BOOK REVIEWS

2001, Part K: November 2001

2001, Christian Sauvé

Featured books:

 

Dispatches from the Tenth Circle
The Onion

Three Rivers Press, 2001, 174 pages, $24.00 Can., ISBN 0-609-80834-6

I have long been a steadfast admirer of The Onion, a devastatingly funny web humor magazine with the guts to say out loud what most of us can't even conceive. That admiration became nothing short of worship on September 26, 2001, when The Onion was the first publication to face the 9-11-2001 tragedy with smart satire. (The "Holy F*cking Sh*t! Attack on America!" edition included such disturbing gems as "God Angrily Clarifies 'Don't Kill' Rule", "American Life Turns Into Bad Jerry Bruckheimer Movie" and "Hijackers surprised To Find Selves in Hell")

While Dispatches from the Tenth Circle doesn't contain post-2000 material, it represents your most accessible option to reward the good staff of The Onion: rush out to your local bookstore and pick it up, along with their previous Our Dumb Century.

Inside, you'll find 174 densely-packed pages of the best of The Onion over a period of a few years (roughly 1998-2000), a steady assortment of howlers and an unflinching look at today's North-American society. There aren't very many book out there that fully deserve their price tag, but if anything, Dispatches is a bargain even at cover cost.

I'd classify the Onion's shtick to be divided in four rough categories. My general favorite is the "full-blown satire" mode, with such articles as "Doritos Celebrates One Millionth Ingredient", "South Postpones Rising Again For Yet Another Year", "Coca-Cola Introduces New 30-Liter Size" or "Video-Game Characters Denounce Randomly Placed Swinging Blades"

Then there are the "Ironic twist on common headlines", such as "Supreme Court Overturns Car", "Loved Ones Recall Local Man's Cowardly Battle With Cancer", "Fun Toy Banned Because Of Three Stupid Dead Kids" or "ACLU Defend Nazis' Right To Burn Down ACLU Headquarters"

Some of the best laughs, of course, come from the "Slice of Daily Life" features, where stupid everyday stuff somehow headline material. Who can resist "Woman Who 'Loves Brazil' Has Only Seen Four Square Miles Of It", "Twelve Customers Gunned Down in Convenience-Store Clerk's Imagination" or "Graphic Designer's Judgment Clouded By Desire To Use New Photoshop Plug-in"?

I'm not generally a fan of the "Other Features" of The Onion, but the "What Do You Think?" often features small gems. A few Point/Counterpoint features ("You The Man / No, You The Man!", "My Computer Totally Hates Me! / God, Do I Hate That Bitch") can be priceless.

Don't skimp out on the details, either: Some of the best lines in Dispatch are hidden on the margins. Granted, the "STATshot" features are usually lame, but you can't beat such one-liners as "Standard Deviation Not Enough For Perverted Statistician", "Georgia Adds Swastika, Middle Finger To State Flag" and "Artist Starving For A Reason".

Funny? Damn straight. Expect to laugh aloud, groan, roll your eyes and quote the book for weeks afterward.

It's not stupid humor, mind you. If ever you happen to be familiar with one of the subjects lampooned in The Onion, you'll find that these guys know their stuff; it's very, very rare to catch them using an improper reference or to make an unintentional factual mistake.

Of course, the most seductive aspect of Dispatches is how clever it is underneath that veneer of hilarity. Pay attention, and you'll acknowledge hidden truths about today's world. The Onion's staff is not merely skilled at humor, but at social commentary. (A "vox populi" about middle-east violence includes "Maybe we should stop thinking of it as middle-eastern conflict and start thinking of it as middle-eastern culture." Ouch.)

Needless to say, Dispatches from the Tenth Circle is highly recommended. It makes a great gift, and should provide you with enough quotable/photocopiable material for a while. Don't you dare miss it, nor any of The Onion's other collections. Needless to say, you can always go to http://www.theonion.com/ for your weekly fix.

 

 

Time Future
Maxine McArthur

Warner Aspect, 1999 (2001ed), 445 pages, $9.99 Can. pb, ISBN 0-446-60963-3

Looking at the recent SF production of 1999-2001, it does seem ironic that at the very turn of the century, some of the most vital novels of the genre are from non-American authors. You might even call it the revenge of the British Commonwealth, what with Britain (Alastair Reynolds, Stephen Baxter) and Canada (Robert J. Sawyer, Robert Charles Wilson) churning up excellent material. Now Australia joins the pack, with the ubiquitous-yet-unseen Greg Egan, and now Maxine McArthur. It's much too early to say whether McArthur will establish herself as a first-rate writer, but Time Future is an interesting first novel that bodes well for her next.

Arriving on American shores in paperback form nearly two years after original publication, Time Future comes pre-packaged with a few choice quotes and even an award, the George Turner Prize for best Australian SF novel. Try to lower your expectations, though; at its heart, Time Future remains a standard space-station-bound space-opera the sort of which Babylon-5 did so well.

On the other hand, Babylon-5 never dropped its characters in such a prolonged nightmare: As Time Future begins, the Jocasta station's been under siege for over a year. No transit, no supplies, not even any communication with the outside universe. No trace of a rescue attempt either. Inside the station, things are looking grim, what with a growing refugee problem, failing environmental systems, increased hysteria amongst the factions aboard the station and no hope in sight.

Commander Halley is the one who must deal with this situation, and after more than a year, even the strongest women can falter under the constant stress. Nightmares, personality conflicts and plain desperation are her daily torments. As if that wasn't enough, the novel piles up the difficulties: The blockading aliens want to talk to her, the alien factions inside the station aren't helping at all, a mysterious ship is cause for more questions than answers, an alien trader is killed in an impossible fashion and her estranged alien ex-husband comes back to haunt her.

It's definitely not a cheerful novel. No one will be blamed if they're tempted to fast-forward rather than slog through more than 400+ pages of claustrophobia, depression, no hot showers and constant peril.

Through it all, though, McArthur creates a fascinating universe. Perhaps reflecting Australia's geopolitical status vis-a-vis the United States, her humans are merely bit-players on the galactic stage. They barely rent out faster-than-light travel, own a station more through chance than merit (it's not even human-built) and more or less acknowledge that they can be wiped out at any time. Hmm. (Someone could build a fascinating thesis comparing and contrasting this attitude against the British post-colonialism and the American hegemonism. But that's not going to happen in this review.)

As far as the novel itself is concerned, Time Future is merely adequate. It can be read, and eventually picks up some narrative steam, but it's not much of a page-turner. The details are convincing but not mesmerizing. The writing doesn't flow as easily as it should for a mystery/adventure such as this one. The characterization is well-done, though maybe more by piling up problems on the characters rather than making them sympathetic. (The protagonist herself is afflicted with yet another one of those "murdered relatives" trauma.)

Still, it's a relatively enjoyable novel. The mystery isn't as interesting as it thinks it is (not all the required facts are available to the reader from the onset), but it's fun to piece together the various parts of the narrative. Hey, it's a promising debut.

Finally, it occurs to this reviewer that the claustrophobic setting of the Jocasta station is in fact an ideal way to introduce the first novel in a space-opera series. Further volumes may uncover and fully use the complexity of the galaxy unveiled in Time Future, much like David Brin's Uplift series had to wait until volume six to really expand the scope of the action. Who knows?

 

 

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Publishing Science Fiction
Cory Doctorow & Karl Schroeder

Alpha Books, 2000, 360 pages, $25.95 Can. tp, ISBN 0-02-863918-9

One of the most unlikely publishing trends of the nineties has been the Dummies' Guide to... series of books, along with the inevitable knock-offs, such as -surprise- the Complete Idiot's Guide to.... Using a voluntarily provocative title as a hook for a series of excellent reference works, the publishers of these two series have moved away from the obvious computer training manuals to delve into subjects we might not have expected from dummies guides.

Publishing Science-Fiction is one of those unlikely subjects. Few would be prompt to categorize idiots as a prime demographic for writing SF—though the jury is still out on Star Trek readers. Delve beyond the silly title, however, and you'll find the best book on the market to teach, as it says, how to publish Science-Fiction.

Rising Canadian SF superstars Cory Doctorow (2000 Campbell Prize Winner) and Karl Schroeder (Ventus, The Claus Effect, etc.) have put together a step-by-step guide to writing SF where the only ingredient missing is determination. This Guide starts with an introduction to the genre, of course, then moves on to the essential mechanics and techniques of SF writing. The authors don't try to teach how to write as much as they highlight the differences between SF and other types of literature. As could be expected from a general guide, their explanations are limpid and eminently accessible.

But the Guide doesn't stop there. Once the stories are written, the hard part begins: they have to be sold! It's no accident is this is a guide to publishing rather than writing SF: Doctorow and Schroeder spend more than half the book discussing how to build a professional SF-writing career, from the initial story sales to fiscal considerations whenever a significant fraction of your income comes from book royalties. While this will probably annoy any "true artist" in the crowd, very few resources actually deal with material considerations for budding authors.

Through it all, the Guide really represents a cause for minor astonishment at market forces: Given such a niche market fed by only a few hundred authors, who could have contemplated a market for a book on how to become a pro SF writer?

This being said, it's not as if only budding writers will benefit from reading the Guide. By lucidly explaining the mechanics and distinctions of SF, Doctorow and Schroeder have also allowed the rest of us a glimpse at the hidden engines of modern Science Fiction. For instance, their discussion of SF character-building [Chapter 11] -and the embodiment of SF themes in events rather than characters-, will be enlightening to fans and critics of the field by explaining why SF works like it does. The first part of the guide, which introduces SF to the masses, is also invaluable in providing a succinct, but thorough overview of the field. Naturally, the glimpse in the dirty mechanics of the SF publishing industry will also help any avid fan to understand the market forces driving the field.

The Guide is a reference book that knows how to grow with its owner. While most will initially pay more attention to the earlier parts, the latter sections of the book -on self-promotion, awards and contracts- become more important as the writer matures in his chosen profession.

Finally, it's worth noting that the book is a delight to read from start to finish, thanks to its efficient structure and the accessible style of the authors. Good fun, even if it doesn't directly concern you.

In short there isn't a lot to dislike about the Guide. While already occasionally dated barely a year after release (Please note that the accompanying web site has moved to http://www.kschroeder.com/guide/ ), most of its advice will remain effective for a long time. Check it out at the local library if it sounds interesting to you, and definitely consider buying it if you think you want to be a pro SF writer.

 

 

Sea Fighter
James H. Cobb

Jove, 2000, 513 pages, $9.99 Can. pb, ISBN 0-515-12982-8

Over the past year, I've read so many limp military thrillers (Brown's Fatal Terrain, Rugerro's The Common Defense, Stewart's The Kill Box, etc...) that I had almost forgotten what it felt like to read a genuinely entertaining one. Fortunately, James H. Cobb's Sea Fighter was there to make me believe in the genre again.

What often happens with military-series writers is that they eventually get stale, don't renew their premises, barely allow for character growth and simply lose touch with how to write an exciting novel. Not so here: After two similar novels, Cobb shuffles the deck with skill, and Sea Strike continues the series with sustained originality.

The novel's first few pages are deliciously jarring, as protagonist Garrett writes a "If you read this, I'm dead..." letter from a marine platform a few miles away from the African coast. Veteran readers of the series will be immediately concerned; where's "the Duke", the high-tech destroyer that starred in the first few books? What is Amanda doing, planning to lead a ground expedition in Africa?

The next few pages lay it out for us; the USS Cunningham is in dry-dock for repairs after the events of Sea Strike, and Amanda Garrett's been offered a post coordinating the UN forces in a nasty little war in Africa. This sets up a devilishly clever scenario where the might of the US military is handicapped by political concerns to such a degree where a battle with an African navy becomes more of a test of cleverness than a war of firepower. Garrett is forced to out-think a dangerously intelligent antagonist and win the war through unconventional means... a intellectual contest in which the biggest winner is the reader.

From large-scale naval engagements, Garrett is forced to move to coastal tactics and gadgets. Amphibious crafts and SEAL-team tactics are in the foreground in Sea Fighter, which is a nice change of pace and a welcome renewal of Cobb's fiction. The featured techno-gadgets here are the titular "Seafighters", experimental armed hovercrafts that do pretty much everything including cutting and dicing. The new tactical capabilities of the "Air Cushion Gunboats" are a good excuse for new tactics and original spectacular scenes; Cobb has a lot of fun with his gadgets, and so do the readers. Now that we've seen the first military novel about hovercrafts, I'm waiting for one on hydrofoils.

It's been an axiom of mine that you can reliably gauge the worth of a military technothriller by the number of Cool Scenes it features. Sea Fighter ranks highly on that scale, with an assortment of well-narrated battle scenes, clever maneuvering on both sides of the conflict and accessible political/strategic considerations. The care with which the antagonist is established as a nuanced opponent is one of the highlights of the novel and yet another facet of Cobb's skill.

While war is a grim subject and current real-world conflict headlines are hardly amusing, military novels are a different things, and indeed the best of them can also be distinguished by a sense of compulsive fun. Sea Fighter understands this perfectly and is quick to establish the book's main conflict as a chess game in which moves and countermoves alternate in a compulsively readable fashion.

Don't make the mistake of assuming that it's all simplistic fluff, though; the geopolitics of Sea Strike are plausible and realistic to a degree that is far more convincing than some of its brethrens. Cobb can also rely on an impressive catalogue of historical references. Here, a raid on enemy lines isn't presented as a cowboy manoeuvre, but a Civil War tactic adapted to modern times.

It all adds up to an intelligent and entertaining war novel. Dig deeper and you'll see Sea Fighter as a true example of the dirty-little-wars era military novel, where reduced stakes don't mean a reduced interest for the reader. Grab it as soon as possible if you're a fan of the genre. Don't forget to pick up the rest of the Cobb oeuvre while you're at it.

 

 

Marrow
Robert Reed

Tor, 2000, 502 pages, $9.99 Can pb, ISBN 0-812-56657-2

Readers of these reviews won't be surprised to learn that I don't necessarily review everything that I read. Aside from my technical/reference reading, there are a considerable number of books that are either too inconsequential or too boring to review at length. Over any given period, I will review one book in three or four that I read.

While it's relatively easy to praise or condemn a book, it's much harder to find ~650 words about a book that didn't even register in the first place. Unfortunately, I also try to review every recent SF book that I buy, if only to justify my SF purchases. With Robert Reed's Marrow, I find myself with a conflict. I want to review it because it's recent SF. Yet I don't want to review it because it's such a blah book.

It's long. It takes place over thousands of years. It features only a dozen characters, and not many of those are of any interest. For ten Canadian dollars, you can get a much better book.

And yet... here goes:

Let's start with the premise, arguably the best thing about Marrow: It all takes place in a big alien ship. A really big alien ship. I don't exactly recall the dimensions, nor can I be bothered to dig them up, but it's such a big alien ship that humans eventually discover a Mars-sized planet deep inside after a few hundred thousand years of occupation. Mars-sized. And they'd sort of never found it before. Big alien ship.

Due to life-extension technology, the lifespan of our characters is virtually infinite barring any unfortunate accidents. This has two important consequences on the plot of the novel. First, these characters think nothing of waiting a few hundred years before doing something. Second, we can never be totally sure they're dead until their individual atoms are fissioned. There are more fakeouts in Marrow than there are in an entire season of your favorite soap-opera.

The plot involves a few hundred senior ship officers being stranded on the Mars-like planet as no-one ever goes to look for them. Thousands of years (and hundreds of pages) pass. They eventually manage to re-create a complete industrial civilization and go back to the ship, only to discover a dastardly plot to take over the ship. There's a war in which millions of sentient beings die. There is an ending of sort. The end.

Now milk out all the drama out of the above, add in some spurious pseudo-melodrama and let fester for five hundred pages. Your result will look a lot like Marrow; good potential, but it's just not a lot of fun. I was lucky enough to be stuck witnessing a day-long management conference with the book as my only friend. It was probably the most efficient way to make me read a book I didn't care too much about.

And that, in a nutshell, is all you need to know about Marrow: I didn't care too much about it. Certainly didn't love it, but neither did it actively start annoying me. It just... was.

Unfortunately, that means that your hard-won entertainment dollars (and your even more precious entertainment-time) can be spent more efficiently elsewhere. Bruce Sterling. Learning Spanish. A yo-yo. Heck, even a Hollywood movie. Oh, Reed completists will presumably love it, if they exists. Some SF critics may be tempted to read it if only to find out how some exciting ideas can be ruined by tepid writing. Many of us, though, may very well just not care. Too bad.