Author: Christian Sauvé

  • "So, What Are the Boys Saying?", Michel Gratton

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Paperjack, 1987, 294 pages, C$4.95 mmpb, ISBN 0-7701-0976-4

    Living near Ottawa like I am, (and currently working as a part-time civil servant) it’s impossible to be indifferent to the continuous stream of political commentary coming down from Parliament Hill and its assorted observers. Canadian politics might be appreciated only by a select group of Canadians (if not anyone else) but when it rocks, it rocks.

    For anyone south of the border not following Great White North Politics, don’t bother to read further.

    In 1984, Michel Gratton went from being columnist at the French-Canadian newspaper Le Droit to being a member of Mulroney’s Prime Minister Office as his deputy press secretary. He stayed there until 1987, when he was driven to resignation by a hostile press corps, an indifferent government and unsavory allegations of misconduct.

    Gratton’s stint as a member of Mulroney’ staff neatly paralleled the incredible rise, and as incredible (first) fall of one of Canada’s most interesting Prime Minister. “So, What are the boys saying?” is the chronicle of these three years.

    And what three years they were! Coming from almost nowhere, Brian Mulroney won the election under John Turner’s nose in the biggest landslide in Canadian Politics history. The fatal blow for the Liberals happened during one of the televised debates, when Mulroney thoroughly slammed Turner on the issue of patronage, calling him a liar on national TV.

    The first half of Gratton’s book tells of the election, and introduces the principal players of the book. The tale is told crisply, and this part of the book reads more like a Canadian version of Primary Colors than anything else. (minus the odd sexual scandal involving the candidate, although there’s something about John Turner and backside-patting here… but I digress.) The bit about the fateful televised debate is especially exciting, a real-life event that has its place in political fiction.

    But power had a few surprises for the Conservatives. Not only did the Canadian electorate recover with their temporary infatuation with the Conservatives, but the Mulroney government had to deal with a seemingly-unbreakable chain of various scandals. Rotten fish, shady land deals, inflated expense accounts and other misconducts shook the Conservative approval rating until is had sunk to impressive lows.

    This section of the book also deals with Mulroney abroad, and visits of foreign dignitaries in Canada. The various stories about the arrogant American press office are almost worth the price of the book itself…

    Boys is incredibly engrossing reading. The style is brisk, frequently hilarious, and studded with carefully chosen anecdotes. Gratton’s journalistic instincts makes this an exceptional overview of the Canadian political scene during the mid-eighties.

    But Gratton’s own story is less fascinating. An autobiography works better when you can like the person telling it, and that’s not really the case with Gratton: The book turns sour near the end, when he is accused of sexual harassment by a few ex-girlfriends (of which we are told there are many). Not only is Gratton’s character put in question, but his own revelations make him appear more as an unlikable lout than a wrongfully accused man.

    Still, it’s worthwhile reading for the select few interested in Canadian politics. Unfortunately, while Gratton’s book nicely wraps up his own involvement with the Mulroney government, it only tells half the tale. Events after 1987 would find Mulroney’s Conservatives re-elected with a majority, only to be nuked out of the political landscape in 1993 after a lackluster five years of government which would see such quiet revolutions as Free Trade, a new Federal tax (the GST) and another string of scandals… The wheel turns!

  • The Rise of Endymion, Dan Simmons

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Bantam Spectra, 1997, 579 pages, C$32.95 hc, ISBN 0-553-10652-X

    There’s SF and then there’s SF.

    The difference between the two, as the saying goes, is unquantifiable yet evident. The difference between the average SF novel and the Hyperion series is similarly hard to isolate, yet there is no doubt that it is there.

    The Rise of Endymion is the fourth -and last, we’re told- volume of the enormously popular “Hyperion” series, by Dan Simmons. Since the first two volumes came out in 1989 and 1990, most serious SF fans have since read the two first volumes of the series. The Hyperion Cantos (Simmon’s name for the first two books) delighted jaded and newer readers alike with a complex story that seemingly used almost every Science-Fiction device in existence. The style was marvelous, the ending was apocalyptic and the ensemble was simply awe-inspiring.

    Endymion fast-forwarded a few centuries after, and posited an empire built by a Christian Church with the literal power of resurrection. But most of the novel’s 500-odd pages was about an extended chase between the Church and a trio composed of a young girl, a blue android and a wholly average man called Raul Endymion.

    At the beginning of the fourth volume, events conspire to bring the young girl, now destined for messiah-status, out of hiding and in direct combat against the Church. More adventures, more revelations, more ends of empires ensue. Characters meet fates that are mostly tragic.

    The Rise of Endymion has the merit of not only being a good book in itself, but also of enhancing its prequel. Whereas Endymion seemed to go nowhere slowly, The Rise of Endymion finally delivers the payoffs of all setups. Enigmas held mysterious ever since the first volume (the identity of the Shrike, the role of the cruciforms) are explained, and the seemingly senseless travelogue of book three now makes more sense. (It’s still too long, but that’s a flaw shared by this book too.)

    Simmons weaves into his tale a great many thoughts about information ages, religion, sentience, poetry and theo/philosophy. Yet, surprisingly, this space-opera is not harmed by such statements as “love is one of the universe’s major forces” and a ritual of blood-drinking that’s part salvation, part bizarrely Christian. These musings go on for pages at a time; whether or not you’ll find them interesting is up to personal preference. As a heroine, Aenea is a bit of a cypher… but that’s completely intentional.

    There are also a few inconsistencies, much of them due to the inherent nature of A> time travel, B> the gift of prophecy or C> antagonists set up as all-powerful but ending up being fought with bare hands.

    Old friends of the Hyperion saga make their final (sometime surprising) appearances. The role of Colonel Kassad and Rachel Weintraub, in particular, are quite unexpected, but still logical. No long-standing fan of the series should be disappointed by the pilgrims’ final fates.

    Ultimately, though, it’s not the galaxy-spanning tale of corrupt religion and messianic fate that holds The Rise of Endymion together: It’s the love story between Aenea and Raul Endymion. In a genre where romance is so shoddily treated, it’s nice (yes, nice) to find at least one example of solid SF married to solid romance. It does takes a while to begin, and a further while to be believable, but the payoff is one of the most gripping conclusion in recent memory.

    The characters are great (all of them), the prose is superb (truly some of the best in the genre) and this novel has the unusual quality of making you feel in addition of making you think. For this, and more, The Rise of Endymion isn’t only good, but great. Read it and weep.

    [April 1998: Rise of Endymion is nominated for the 1998 Hugo Awards.] [September 1998:…but doesn’t win.]

  • What if the Moon didn’t exist?, Neil F. Comins

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Harper Collins, 1993, 315 pages, C$26.75 hc, ISBN 0-06-016864-1

    “What if” is one of the most important concepts in human thought. It’s the bridge between imagination and knowledge. It is the written expression of curiosity and inquiry. It is the first step toward any new discovery. It should be the motto of Speculative Fiction. It is the reason behind What if the Moon didn’t exist?

    But whereas SF writers might postulate, dramatize and dispose of in a few pages without any scientific rationale, Moon‘s author “is a professor of Astronomy and Physics at the University of Maine.” This isn’t just a collection of fancy questions: Comins answers them in more detail than you ever would have wanted to know.

    For instance, if the Moon didn’t exist, not only would nights be much darker, but the Earth would not have been slowed down by tidal forces. Consequently, you could expect lower tides, hurricane winds (up to 400kph), high waves, rapid erosion, a stronger magnetic field, a later appearance of life on the planet, shorter days (8-hour days) and a generally harder time for anything approaching intelligence. All explained in meticulous detail.

    But Comins isn’t satisfied with only explaining what would have happened if the Moon didn’t exist: He goes on to explore the effects of a closer moon; a less massive Earth; a more massive sun; a nearby supernova; a black hole impact… among others.

    In concept, Moon is a good idea. In execution, it manages to be only worthwhile. The biggest flaw is the style, which is fairly readable, but not gripping nor densely fascinating as a few other science non-fiction authors. To put it simply; there’s no compelling reason to keep on reading Moon beside mild intellectual curiosity.

    Alas, there are also a few gratuitous extrapolations to marr the book, probably the most glaring being that beings of the high-wind moon-less Earth could very well develop telepathy. Uh-huh.

    Then there’s the fact that Moon is at time a relentless propaganda piece for environmentalists. The last chapter, in fact, is about ozone depletion. The remainder of the book is often of the type “See how we’re lucky?” It might have been interesting to see Comins imagine a better Earth than our Earth. Alien freaks and nonpartisans of the anthropomorphic theory will be disappointed while reading this book: The chances of intelligent life existing elsewhere in the galaxy are more remote with every chapter of the book.

    Still, it’s an interesting work. While it doesn’t quite attain expectations, it’s still a welcome refresher on the forces that make our planet tick. SF writers should take a look at Moon to learn how to do decent world-building, and curious laypersons should at least browse through the most interesting chapters. What if the Moon didn’t exist? is an average non-fiction book with a clever premise but an ordinary result.

  • But I Digress, Peter David

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Krause, 1993, 256 pages, US$14.95 tpb, ISBN 0-87341-286-9

    Peter David describes himself as a “writer of stuff”.

    For instance, you might know him as the writer of some of the best Star Trek novels ever written—from the hilarious Q-in-Law to the maudlin Imzadi. Or you might know him as the writer of a few Babylon-5 episodes (“Soul Mates”, “There the Honor Lies”). You might remember his name on a few novelisations (The Rocketeer, Babylon-5: In the Beginning), or a few movies whose scripts he wrote (TRANCERS IV, OBLIVION). You might know him as the writer of several comics, from X-Men to Spider-man. Or, you might even remember him as the writer of one infuriating column in Comic Buyer’s Guide, “But I Digress”.

    But I Digress collect almost three year’s worth of columns from the eponymous series. Covering a wide range of subjects -from the obvious comics, to Star Trek, to movies, conventions and more serious social issues, But I Digress is also a self-revealing portrait by one of the most versatile “writer of stuff” today.

    Peter David has the gift of writing in a way that will not leave you indifferent. Most of the time, he will make you laugh. That’s David’s trademark and he doesn’t disappoint here. Don’t miss “An Animated Discussion”, a panel reuniting Disney’s favorite heroines: it’s a hoot, much like David’s recommendations to budding comic writers. (“Don’t bother coming up with a mutant team called ‘X-Crement’. Better men than you have already tried it.”) and anecdotes from the convention circuit. The book is full of zippy one-liners that will make you laugh aloud… Hey, better that than a sharp stick in the eye!

    But David is also able to bring the reader to serious reflection of serious issues, bringing the same verve to social commentary than to comic discussions. He is someone who cares about stuff in addition of writing about it. His first L.A. travelogue is especially poignant.

    Since these are columns published in a comic magazine for comic readers, it’s a fair bet to state that this will appeal more to faithful comic buyers that the general public. Readers unfamiliar with the wonderful world of comic publishing will feel lost in the first pages. Which isn’t to say that it’s completely inaccessible: This reviewer was eventually able to piece up a coherent picture of the comics industry with minimal outside sources.

    It’s a testament to David’s writing skills that this book can be read in a flash. More like an assortment of tasty treats than a full-blown meal (to fall back on culinary metaphors again), But I Digress is great entertainment with an unusually high re-readability factor. A fairly complete index will help casual readers find their bearings.

    [Byline: Reviewer Christian Sauvé is a Reader of Stuff.]

  • Wag The Dog (1997)

    Wag The Dog (1997)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, January 1998) Let’s face it: January’s a rotten month for first-run moviegoing. It’s either shlocko-B-Grade-late-night-TV fare dumped by the studios in the middle of the winter because there’s got to be something on the screens during the month, or else a few Oscar hopeful released late in December in a few major markets for academy consideration, and who get wider release in January. Among them… Wag The Dog. An American president is accused of sexual misconduct with a young female. One crack spin doctor gets on the case and diverts the attention of the public with threats of war. A Hollywood producer is hired. It ain’t real-life, although in Mid-January 1998, we could almost feel ourselves being pulled slowly in a Phil K. Dick novel where current events were being uncannily predicted by Hollywood. Wag The Dog will probably pass into history as being at the right places at exactly the right time, but fortunately the movie remains decent on its own terms. Unfortunately, the script isn’t as good as it could have been. The unlikeliness of the described situation -despite the above paragraph, I stand by the word “unlikeliness”- is such that a deliberately over-the-top treatment (à la, heh-heh-heh, The Producers) would have been vastly more successful. To put it simply, Wag The Dog‘s premise is neat but doesn’t have a lot of relevance. So why try? On the other hand, Dustin Hoffman is quite funny after a while, and Anne Heche does a fine bit of window-dressing. If Robert DeNiro is a bit dull (intentionally), Dennis Leary and William H. Macy are great during their short screen time. I liked it, but it’s far from being one of my favorite films of 1997.

  • Nano, Ed Regis

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Little Brown, 1995, 325 pages, C$29.95 hc, ISBN 0-316-73858-1

    If you don’t find the future terrifying, you haven’t been there. Yet.

    I just made up this epigram, (write to me if you use it) but maybe it should be the motto of every serious futurist. More and more, the pace of progress is increasing. The old adage about how things change to remain the same simply doesn’t hold true anymore: What we’re seeing in the crystal ball is that we’re on the brink of massive, irreversible and completely alien changes that will forever alter the face of the human race.

    I’m overreacting? Barely. Consider Genetic Engineering. In maybe a decade (probably less), we’ll be able to fiddle with genes well enough to correct most of humankind’s worst flaws. Myopia? Diabetes? Arrhythmia? Crooked teeth? Gone, gone, all of them! You’ve heard it from elsewhere; let’s not go in more detail here. Genetic Engineering has the potential to do… well… almost everything.

    (Digression: Genengineering might be, evolutionary speaking, the only way for a sufficiently advanced civilization to survive. Reason being that civilization stops natural evolution, and there must be something -short of eugenics- to ensure the betterment of the species, right?)

    Even before reading Nano, I thought that nanotechnology might have an even bigger impact. Now I’m sure of it.

    Nano is a layman’s account of the new proto-science of nanotechnology. I say proto-science because it’s fairly young, and it’s not a “traditional” science that fits in easily with physics, chemistry or biology. Nanotech is, simply, the study and manipulation of objects at the atomic level. What can you do with it? Everything.

    Machines able to rearrange matter atom-by atom could be tailored to build any imaginable object. Repair your body. Kill viruses. Provide food from dirt. Power your car. Completely destroy any object and re-use the raw atoms to make a brand-new (or well-thumbed) copy of Dune. Whatever. Nano explains it in crystal-clear details. Make no mistake, Nano is a book-length pamphlet about nanotech and why you should be prepared for it.

    But Nano is also very much the story of Eric Drexler. Drexler, while still an undergraduate, hit upon the theoretical notion of manipulating atoms. The remainder of his life so far has been dedicated at making this concept a reality and Nano describes the obstacles he had to face, from incredulity to lack of academic recognition.

    The book advances more or less chronologically, following Drexler’s career and occasionally looking into parallel tracks. We progressively get caught in the excitement of the subject, and by the end of the book, you should be as much a convert to nanotech than Regis wants you to be. A few photos (not enough) illustrate this book.

    The two biggest assets of Nano are its mind-blowing subject, and a limpid style. Ed Regis should get kudos for an exceptional job of bringing a heady subject to everyone’s level. I learned stuff, and I had a good time while doing it. I can’t think of higher praise for non-fiction books.

    What’s more, Nanotech is important. It’s the wildcard of all of our future, it’s the siren song for most SF, it could be the last technical innovation. When it will happen (and there are few theoretical reasons why it should not), everything will change. Read Nano. Be prepared. Preview the future.

  • Distress, Greg Egan

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Millennium, 1995, 343 pages, C$18.95 tpb, ISBN 1-85798-285-1

    Greg Egan!

    To hordes of discerning Hard-SF fans (how do you call a quantity of Hard-SF fans? A Mole? A Kilofan? A Clement? Never mind…), an almost-Pavlovian drooling reflex engages when hearing the name. Greg Egan is one of the most capable new writers of pure, undiluted Hard-SF. In a market cornered by fat fantasy trilogies, and media-SF derivates, this willingness to play with the net up is quite laudable.

    Not only is Egan capable to write Hard-SF, but he’s also willing to tackle some of the biggest issues there are. His first three SF novels are concerned with cosmology, quantum realities, Theories of Everything, consciousness, and other not-quite-pedestrian subjects.

    What makes reading Egan a blast is the apparently effortless idea-tossing found in his fiction: Almost every page contains a new surprising concept, and Egan seldom neglects to explore the consequence of his extrapolations. His stories also make heavy use of biology, a facet of science too often neglected by Hard-SF (usually identified with cold, dependably mathematic physics.) His short stories (collected in Axiomatic) garnered raves everywhere. Now, his novels are doing the same.

    Distress begins with a bang, as a video-journalist witnesses the temporary resurrection of a murder victim by police authorities. The sequence is chillingly effective, and goes a long way to establish both the tone and the protagonist of the novel.

    Soon enough, we get into the main story of the novel, which is a conference taking place on a man-made tropical country, dealing with the holy grail of modern physics: Theories of Everything. If the novel’s protagonist used of his influence to cover the event, he’ll soon discover that he’s up to his neck in shadowy dealings with entities whose goals are either laughable, or all-important.

    And despite a few odd turns of plot, Egan manages to keep all of this pretty well balanced until the last hundred pages, where everything dissolves in a wave of intentionally confusing reversals. Egan is always stronger in beginnings than conclusions (especially when he makes up his mind to reformat the universe at the end of his novels), and Distress is no exception.

    But as they say, the trip is half the voyage: Greg Egan has the too-rare ability to conjure up truly believable futures. Unlike other authors who limit their world-building to fancy cars and a sprinkling of neologisms, Egan can extrapolate like the best of them, and the result is -no other word for it- tasty.

    In fact, culinary metaphors might be the most appropriate to discuss Distress. Like intricate hors-d’oeuvres, our appetite is whetted by the small details of the protagonist’s ordinary life before springing on us the main course; the trip to the conference. Egan’s take on 21st century theoretical physics makes up most of the nutritive content of the novel. Chef Egan puts too much sugar in his desserts, however, and the overall impression of the meal is marred by the too-rich endings.

    Nevertheless, Distress is another success for Egan, and deserves to be celebrated by Hard-SF fans everywhere. It should be out shortly in US-paperback format so interested readers shouldn’t wait to grab it before long.

  • Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)

    Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, December 1997) So this is what happened to James Bond after The Rock: A lot of action, but not much of a solid plot. Still, better than Goldeneye. Pierce Brosnan is a great James Bond. As if killer gadgets, a lovely credit sequence and a few great lines weren’t enough, we get Michelle Yeoh as the very best Bond girl ever. Tomorrow Never Dies is far from being a very good Bond (Bad usage of Teri Hatcher, strange impression of deja-vu versus other Bond movies) but it’s as entertaining as anything we’ve come to expect from the franchise. Even spending the entire movie being half-sick standing against the rear wall of the movie theatre didn’t torpedo the experience for me.

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, September 2019) Time has been kind to Tomorrow Never Dies, especially when you compare it to some of the later entries in the series. Fresh off the renewal that was Goldeneye, this second Pierce Brosnan outing gets back to the basics of the Formula without too much second-guessing. We’re back to grandiose villains, Bond girls, big stunts and ingenious gadgets, handled competently. Brosnan’s take on Bond is endearing in these second installments, blending character traits in a format acceptable to the 1990s… and later decades. Jonathan Pryce turns in a striking villain, one that still has relevance now in an era of normalized lying. Teri Hatcher doesn’t have much of a role here, but Michelle Yeoh remains one of the best bond girls in the series, combining beauty, wit and action chops to rank as Bond’s equal. (It helps that in the Brosnan era, Bond actually cares quite a bit about his partners). Action-wise, we’re in the late nineties and that means over-the-top action sequences, a bit too aggressively edited but impressive in their panache — I particularly liked watching the Hamburg parking-lot chase (with Bond chuckling in the back seat at the effectiveness of his gadgets), but the Hanoi motorcycle chase also has its strong moments. The James Bond theme gets one of its better remixes here thanks to David Arnold.  Ricky Jay shows up at the brains of the evil outfit, while Judy Dench once again takes the M role to the next level. Compared to the Goldeneyeand a surprising number of its successors, Tomorrow Never Dies is straight Bond formula competently executed, something that I’d like to see once more after the off-brand and intermittently interesting entries in the Craig era. You liking of it (especially compared to its immediate predecessor) will depend on whether you’re in the mood for a straight-up, no-flourishes Bond adventure.

  • Titanic (1997)

    Titanic (1997)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, December 1997) 200$M movie worth every penny. Director James Cameron proves once again that he’s one of the best film-makers around with this -mostly- seamless hybrid of romance and disaster genre. Despite a disappointing script (still better than most of what we’ve seen this year), Titanic is tremendously moving, and never bores despite lasting 3h15. Exceptional special effects and unforgettable shots highlight one of the first movies to use digital effects in a truly mature fashion. This might not be my favourite movie of the year (even though it’s close) but it’s certainly one of the best.

  • The Last Boy Scout (1991)

    The Last Boy Scout (1991)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On VHS, December 1997) There is a cathartic need for stupid action movies where the down-on-his-luck tough guy hero gets to know a wisecracking sidekick, regain the affection and admiration of his rebellious teenage daughter, make his adulterous wife beg for forgiveness (and call her a slut with her full approval), indirectly kill all bad guys by the end of the movie, throw punches to everyone not even remotely sympathetic and play with big guns ‘n fast cars. That this one stars Bruce Willis is a bonus. (There’s also a cathartic need for two-line reviews that include an obscenely long phrase…)

  • An Exchange of Hostages, Susan R. Matthews

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Avonova, 1997, 372 pages, C$7.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-380-78913-2

    Do you trust cover blurbs?

    Most of the time, I do. I tend to stick with publishers who know what their audience expect, so I’m rarely disappointed by the relation between plot summary blurbs and actual novel content (a pleasant exception are Robert J. Sawyer’s novels, when you get more in the book than what is presupposed by the blurb, but I digress…) (Cover illustrations are another entirely different thing, but I’ll stop talking about that right now lest I begin to digress again…)

    But do you trust author’s comments on book covers? (“Good” -Author Nonymous) Here, the situation’s more complex, depending on your gullibility quotient, you appreciation of Author Nonymous, and all that’s in between. But most of the time, you can get clues. If there’s something like (“I loved it” -Saddam Hussein), then…

    (Book reviewers can also extract useful pointers for their reviews by re-reading other people’s comments… but it’s not like I do that… ahem… oh, seems like I’m digressing again!)

    So when you see something like (“Susan R. Matthews simply doesn’t flinch” -Stephen R. Donaldson), you just know that you’re holding potentially nauseous material. Donaldson, renowned as the author of some of the most displeasing cycles around (The Gap cycle, the Chronicles of Thomas the Uncovenant, etc…) calling Matthews unflinching? A bit like: Pot to Kettle; “Hey wow, I like your shade of black!”

    So what is An exchange of Hostages? At the core, it’s yet another one of those “training-camp” novels, like Starship Troopers, Ender’s Game and shelves of other SF books. Who says training camp also says “personal development” novel, and so An Exchange of Hostages is the story of Andrej Koscuisko, heir to an empire and “promising young surgeon”. At the beginning of the story, he enters (against his will, but what can you say when your daddy’s the Big Boss?) an academy where they train Ship Inquisitors. In other words, he’s going to learn the fine art of… torture.

    Ouch.

    While at this point some readers are hurtling the book against a wall, others are raising the objection that a civilized galactic empire can’t expect to use torture as a formal part of their judiciary system. While that’s an excellent objection, it’s also irrelevant: An Exchange of Hostages is one of those stories (much like fantasy-type allegories) which depend on a single assumed factor. You either swallow it or you don’t.

    This is an extraordinarily powerful novel. As his training advances, Koscuisko will find out that his training and skills as surgeon at first hinder, then facilitate his progress. Much like the reader, he will be disgusted by the tasks he’ll be asked to performed, then achieve a more jaded outlook. Along the way, he will make unexpected friends. The protagonist’s relation with his personal slave is one of the surprises of the novel.

    It’s never a pleasing story. But it’s engrossing reading. Despite all my preconceptions, I found myself devouring pages after pages, finding out more about Kocuisko’s fate. As a novel, An Exchange of Hostages would be more or less unremarkable if it wasn’t for the special nature of the training camp. As such, I expect opinion to be sharply polarized around the novel, with definite camps for or against it.

    In view of this, the only recommendation I can give is that you have to like hard edges, uncompromising plot-lines and quiet, character-driven SF to like this one. Even then, I think a lot of potential readers will abandon the book before completing it. It remains to be seen what else Matthews will write next.

    [April 1998: Prisoner of Conscience is the second book in Matthews’s series about a doctor-cum-torturer in an interstellar empire heavily dependant on this form of… interrogation. The first volume, An Exchange of Hostages wasn’t for squeamish readers, but was an interesting bildungsroman with well-defined characters, an engrossing plot and a few hard lessons. Prisoner of Conscience loses most of these attributes. The result is an excruciatingly long and uninvolving read. Following the rather trivial plot of this second book, I can see this series becoming something like an aimless eight-book series especially beloved by S&M enthusiasts. A plot should back up Matthews’s bloodlust, or else it’s just torture for us as well as the characters. For me at least, the series probably stops here.]

  • The Truth Machine, James L. Halperin

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Del Rey, 1996, 395 pages, C$8.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-345-41288-5

    To readers immersed in pure Science-Fiction, it’s something of a shock to discover that the language and assumptions of SF aren’t universal; for instance, a superbly crafted genre-SF novel might be completely lost on a romance reader, for the reason that the romance reader simply hasn’t got the necessary background to easily deal with hyperspace, nanotechnology and virtual realities. This isn’t as much a comment on intelligence as on inexperience: Similarly, witness reactions to horror movies, from the neophyte “Eeeeew!” to the jaded “Cheezy!”

    Similarly, an author approaching the genre without the benefit of a few years’ experience with the genre (say, from reading a few hundred SF books) can illuminate the various eccentricities of (our) SF.

    Take for instance James L. Halperin’s The Truth Machine. It began as a self-published novel on the Internet, was published by Ivy Press, and then by Del Rey for paperback release. Del Rey curiously labelled the novel without the “Science” in front of “Fiction”, even though The Truth Machine is all about the consequences of a perfect truth machine. Hard-core SF fans will approve when we point out that the core of SF is the exploration of effects and consequences of change, whether it’s technological, social or otherwise.

    (Incidentally, The Truth Machine is still one of the only instances of widely successful self-publishing on the Internet. If you’re curious, go ahead and point your browsers to the obvious http://www.truthmachine.com/ )

    Then why does The Truth Machine feels so… strange?

    Part of the answer lies in the clunky style used by the novel. While it’s not particularly horrendous (and probably far better than anything I could come up with), Halperin commits more than a few mistakes, whether it’s in-text footnotes, references to the fifteen-page appendix, flash-forward pacing or a lot of telling-rather-than-showing.

    Of course, it would have been impossible to tell The Truth Machine without most of these devices; the canvas is just too big. This novel takes the reader all the way from 1995 to 2050. It offers nothing less than the portrait of a world radically transformed by -among other things- a foolproof truth machine… if it is really foolproof…

    The notion of a perfect truth machine isn’t a new one in SF, but it’s very provocative; award-winning novels have been written with lesser concepts. The Truth Machine rarely shies away from considering the implications of its premise, from truthful business transactions to lies-free personal relationships. The plot of the novel serves as carrier for the ideas. Coincidences, “on-the-nose” prose and puppet-characters abound. Ultimately, we get the idea that Halperin isn’t as much interested in telling the story than in predicting the/a future.

    And that is the main difference between The Truth Machine and modern SF: For various reasons, contemporary Science-Fiction writers want to tell stories, not predict the future. The sixties’ New Wave introduced literary qualities into the field, and SF never quite recovered. As it is, The Truth Machine is pure SF… a few decades belated.

    Ultimately, though, this is all irrelevant to The Truth Machine, since the bottom line is that it’s an engrossing, fascinating book despite suspicious characterisation and too-convenient plotting. Whether or not the book is a 400-page advertisement for the World Future Society, what’s important is that it will make you think. And hope.

    Halperin might have more to learn about SF than vice-versa, but readers of all stripe might do worse than give a look at The Truth Machine. It’s readable in a flash (so it won’t waste too much of your time) and, given a suspension of stylistic judgement, it’s gripping stuff.

  • The Engines of God, Jack McDevitt

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Ace, 1995, 419 pages, C$8.50 mmpb, ISBN 0-441-00284-6

    I have already confessed a weak spot for cool cover illustrations, so I won’t go over it again. But everyone should know that the gorgeous Bob Eggleton painting on the cover of Jack McDevitt’s The Engines of God was the only reason why I bought the book. This time, no excuses, no justification and no feel-good rationalisation.

    So it’s both a relief and a letdown to find that the scene represented by the cover occurs in the very first pages of the novel: One xeno-archaeologist and his pilot (protagonist Priscilla “Hutch” Hutchins) taking a leisurely sight-seeing stroll on Saturn’s moon Iapetus. The sight to see? An ice sculpture, left behind by an alien race long gone.

    One thing that can be said about The Engines of God is that it doesn’t stay at the same place for too long. After this short prologue, we (along with Hutch) find ourselves evacuating Quaraqua, an extra-solar planet soon due for terraforming. The problem is that archaeologists discover a major site only days before the start of the terraforming process. Since it all begins with a nuclear liquefaction of the ice-caps, -along with Richter 16.3 earthquakes- Hutch and the archaeology team have to race against time to get everything (and everyone) out of there before the big kaboom.

    McDevitt uses this tense, exciting section to introduce both a small roster of characters (soon to be fleshed out in the latter parts of the novel) and the context in which The Engines of God takes place; your basic mildly-dystopian future, along with an overpopulated Earth and clueless politicians calling for an end to the space program (shoo! shoo!). FTL communication and travel might be humanity’s saving grace, but as Hutch will eventually discover, they might not even be enough…

    Along the way are extinct alien races, tantalizing mysteries, nick-of-time escapes, spectacular visuals, a dash of tasteful sex, destruction and death. Truly the ingredients to a satisfying SF yarn, and that’s mostly what we get here. Of course, Hutch is a likable character and McDevitt knows how to fascinate his readers. The Engines of God is the kind of novel that reaffirms why you’re reading “this Buck Rogers stuff” while inserting a few cool sociological ideas in your head during the process.

    Of course, said readers shouldn’t expect a perfect work. For instance, more than a few loose ends aren’t properly tied up (an usual McDevitt tic); sequels are possible. The death of certain characters appear more gratuitous than anything else, even if that was probably the author’s intent. While McDevitt offers adequate answers to the questions raised in the novel, I couldn’t help but feel that more would have been possible. The conclusion is also ultimately depressing, although not in the immediate time frame.

    Still, most should find what they’re looking for in The Engines of God. Solid science, fast action, claustrophobic tension, awe-inspiring finale. It’s difficult to find better. There’s more here to the book than just a pretty cover. It’s definitely worth the paperback price (hey, now that I’ve bought it, I have to rationalize my purchase!) or the library loan. Give it a try; maybe you’ll discover an author. I know that McDevitt can now count me as one potential fan.

  • Illegal Alien, Robert J. Sawyer

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Ace, 1997, 292 pages, C$30.95 hc, ISBN 0-441-00476-8

    In interviews, Canadian Science-Fiction writer Robert J. Sawyer has often stated his love for both SF and mysteries. He even said that he’d like to take the time to write a “straight” mystery—if the market would allow it. In Illegal Alien, Sawyer has fashioned a compulsively readable hybrid of the two genres that will undoubtedly entertain scores of readers.

    In an industry where an author producing one book a year is considered prolific, Robert J. Sawyer managed to release two hardcover novels in the span of six months: June 1997 saw Frameshift (Hardcover from Tor) and Illegal Alien (Hardcover from Ace) arrived just in time for the Christmas’97 holidays. While publisher politics are reportedly responsible for this schedule, Sawyer fans suffered from an embarrassment of riches with the release of the author’s seventh and eighth novels.

    These two novels also mark a change of style and direction for Sawyer: While his earlier End of An Era, Golden Fleece and more particularly Starplex represented the kind of old-fashioned, gloriously wondrous whiz-bang SF, his two latest books (and, to a lesser extent, his Nebula-winning The Terminal Experiment) are much more introspective in nature, reflecting (said Sawyer at Can-Con’97) the kind of SF he would now want to read.

    Frameshift surprised a lot of readers -including this reviewer-, especially following the exceptional Starplex. Illegal Alien is closer to Sawyer’s previous novel, but still illustrates where Sawyer is now headed.

    Plot-wise, Illegal Alien‘s premise is summed up in its title; shortly after first contact, a human is found, murdered. Forensics establish that the murder weapon is of alien origin. Before one can say “California has the death penalty, right?”, an alien suspect is arrested. This isn’t the OJ Simpson trial, and Illegal Alien takes great care to distance itself (and even illuminate) America’s favourite murder trial.

    (Of course, things won’t stay that simple for long. Revealing more wouldn’t be ethical.)

    This strong premise is, as usual, carried by a style that’s more descriptive than polished. This isn’t meant as a criticism: For one thing, Illegal Alien benefit from the same strong narrative drive that ensured the success of Sawyer’s first novels. Readable in a single afternoon, and even perhaps in a single sitting, the novel breezes along without stretches.

    Sawyer obviously did his research regarding California’s judicial system, and it shows. Even such topics as jury selection reveal themselves to be tantalizingly fascinating. Sawyer’s law proves to be as exact as his science. The result is an air of authenticity that goes a long way toward grounding Sawyer’s aliens in the realistic framework.

    Illegal Alien could conceivably be used to “convince” mystery readers to take a look at the SF genre, and vice-versa. While the novel begins and ends in SF mode, the remainder is as good a legal mystery as anything else this reviewer has read in the genre.

    While Illegal Alien isn’t as brilliant (read: impressive, overwhelming, awe-inspiring) as Starplex or The Terminal Experiment, it is only fair to say that it’s a more balanced work. There is scant to dismiss and a lot to like here: As usual, Sawyer delivers a well-crafted piece of thoughtful entertainment that will only solidify his reputation. Illegal Alien is a recommended purchase in paperback, and a suitable gift in hardcover.

  • Starship Troopers (1997)

    Starship Troopers (1997)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, November 1997) Very loud, very juvenile and very stupid adaptation of Robert A. Heinlein’s novel. It’s supposed to be loads of fun, but it just didn’t work for me. The tone oscillates between inane teenage drama and uber-gory war “comedy”: It’s either “Look at this guy get ripped in half; ain’t it cool?” or “Look at this guy get decapitated; ain’t it funny?” Unimaginably idiotic military tactics and physics make this movie really funny for even slightly knowledgeable people. Stupendous Special Effects can’t rescue a bad script, but might just net an Oscar. Only a few weeks after seeing Starship Troopers, I find my opinion of the movie sinking lower and lower, much like last year’s Independence Day. And after seeing Titanic, even the Special Effects Oscar isn’t so sure…

    (Second viewing, On DVD, December 2007) I hadn’t seen this film in ten years, and the decade has been kind to Paul Verhoeven’s glossy space-opera. For one thing, I’ve seen much worse since then. For another, it seems as if the political subtext is a lot more interesting than it was years ago. It helps that this fully-loaded 2002 DVD special edition is so solidly defensive. Both of the audio commentaries, along with the new making-of documentary, are chiefly concerned about the film’s initial critical reaction, and desperately try to point out the real meaning behind the film. (For sheer entertainment value, few DVD audio commentaries in history have surpassed the one in which Paul Verhoeven keeps saying “Fascism Is Not Good”.) Both the commentaries and the documentary reveal a lot about the film and the ways the filmmakers may have screwed it up, though they’re awfully quick to blame the audience when they fail to respond to a film trying to have it both as a dumb blockbuster and a satire of such. Oh, I still don’t think it’s a wonderful film: I’m still disturbed by the gleeful gore and the nonsense science, and even for a satire there are some inner contradictions that weaken the entire atmosphere. But the direction is clean and sharp (especially after nearly a decade of increasing confusion behind the lenses), most special effects are still wonderful (oh, that lunar sequence!) and I have developed a fondness for cleaner-than-clean cinematography even as most movies have gone the other way. Starship Troopers hasn’t aged that badly, and when it has, it’s usually in the trivial details like the CRT monitors and primitive graphics displayed on such. If you think you still hate the film ten years later, do yourself a favour, rent the DVD and listen to the commentaries: I think you will be pleasantly surprised, or at least decently entertained.