Reviews From September 1985

Here's another retro-review. This appeared in the Baltimore Sun on 15 September 1985.

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Footfall. Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle. Del Rey. 495 pages. $17.95.

Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle are the most successful writing team in science fiction. Footfall, their latest offering, is a delight in more ways than one. At heart, it is an old-fashioned story of alien invasion: a mysterious spaceship arrives from outside the Solar System, attacks Earth, and lands alien troops to conquer the planet. The story is well-told and the suspense finely-crafted -- not until the very last page do we know the final outcome. There is heroism and cowardice, fear and bravery, and believable characters both Human and alien.

While undeniably science fiction, Footfall contains enough realism to satisfy any reader of LeCarre, Higgins, or Cussler. It particularly shines in portraying the top brass of the Soviet Union reacting to the invasion. The scenes set in the Kremlin are among the most fascinating in the novel.

Niven and Pournelle don't stint in their treatment of the aliens, either. The fithp, who resemble baby elephants, are a fully-realized and interesting race with a psychology at once alien and comprehensible, fully the equal of Niven's famous Puppeteers, Kzinti, or Protectors.

Footfall is brilliant, compelling, and as completely satisfying as a seven-course dinner at a fine restaurant. It is a sure bet to wind up on the ballots for next year's Hugo and Nebula awards. For the price, this is possibly the best bargain around.

The Invaders Plan. L. Ron Hubbard. Bridge Publications, Inc. 603 pages. $18.95.

The Invaders Plan may be the finest science fiction novel of 1933. Certainly it has nothing -- in ideas, plot, characterization, or writing -- to commend it to an audience in the 1980s.

This book, itself almost as long as the author's massive bestseller Battlefield Earth, is the first volume in a promised (or threatened?) series of ten billed as "the biggest science fiction dekalogy ever written."

The plot is simplistic. The 110-planet Voltarian Confederacy is involved in an endless interstellar war of conquest -- but the nefarious Lombar Hisst has plans of his own. Hisst heads the Apparatus: a division of the Confederacy government that seems devoted to torture, espionage, and other dreadful doings. Hisst sends the narrator, one Soltan Gris, to the planet Blito-P3 (Earth) in the company of a virtuous Space Patrol agent named Jettero Heller. Gris and Heller are supposed to infiltrate Earth's society and turn our world into a weapon for Hisst's dastardly schemes.

The rest of the story is as pathetic as it is predictable. Noble Heller defeats the scheming Gris at every turn, remaining perfectly loyal to the Confederacy and derailing the Apparatus plans.

The writing is worthy of a talented ten-year-old. Hubbard's paragraphs are sprinkled with childish outcries, exclamation points, and clumsy sentences that outdo the worst excesses of early pulp writers like E. E. Smith and Edmond Hamilton.

There is no real characterization -- the actors in Hubbard's interminable drama are cardboard cutouts of Virtue, Vice, Cruelty, and others that would be at home in a medieval morality play.

Hubbard's sense for scientific plausibility -- usually rather keen although understated -- went on vacation while he was writing this book.

The book's flaws -- its primitive language, lack of characterization, simplistic plot and total disregard of modern science -- are flaws appropriate to the novels of the thirties. The same criticisms can be levelled against any number of books that are classics of the field. may be the best sf book of 1933, but in 1985 it is almost unreadable.

Child of Fortune. Norman Spinrad. Bantam. 483 pages. $16.95.

Spinrad's latest is a sweeping tale of a journey of discovery. Wendi Shasta Leonardo was once a rich, empty-headed girl on the quiet and beautiful planet Glade. Wendi's voyages take her to many planets and introduce her to many unforgettable characters -- and in the end, she finds what she was looking for: herself.

In this novel Norman Spinrad has reached a new height of artistic writing. Those searching for a quick read or a nice adventure story should stay away...Child of Fortune is a book that should be savored, as much for its imaginative scenery as for the sheer beauty of the writing. Spinrad's words paint pictures like the impressionistic masters; in the end, the story of a young wanderer is all but lost in the experience of reading the book.

Ancient of Days. Michael Bishop. Arbor House. 354 pages. $16.95.

Michael Bishop gives us an excellent illustration of the fact that science fiction doesn't have to be about spaceships and far-off planets. In his most recent novel the world is present-day Earth, and the science that forms the book's basis is anthropology.

When a living caveman shows up in his ex-wife's garden, restauranteur Paul Loyd's life changes completely. When his beloved Ruth-Claire falls in love with the habiline -- whom she names Adam -- Paul feels jealousy, dismay, confusion...and eventually learns to accept and even love Adam. But can a Georgia woman and a living specimen of Homo habilis find happiness even in the big-city atmosphere of Atlanta?

The story runs on many different levels. Below the tale of Adam's discovery of civilization is the tale of Paul's discovery of himself, of love, and of the nature of spirituality. There is also the deeper story of our world and its reaction to things that are different, even if they are tender and beautiful.

Ancient of Days is gripping in its realism, and rewarding in its affirmation of the good things in life.

Eon. Greg Bear. Bluejay. 504 pages. $16.95.

One of the best new sf writers has given us a gripping novel in the tradition of Rendezvous with Rama and Childhood's End.

In the year 2005, mathematician Patricia Vasquez takes her first trip into space. Her destination is "the Stone"; a large, hollow, deserted asteroid that has taken up orbit around the Earth. In an atmosphere of international tension, Patricia begins to probe the secrets of the Stone's seven chambers.

The Stone is apparently from the far future -- a future that may or may not be Patricia's own. But there is something incredible about the seventh chamber -- it continues onward, in defiance of natural law, for millions of kilometers.

Before Patricia can deal with the seventh chamber, she learns another of the Stone's dreadful secrets: its intact libraries tell of an apocalyptic nuclear war on Earth...a war that is scheduled to take place in only a handful of weeks.

As international tensions mount and the war comes closer, Patricia becomes more obsessed with the seventh chamber -- and the question of what happened to the Stone's original inhabitants. But the answers are more shocking than she could possibly dream.…

Eon is a fine story of politics, time-travel, and discovery that changes man's conception of his place in the universe.

January/February Column Submitted

Last night I finished and submitted my column for the January/February issue. This time around the theme is "otherness."

I'll post some more reprint reviews Real Soon Now. Meanwhile, there's a whole pile of reading for next month....

October Column Online

My October 2009 column is here.

There's not really a theme this time around. Books reviewed:

• Other Earths edited by Nick Gevers & Jay Lake
  
• Warrior Wisewoman 2 edited by Roby James
  
• WWW: Wake by Robert J. Sawyer
  
• Why Beautiful People Have More Daughters by Alan S. Miller & Satoshi Kanazawa

One late correction (thanks, Steve Silver and everyone else who noticed): Murray Leinster's groundbreaking alternate history short story was "Sidewise in Time," not "Sideways in Time."

Comment here or on the Analog Reader Forums.

SF Universe #3 (1988)

This is a reprint of my third SF Universe column for the late, lamented Wilson Library Bulletin. This column appeared in 1988.

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To the general population, the most infamous year in science fiction is 1984. But to those within the field, this year of 1988 will live in memory as the worst year ever. For this is the year Robert A. Heinlein died.

From the appearance of his first short story in the August 1939 issue of Astounding Science Fiction, Heinlein was universally acknowledged as a major talent in the field.

In a career spanning half a century, he produced over 40 books, including four Hugo Award winners, a half-dozen titles from the Publishers Weekly bestseller lists, and an even dozen so-called "juveniles" that started more youngsters reading sf than any hundred dozen other titles.

When the Science Fiction Writers of America decided to give a Grand Master award for lifetime achievement, there was no doubt that Robert Heinlein should be the very first recipient. To three generations of writers and readers, Heinlein was science fiction.

Heinlein's impact on today's science and technology will never be completely appreciated. His stories and novels inspired legions of young men and women to become researchers, engineers and scientists. His myriad bold ideas, both technological and philosophical, have very literally changed the shape of the future.

All of Heinlein's books are still in print and still quite readable. Other writers can only envy his storytelling skills, his compelling characters, his fine touch with the details that make future worlds seem real. The most current round of Heinlein reissues (Baen Books for the early titles, Berkley for the more recent ones) provides attractive and well-packaged paperback editions for yet another generation to discover.

Doubtless, when the first settlers arrive at Luna City on the Moon, or Marsport, or Alpha Centauri...Heinlein's books will be in their microform or CD-ROM libraries. His influence will live forever.

Every Spring the Science Fiction Writers of America presents the Nebula Awards for the previous year's best science fiction. These awards are notable for two reasons. First, unlike the fan-voted Hugo Awards, the Nebulas are voted by writers, and thus are accorded more respect within the field. Second, like the Hugos, the Nebulas give full recognition to short fiction as well as novels. In fact, three short fiction categories appear on the Nebula list: the short story, its big brother the novelette, and the novella (a hybrid of short story and novel).

The 1987 Nebula winners were announced in Los Angeles on May 22nd. The short fiction winners were: "Forever Yours, Anna" by Kate Wilhelm (short story), "Rachel in Love" by Pat Murphy (novelette), "The Blind Geometer" by Kim Stanley Robinson (novella). In addition, Alfred Bester was posthumously named Grand Master.

The Falling Woman by Pat Murphy won the Best Novel Nebula. This is a carefully-crafted fantasy which juxtaposes Mayan mythology with a figure from present-day myths: the eccentric old woman archeologist.

Elizabeth Waters is the archeologist. Independent and self-assured, she is an expert on the civilization of the ancient Maya. She has a secret that she keeps from her colleagues and students alike: Liz Waters can see the shadows of the past. Her nights are haunted by them, and sometimes they seem more real than the world around her. Driven by the shadows and her need for independence, Liz long ago abandoned her husband and her daughter, teetered on the edge of madness and managed to make her peace with the shades of yesterday.

Until one day, in the ruins of a Mayan city, she sees the ghost of Zuhuy-kak, a Mayan priestess who died a thousand years ago. Until Zuhuy-kak does what no other shadow has done before, and speaks to Liz.

On the brink of her greatest discoveries, Liz is shocked when her daughter, Diane, arrives at the camp. Diane, fleeing from her own shadows, has left her own life behind just as her mother did. She doesn't know what brought her to the jungles of Mexico, but she knows she is searching for something.

These three women -- mother, daughter and priestess -- fall further and further into the mysterious world of Mayan magic. As events build to a tense climax, orchestrated by the ancient gods, death looms ever closer for the falling woman.

Pat Murphy has crafted a superb fantasy of three very strong women and the myths that bind them together. Definitely not to be missed.

S. M. Stirling's Marching Through Georgia is, despite the title, a World War Two story...but decidedly one with a difference. The book falls into the sub-genre called "alternate history:" a world in which history followed a different course than in our world. Alternate histories are all the rage nowadays, many of them excellent stories written by authors who have a firm understanding of the process of history. Marching Through Georgia is a sterling example of the strengths of this type of book.

Stirling's World War Two is a conflict between three major powers: The United States and its allies, the Axis powers and a third nation called "The Domination of the
Draka."

Founded by loyalist Tories who emigrated to South Africa following the American Revolution, the Domination is a hard, cruel society that somehow combines the worst aspects of modern-day South Africa, antebellum Dixie and ancient Sparta. The Domination is ruled by a British-Germanic aristocracy; most of its people are serfs and slaves. The Domination is a militaristic state par excellence; both men and women train for the armed services from infancy. In order to preserve its rule, the Domination becomes a conquering power -- by the time of the book, the Domination controls all of Africa, Arabia, and a large portion of central Asia.

The plot is simple: In 1942 Russia collapses, leaving the Domination and the Third Reich to fight over its corpse. Eric von Shrakenberg, of the Domination, is in command of a legion sent to wrest a Caucasian village from the Nazis. Hence the book's title, which refers to Soviet Georgia and not the American State.

With Eric is William Dreiser, an American war correspondent who serves as a captive audience to the lunacy of both Domination and Third Reich. Eric's forces find themselves barricaded in a small village, fighting a losing battle against a Nazi force ten times their size. But since the people of the Domination are such good fighters, odds are just about even....

The real meat of this book is in its depiction of the Domination itself. Here is a heartless, ruthless society that violates virtually every tenet of morality. They keep slaves, they relish killing (and spend an enormous number of pages at it), they are without pity or any sympathetic emotions. They are fascinating in their grotesquerie. In order to overcome the threat of Nazi Germany, the U.S. must make an alliance with the Domination -- but it's clear that Eric's people can't rest until they control the entire world. So which, indeed, is the lesser of the two evils?

Stirling leaves the question unanswered. Word has it that he is writing more books about the Domination of the Draka; one hopes that he'll follow through and that the Domination will get it in the end.

Marching Through Georgia, although packaged as science fiction, is a good crossover title. World War Two buffs will enjoy it, especially those whose tastes run toward detailed descriptions of tanks, rifles, mines and obscure points of German military etiquette (the rest of us can just skip over those sections
without losing anything important.) So will those poor souls who thought that Red Storm Rising was a good book. Some of the fight scenes, which can get rather graphic, will appeal to readers of the "men's adventure" genre.

All in all, this is a thought-provoking book...and a very disturbing one. If he produces many more like this, Stirling will be a writer to be reckoned with.

Neil Barron is a Librarian's best friend. He is the editor of a wonderful reference book called Anatomy of Wonder, and he is obviously devoted to making our lives easier.

Barron has assembled nearly 900 pages of information to delight fans, students, or just hard-working librarians who need some help with the field. Anatomy of Wonder contains essays on the development of science fiction, on foreign-language sf (including Belgian, Romanian and Hebrew sf, just in case you ever get a request), and on such topics as teaching materials, author studies and science fiction illustration. But the bulk of the book is the annotated title entries -- over 2500 of them, from the beginning of the field until 1986. Many entries allude to more than one title, and most of them have comparisons that make readers' advisory a joy rather than a chore.

Particularly welcome is Barron's "Core Collection Checklist," a 23-page list of the best that sf has to offer. Anyone stocking a new library, or revamping the sf
collection of an old one, should make this book their first buy.

A remarkably-complete pair of indexes (Author/Subject and Title) finish off the volume.

Anatomy of Wonder is certainly going to become one of my secret weapons; it ought to be one of yours, too.

Finally, the big news this month here at Don's Acres is the publication of The Leaves of October. Obviously, I can't properly review a book that I wrote, so I won't make the attempt; just the same, if you like this column you might want to give it a try.

Books reviewed:

Barron, Neil (ed.). Anatomy of Wonder 3rd edition. Bowker, 1987. 874 p. 0-8352-2312-4

Murphy, Pat. The Falling Woman. Tor, 1987. 287 p. $3.95. 0-812-54620-2

Sakers, Don. The Leaves of October. Baen, 1988. 276 p. $2.95. 0-671-65422-5

Stirling, S. M. Marching Through Georgia. Baen, 1988. 410 p. $3.50. 0-671-65407-1

December Column Submitted

Tonight I finished and submitted my column for the December 2009 issue. The theme is something naughty, something nice, and some gift suggestions.

Now to start reading for next month....

The Book of Lost Tales Part One (1984)

Here's another retro-review. It appeared in the Baltimore Sun on March 25, 1984. I'm particularly fond of this one. The publisher quoted from this review on the back cover of The Book of Lost Tales Part Two and many of the subsequent volumes of the History of Middle-Earth series. If you own any of the mid-1980s editions of those books, take a look on the back cover and you'll see my words staring back at you.

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The Book of Lost Tales Part One, J.R.R. Tolkien, Houghton Mifflin, 297 pages, $14.95.

The appearance of a new book by J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings, is news indeed. Tolkien's son Christopher has spent the years since his father's death editing the vast stacks of handwritten manuscripts that Tolkien left behind. This latest volume is the start of a projected series ambitiously called "The History of Middle-Earth."

The Book of Lost Tales relates the earliest legends that would later develop into The Silmarillion. The manuscripts date from 1916 and 1917, when Tolkien had never dreamed of Hobbits, Rings of Power, or the Dark Lord Sauron. At that time the Elves were called Gnomes, the Dwarves were evil creatures, and even the geography of Middle-Earth was somewhat hazy.

There is a great gulf between The Book of Lost Tales and the more familiar parts of Tolkien's world. Nearly fifty years elapsed between these first scribblings and the publication of The Lord of the Rings; but the larger distance is in the development of the world, its myths, its theology and philosophy. Tolkien was 25 years old when he wrote the Lost Tales -- as he grew older the structure of the tales evolved until they came to be the basis of Middle Earth as we know it.

The Book of Lost Tales is not another Lord of the Rings. Christopher Tolkien has done an admirable job of editing the rough manuscripts, but still the tales are at times as distant and silted as The Silmarillion. Readers looking for another story like that of Frodo and Samwise will be disappointed by this new book.

For the true devotee of Tolkien, however, The Book of Lost Tales is a treasure trove to match the hoard of the dragon Smaug himself. Many of the conceptions in the Lost Tales were dropped out of the late mythology; in many cases what was lost has a power and depth of imagination that was missing in later versions.

Here we read of Eriol the Mariner and his visit to the Lonely Isle of Tol Eressea, where the alst of the Elves still live. In the magnificent Cottage of Lost Play, Eriol is entertained by the stories of the Elves, their vanished cities, and the lost days of happiness in Valinor by the light of the Two Trees.

And as the tales unfold for us an Eriol, the surprises start. In the origincal conception, we learn, Tol Eressea was England itself. In the Lost Tales we learn of the Path of Dreams, whereby human children journey in their sleep to the forgotten shores of Valinor and folic with the Elves.

The structure of the Tales roughly follows that of The Silmarillion, beginning with creation myths and describing the advent of evil in the world and the flight of the Elves from Valinor. To a reader familiar with the "official" version of the legend, there are many delightful differences. From the goddess Palurien's creation of the light-producing Two Trees to the lengthy account of the making of the Sun and Moon, the Lost Tales proceed with a sort of primitive vigor usually associated with pagan myths.

The Book of Lost Tales will probably make some enemies among Tolkien's fans. The prose is unpolished, ranging from high poetic style to quickly dashed-off outlines; at times it is even turgid. Christopher Tolkien's notes at the end of each chapter speculate learnedly upon the sources of his father's inspiration, and upon the differences between this version and the previously-published works. The entire approach of the book is more that of a college literature text than a book of tales.

And yet, despite these problems, the pure imaginative power of J.R.R. Tolkien shines through with a light just as dazzling as that of the Two Trees, and so far transcends the nature of the book that the faults become minuscule in comparison.

The serious student of Tolkien will find much delight in this book, and it serves as an excellent example of the creative imagination at work. The casual reader can easily skip the notes and introductions and derive great pleasure from just the Lost Tales themselves.

This is not another Lord of the Rings. Tolkien himself knew that he would never produce another work to match his famous trilogy: the goddess Yavanna spoke for Tolkien when she said, "Even for those who are mightiest...there is some work that they may accomplish once, and once only." Yet the Lost Tales have virtues of their own, and not just for those of academic bent.

SF Universe #1 (May 1988)

Here is another reprint of old reviews. This was my first column for the Wilson Library Bulletin, originally published in the May 1988 issue.

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“Science fiction,” I told my boss, “is like olives. Either you cultivate a taste for it, or you can’t stand it. Very few people are in between.” She just smiled and shook her head. She does that a lot.

While I know that many of you have cultivated the taste (for science fiction, not olives), I’m also aware that most of you have not. I won’t be offended if you’re one of those who hates it. Yet you want to do the best you can for your patrons and customers who do fancy the stuff. Well, I think I can help.

A few words of introduction, and then we can get down to business. I’m a science fiction writer and public library paraprofessional. From my base here at Dons Acres, I’ll be giving you periodic updates about what’s happening in the world of sf. (Yes, some people call it sci-fi -- but to someone in the field, that’s a little bit like picturing librarians as wrinkled, grey-haired old women.)

The great John W. Campbell once defined the genre this way: “Science fiction is what science fiction editors buy,” and that's the definition I intend to use. Thus, when I refer to sf you can assume that I mean the related genres of science fiction, fantasy and speculative fiction as well as the occasional piece of nonfiction.

Now let’s to work.

Mike Resnick is a dependable storyteller whose unusual characters and settings are nicely original. The Dark Lady, which is set against the interstellar art world of the 70th Century, is no exception.

The narrator is Leonardo, a nonhuman art appraiser working for a large gallery on the planet Far London. Without quite knowing how, the meek Leonardo finds himself embroiled in a mystery when he runs across several paintings of the same dark-haired woman...paintings done thousands of years apart.

In pursuit of this Dark Lady, Leonardo is thrown into association with misanthropic collectors, art thieves, mad artists and even a bounty hunter or two. He risks his status, courts banishment from his home world, and eventually hazards his life before learning the secret of the Dark Lady -- a secret that will change him forever.

The background is fascinating and the central enigma tantalyzing -- but ultimately the success of The Dark Lady is in Leonardo himself, and his progression from a timid creature of the herd to something more Human...and far more interesting.

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A relatively recent phenomenon is sf publishing is that of the shared world anthology. A number of authors write stories set in a common world; their characters reappear in each others tales, sometimes the same events are retold from a different viewpoint. Shared worlds are usually fun for both writers and readers, and publishers like them because they sell well.

Fever Season is the most recent volume of tales set in C. J. Cherryh's Merovingen Nights world. (The first was Cherryh's novel Angel With the Sword, followed by the shared world anthology Festival Moon.)

At the mouth of the Det River on the world Merovin is the city Merovingen, a city reminiscent of a mixture of ancient Constantinople, medieval Venice and modern New Orleans. Barefoot traders and smugglers ply the canals of Merovingen while murderers and thieves lurk in the shadows; meanwhile, in the perfumed apartments of the upper class, nobles pursue their Byzantine schemes for wealth and power.

It is fever season in Merovingen: moving with the yearly plague is something darker, more treacherous -- war and betrayal. Thomas Mondragon is the one man who can keep the city from exploding...and Mondragon lies immobile in his fine house, a secret victim of the fever. His friends -- a rifraff collection of canalers, spies and traitors -- are the last hope of the beleaguered city.

And the fever still spreads...

Shared world anthologies, almost by their nature, are disjointed. Fever Season, though, has a coherence that others of its type lack. Indeed, it reads more like a collaborative novel than a collection of short stories. Cherryh, who serves as editor for the series, has done her homework. Not only do transition chapters link the various chapters, but the volume contains an appendix with maps, an explanation of diseases and treatments, and even a few songs.

All this work shows: Fever Season is captivating, and weaves a spell of pseudo-reality that persists after you finish the book. SF fans who like shared worlds will love it; a reader of historicals who is looking for something a little different would not, I think, be disappointed.

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One of the most original new voices in science fiction is that of Melissa Scott. In 1986 she won the Campbell Award, given by fans to the best new writer of the year. Time has proven that the fans were not mistaken.

The book that established her reputation was Five-Twelfths of Heaven, published in 1985. The next year saw publication of a sequel, Silence in Solitude. Now, at last, the trilogy is complete...and the final book, The Empress of Earth, more than fulfills the promise of the earlier books.

To read The Empress of Earth is to step into Melissa Scott's world -- and a delightful world it is. In this universe, Einsteinian physics has been supplanted by a new physics based on the teachings of Aristotle and the Hermetic sciences of the Middle Ages. Magi study the mystical arts while satraps and Hegemons rule over a vast empire.

In the hands of a lesser writer, we might have wound up with a retelling of the Arabian Nights. Instead, Scott has made Hermetic magic the basis for a whole technology. Her Magi are the scientists of this universe; starships fly through the mystical dimension called Purgatory in order to reach distant worlds; and the Hegemon’s empire is one of planets, not deserts.

Into this universe comes Silence Leigh: a woman who has learned the male skills of piloting and magic. With her two husbands and her teacher Isambard, Silence has conquered every obstacle to her goal of finding the way to lost Earth. She has the skill, she has an ancient star map that shows the safe road to Earth -- and she has the help of the Hegemon himself.

The road is difficult, but what lies at the end is harder; for Earth is under the control of the despotic Rose Worlds, and great mystical siege engines block the way. Silence Leigh has overcome every obstacle so far...but can even this remarkable woman bring freedom to Earth?

Empress of Earth is a gourmet feast for those who like science fiction. The mystical technology is so well-conceived and exhaustively thought-out, that by the end you will find yourself convinced that it is real. The characters are finely drawn and will soon become fast friends: crusty Isambard, stolid Chase Mago, wily Balthasar, and of course the indomitable Silence herself. The action is nonstop; plan on losing sleep because you won’t be able to put it down.

Indeed, Empress of Earth has only one flaw, although it is a major one: however devoutly we wish otherwise, the book ends.

Any sf reader will love this book...and those who have not yet acquired the taste might give it a try. I guarantee, its not at all what you expect.

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BOOKS REVIEWED:

The Dark Lady by Mike Resnick. Tor, November 1987. $3.50. 279 pages.

Merovingen Nights #2: Fever Season edited by C.J. Cherryh. DAW, October 1987. $3.50. 297 pages.

The Empress of Earth by Melissa Scott. Baen, November 1987. $3.50. 346 pages.

September Column Online

My September 2009 column is here.

There's not really a theme this time around. Books reviewed:

• Hylozoic by Rudy Rucker
  
• Buyout by Alexander C. Irvine
  
• Flinx Transcendent by Alan Dean Foster
  
• The Solaris Book of New Science Fiction Volume 3 edited by George Mann

Comment here or on the Analog Reader Forums.

Reviews From March 1987

Here is another set of retro-reviews. These appeared in the Baltimore Sun on March 8, 1987 and Philadelphia Daily News around the same time.

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Foundation and Earth. Isaac Asimov. Doubleday. 365 pages. $16.95.

Foundation and Earth begins just after its predecessor, Foundation's Edge ended, in the five-hundredth year of the Foundation. Golan Trevize has just made a choice that will alter the direction of Human history; now, in the course of second-thoughts, he finds that he must locate the legendary planet Earth. Along with his companion Janov Pelorat and Bliss, a woman of the collective intelligence known as "Gaia," he sets out to locate the lost home planet of the Human Race.

On the way, Trevize and his friends visit five strange and different worlds. On each they find menace, and finally they face the greatest danger...and the end of their search...when they find Old Earth at last.

In a way, this should be the greatest of the "Foundation" books. Certainly the ending is mind-boggling enough. And yet, somehow the book seems to just miss its mark. The unexplained events are too unexplained; the subtle mind-tampering is too obvious; the odd characters are a little too odd for comfort. Again and again the reader mutters to himself: "There's no for thus-and-so to happen that way -- therefore it must be part of someone's unrevealed plan."

This does worse than spoiling the reader's enjoyment at the slow unfolding of an intricate plot; it blunts the impact of the final scene, so that when we reach the last chapter and find out just who has been manipulating Human history for twenty thousand years, it is a letdown. What could have been the most stunning revelation in science fiction hits the reader like the slap of a wet dishrag.

Judged in comparison with other novels of the year, Foundation's Edge is superb. As a continuation of the "Foundation" series, however, or in comparison to Asimov's other recent science fiction, it falls short. This is a good book, yes...but it is not a great book.


Marooned in Realtime. Vernor Vinge. Bluejay. 270 pages. $17.95.

Marooned in Realtime is a cracking good story that leaves the reader with plenty to think about.

In the late 23rd century, Mankind suddenly vanished from the earth. The only survivors were those who had previously frozen themselves in time, using a new technology known as "bobbling." Those who bobbled did so for a great variety of reasons -- incurable diseases, a desire to see the future, hope of becoming rich through multiplying investments. Some, like 21st-century cop Wil Brierson, were unwillingly bobbled.

Now, fifty million years after the Extinction, high-tech survivors under the leadership of Marta Korolev have gathered the only remaining Human beings to start a new world. Only a few hundred people exist, drawn from across the two centuries preceeding the Extinction. Many of the low-techs -- those from the earlier ages -- resent the rule of Marta Korolev and her fellow high-techs.

Then, suddenly, Marta is murdered in a spectacular and heartless way. Someone, it appears, wants the Human settlement to fail. But who? And when will they strike next?

Wil Brierson, the only detective left on earth, must solve the mystery...or watch Humanity's last chance for survival disappear.

Vernor Vinge draws fine characters and writes a compelling plot. Brierson's inner conflicts work in tandem with the contention in the Human community. In and around the whole murder investigation flows the greater mystery of the Extinction. Was Humanity slaughtered by hostile alien invaders, or did Mankind reach a pinnacle of knowledge and go on to some unimaginable other dimensions?

In the end, almost all the mysteries are solved -- the only loose ends are those which will leave you pondering the future of Mankind and of the earth for weeks after you finish the book.

Winter in Eden. Harry Harrison. Bantam. 399 pages. $18.95.

Winter in Eden in a sequel to the highly successful West of Eden. Once again Harry Harrison returns us to an Earth on which the dinosaurs never perished. The Yilane are the intelligent descendants of the great reptiles, and they rule the world. But the Yilane have rivals: the Tanu, the Human folk of this alternate world. The first book told of the beginning of the conflict between Yilane and Tanu, a conflict that would decide who would ultimately rule.

Now another ice age threatens, and the Yilane must move to warmer climates or die. So they are driven to conquer Human territory.

The delight in this book is the detail of Harrison's alternate earth. This is one of the most fully realized worlds in science fiction; the author has created languages, mythologies and whole biologies that are completely coherent and ring totally true. What J.R.R. Tolkien did for high fantasy, Harry Harrison has done for the genre of alternate history.

Winter in Eden is billed as the second book of a trilogy. Harrison could fill a dozen trilogies, fully exploring the world of the Yilane. If he does stop at only three books, then we the readers will be all the poorer.


Double Nocturne. Cynthia Felice. Bluejay. 330 pages. $16.95.

In Double Nocturne, Cynthia Felice has produced a dense, almost impenetrable book set on a colony planet whose society has become a feudal matriarchy. Into this world comes Tom Hark, a young technician sent from civilization to repair the colony's defective Artificial Intelligence...a kind of super-computer that guides the development of the colony.

Thus we are presented with three of science fiction's oldest cliches: the computer that takes over the world, the medieval society in the future, and the planet where the women are in charge. Of course Tom Hark's ship crashes, and of course he is taken captive by the Amazons of the planet. And of course there is an all-powerful religion to contend with, as well as a war going on...

Readers new to science fiction, or those who like variations on the same old tired themes, may like Double Nocturne. For everyone else, it is hardly worth the trouble.

The Starry Rift. James Tiptree, Jr. Tor. 250 pages. $14.95.

James Tiptree, Jr. (who is in reality Alice Sheldon) has a knack for wrapping the most elusive, abstract ideas in the most lyrical prose, thereby giving us all a glimpse of the reality that underlies life. The Starry Rift is a collection of three long stories, all set in the same future universe, in which she successfully tackles courage, love and truth in one big package.

The Starry Rift of the title is a vast, empty bit of space at the extreme frontier of the Federation. We read the tales of three different voyagers into the Rift, and each one is as delightful as it is mesmerising.

In "The Only Neat Thing to Do," (a Nebula Award nominee), a rich teenager in search of excitement finds one of the most original alien races in science fiction...and discovers what bravery is all about. "Good Night, Sweethearts" deals with a travelling Salvage officer who saves a space liner from pirates and confronts not one but two versions of a woman he loved and lost long ago. And in the final tale, "Collision," an interstellar war can be prevented only if two exploration crews -- one Human and one alien -- can see beyond misconceptions, illusions and hatred to the truth about one another.

Tiptree is a master of language and of character. Moreover, she manages to reach inside a reader and make him or her care, and care deeply, about the imaginary folk and worlds she creates. In all ways, she is a truly great writer, perhaps the greatest in science fiction today.

The Songs of Distant Earth (1986)

This is another reprint review. It first appeared in the Baltimore Sun and Philadelphia Daily News in 1986.

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The Songs of Distant Earth by Arthur C. Clarke. Ballantine. $17.95. 256 pages

When "science fiction" is mentioned, Arthur Clarke's name is sure to come up. Even before he burst into public prominence with 2001: A Space Odyssey, he was a respected leader in the field. Although he ranks with such Golden Age giants as Asimov and Heinlein, Clarke's literary background has always been just a bit different. Born and raised in Somerset, England, his style owes as much to Wells, Huxley and Stapledon as it does to early American pulp sf writers like Smith, Campbell and Simak. Clarke's science is precise and his extrapolations exact; yet he writes in a lyrical style filled with a consciousness of the beauties of life.

More than a decade ago Clarke announced his retirement from writing -- since then, he has produced a string of "last" books ranging from the award-winning Rendezvous with Rama to his last runaway bestseller 2010: Odyssey Two, to several collections of nonfiction essays. Each "last book" is eagerly awaited, and each seems better than its predecessors. The Songs of Distant Earth is no exception.

Longtime Clarke readers will recognize the title; this book is loosely based on a 1957 short story. Those who have read the earlier work need not worry -- this current version is immeasurably better.

The story is set on the planet Thalassa: a watery world settled seven hundred years ago by automated seeder ships sent out by a doomed Earth to colonize the stars. The Thalassans are a gentle folk; the builders of the seed ships saw to it that only the best of Human knowledge went out into the universe with their progeny. The Thalassans have never known war, jealousy, murder or hate. They also have never known Earth -- except in age-old records, computerized databanks and music.

Into this tranquil garden comes an unexpected visitor: the starship Magellan, which carries the last survivors of the nova that destroyed Earth.

For the crewmen of Magellan, haunted by memories of Earth's destruction, Thalassa is merely a way-station; a planned stop where they can obtain supplies and make repairs. Earthmen and Thalassans face one another across a gap much wider than the lightyears that Magellan has travelled -- a gap of cultures. The Earthfolk bring many gifts to the Thalassans, but they also bring a threat. The people of Earth carry with them a heritage of passion, war and jealousy -- all the worst possibilities of Earth's culture, which Thalassa's creators labored so hard to eliminate. Magellan's visit lasts only one year -- but the effects of that visit will change Thalassan history forever.

The Songs of Distant Earth is written in a marvelously understated style which firmly guides the reader's imagination without stifling it. This technique is especially evocative in Clarke's descriptions of the violence of Earth's final days -- images of the melting Pyramids and boiling seas are haunting well after the book is done.

Although the clash of cultures is the main theme of The Songs of Distant Earth, the book abounds in well-drawn characters, both Earthmen and Thalassans. No character is more memorable than Earthman Moses Kaldor: a philosopher and religious leader, grief-stricken at the loss of his home world and his beloved wife. In Thalassa's timeless winds and gentle people he at last finds peace.

This book can be seen as a symbol of Clarke's concern with clashing cultures here on Earth -- it is easy to read the Earthmen as rich, decadent and corrupting Westerners, and the Thalassans as the third-world inhabitants of Clarke's own beloved Sri Lanka. But Clarke's message is no simplistic diatribe against the West; instead, he demonstrates the commonality of human experience, and shows how even two widely divergant cultures can each learn from one another. When Magellan departs, both Earthmen and Thalassans are much better off.

November Column Submitted

Early this morning I finished and submitted my column for the November 2009 issue. In honor of the cover date and in the spirit of Thanksgiving, it's a very foody column. You'll see.

Star of Gypsies (1986)

Here's another reprint. This review appeared in The Baltimore Sun in 1986.

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Star of Gypsies by Robert Silverberg. Donald I. Fine, Inc. 397 pages. $18.95.

Robert Silverberg is undeniably one of the modern masters of science fiction. His career began in the late 1950s with a long apprenticeship writing sf potboilers; by the end of the sixties he had moved on to more mature works that earned him a place in the forefront of the so-called "New Wave" movement. The "New Wave" stressed characterization and literary quality over straight action/adventure tales and stories in which the characters were little more than vehicles for scientific ideas. Silverberg had found his metier, and in years to come his skill would only improve.

Despite several announced retirements and a rather strong mid-seventies denial that he was a science-fiction writer at all (this rejection of the sf label seems to be a stage through which all of the New Wave writers had to pass sooner or later), Silverberg keeps returning to the field. And each return brings work that is stronger, broader, more vital.

The action/adventure phase gave way to emotionally powerful novels of near-future Earths : The World Inside is a masterful study of overpopulation taken to its extreme; To Live Again examines a world in which the recorded personalities of the dead are implanted in the minds of the living; and The Second Trip is an ultimate Jekyll-and-Hyde story. These seminal works guaranteed Silverberg a place in the higher ranks of sf writers; then his output moved away from the field, into almost-mainstream psychological novels that merely borrowed science-fictional themes.

In 1980 Silverberg returned to the field with a vengeance. Lord Valentine's Castle is a sprawling epic set on the far-future planet of Majipoor, the story of Lord Valentine's quest to find the great castle where he can claim his birthright. Majipoor is a world in which science fiction and fantasy become inextricably entwined: Lord Valentine's Castle and its companion books join the exalted ranks of those sf novels that actually become part of the genre of legend and myth. This new Silverberg, building upon all the strengths of his previous incarnations, is a modern successor to Homer, Virgil and John Milton: he is a teller of tales and a maker of myths.

Star of Gypsies is his best -- and most original -- foray into this new area.

In the hands of a lesser writer, the story would be prosaic: the bare bones of the plot concern a succession crisis in a future Galactic Empire, the telling of which is interspersed with flashbacks of the main character's life and travels to various worlds in the Empire and beyond. Hardly the stuff of myth. But Silverberg, master wordsmith and alchemist of the imagination, has touched this rather ordinary story, and turned it into something unexpected and wonderful.

The main character is Yakoub, King of Gypsies. In this future Empire, the Rom (as the Gypsies call themselves) have risen to Galactic power based on their mystical talents. Yakoub tells us the story of his long life, of the magnificent history of the Rom, and of the destiny of his people. For the Rom are not of Earth at all, and one day they will return to their long-lost homeworld, a small planet circling far-off Romany Star.

It is Yakoub who makes this story live. Centuries old, wise and yet humanly foolish, irreverant and bawdy, Yakoub is the embodiment of his people. It is Yakoub who brings reality to the absurd medieval Empire, to the ghosts and visions that pepper his story, to the wild and amazing places he has been. Who would believe a planet where rainbow fish swim through solid ice, or a world on which gold is plentiful as sand, or the living hell of Mentiroso where the very air makes you afraid? We believe, because Yakoub tells us it is so, and we feel we can trust Yakoub.

The universe of Star of Gypsies is a vast and marvelous one; Yakoub is one of the most finely-drawn and sheerly enjoyable characters in modern science fiction. From the moment you open the cover, you are drawn into Yakoub's world -- like Scheherezade, he will captivate you, entertain you, tell you of wonders and long-ago lands and a thousand things of which you never dreamed.

But Silverberg is a fine storyteller, and Yakoub is more than an old man reminiscing over his past. Together, they take the reader on a journey whose every step is well-planned, a journey toward a destination every bit as satisfying as the rest of the book. To reveal Yakoub's destiny -- which is the destiny of his people and of the whole Galaxy -- would be to cheat the reader out of one of the most enjoyable experiences of the year. Open the cover...put yourself into the hands of Silverberg and Yakoub. You will not regret embarking upon this journey.

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ADDENDUM:

(26 June 2009): I received an email from Robert Silverberg, which contains the following factual correction:

I never denied that I was a science-fiction writer. That was Ellison. When I retired "forever" in 1975, I simply said that I was tired of writing. (And I was.) But I never claimed that I was anything but an s-f writer, and I still am willing to admit to it.

I'm happy to have the chance to set the record straight, even if it is 23 years later.