BOOK REVIEWS

2000, Part H: August 2000

2000, Christian Sauvé

Featured this month:

 

 

Steele Not Quite There

The Tranquility Alternative
Allen Steele

Ace, 1996, 309 pages, $7.99 Can., pb, ISBN 0-441-00433-4

Oceanspace
Allen Steele

Ace, 2000, 375 pages, $30.99 Can. hc, ISBN 0-441-00685-X

All throughout his SF career (now spanning 11 books in little more than a decade) Allen Steele has shown a remarkable writing talent somehow not fully exploited.

From the orbital space station of Orbital Decay to the watery depths of Oceanspace, Steele has made some progress, but it's hard to say if he's a better writer now than before. His books always seem to struggle at the "good read" level (eg; Clarke County, Space), never somehow going further than that (Labyrinth of Night), or when they do, they contain a crucial flaw that destroys the book (A King of Infinite Space, his best but also his most frustrating work). Fortunately, his short stories are usually more satisfying than his novels, proving once again that some people are simply more suited to shorter-length stories.

Part of it has to do with his point of view. Steele is one of the few staunchly liberal SF writers in a genre traditionally dominated by conservative ideology. He has written stories praising drug usage (Orbital Decay), blasting eeevil governments (The Jericho Equation) and his stint as a journalist on an alternative weekly paper has left indelible marks on his fiction (again, see The Jericho Equation and, to a lesser extent, All-American Alien Boy). In The Tranquillity Alternative, one of the characters is revealed early on to be a lesbian, virtually ensuring her of a "get out of jail free" card: No way is Steele going to pin the bad-guy role on such a target.

That's not the biggest problem with The Tranquillity Alternative, but it's emblematic of Steele's lack of sophisticated plotting. Set in an alternate world where the Americans had a space program much, much earlier and then stopped after establishing a moon base, The Tranquillity Alternative is a travelogue in which a last mission to the moon base is perturbed by a terrorist plan. Most of the book is spent travelling to the moon, waiting for something to happen. Then the terrorists do something, the heroes fight back, win and go home. The end.

The alternate space program is well thought-out (inscribing itself in the steps of Stephen Baxter, another writer who's spent a lot of time in parallel space expeditions) but the rest of the world isn't as well put-together. The synchronicity of events between the two universes (going as far as having identical dates to similar events) is either eerie or sign of a hasty world-building, depending on charitable you feel at this moment.

The result is interesting, and readable as always, but given Steele's talents, may we not expect more? That's also pretty much the tagline to any review of Oceanspace, the latest of Steele's novels.

Here, Steele leaves space and goes undersea, again mimicking a minor SF trend (what with the undersea novels of Arthur C. Clarke—to whom the book is dedicated- and Peter Watts' recent Starfish), which is fine as long as he's got something new to bring to the genre. Unfortunately, Steele hangs a few standard plots and characters to the ocean setting for a result that's quite entertaining, but at the same time very familiar. Nipick: The presence of CD players in 2011 is unexpectedly jarring; what about MP3?

But give Steele some credit; here, the journalist isn't a good person, marital harmony is praised and the traitors are punished. Oceanspace has the characteristics of a good paperback read, though it is definitely overpriced as a hardcover; the idea density simply isn't there. There's a sea monster, true, but don't get too excited as it only make incidental appearances.

Briefly put, Steele remains at the threshold between good entertainment and good SF, hovering between the two as if he's unable to find the really good idea and build the really exciting plot to take his books to the next level. You can't really go wrong by buying a Steele paperback (except, perhaps, for King of Infinite Space) because they're always exact, fun and readable, but don't bother springing for the hardcover.

 

 

The Martian Race
Gregory Benford

Warner Aspect, 1999, 340 pages, $32.00 hc, ISBN 0-446-52633-9

The nineties have been an excellent decade as far as Mars and Science-Fiction have been concerned. SF writers returned to the Red Planet en masse, virtually re-inventing our SFictional view of the planet in light of NASA's latest discoveries about it.

The crowning Mars work of the decade, of course, goes to Kim Stanley Robinson's masterful Mars trilogy, which set the tone for a series of scientifically accurate novels perhaps more concerned with writing future history than overblown SF. A refreshing chance after Burroughs' fantasy Mars.

Interestingly enough, even though there was a first Mars boom in the early nineties, (Bova's Mars, Williamson's Beachhead, Anderson's Climbing Olympus, etc...) the Pathfinder expedition of 1997 (as well as the flap about Martian "fossils" in 1996) rekindled interest in the fourth rock from the sun. As Hollywood re-discovered Mars on its own (with MISSION TO MARS, RED PLANET, at least one TV movie and persistent rumors of a James Cameron film project), written SF went back to Mars another time: Bova's Return to Mars, Baxter's Voyage, Hartman's Mars Underground, Robinson's The Martians all went back, sometime literally, to the red planet for one more adventure.

Now Gregory Benford packs up his rockets and also blasts off to Mars, in an adventure that suffers from a few problem but manages to provide a satisfying read.

The setup innovates somewhat: Instead of the government directly financing a martian expedition, a series of mishaps convince the government to do business differently: They offer a prize of thirty billion dollars to whoever can get to Mars, perform some exploration and return safely. The novel opens as one expedition financed by a billionaire comes to a close. Of course, disaster strikes, a second expedition pops up, a pair of significant discoveries is made and money threatens to run out.

The novel begins with a chronologically fractured narrative, which isn't as successful as a straight timeline would have been. (An approach more similar to Robert J. Sawyer's usual middle-of-novel-scene-as-prologue might have been more successful than the attempt to pass of the flashback exposition interleaved in the main story.) But as the context is straightened out and the stakes rise, the novel gets steadily more interesting.

Of course, it helps that Benford has learned how to write clearly. His first novels (even the much-lauded Timescape) were embarrassments of pretentious prose masquerading as depth. Though he always had the capacity to do it (His mainstream thriller, Artifact, dates from 1985) it is only in the last few books (Cosm, most notably) that he's shown a willingness to stick with an uncluttered, transparent, elegant prose.

The Martian Race is ultimately a pretty good -though not exceptional- novel of hard-SF. Though the idea-density is low for experienced readers of the genre, they are well-developed and the novel can survive quite easily on its increasingly engrossing narrative. Before long, the title begins to acquire a double meaning that is eventually proven right. Not much suspense, but it doesn't really matter.

Though I doubt that Benford's predictions will be realized -all his wishful anti-government thinking aside-, The Martian Race is another brick in the pro-Mars SF wall. It holds up well to Kim Stanley Robinson's standard-setting trilogy and represents a good choice for almost any SF enthusiast. Now, if only Mars movies could be as good as Mars books...

 

 

Boy Wonder
James Robert Baker

Signet, 1988, 560 pages, $5.99 Can. pb, ISBN 0-451-16506-3

Long-winded reviewer

It has become common to say that Hollywood is insane beyond imagination. But Boy Wonder one-ups every true story you're heard so far, and that's no mean feat.

Jacket Blurb

Cross CITIZEN KANE with BLUE VELVET and you'll get some idea of this wide-screen send-up of the movie business as it follows the career of Shark Trager -rebel filmmaker and mega-successful producer- from his birth in 1950 at a drive-in movie theater and his meteoric rise to the pinnacle of Hollywood power, to his equally spectacular descent, crash, and burn.

Snotty critic, gesticulating

The real post-modern narrative breakthrough of this so-called comedy -for it is rather truly a savage attack on American values- is in its deconstruction of a traditional narrative flow into pseudo-interview excepts of fictional characters said to have known Shark Trager, but really; is the concept of cognizance truly meaningful, ask the author-

Eighth-grade student, struggling with book review

Mister Trager is not a good man at all. He does not like his father, does evil drugs and make bad movies.

Film geek

Both the best and most disappointing elements of Boy Wonder come from James Robert Baker's handling of Hollywood excess through Shark Trager's films. One of them, WHITE HEAT, takes the concept of the "killing couple" to its logical extreme, foreshadowing films such as NATURAL BORN KILLERS. The production of another, Red Surf, ends up with one of the most outrageously spectacular scene of a novel that already contains several moments of pure insane delight. It perfectly exemplifies the bigger-explosions-are-better mentality that pervades the atmosphere of certain blockbusters like, oh, ARMAGEDDON. BLUE LIGHT is the culmination of all those nonsense feel-good epics than mix half realism with half new-age pseudo-mysticism and end up attracting crowds for nothing more but simplistic philosophy and great production values. FORREST GUMP, anyone? Is it an accident if all of these movies came after Boy Wonder was written, or another depressing reminder that the real Hollywood often imitates fiction?

Long-winded reviewer

Beyond the simple satire, however, one could go crazy trying to plot the complex character interrelationships gradually interweaved during the narrative. Fittingly enough for a pseudo-biography, Baker has succeeded in creating a full fictional life, as unlikely as this life is.

Teenage guy

Hot damn! Fast cars, hot sex, hard drugs, big explosions, tons of deaths and one screwed-up hero! I didn't read about any Nazis in there, but that's pretty much the only thing missing. Wouldn't it be sweet if there was one?

Ecstatic Bible-thumper

This reprehensible book has been sent from the flaming pits of hell itself! It has to be the raunchiest, most offensive novel in the past ten years! I will not subject you, dear readers, to the ignominy of a description of the perversions contained between these covers, but only take my word for it and avoid! Boy Wonder isn't only disgraceful in itself, but it is an affront to society, family values and God itself.

Long-winded critic

Obviously, this very outrageousness is the core of one's enjoyment of Boy Wonder. Part of the pleasure is reading the completely demented scenes of Shark Trager's life and taking delight in how fantastically over-the-top this all is.

Film geek

Unfortunately, outrageousness takes its toll, and I started wondering why there wasn't even more good stuff in the book. By the climax -which obviously takes place at the Oscars-, even public nudity, homosexual sex, heavy drug usage, constant bickering and a sudden death seem all a bit under-whelming. But that's a minor quibble, much as at the end, I would have liked to seen even more films made by Trager. It would have been nice, also, to depart even more from the sort of alternate Hollywood created by Baker to accommodate Shark Trager.

Teen guy

More, more, more!

Long-winded critic

Ultimately, Baker has realized a tour-de-force, given as he can sustain, at the same time, his concept, his protagonist, his gallery of characters, his satire and his sweep of thirty years of history while presenting everything in a crystal-clear prose.

Teen guy

You know, I don't like reading, but that book, I just couldn't stop.

Long-winded critic

And so we come to the type of recommendation that every critic loves to make: A revelation. Boy Wonder isn't a very popular book, nor is James Robert Baker a best-selling author. But Boy Wonder is worth tracking down in libraries, in used bookstores and in flea markets; it's that good. Few novels approach its satiric edge or its extreme outrageousness. It is a memorable book and a great read. Do not miss it.

[September 2000: Good news, very bad news: While an official site exists at http://jamesrobertbaker.com/ (along with a present-day update on Kathy Pedro), it states that Robert James Baker unfortunately committed suicide in 1997. Grab Boy Wonder while you can.]

 

 

SURVIVOR

A television show by Mark Burnett
Broadcast on CBS, June-August 2000

Faithful readers of these chronicles must be groaning right now; why are these book reviews degenerating in vulgar TV commentary? Why another review of SURVIVOR, one of the most overexposed TV shows in history? Why the fascination? Isn't the author of these reviews smarter than that?

Well, obviously not. Truth is that I've been captivated by SURVIVOR from the moment it was announced on CBS's schedule. At first glance, it seemed reprehensible: Recruit 16 ordinary people through an audition process, then put them on an desert island and, through various game mechanics, make them eliminate one of their own each three days until there is only one survivor left. Oh, the important part; the last one standing gets one million dollars.

Like most people with pretensions of intellectual sophistication, I initially saw the concept as pure lowest-denominator entertainment repulsively wrapped in game-show dynamics. Stephen King's The Running man didn't seem that far off if SURVIVOR pushed the cart off the reality-show slippery slope. And yet, I was intrigued.

I somehow missed the first episode, but caught the second. And immediately saw what countless SURVIVOR detractors couldn't grasp unless they actually watched the show: It was good television.

First; it was good pictures. The island chosen as the backdrop couldn't have worked better in terms of telegenic beauty and pure escapism. Stock shots of the island and its wildlife brought SURVIVOR closer to great National Geographic broadcast than anything else on network TV. The footage of the participants was also surprisingly good, especially given what must have been insane shooting constraints. Production values; high.

Second; it was excellent TV. Okay, so the whole "desert island" thematic reminded me of boy scout summer camp. But going past that was a meticulously-oiled ratings machine, what with its carefully orchestrated contests/council drama, often misleading editing (what fun it would have been, to have a seat in the editing booth of SURVIVOR!) and bombastic posturing. No surprise why "voted off the island" became a summer 2000 catch-phrase. At a time where television is struggling to redefine itself as more than an outlet for films, soaps and news, SURVIVOR was a concept that could be realized only on the small screen and played to the medium's biggest strengths.

Third, but most importantly; grrreat characters. What SURVIVOR detractors all missed was that SURVIVOR succeeded on the strength of ordinary people. Not the viewers, but the 16 exhibitionists who agreed to go on an island for 40 days and play whatever role they -and the producers- chose. As Colleen said in one of the show's most self-aware moments, "wait a minute; we're not evil people, we just play some on TV!" No scriptwriter could have chosen a better cast of characters: Rudy, the crusty old navy SEAL. Rich, the arrogant strategist. Sean, the doofus doctor. Greg, the wacky kibitzer. Susan, the vindictive redneck... In the end, viewers bonded with the show's stars in a way that soap operas haven't managed in ages and networks wish they could.

And that's why people tuned in week after week; not only to see the winners, but to cheer or jeer for their favorites. SURVIVOR might go down in history as the ultimate big-budget illustration of Andy Warhol's oft-repeated "15 minutes of fame" maxim, but for a few weeks in 2000, it was a cultural phenomenon, a mass experience that people will remember a long time, a marker that will identify summer 2000 as surely as any other pop song or movie.

The final episode itself illustrated in a nutshell how good the show was, with stupid decisions by the contestants, nick-of-time victories, dramatic reversals and some awe-inspiring individual acts, from number-guessing to Navy steadfastness (Rudy, your kind of honor can't be bought!) and what may very well be the most savage put-down in the history of television. Stupendous TV any way you look at it.

Also notable; how the show must have stuck pretty well to the reality of what happened on the island. Through careful editing, it would have been easy to enhance the image of the final winner, or to demonize the losers in order to produce a more "feel-good" finale. But the producers resisted, and the result feels far more real than otherwise.

Producer Mark Burnett emerges from the whole experience with a reputation as a clever and savvy show-maker; witness how he deliberately misled pundits with false trails, "editing mistakes" and a web-based disinformation campaign. Bravo Mark; not only did you play the game as well as any of the survivors on the island, but you managed what was thought to be impossible in this day and age; keep a secret against all scrutiny!

Even after the show is over, the suspense isn't gone: How will the 16 castaways will survive the return to ordinary life? Who else will be interested in seeing what happens to them next?

It's too early to say if I'm going to be tuning in for the second installment of the SURVIVOR concept. Certainly, nothing will come close to the lightning-in-a-bottle success of the first one. But as long as they keep trying (much like SURVIVOR was a attempt to top the now-passé WHO WANT TO BE A MILLIONAIRE?), television will be interesting to watch.