2024年9月25日 星期三

"Earthchild" by Sharon Webb (1981)


"This was the beginning, he thought.  The day it all began, the first day into forever.  It seemed so long ago now, that first day... and there would be no last."

Sharon Webb was a science fiction writer and nurse.  This novel, Earthchild, is the first entry in her Earth Song trilogy.  It was followed by Earth Song in 1982 and Ram Song in 1984.  She wrote a few other books, but they're all relatively difficult to find.

Earthchild concerns itself with a corporate solution to the problem of human mortality.  At an undisclosed point in the near future, a corporation releases a chemical into the atmosphere, and the result is a race of people who will grow to physical maturity and stop aging thereafter.  Those mortals untouched by this process descend into a state of relative barbarity, often lashing out against those they perceive as a threat to all that humanity stands for.

It gets off to an excellent start -- the concept is the kind of thing that Arthur C. Clarke would have written to perfection -- and then loses momentum about halfway through.  I can't tell if this is because the author was building up to the book's sequel, or if she just didn't realize this concept as fully as she could have.  The book's central premise, that immortality is the death of human creativity, is a fascinating one, but this premise isn't explored in any meaningful way.  Exacerbating this critical flaw is the fact that the antagonist's motivations are never really explained, and at the end of the book he simply vanishes from the scene without facing any kind of consequences for what he's done.

Maybe the author got to that part in the sequel.  I'll probably never know, because I'm not likely to come across Earth Song at any point in this (or any other) future.

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2024年9月21日 星期六

"Rebels' Seed" by F.M. Busby (1986)


"Cray Malden stood to face his prisoner.  The man's stance told nothing: hope, defiance, or even fear.  Malden said, 'Traitor, you're in your last hour.  Is there anything you wish to say?'"

F.M. Busby won the Hugo Award for Best Fanzine.  And no, I didn't know that a Hugo for Best Fanzine was a thing until I came across it on Busby's Wikipedia page.  He spent most of his writing career living in the Seattle area, where he passed away in 2005.

In Rebels' Seed a group of "space pirates" are attempting to reintegrate into intergalactic society.  Their emissary to this end is a young girl, Lisele, who becomes part of a military expedition.  After her ship is stranded in orbit around a distant planet, both her training and her decisive nature become crucial factors in her shipmates' survival on a hostile world.

It's fairly standard stuff in the realm of science fiction, with the scientific aspects being the orbital mechanics involved in the ship's journey, and the engineering challenges related to rescuing a downed spacecraft. Aside from these mostly convincing assays into future technologies, the characters in this novel are well written and believable.

It's just too bad this book was burdened with such a terrible cover. Really, that spooky face above the stupid-looking spaceship is one of the worst ever. Who commissioned that?

Two other problems with this novel: the first chapter, which tries and fails to recapitulate the three books that came before it, and the engineering problem near the end, which is described in WAY too much detail. These problems don't completely undermine the story, but they're annoying imperfections in what was otherwise a worthwhile book.

Rebel's Seed won't impress anyone already versed in the genre, but it's an engaging read. The author took his craft seriously and it shows.

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2024年9月11日 星期三

"The Void Captain's Tale" by Norman Spinrad (1983)


"At this imbalance in the ecstasy of our pas de deux, Lorenza displayed a sincere concern and bent her neck and her energies to oral caresses designed to redress it."

Norman Spinrad is a science fiction author and critic.  His biggest claim to fame is being the author of the script for "The Doomsday Machine," an episode of the original Star Trek TV series.  He's had a lot of trouble getting his books published over the years, partly because they deal in controversial subject matter, partly because they simply lack commercial appeal.  I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but after reading The Void Captain's Tale I can easily imagine the attitude of most editors toward his work.  Words to the effect of "Naw, we'll pass" were probably sent Norman Spinrad's way on a number of occasions.

In The Void Captain's Tale, which is one of the author's better known works, spaceships traverse interstellar space with the aid of a "jump circuit," a heavily symbolic technology which operates upon the principle of the female orgasm.

And no, you didn't read that last sentence wrong.  This is really he premise of the book.

Anyhow, this "jump circuit," which I suppose is part of a "jump drive," is in turn operated by a flight crew working at both a physical and social distance from the female upon whose orgasm the ship's propulsion depends.  Things go awry once the captain of this flight crew inadvertently develops an emotional attachment to the woman whose unique sexuality propels their ship toward its next destination.  Should he continue utilizing her sex drive out of a sense of duty?  Or does a greater destiny lay in store, a destiny which outweighs his sense of responsibility?

Put another way, The Void Captain's Tale is the "French" erotic-philosophical science fiction novel that no one really wanted.  The characters speak in a weird patois of English, French and Spanish (NO non-European languages), they act like libertines occupying a salon traveling faster than the speed of light, and they're altogether unlikeable.  The main character, the titular Void Captain, spends an inordinate amount of time brooding over his ultimate choice, while his ladylove is a somewhat interesting if underutilized character who might have been better cast as the protagonist.

Oh, and there's a lot of fucking.  The author, of course, would never, ever stoop to the word "fucking," but there's a lot of that as well, usually reduced to a kind of tantric exercise that's far from titillating.

All in all it's an extremely difficult book to get through, especially since almost nothing of consequence happens in its first half.  IF you can make it through this first half, however, it does have some redeeming features.  The "captain's dilemma" at the heart of the story is the kind of nihilistic thing one doesn't often come across in science fiction, and I liked the ironic ending.  There's a nice turnabout there, I just wish the rest of the book had been that entertaining.

...maybe this novel would have worked better as an adult film?  It would have been a very, very strange adult film, but I could see one of the more ambitious adult film directors doing something more with the concept.

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2024年9月1日 星期日

"Cloudcry" by Sydney J. Van Scyoc (1977)


"Tormenting uncertainty filled Tiehl's craw with gravel.  He uttered a harsh, cawing challenge.  When none of the humanoids responded, he stepped forward and deliberately slashed his talons across one bare back, drawing lines of black blood."

I finished Syndey J. Van Scyoc's Darkchild prior to reading Cloudcry.  If you're interested in this author feel free to peruse that entry.  I bought two of her books during my last trip to the States, and for all intents and purposes this will be the last entry relating to this author.  She remains a relatively obscure (if very overlooked) writer, and I doubt I'll happen upon her other books anytime soon.

In Cloudcry two humans and a bird-like humanoid are quarantined on a distant planet after contracting a contagious disease.  Upon arriving on this planet they discover the existence of several other races of humanoids, each having made its mark on their shared planet long before the humans' arrival.

Unlike Darkchild, Cloudcry is kind of a mess.  At best it represents an uneasy marriage of the older, more traditional form of science fiction embraced in the late 50s and early 60s with the newer, more "psychedelic" kind of science fiction emerging in the late 60s and early 70s.  Most of the "adventures" undertaken by the two human characters resemble nothing so much as an episode of the original Star Trek TV series, while the trippier aspects of this book feel like something imported from a more recent, more polished, and more heartfelt book that the author hadn't gotten around to finishing.

There was potential in Aleida, one of the nonhuman characters.  She's an impulsive, elemental sort of person not unlike the princess character in Darkchild, but her reasons for doing what she does are often obscured by the humans' disjointed attempts at reasoning out what they experience in her presence.  Making her the focal point of this novel would have improved it considerably, especially since the two humans she contends with are little more than cardboard cut-outs.

The ending of this book is also disappointing.  It's obvious that the author couldn't manage to get where she was trying to go, and the last few chapters of this novel feel both random and extremely forced.  There were some interesting aspects to the lost race of explorers, the ill-defined disease from which the humans suffer, and the race of "gods" encountered through hallucinatory experiences, but none of these aspects of the story are really brought together in the end, and the reader is left to wonder what kind of story the author was trying to tell.

Darkchild was a lot better.  Cloudcry is a less accomplished effort, and there were far superior science fiction novels widely available in 1977.  Were I to assign Cloudcry a score out of 10, I'm thinking it's a solid 6.  It's not derivative, but it's also very flawed.

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2024年8月24日 星期六

"Darkchild" by Sydney J. Van Scyoc (1982)


"Yet this boy stood beside her in flesh of bronze, studying her with eyes as black as the stone of her mother's throne.  Threatened by the mystery of him, she pushed her sleeve down.  'I know you came in a ship,' she said sharply.  'I've heard of ships before.'"

Sydney J. Van Scyoc, like the recently discussed Michael Bishop, was an American science fiction writer who passed away last year.  She wrote short stories during the 60s and 70s, and moved into novels during the late 70s and early 80s.  One gets the impression from her Wikipedia entry that science fiction was something she did for fun, and that her main source of income was the jewelry she made in San Francisco.

Like the recently reviewed Eyes of Fire, Darkchild is another book centered around both a clone and the idea of extrasensory perception.  In the case of Darkchild this clone is a juvenile visitor deposited on a very medieval world, a planet replete with queens, castles and magical beings.

Unlike Eyes of Fire, which is a more anthropological take on alien civilizations, Darkchild is a more introspective affair, focused on the inner conflicts of a modest number of characters.  At the forefront of the narrative is Khira, a young princess in line for her mother's throne.  In the course of a lonely winter Khira meets the titular Darkchild, a clone sent to her world on a surveillance mission.  There's also Khadura, Khira's telepathic grandmother, who helps Darkchild understand his mysterious past.

The interplay between Khira and Darkchild reminded me a bit of Wuthering Heights, but this isn't to say that the novel is derivative in any way.  It's a surprisingly well written book by an author I was previously unfamiliar with, and I enjoyed its various twists and turns.  It's rare to find a science fiction novel this inward-looking, and a more "feminine" take on the genre was very welcome.  It's not a perfect book, but I think it was very, very well done.

I only have two issues with the story, these being the use of "magic" as a plot device and Khira's state of indecision throughout the book.  The inclusion of magic halfway through the novel in some ways undermines the scientific basis upon which it proceeds, and Khira's extreme moodiness throughout her and Darkchild's adventures grows a bit tiresome.  Sure, she's 12 and a certain level of moodiness is to be expected, but toning this aspect of her personality down would have made her easier to empathize with.

But these are small complaints.  If you can locate a copy of Darkchild I highly recommend it.  It's a thoroughly conceived novel that holds up well.  It would, for that matter, make a good movie.

I'll be moving on to Cloudcry, another book by the same author, after this one.  If it's even half as good as Darkchild I'm sure I'll enjoy it.

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2024年8月17日 星期六

"Eyes of Fire" by Michael Bishop (1980)


"Gaidu's eyes bejewel the darkness of my dream, but still she keeps her peace, letting Mwezahbe accuse and chastise."

Michael Bishop, an American author of science fiction, passed away last year.  He won the Nebula Award twice, and was also nominated for several Locus and Hugo awards.  Eyes of Fire was one of his "anthropological science fiction" novels, of which he wrote many between the late 70s and early 80s.  He was never that famous within his chosen genre, but he is and was regarded as extremely influential.

In Eyes of Fire a human clone living on an alien world is sent as an envoy to a mysterious civilization several light years distant.  Throughout the course of his mission several cultures come into conflict, and in the midst of their squabbles he comes to question both the nature of his employment and his own identity.

It's a floridly written novel that brought Frank Herbert's Dune series to mind, though comparisons between Herbert's books and Eyes of Fire are not always to Eyes of Fire's disadvantage.  Frank Herbert was probably a better editor of his own work, more able to cut a story down to its essential elements, while Michael Bishop shows more facility with his characters.  Herbert was better able to "cut to the chase," while Bishop was better with personalities.

Overall I think Eyes of Fire is a good early effort by an author who probably wrote better books later in his career.  It's burdened with a lot of backstory -- the kind of backstory that Frank Herbert would have reduced to "aphorisms" in his more effective novels -- but I can't fault it in terms of plot, pacing and characterization.  Readers less devoted to science fiction will probably find its opening chapters somewhat obtuse and turgid, but if you can get through these early chapters the larger narrative and its attendant "twist" are both rewarding.

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