the form of fake business investment deals. All three characters take turns as narrators, and unreliable ones at that (as you might expect con artists to be).
The story follows a fairly standard template – Silas, Liz and Bob take on a new con that doesn’t go as planned and the team starts to fracture as young Bob gets impatient with Silas running the show, and has designs on Liz, etc. But it’s also an exploration of the generation gap of the late 1960s – Silas is a WW2 vet who (his criminal aspirations aside) embodies the disciplined, stiff-upper-lip values of that generation, while Bob is an impulsive working class yob who has done time and resents the older generation telling him what to do. Liz is somewhere in between as a not-so-neutral observer.
Despite all that, I confess I didn’t get much out of it. The basic story is okay, but Deighton’s characters get sidetracked by unannounced flashbacks (which in Silas’ case are rather lengthy, possibly because WW2 scenarios are Deighton’s comfort zone). The multiple-narration device also makes it hard to get a grip on who these people really are, especially when Silas and Bob start improvising scenes just to see how long they can stay in that character. Maybe that’s the point, but still, I found myself skipping a lot. Anyway, there’s a lot to like here, but for me is just never really gelled into a likeable whole.
The Wind's Twelve Quarters by Ursula K. Le Guin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I tend to enjoy Ursula Le Guin’s novels, but this is my first time reading her short stories. This 1975 anthology was the first collection of her short stories, and of the 17 tales here, I’d read only one before. The opener, “Sembley’s Necklace”, also serves as a prologue to her debut novel Rocannon's World, and is an early display of her tendency to blend SF and fantasy tropes in her work.
In fact, a number of stories here are connected to her more famous novels, if only by location. For example, "The Word of Unbinding" and "The Rule of Names" are stories set in Earthsea. "Winter's King" takes place on Gethen, the planet that became the setting for The Left Hand of Darkness. And "The Day Before the Revolution" is a prequel of sorts to The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia. However, there are plenty of other stories here: A banished astronomer seeks the stars in a silver mine; a planetary survey team receives ambiguous telepathic signals on a world without animal life; the sole survivor of a clone-group weathers the loss of his other "selves."
For whatever reason, I found that the stories linked to the novels worked the best for me – I suppose because they were wonderfully familiar territory for me, and reminded me why I loved those books. "The Day Before the Revolution" is especially good, not least for its concise exploration of the fate of ageing revolutionaries. But the others are also worthwhile, particularly her famous story "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas", which describes a summer festival in a utopian city of whose prosperity depends on the perpetual misery of a single child. Like with any collection, a few don’t clear the bar set by her best work, but then it’s a pretty high bar.
Mondo Barbie: An Anthology of Fiction & Poetry by Lucinda Ebersole
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
All the current kerfluffle over Barbieheimer and the conservative meltdown over Barbie’s alleged wokeness reminded me that somewhere buried in my bookshelves is this 1993 anthology that collects short stories and poems about Barbie in some form or fashion. The whole point of the book is that Barbie is (and has always been) so much more than a toy. Just as there has been many iterations of Barbie (Malibu Barbie, Flight Attendant Barbie, etc), she’s also a feminist icon, a pop-culture phenomenon, a coming-of-age catalyst of sexual discovery and so much more. So of course I had to re-read it.
I’ve heard of a few of the contributors, but most are new to me. The stories and poems here cover a wide range of Barbie experiences and opinions, though a common theme is the contrast between her “perfect” plasticine status-symbol life and the messy complicated real world. There’s also lots of dismemberment, sexual drama (both hetero and LGBTQ) and “Ken has no dick” jokes. Sometimes Barbie is the character, sometimes she speaks to her owners, sometimes she is merely a catalyst for the plot. One SF story is a murder mystery on the moon that takes place amid a religious cult where members transform into Barbie-like people. Another recalls a traumatic childhood visit to a Mattel factory.
As with any anthology, the quality varies, but it’s one of those rare collections where the sum is more interesting than its parts. It all adds up to the inescapable truth that Barbie has been central to so many childhoods and sexual awakenings (whether you had a Barbie or not). Plenty of non-fiction books have been written about the Barbie pop-culture phenomenon, but these fictional stories get to the heart of the matter by taking us to the front lines with the people who came of age in a Barbie world. It also highlights how she has always been something of a sociopolitical lightning rod, especially as American society underwent its own sociopolitical upheavals – which also means the current hoo-ha over the Barbie film is neither new nor original.
DISCLAIMER: I haven’t seen the Barbie movie, and I have no plans to do so anytime soon.
BONUS TRACK: : My sister had some Barbies, and we usually combined them with my Steve Austin, GI Joe and Big Jim action figures. When she decided she’d outgrown them around age 14, my friend Steve and I took the townhouse, the camper van, the surf buggy, Big Jim’s Jeep and all the dolls, and staged an elaborate action sequence in the backyard that also involved fireworks and a can of gasoline. There were no survivors.
View all my reviews
Put another shrimp on the Barbie,
This is dF
Only When I Laugh by Len DeightonMy rating: 2 of 5 stars
I’ve read and enjoyed all of Len Deighton’s Harry Palmer novels and Bernard Samson novels, but this is my first time reading a Deighton novel that’s not a spy novel of some kind. This one is a crime comedy from 1968 featuring three con artists – veteran Silas, his lover Liz and young Bob – who work as a team to stage elaborate cons, typically in the form of fake business investment deals. All three characters take turns as narrators, and unreliable ones at that (as you might expect con artists to be).
The story follows a fairly standard template – Silas, Liz and Bob take on a new con that doesn’t go as planned and the team starts to fracture as young Bob gets impatient with Silas running the show, and has designs on Liz, etc. But it’s also an exploration of the generation gap of the late 1960s – Silas is a WW2 vet who (his criminal aspirations aside) embodies the disciplined, stiff-upper-lip values of that generation, while Bob is an impulsive working class yob who has done time and resents the older generation telling him what to do. Liz is somewhere in between as a not-so-neutral observer.
Despite all that, I confess I didn’t get much out of it. The basic story is okay, but Deighton’s characters get sidetracked by unannounced flashbacks (which in Silas’ case are rather lengthy, possibly because WW2 scenarios are Deighton’s comfort zone). The multiple-narration device also makes it hard to get a grip on who these people really are, especially when Silas and Bob start improvising scenes just to see how long they can stay in that character. Maybe that’s the point, but still, I found myself skipping a lot. Anyway, there’s a lot to like here, but for me is just never really gelled into a likeable whole.
The Wind's Twelve Quarters by Ursula K. Le GuinMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I tend to enjoy Ursula Le Guin’s novels, but this is my first time reading her short stories. This 1975 anthology was the first collection of her short stories, and of the 17 tales here, I’d read only one before. The opener, “Sembley’s Necklace”, also serves as a prologue to her debut novel Rocannon's World, and is an early display of her tendency to blend SF and fantasy tropes in her work.
In fact, a number of stories here are connected to her more famous novels, if only by location. For example, "The Word of Unbinding" and "The Rule of Names" are stories set in Earthsea. "Winter's King" takes place on Gethen, the planet that became the setting for The Left Hand of Darkness. And "The Day Before the Revolution" is a prequel of sorts to The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia. However, there are plenty of other stories here: A banished astronomer seeks the stars in a silver mine; a planetary survey team receives ambiguous telepathic signals on a world without animal life; the sole survivor of a clone-group weathers the loss of his other "selves."
For whatever reason, I found that the stories linked to the novels worked the best for me – I suppose because they were wonderfully familiar territory for me, and reminded me why I loved those books. "The Day Before the Revolution" is especially good, not least for its concise exploration of the fate of ageing revolutionaries. But the others are also worthwhile, particularly her famous story "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas", which describes a summer festival in a utopian city of whose prosperity depends on the perpetual misery of a single child. Like with any collection, a few don’t clear the bar set by her best work, but then it’s a pretty high bar.
Mondo Barbie: An Anthology of Fiction & Poetry by Lucinda EbersoleMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
All the current kerfluffle over Barbieheimer and the conservative meltdown over Barbie’s alleged wokeness reminded me that somewhere buried in my bookshelves is this 1993 anthology that collects short stories and poems about Barbie in some form or fashion. The whole point of the book is that Barbie is (and has always been) so much more than a toy. Just as there has been many iterations of Barbie (Malibu Barbie, Flight Attendant Barbie, etc), she’s also a feminist icon, a pop-culture phenomenon, a coming-of-age catalyst of sexual discovery and so much more. So of course I had to re-read it.
I’ve heard of a few of the contributors, but most are new to me. The stories and poems here cover a wide range of Barbie experiences and opinions, though a common theme is the contrast between her “perfect” plasticine status-symbol life and the messy complicated real world. There’s also lots of dismemberment, sexual drama (both hetero and LGBTQ) and “Ken has no dick” jokes. Sometimes Barbie is the character, sometimes she speaks to her owners, sometimes she is merely a catalyst for the plot. One SF story is a murder mystery on the moon that takes place amid a religious cult where members transform into Barbie-like people. Another recalls a traumatic childhood visit to a Mattel factory.
As with any anthology, the quality varies, but it’s one of those rare collections where the sum is more interesting than its parts. It all adds up to the inescapable truth that Barbie has been central to so many childhoods and sexual awakenings (whether you had a Barbie or not). Plenty of non-fiction books have been written about the Barbie pop-culture phenomenon, but these fictional stories get to the heart of the matter by taking us to the front lines with the people who came of age in a Barbie world. It also highlights how she has always been something of a sociopolitical lightning rod, especially as American society underwent its own sociopolitical upheavals – which also means the current hoo-ha over the Barbie film is neither new nor original.
DISCLAIMER: I haven’t seen the Barbie movie, and I have no plans to do so anytime soon.
BONUS TRACK: : My sister had some Barbies, and we usually combined them with my Steve Austin, GI Joe and Big Jim action figures. When she decided she’d outgrown them around age 14, my friend Steve and I took the townhouse, the camper van, the surf buggy, Big Jim’s Jeep and all the dolls, and staged an elaborate action sequence in the backyard that also involved fireworks and a can of gasoline. There were no survivors.
View all my reviews
Put another shrimp on the Barbie,
This is dF
I should open by saying he’s one of those artists where I’ve never heard any of his songs but I’ve heard ABOUT them, for the same reasons we’re all hearing about “Try That In A Small Town” now. He’s made his political views clear, and he knows what his audience wants to hear. So, Aldean is gonna Aldean, is what I’m saying.
What interests me more is the whole city vs country trope that has existed in country music (and literature before it) for a long time. Aldean’s take is more extreme (as befits the MAGA audience he is obviously targeting), but it builds on a tradition of country music artists portraying small town country life as little libertarian utopias and cities as multicultural atheist cesspools of crime and loose women.
NPR has a really good thought piece on this.
One thing I’d add is that it also gets me to thinking of John Mellencamp’s “Small Town”. Mellencamp has a rep as a champion of small-town America, but “Small Town” doesn’t really say that small-town life is better or that big cities suck – it just says there’s no shame in being from a small town or living in a small town your whole life, if that’s what makes you happy. There’s no city vs country antagonism. And of course, Mellencamp has recognized the downside of small-town America in other songs.
Also worth noting that “Small Town” is Mellencamp writing about his life, while “Try That In A Small Town” is a culture-war talking point based on a myth and sung by a man who did not write the song and is not in fact from a small town.
“Small Town” remains in heavy rotation on classic rock/adult hits radio all over America, almost 40 years after it came out. Will “Try That In A Small Town” still be in rotation 40 years from now?
Let’s get small,
This is dF
What interests me more is the whole city vs country trope that has existed in country music (and literature before it) for a long time. Aldean’s take is more extreme (as befits the MAGA audience he is obviously targeting), but it builds on a tradition of country music artists portraying small town country life as little libertarian utopias and cities as multicultural atheist cesspools of crime and loose women.
NPR has a really good thought piece on this.
One thing I’d add is that it also gets me to thinking of John Mellencamp’s “Small Town”. Mellencamp has a rep as a champion of small-town America, but “Small Town” doesn’t really say that small-town life is better or that big cities suck – it just says there’s no shame in being from a small town or living in a small town your whole life, if that’s what makes you happy. There’s no city vs country antagonism. And of course, Mellencamp has recognized the downside of small-town America in other songs.
Also worth noting that “Small Town” is Mellencamp writing about his life, while “Try That In A Small Town” is a culture-war talking point based on a myth and sung by a man who did not write the song and is not in fact from a small town.
“Small Town” remains in heavy rotation on classic rock/adult hits radio all over America, almost 40 years after it came out. Will “Try That In A Small Town” still be in rotation 40 years from now?
Let’s get small,
This is dF
I really am.
Remote Control by Nnedi Okorafor
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is the first of a new Africanfuturism trilogy from Nnedi Okorafor set in the same universe as her books Who Fears Death and The Book of Phoenix. Set in near-future Ghana, the story follows Fatima, a 7-year-old girl who encounters an alien seed that falls to Earth and develops the power to kill any living thing when she glows green. She soon becomes known and feared as Sankofa, The Adopted Daughter Of Death.
Shortly before Sankofa discovers she has this power, the alien seed is stolen, and so she spends much of the book trying to track it down (on foot, as her power also kills whatever technology she touches, including cars, which also means she can’t just Google what she needs to know), accompanied by a mysterious red fox that seems to be immune to her power. Which is a fairly straightforward plot device for what is basically a coming-of-age narrative where Sankofa tries to make sense of who and what she is, and where she fits in a culture that worships her out of fear.
Pretty much everything here is familiar territory for Okorafor – strong women, alienation, death, mythology – but here she also blurs the lines between folk tales and the reality behind them, with Sankofa’s origin a mystery even to her, and one that becomes more ambiguous as the story goes on. It’s also a somewhat harrowing character study on what would happen if the power of death was bestowed on a 7-year-old Ghanian kid, with horrifying results. It’s not exactly fun, but with these kinds of topics, it’s how you tell it, and (as usual) Okorafor tells it well.
No Place on Earth by Louis Charbonneau
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I’ve never read Louis Charbonneau before – in fact, I’d never even heard of him before I came across this in a second-hand bookstore. And the back cover blurb convinced me to try it, as I’m often a sucker for totalitarian dystopias (that, and it was only 95 cents). The blurb is an obvious riff on 1984 – the Great Leader, the Population Control Corps (PCC), ubiquitous surveillance, relentless propaganda, total control, etc and so on. And perhaps unsurprisingly, the actual story is not quite that.
The story is mostly told in flashback, opening with the protagonist Petr Clayborne, accused of being a member of an underground resistance, already captured and about to be subject to torturous interrogation by the cruel Captain Hartog. Only Petr remembers nothing, having dosed himself with a memory obliterator drug. Hence the electroshock therapy that can unlock those memories. As the interrogation progresses, Petr reveals more about how he went from propaganda writer to underground recruit, and how he ended up marrying Alda, the daughter of an underground leader – who may also have been a spy for the PCC (and whom Petr may have killed).
Well, Charbonneau is no Orwell, but then nobody is. The story itself is alright, building partly on the suspense of who the spy is, and the increasing revelation that Hartog is not a neutral party when it comes to Petr and Alda. That said, the novel focuses more on the action elements than the context – which is also its main weakness. Charbonneau’s 2240 Earth under the dictatorship under Malthus lacks imagination, particularly in terms of surveillance technology. On the other hand, Charbonneau has a good grasp of how people behave in such societies and tactics that authoritarian governments use to control them. So it’s an okay novel – it just could have been a much better one.
View all my reviews
Everything is under control,
This is dF
Remote Control by Nnedi OkoraforMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is the first of a new Africanfuturism trilogy from Nnedi Okorafor set in the same universe as her books Who Fears Death and The Book of Phoenix. Set in near-future Ghana, the story follows Fatima, a 7-year-old girl who encounters an alien seed that falls to Earth and develops the power to kill any living thing when she glows green. She soon becomes known and feared as Sankofa, The Adopted Daughter Of Death.
Shortly before Sankofa discovers she has this power, the alien seed is stolen, and so she spends much of the book trying to track it down (on foot, as her power also kills whatever technology she touches, including cars, which also means she can’t just Google what she needs to know), accompanied by a mysterious red fox that seems to be immune to her power. Which is a fairly straightforward plot device for what is basically a coming-of-age narrative where Sankofa tries to make sense of who and what she is, and where she fits in a culture that worships her out of fear.
Pretty much everything here is familiar territory for Okorafor – strong women, alienation, death, mythology – but here she also blurs the lines between folk tales and the reality behind them, with Sankofa’s origin a mystery even to her, and one that becomes more ambiguous as the story goes on. It’s also a somewhat harrowing character study on what would happen if the power of death was bestowed on a 7-year-old Ghanian kid, with horrifying results. It’s not exactly fun, but with these kinds of topics, it’s how you tell it, and (as usual) Okorafor tells it well.
No Place on Earth by Louis CharbonneauMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
I’ve never read Louis Charbonneau before – in fact, I’d never even heard of him before I came across this in a second-hand bookstore. And the back cover blurb convinced me to try it, as I’m often a sucker for totalitarian dystopias (that, and it was only 95 cents). The blurb is an obvious riff on 1984 – the Great Leader, the Population Control Corps (PCC), ubiquitous surveillance, relentless propaganda, total control, etc and so on. And perhaps unsurprisingly, the actual story is not quite that.
The story is mostly told in flashback, opening with the protagonist Petr Clayborne, accused of being a member of an underground resistance, already captured and about to be subject to torturous interrogation by the cruel Captain Hartog. Only Petr remembers nothing, having dosed himself with a memory obliterator drug. Hence the electroshock therapy that can unlock those memories. As the interrogation progresses, Petr reveals more about how he went from propaganda writer to underground recruit, and how he ended up marrying Alda, the daughter of an underground leader – who may also have been a spy for the PCC (and whom Petr may have killed).
Well, Charbonneau is no Orwell, but then nobody is. The story itself is alright, building partly on the suspense of who the spy is, and the increasing revelation that Hartog is not a neutral party when it comes to Petr and Alda. That said, the novel focuses more on the action elements than the context – which is also its main weakness. Charbonneau’s 2240 Earth under the dictatorship under Malthus lacks imagination, particularly in terms of surveillance technology. On the other hand, Charbonneau has a good grasp of how people behave in such societies and tactics that authoritarian governments use to control them. So it’s an okay novel – it just could have been a much better one.
View all my reviews
Everything is under control,
This is dF
Well that was a slow month – or it would have been if I hadn’t spent three hours waiting at the bank for something that took ten minutes to sort out.
X-Dimensional Assassin Zai Through the Unfolded Earth by Jason FranksMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
If there’s one thing I’ve come to expect from Jason Franks at this point, it’s that he delights in delving into different genre tropes with the primary goal of taking a wrecking ball to them. In this case, he takes on the international-assassin-for-hire template, starts off a bit whimsical and gets progressively weird with it – in a good way. Zai is a Japanese hitman hired by a mysterious company based in Karachidor, a country that doesn’t exist – at least not on Earth as we know it. In fact, the Earth is multidimensional with various hidden realms, and the company wants Zai to travel to them and kill people.
This turns out to be a dream job for Zai, who is very good at assassination but is in it mainly for the tourism. Consequently, the first half of the book is sort of a mash-up of Lawrence Block’s Keller stories and Ursula K. Le Guin’s SF travelogues, with Zai being sent to a cloned medieval village, a secret space station, an aerostatic city-state and a post-apocalyptic Faerie Land, to name a few, where he spends as much time sightseeing and trying local food as he does assassinating. Then things take a turn for the worse when one of his employers goes rogue, after which we meet ninjas, wayward gods, refugees from Atlantis and kitsune spirits straight out of Studio Ghibli (with a possible John Carpenter homage thrown in).
Part of the fun is of course the different locations and cultures that Zai encounters, but the real appeal is that Zai is a rather likeable character (another first for a Franks novel, at least for me) for a cold-blooded assassin. And as someone who has done a lot of traveling myself, I can relate to his desire to explore local culture away from the tourist traps. Zai’s amiability also gives his final assignment and its denouement some extra emotional heft that would otherwise be lacking (and thus wouldn't have worked). All up, for me it’s his most enjoyable book since Bloody Waters.
Snuff Fiction by CorgiMy rating: 2 of 5 stars
Rankin is one of those authors where I’ll generally read anything I find by him, even though most of his work is a variation on the same theme (i.e. some occult apocalyptic event or conspiracy theory, with jokes, set in, near or about Brentford). But then credit where it’s due – not everyone can stretch a sack full of running gags across 40+ books and get away with it. And so it is here, one of the few of Rankin’s older books I hadn’t managed to get a copy of.
And yet it’s something different in that it’s ostensibly a biography about a powerful Brentford tobacco billionaire known as “the Doveston”, as told by his childhood pal Edwin – albeit one written years after the collapse of civilization from the Y2K Bug (a topic Rankin tackled in a different book, though it’s not connected to this one). The story covers their school days in 1950s Brentford – where the Doveston is already exhibiting a genius knowledge of tobacco products and hints of megalomaniacal ambitions (as well as a fondness for dynamite) – all the way up to the Y2K Bug and its aftermath. There’s also wild parties, man-eating plants, secret govts and whatnot.
And, for possibly the first time ever, I found myself thinking, “Gee, this was a bit bleak, wasn’t it?” It has all the elements one expects in a Rankin book, to include a lot of funny bits, and while the plotline feels scattershot, it more or less gels by the end. That said, what it gels into is a shaggy-dog revenge story that – when you step back and look at it – is a bit grim. It may also be that I was put off by one key bit of animal cruelty that, while not graphic, is quite mean and sad and not at all funny – the fact that this seems to be Rankin’s intention doesn’t really help. Anyway, it’s not a bad novel, but it’s one I enjoyed less than his other stuff.
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Smoke if you got ‘em,
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