Arts & Letters

The Book Queue

It’s been well over a year since I last posted a book queue, and since we’re quickly approaching the Six Weeks of Halloween, I need to figure out some creepy seasonal reading, so here’s some books I’m looking into. I used to love reading horror, but aside from the occasional dip into the waters, I haven’t kept up at all… I probably won’t get to all of these (and who knows, I might read something not on here), but it’s where I’m starting:

  • Deep State by Christopher Farnsworth – I’ve been a fan of Farnsworth’s Nathaniel Cade/President’s Vampire books for a while, and this latest little novella will have to tide me over until Farnsworth manages a full length follow up to Red, White, and Blood (which was the best of the series up until now). Anyway, I don’t know much about this, but it seems like it’ll be fun Halloween season reading…
  • Haunt by Laura Lee Bahr – I don’t remember where I heard about this one from, but the quick description sounds… interesting… “a tripping-balls Los Angeles noir, where a mysterious dame drags you through a time-warping Bizarro hall of mirrors.”
  • Zero Saints by Gabino Iglesias – Looks like a quick read about a drug dealer turf war that veers into the supernatural. Not sure what to make of this, but reviews make it sound fun…
  • The Croning by Laird Barron – Another horror book that I added to my queue last year and again, I can’t remember where I heard about it, but it sounds interesting. Not really sure what this is about, even after reading the description. Can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. I also have The Imago Sequence short story collection on my list.
  • Christine by Stephen King – More a placeholder for a Stephen King novel than anything else, but a friend really loves this novel and has told me it’s a lot better than the movie… which is a movie I really like (I mean, it is John Carpenter)! I’ve read a bunch of King, but nowhere near comprehensive. It might be worth checking out It before this new movie comes out, and there are a few others that could work too, but I think Christine might be the one…
  • Painted Monsters & Other Strange Beasts by Orrin Grey – Short story collection that is supposed to be themed around cinematic monsters, which seems appropriate for our primarily-movie-based Six Weeks of Halloween, no?
  • The Last Final Girl by Stephen Graham Jones – As a slasher fan, this seems right up my alley. “The Last Final Girl is like Quentin Tarantino’s take on The Cabin in the Woods. Bloody, absurd, and smart. Plus, there’s a killer in a Michael Jackson mask.” Sold!
  • Horror Movie A Day: The Book by Brian W. Collins – I actually picked this up towards the tail end of last year’s 6WH, so I didn’t really use it much and just skipped around a little, but I’m giving it a more thorough read right now in the hopes of finding some 6WH fodder. For the uninitiated, HMAD was a website where Brian Collins would watch a horror movie every day and review it. He did this for 6 years. The book is an interesting mixture of films,

    tons of deep cuts here, not stuff you’d see on every other “Best Horror” list (and indeed, Collins doesn’t shy away from truly bad movies, which keeps things interesting). This will almost certainly guide a week or two of this year’s marathon…

So there you have it. I definitely won’t get to all these, but look for some reviews during the 6WH…

The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O.

Without delving too deeply into defining Science Fiction (a contentious undertaking worthing of a separate post), there is a tendency to expand the bounds of the genre by applying scientific precepts to other, nominally supernatural stories. Witness Arthur C. Clarke’s infamous dictum: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” And speaking of magic, one such sub-genre could be called the “technology of magic” story which layers a science fictional structure on top of fantasy (or horror) tropes. Nicole Galland and Neal Stephenson’s latest novel, The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. is one such technology of magic story.

The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O.

Melisande Stokes is a struggling academic linguist who inadvertently meets one Tristan Lyons, a handsome military man who recruits her for a secret research project. He reveals little of his motivations or goals or even who he even works for (as he flatly responds to one of Mel’s many questions about documents she’s translating, “Whether or not they are classified is classified.”) Nevertheless, Melisande’s polyglot skills quickly reveal some context: Magic was once a real, measurable phenomenon and driver of history, but witch practitioners reported a waning of magic in the early 19th century, eventually disappearing completely in 1851.

The scientific hypothesis is that this magical extinction event was precipitated by the invention of cameras, and in specific, an 1851 eclipse that was widely photographed. The explanation being that magic was some sort of manipulation of quantum physics and that photography represented a form of observation that resulted in a sorta magical wave-function collapse.

It’s a clever conceit that provides a good basis for the story. Once they realize what caused the disappearance of magic, our heroic duo get in contact with Dr. Frank Oda and his wife Rebecca East Oda, who have independently been working on a kind of Schrodinger’s Cat box, an isolation chamber that might prove ideal for practicing magic in the modern world. After making contact with a real, live witch named Erszebet Karpathy, our oddball band of heroes manage to show that magic does, in fact, exist. Once this hypothesis is confirmed, the government begins a more formal exploration with the hopes of restoring magic and exploiting it for their own strategic ends.

Of course, magic isn’t quite all its cracked up to be. Its applications are not immediately obvious until they stumble upon Erszebet’s ability to send someone back in time. Even this ability comes with numerous unexpected complications. It turns out that while you can travel back in time and make changes, you must do so on several “strands” of the multiverse until you reach some sort of critical mass where those changes become permanent (or, at least, observable in the present). Of course, this can get pretty tedious and there are additional dangers. If, for example, you were to attempt too large of a change, the universe responds with a literal explosion of magic referred to as Diachronic Shear. Let’s just say that it’s something to be avoided.

But our heroes persist and after some early success, the DODO (now revealed to be an acronym for Department of Diachronic Operations) organization grows at an alarmingly fast rate as they create new ODECs (i.e. Schrodinger’s Cat boxes that allow magic), recruit an army of historians, martial artists, and other subject matter experts, and of course identify Known Compliant Witches (KCWs) in pre-1851 Diachronic Theaters (so that present-day operatives that have been sent to the past have a way to get back to the present, naturally). One such historical contact is the Irish witch Gráinne, who appears very cooperative, but also has motives of her own. As the title of the book implies, the whole undertaking may be undone thanks to bureaucratic excess and manipulative figures like Gráinne…

The majority of the novel is comprised of first person accounts in the form of diaries, government memos, after-action reports, intranet chat logs, wiki-style howtos, epistolary accounts, and so on. In the beginning, this is primarily from Melisande’s perspective, but as the DODO organization grows, so too do the perspectives. As a literary device, this provides convenient cover for the SF genre’s info-dumping tendencies while also allowing you to get multiple perspectives on the same events. It works well and never wore out its welcome (unlike some other framing devices I’ve read recently).

Not having read any of Nicole Galland’s previous work (save some of the Mongoliad, another collaboration with Stephenson and several other authors), I can’t say for sure how the collaboration worked, but as a rabid Stephenson nut, I can tell you that there’s plenty of Stephensonian touches here. Of course, one would assume their collaboration involves shared obsessions, so this all makes sense. Still, there’s enough commonality between certain things here and Stephenson’s other work such that I feel confident that, for example, the whole subplot involving the underestimated Viking Magnus’s assault on a Walmart is very Stephensonian in concept and execution (As the character Rebecca notes in her journal entry: “Magnus is ludicrously hyper-masculine in ways that have been bred and trained out of modern-day men and so they have to deprecate his intelligence.” In fact, Magnus’ intelligence just manifests in a different way, similar to, say, the Shaftoe brand of genius being quite distinct from the more common Waterhouse conception (for the uninitiated, those are characters from Cryptonomicon and The Baroque Cycle.)) The Fuggers, an enigmatic family of well-connected bankers, also feel very Stephensonian (and while they are not implied to be immortal, their subtle methods of influence recall Enoch Root… or maybe I should just stop comparing everything to Cryptonomicon.)

From what I understand, many of the historical bits come from Galland (though, again, that’s not an unusual avenue for Stephenson either), and they jive well with the rest of the story. There are, perhaps, a few quibbles to be made about the plot. In particular, Gráinne’s rise to power seems precipitated by an event I’d be extremely wary about. The ending works well enough, though it does appear to be setting up a sequel/series and when combined with Stephenson’s reputation for endings, this may rub some folks the wrong way.

There’s still more than enough good to make up for any of the nitpicks though. The clever quantum underpinnings of magic, the slow exploration and tedius implications of the way magic works (uh, that’s a good thing), the droll and humorous takedown of beurocratic excess, the seemingly infinite parade of acronyms (my favorite being the Diachronic Operative Resource Center or DORC), the well researched historical panache, the winning and charismatic characters (even the villains are the types you love to roll your eyes at), it all contributes to a fun adventure tale that is well paced and entertaining. There aren’t a ton of completely new ideas here and you could argue that it isn’t as deep or idiosyncratic as Stephenson’s best, but it is a very well executed take on those tropes, and one that I prefer to many other offerings.

Overall, it’s a light, fun, entertaining romp reminiscent of Stephenson’s other collaborations (the Stephen Bury books, which he cowrote with his uncle George Jewsbury) or Reamde. It might not be as revelatory as Cryptonomicon or Anathem, but it’s a fantastic book. I will most likely put it on my nominating ballot for next year’s Hugo Awards.

Not much to go on when it comes to Stephenson and/or Galland’s next books, but in this interview, they mention that they’re both approaching the homestretch on solo projects, but are not ready to announce anything yet. Given the ending of DODO, I have to wonder how quickly we’ll see a sequel (or if it will even be written by these two authors again?) Time will tell, but I will most likely be reading whatever these two put out (and frankly, I should get on some of Galland’s back catalog).

Hugo Awards 2017: The Results

The 2017 Hugo Awards were announced on Friday, so it’s time for the requisite whining/celebration that peppers the steak of our blogging diet (that’s how food works, right?) Um, anyway, despite my formal participation in the awards process roughly coinciding with the Sad/Rabid Puppy era/debacle, this marks the fourth year wherein I’ve contributed to the results. This year’s awards were less directly impacted by those meddlesome puppies, but I feel like we’re still suffering through an indirect backlash and overcorrection. This isn’t exactly new, so let’s just get on with it. (For those who really want to geek out and see how instant-runoff voting works, the detailed final and nominating ballots are available.)

  • The Obelisk Gate by N.K. Jemisin takes the rocket for Best Novel, making Jemisin just the third author to have back-to-back wins in this category (joining the ranks of Orson Scott Card and Lois McMaster Bujold). She’s a good author, but damn, these books are not for me. Both were at the bottom of my ballot and while I can see why her novel won last year, this one is a little more baffling. It appears to have been a close race though, with All the Birds in the Sky only narrowly missing the win. I regret not putting it higher on my ballot, as it’s the only non-series finalist, and that’s something that’s becoming more and more of an issue… My preferred Ninefox Gambit came in third in the voting, which wound up being a theme for my first ranked works this year.
  • “The Tomato Thief”, by Ursula Vernon wins Best Novelette. I had it at #2 on my ballot and it was very close to the top, so no complaints here. “Seasons of Glass and Iron”, by Amal El-Mohtar wins Best Short Story, which I also had at #2 on my ballot (though I was less in love with this). In both cases, my preferred story wound up in third place. (I didn’t vote for Novella, so I’ll just note that the ever-popular Seanan McGuire took home the award.)
  • Arrival wins Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form in a landslide, meaning that some things are right in this world. If there’s been a movie more destined to win this award, I can’t think of one. Also of interest, Ghostbusters (2016) came in dead last, which I think befits its profound mediocrity. In the nominating ballots, it appears my campaign for The Witch fell on deaf ears, as it didn’t even make the longlist (for comparison’s sake, Arrival received over a thousand nominations, while the bottom of the ballot got 240 and the longlist ends with 10 Cloverfield Lane, which only snagged 72. I know I nominated The Witch but I suspect I may be the only one.) I suppose its on the outskirts of what typically gets nominated (historical period piece horror), but it’d be a much better choice than Ghostbusters or Deadpool. Next year, I’ll be curious to see if the likes of Get Out or Colossal will make the cut (if history is any indication, that’s a negative – we’ll have a couple of super hero movies and the now permanent fixture of Star Wars that will push out all the more idiosyncratic and interesting offerings. Nothing against that blockbuster fare, but it would be great if some of the recent boom in small, independent SF films were represented in these awards…)
  • “The Expanse” Leviathan Wakes wins Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form. I didn’t vote for this category, but this is one of the episodes I saw, and I like the win because it’s not Doctor Who or Game of Thrones (both of which have perhaps won too many of these awards).
  • The Vorkosigan Saga by Lois McMaster Bujold wins the inaugural Best Series Award, which is again, as it should be. This was an experimental category this year, but I believe it’s be ratified to continue on. It’s an interesting concept, but as I’ve noted before, it has some major logistical challenges (namely, how on earth could any reasonable voter read all of the nominated works in time for voting?). Still, as a huge fan of Bujold and the Vorkosigan Saga, this award makes me happy.
  • There are, of course, tons of other awards, but I mostly didn’t vote on them due to time and, well, motivation. The puppy angle no longer warrants any particular analysis (not that I ever did much anyway). None of the winners are particularly surprising, but of course ,congratulations are due to all the winners!
  • As mentioned above, this is the fourth year I’ve participated. Every year, I debate whether or not it will be my last. I suspect this year’s focus on series (in the Novel ballot,

    not the separate award) will continue, and that’s something I’m not particularly sanguine about. There’s a couple of shoe-ins that I probably won’t want to read as well. In general, I’m glad that I’ve participated these last few years and I’ve read a bunch of stuff that I wouldn’t otherwise… but then, every year, when I finish Hugo reading, I go back and read some older stuff that I almost always enjoy a lot more. These things go in cycles, and it seems like the types of books I really enjoy are not in fashion these days. I do wonder how much of that is due to the Puppy overreach. For all their rhetoric, political bluster, and hypocrisy, the primacy of storytelling that they ostensibly preached is something I can appreciate. Their execution was… let’s say flawed. The “slate” approach was terrible and quite frankly, many of their preferred nominees didn’t capture that emphasis on fun storytelling (quite the opposite in some cases). Much of it was against the spirit of the awards and rightly faced stiff opposition. But now we’re drowning in literary fiction tropes and inchoate characterization rather than sense of wonder and fun ideas. Even my favorites this year tended to lack a bit of spark. Hopefully things will continue to settle down in the coming years. This, by the way, is one reason in favor of my continued participation. Criticism might be better taken from someone actually participating, you know?

  • The notion that a current year’s membership allows you to nominate for next year’s awards is clever and will keep me participating at least until then. There are a handful of exciting books this year that I’ll gladly throw a nomination towards, and who knows, I could be surprised by the finalists. Stranger things have happened. I’m not holding my breath though.

This marks a close of this year’s Hugo festivities. Up next, we’ve got some reviews (of new and older works) and, of course, we’re only a little over a month from my most favoritest time of the year, The Six Weeks of Halloween horror marathon (I should probably start planning now, hmmm)…

Tasting Notes

I used to do this thing where I’d do a series of quick hits on my media diet, but damn, it looks like I haven’t done this in about five years? Let’s rectify that situation:

Television:

  • The Good Place – I wasn’t expecting much, but then I burned through the entire first season in just a couple of days. It’s a fantastic season of television, very funny, great stakes, well paced (both in terms of individual episodes, but also in the way the series expands on its own world throughout the course of the season). There are some big twists that you might pick up on early in the season, but in general, the season works well as a whole. I’m somewhat wary of the forthcoming second season, but the writers managed to be pretty clever throughout the first season, so there’s a hope that the second season will work. But they’ll need to do something almost completely different with the premise this time around (otherwise, it could get very repetitive), which is a challenge.
  • Patriot – What a fucking bizarre show. It’s clearly aping the prestige TV tropes out the yin yang (i.e.

    Breaking Bad-esque cold opens, anti-heroes, etc…) and I can’t exactly say it’s planting any of its own flags, but I actually kinda liked it? I find it hard to recommend and when I break it down, it’s not super original and many of the characteristics of the show are things I don’t normally care for, but somehow it tweaked me just right. At least until the very end, which is an anticlimax (albeit one you can kinda see coming). It’s about a spy who goes undercover at a piping firm in order to travel to Europe and do some sort of deal to prevent Iran from going nuclear. Things immediately go wrong, and pretty much the whole series is an ever-telescoping series of crises built on top of crises. It has this ridiculous sense of deadpan dark humor (I think? Nothing about this show makes perfect sense to me…) that I don’t think I have any reference point for… It’s almost worth watching so that you can get to the Rock/Paper/Scissors game scene towards the end of the series, which is utterly brilliant. Again, a hard one to recommend though. It might be worth watching the first episode (it’s an Amazon Prime original though, so I think you can only see it there). If you’re on board with the ridiculous things that happen there, this series might be for you. I honestly still don’t know what to think about it, which probably means I think its good?

Movies:

  • Dunkirk – Christopher Nolan’s WWII epic is indeed a spectacle to behold, one of the best photographed movies of the year and definite nominee for Most Visually Stunning in the Kaedrin Movie Awards. Not a ton of dialog and minimal plot, and yet it’s propulsively paced and at times harrowing. It’s not your traditional crowd-pleaser, but nods in that direction far enough to keep interest up. I hope it continues to do well. It will likely make my top 10 of the year, though perhaps towards the bottom of that list…
  • The Big Sick – Delightful romantic comedy based on the true story of Emily V. Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani (who wrote the script), and you can see that heart up there on the screen. It deals a lot with family and culture clash in a sophisticated way, but it never drags at all, and is generally able to leaven the drama with comedy. Another film that will likely make my top 10.
  • Baby Driver – Edgar Wright’s latest is fantastic entertainment, a sort of hybrid musical that substitutes car chases for dance numbers. This works spectacularly for the first two thirds, but there’s some serious third act problems with the story (lots of inexplicable decisions and character turns), even though the execution of what’s there is still very enjoyable. Hitchcock’s refrigerator comes to mind here – it works ok when your watching it, but does not hold up to scrutiny. Not a shoe-in for the top 10, but will definitely be a candidate and it will certainly garner a Kaedrin Movie Award or two. Still recommended!

Books:

  • The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. by Neal Stephenson and Nicole Galland – I’m about two thirds of the way through this book, which features witches, a quantum mechanical explanation for magic, and lots of time travel. And bureaucracy. I’m pretty much loving it so far, but as a long-time Stephenson fanatic, I think you could probably have guessed that, right? Really curious to see how it will play out (seems like a solid candidate for a Hugo nomination for me). More thoughts forthcoming in a full review…
  • Black Hole Blues and Other Songs from Outer Space by Janna Levin – Non-fiction story of gravitational waves and the LIGO project – an arduous, fifty-year endeavor to measure gravitation waves from events like two black holes colliding… So far seems to be pretty excessively focused on the personalities involved and the hoops they had to jump through to get funded, etc… Interesting stuff, but not necessarily the most immersive story.
  • Killfile by Christopher Farnsworth – Trashy little thriller about a security consultant/spy who can read people’s minds. This is from the guy who wrote about the President’s Vampire, so we’re not looking for anything groundbreaking or anything, but it’s a fairly fun little story. I basically got this (and its sequel, which I didn’t like as much, but was basically more of the same) so that I could get a new President’s Vampire story (which I actually haven’t read yet and at this point, will probably save for the Six Weeks of Halloween), but these were an enjoyable enough diversion, if a bit formulaic and disposable…

Gaming:

  • Friday the 13th: The Game – This is an online multiplayer game (not my usual thing) that is set in the Friday the 13th universe (emphatically my thing). The technical term for this type of game is “asymmetrical multiplayer” because while most of the players are camp counselors running for their life, one randomly selected player gets to be Jason, whose job is to hunt down and kill all the other players. It’s a lot of fun, even though I suck and the game and am not really willing to put the time into it to get good at it (the last time I played as Jason, I only killed one counselor and spent a couple minutes chasing one person around a table).

    Worth checking out if this seems like your jam.

  • Dominion – This is a deck-building card game that I stumbled onto because some folks at work started playing at lunch. I don’t always get to play there, but once I got into it, it’s a really deep and fun game to play. There’s an online version (linked above) that works well enough, though it could use some updates (it’s relatively new though, and they’re still making improvements). I still really enjoy the meatspace version, and it helps that my friends have basically all of the expansion packs (which add a lot of flavor).

The Finer Things:

  • As always, I’m drinking a lot of beer and as you probably know, I have a whole blog where I keep track of this sort of thing. Recent highlights have all been IPAs, actually, like Tree House Julius and Burley Oak 100
  • Since it always takes me, like, 2 years to get through a bottle of whisk(e)y, I was intrigued by the concept of an Infinity Bottle (aka Solera bottle), which is basically when you take a bunch of nearly finished bottles and blend them all together into one super-whiskey. I started a bourbon based bottle recently, mostly Four Roses based, but with some Stagg Jr. and Bookers. Biggest problem right now is that the proof is excessively high (approximately 122) at this point. I need to find some low proof stuff with some age on it (am I crazy, or is this a job for an orphan barrel bourbon?) Still, it’s a fun little project and it should get more and more interesting over time (as more and more whiskeys join the blend).

Phew, that’s all for now. I will be on vacation next week, so posting is dubious, though you never know!

2017 Hugo Awards: Semi-Final Ballot

The voting deadline for this year’s Hugo Awards approaches, so here’s my ballot as it now stands. It’s mostly fiction categories, with some Dramatic Presentation thrown in for flare and some comments on some of the other categories that I’m actually not going to vote for…

Best Novel

  1. Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee [My Review]
  2. A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers [My Review]
  3. Death’s End by Cixin Liu [My Review]
  4. All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders [My Review]
  5. Too Like the Lightning by Ada Palmer [My Review]
  6. The Obelisk Gate by N.K. Jemisin [My Review]

A decent enough lineup this year, not spectacular, but it gets the job done. Five out of the six nominees are part of a series, which is mildly annoying. A Closed and Common Orbit skates by on that count because despite being the second book, it can easily be read as a standalone and comes off as quite different than the first entry in the series (in a way that benefits the sequel greatly). Its generally positive tone is also noteworthy and has elevated it to the #2 slot. All the Birds in the Sky is the only true standalone and has a great whimsical tone to it, but despite overtures towards SF, it doesn’t really stand up on that front. Ninefox Gambit is the first in a series and does a great job with worldbuilding while telling a reasonably satisfying and composed tale. Not completely self-contained, but there’s enough meat on the bone to make me want to pick up the next in the series (something that doesn’t happen too often with me on first novels in a series). Death’s End at least provides some closure to its story and gets its jollies from big ideas, albeit existentially troubling ones. Too Like the Lightning is the first in a series, but doesn’t seem to progress the overall arc very much. I hear the sequels will be better on that front… but that doesn’t make this initial volume better in itself. Finally, The Obelisk Gate doesn’t progress its overall arc much either, which again makes it hard to rank highly. Yeah, that’s typical of second novels in a trilogy, but that doesn’t make it worthy of a Hugo Award… This series conundrum continues to be challenging for me when it comes to ranking these novels. One might think that the introduction of a “Best Series” Hugo Award would help alleviate this, but apparently not. Obviously more detailed thoughts in my reviews linked above.

Predicted Winner: Ninefox Gambit, though A Closed and Common Orbit or All the Birds in the Sky also seem to be faring well. But what do I know. My predictions are always wrong.

Best Novella

I’m skipping this category this year. Relatively long stories combined with an extra finalist this year contributed to this decision, but really, I just wanted to start reading

The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. and the prospect of spending a couple weeks sifting through a bunch of stories that I have historically not enjoyed very much wasn’t doing much for me. I have read Penric and the Shaman and enjoyed it quite a bit, but even for that, I was a bigger fan of Bujold’s other Penric novella, Penric’s Mission (which, I’m told, was disqualified because it was a hair over the wordcount limit for Novella, but still).

Best Novelette

  1. Touring with the Alien by Carolyn Ives Gilman
  2. The Tomato Thief by Ursula Vernon
  3. You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay by Alyssa Wong
  4. The Jewel and Her Lapidary by Fran Wilde
  5. The Art of Space Travel by Nina Allen
  6. No Award

See My Reviews for more info. Sorry Stix Hiscock, Alien Stripper Boned From Behind By The T-Rex isn’t making the cut for what I hope are obvious reasons. I rarely deploy No Award, but this is a pretty clear cut case.

Predicted Winner: The Tomato Thief

Best Short Story

  1. That Game We Played During the War by Carrie Vaughn
  2. Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar
  3. Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies by Brooke Bolander
  4. The City Born Great by N.K. Jemisin
  5. An Unimaginable Light by John C. Wright
  6. A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers by Alyssa Wong

See My Reviews for more details. I made a slight tweak to the initial rankings. No need to deploy No Award.

Predicted Winner: The City Born Great? I mean, have I ever gotten one of these predictions correct?

Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form

  1. Arrival
  2. Stranger Things
  3. Rogue One
  4. Hidden Figures
  5. Deadpool
  6. Ghostbusters

I didn’t explicitly post about this category, but I’ve already covered 2016 in movies pretty thoroughly. In general, I love the first two entries in my rankings, but there’s a steep dropoff after that. This isn’t particularly unusual for this category, and there’s always one or two movies that would have been great nominees but didn’t make the cut (this year, I was hoping The Witch would get some love, but it’s not the type of movie Hugo voters tend to go for, I guess. Will be interested to see the nomination stats…)

Predicted Winner: Arrival, though Hidden Figures seems to have a fair amount of buzz…

Best Series

A fascinating category, for sure, but one that has significant logistical hurdles. I’ve read the entire Vorkosigan Saga and am really pulling for it, but is it realistic to expect people will read all of these books before voting? Especially considering that the best entries are pretty deep into the series? I mean, I obviously recommend this, but this has to be difficult if you’ve not already read these series. I’ve never been that into The Expanse but I’ve only read the first novel. Is it fair to judge the series on that one novel? There’s only a couple of weeks left before voting closes and that’s simply not enough time to read more of that plus 4 other series of books (or even the first novel in each). Ultimately, I don’t feel like it’d be fair to vote in this category without giving each of the series a fair shake, which to me means reading more than one novel in each series (at minimum). I gather that this is somewhat unusual and that some voters are more than willing to give up on a book/series after only a tiny sample (or not reading at all). But that’s not really my style.

Predicted Winner: Vorkosigan Saga, please?

So this marks the end of my Hugo journey this year. Look for a recap when the Awards are announced in August, but otherwise, we now return you to our normal wanking about movies (coming soon: a Martial Arts Movie Omnibus post!)

Hugo Awards: Short Stories

I always feel like the Short Story category should be more fun. It could kinda be like speed-dating authors to find the ones you like. I suppose it does still fulfill that function, only I rarely like any of the stories that are nominated. In the past four years of reading Hugo short story finalists, I’ve really liked approximately two of the stories, and neither of those enough to investigate an author’s work further (some more are certainly well written, but rarely are they my thing). I have no real explanation for this, though I have my suspicions. For instance, this is the category with the lowest barrier to entry in that it doesn’t take a lot of time to read a bunch of short stories, but there are also a lot of stories to choose from, so the votes get spread far and wide, thus yielding niche stories that don’t appeal to a wide audience (or maybe just me). This is merely speculation though (still there is evidence for some of this – in a world before slates, the category rarely filled up because most of the winning nominees couldn’t muster 5% of the overall vote, which used to be a requirement). This year, at least, features one story that I did enjoy, so let’s get to it:

  1. That Game We Played During the War by Carrie Vaughn – A human woman visits an alien man in a military hospital so that they can play chess. Technically enemies, each has spent time as the other’s prisoner, but the experience brought them closer together rather than drawing them apart. The war is technically over now, and so she can visit her friend. The wrinkle is that his race is telepathic, so when they play chess, she needs to figure out a way to account for his knowing her every move ahead of time. There’s some interesting character work here, the telepathy is explored fairly well for such a short story (though there’s plenty more to explore), and the use of chess offers some thematic heft. A well balanced, interesting, and entertaining read. It’s not a perfect story, but it is my favorite of the past four years of the award, so there is that!
  2. Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies by Brooke Bolander – Despite protestations to the contrary, this is a story about a woman who is murdered, but she’s not actually a woman. Rather, she’s some sort of interdimensional birdlike spirit who can take on mortal forms. When she is killed, she simply regenerates and then takes sweet revenge on the man who killed her. A simple tale, one that spends more time whining about how often stories revolve around a man killing a woman (which is definitely true and worth subverting), but one that also seems beholden to that trope and unable to subvert it without resorting to didactic proclamations. Fortunately, there’s lots of cursing, so it doesn’t entirely feel like a lecture. It’s at least got a plot, and the broad strokes of the narrative are attractive too, so it ends up pretty high on the list, though it might stumble down because of:
  3. Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar – A sort of retelling, mashup, and subversion of two fairy tales, this one also seems to rely a lot on didactic proclamations to make its point, but again, there’s at least some sense of a narrative and a sort of hope in the end that is usually missing from such stories (and a lot of ye olde storytelling is pretty didactic, so this is true to form). This is one that has grown in my estimation since I have read it, and it may ascend to #2 if this continues…
  4. The City Born Great by N.K. Jemisin – New York City is alive, and is being reborn with the help of a homeless man chosen for the task and being trained in the ways of city birthing. There’s also an enemy that could prevent the city from evolving. Will our homeless hero defeat the evil? After two novels and this short story, I’m beginning to think that something about Jemisin’s style just doesn’t jive with me. There’s a nugget of an interesting idea here, but it seems lost in a cloud of style. Again, probably just my personal hangup here.
  5. An Unimaginable Light by John C. Wright – And Wright is another author I tend to just bounce off of. This one is better than the others I’ve endured, but that’s a pretty low bar to clear and I think a big part of it was that it was at least mercifully short. It’s a story about a man and a robot debating Asimov’s three laws. I mean, not exactly, but anything that is interesting at all in the story is derived from Asimov, not Wright. There’s a twist at the end that is almost laughable and forces scrutiny that the story cannot bear on its own. Damn, I wish I was rereading one of Asimov’s robot stories. Wright is probably a better prose stylist (again, not a high bar to clear, sorry Isaac), but Asimov is a much better storyteller.
  6. A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers by Alyssa Wong – It’s only been about an hour or maybe two since I finished this story, and yet, I can’t seem to remember any pertinent details. Something about two women. Immolation. Worlds ending. I want to say it’s more like a tone poem than a narrative, but I’m not sure I can say that because I don’t remember anything about it. It sorta just washed over me, but then, it did leave me feeling vaguely annoyed. If only I could remember why.

Oof. I’m almost tempted to nuke everything after That Game We Played During the War with a No Award, but that’s not really fair, so I’ll probably just leave well enough be. At this point, the prospect of reading 5 Novellas isn’t so attractive, especially since I’ve got The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. sitting right here, calling to me.

Hugo Awards: Novelettes

So we come to the short fiction categories of this year’s Hugo Awards. This year, I start with the Novelettes, that odd category that fits stories that are longer than a short story but shorter than a novella. If the past several years are any indication, these stories actually tend to be my favorite of the short fiction finalists. Short stories have been almost uniformly a disaster for the past few years (partly the doing of the Puppies, but it was an issue for me even before then). Novellas somehow seem to be bloated and overlong while still missing the depth you get from a novel (with the notable exception of Bujold’s Penric novellas, which I love). Novelettes hit the Goldilocks zone, providing enough space for a complete narrative, but not so much that the story drowns in hooptedoodle. Does the trend continue this year? Let’s find out:

  1. Touring with the Alien by Carolyn Ives Gilman – Mysterious alien ships arrive one night without warning. Translators (comprised of formerly abducted humans) emerge and claim the aliens come in peace and don’t want anything. A woman is hired by the government to drive around a translator so that he can see the sights. It turns out that the aliens are intelligent but unconscious, which has some interesting implications. This story works well, with a good exploration of consciousness with the occasional detour into other areas. The ending has a twist that’s pretty easy to see coming (though it does elicit some questions as to the premise of this whole road trip – aren’t there, like, security clearances or something? Is the trip even necessary?), but it works. Lots of open questions, but at least we’re getting something that’s engaging with an interesting idea and trying to hit that sense of wonder that makes SF so great. Short and sweet, this is certainly not perfect, but it’s got some solid ideas and it works well enough…
  2. The Tomato Thief by Ursula Vernon – An old woman with a penchant for growing tomatoes in the desert is surprised to find that a mockingbird is stealing her ripest tomatoes. All is not what it seems, and the old woman takes it upon herself to free some magically imprisoned folk. This is a neat little story, reminiscent of Stephen King’s Dark Tower setting, it has a solid throughline and a genial protagonist. Moderate levels of hooptedoodle, but manageable and probably the tightest plot of the bunch. I currently have Touring with the Alien at #1, but this is really close and could potentially take it when it comes time to finalize my vote.
  3. You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay by Alyssa Wong – A western about a necromancer pulled into service by greedy folk from out East to clear out a mine that’s overrun by the undead. We find out about the source of his power and his relationship with a prostitute, but it seems his talents doom him to be forever alone. Or something like that. A markedly more somber tale than The Tomato Thief, but it almost feels like it’s set in the same universe (and thus, it also has that Dark Towerish feel to it). Well written, but not a whole lot of meat on the bone here. Certainly a worthy entry, even if it didn’t completely do it for me. Pretty clearly a #3 or #4 rank for this one.
  4. The Jewel and Her Lapidary by Fran Wilde – A valley protected by magical gems harnessed by “lapidaries” and wielded by ruling “Jewels” is invaded, thanks to the betrayal of a high ranking lapidary. Now it’s up to two teenagers, the titular Jewel and her lapidary, to repel the invaders. This is one of those stories that just drops you in the deep end, which makes it rough going at first, but it eventually settles as you begin to understand the various worldbuilding concepts. The ending is a bit anticlimactic, but it works. Certainly not the best of this crop, but a decent read nonetheless. Again, could move up to #3, but not any higher.
  5. The Art of Space Travel by Nina Allen – A woman works at a hotel while astronauts destined for Mars stay for a night. We get a little about the mission and some information about a previous, failed mission, but it turns out that all the SF elements of the story are nothing more than window dressing for our protagonist’s character study, relationship with her mother, and her quest to find out who her father really is (again, we initially think he might be an astronaut, but the truth is far more mundane). Well written and a decent story on its own, but it only barely clears the bar of SF and frankly not all that much happens, which knocks it down a peg or two (or, uh, 4) in the ranking.
  6. No Award – I don’t hand these out often, but…
  7. Alien Stripper Boned From Behind By The T-Rex by Stix Hiscock – *sigh* Some people like dinosaur porn and three breasted green aliens that shoot lasers out of their nipples, I guess. Oddly, this is the second time I’ve actually read speculative erotica due to the Hugo Awards. That’s a lot, voters. Below No Award for obvious reasons (this is only on the ballot due to trolling from a certain subset of fandom, so while I did read it just to be sure, it doesn’t really deserve to belong here).

Not bad, I say. Stay tuned for the Short Story roundup next week. Will I get to the Novellas? Or the Best Series? I might have, but then The Rise and Fall of DODO arrived in the mail and… Sorry novellas, that takes priority.

Hugo Awards: The Obelisk Gate

Of the six finalists for this year’s Hugo Award for Best Novel, N.K. Jemisin’s The Obelisk Gate was my least anticipated. I’m in the dramatic minority here, as the first novel in this series, The Fifth Season, received near unanimous praise and walked away with the Hugo in a decisive win. I was less sanguine about that initial novel’s pessimism and relentless misery, which mostly served to distance me from the narrative rather than suck me in. There were some interesting revelations and solid worldbuilding in that initial volume, but on the whole, it didn’t feel like much progress had been made in the overall arc. Such things happen in the first volume of a series, I guess, but that didn’t exactly inspire confidence that the second book in the trilogy would fare better. Spoilers for both The Fifth Season and The Obelisk Gate forthcoming…

When a novel’s overarching narrative is that the world is ending, but the world is so monstrous that such an apocalypse is seen as almost welcome from its inhabitants (at least, the ones we get close to), it’s hard not to feel detached. As I noted in my review of The Fifth Season:

If Fantasy too often errs on the side of optimism, this book perhaps errs too far on the side of pessimism. It’s one thing to confront complex problems, but it’s another to propose a solution that is the end of the world. That’s not a solution that provides hope or inspiration, merely despair. Or maybe I’m just being too literal. Jemisin is certainly a talented author with a good command of language, but this novel never really managed to get over the hump for me.

The Obelisk Gate begins with a rehashing of man murdering his toddler, because such anguish was only hinted at in the previous book and obviously needed to be expanded upon with further detail here (“It doesn’t take a lot of effort to beat a toddler to death, but he hyperventilated while he did it.”) After this cheery interlude, the story picks up where The Fifth Season leaves off. Essun (aka Syenite, aka Damaya) has not yet caught up with her toddler-murdering husband Jija or their kidnapped daughter, Nassun, but is instead living in an unusual underground comm called Castrima, where she has met up with her old mentor Alabaster. She learns that he has actually set off the current world-destroying event by attempting to leverage the obelisks that float in the skies to end the cycle of Seasons and thus shatter the social structures that oppress so many, but he apparently failed and his powers are on the wane. The cryptic and tantalizing cliffhanger of The Fifth Season was a simple question: “Tell me, have you ever heard of something called a moon?” It seems that this world once had a moon, but a previous civilization did something to drive it off, and we get some background here. Now it’s returning, and Alabaster attempts to share his knowledge with Essun so that she can finish the job. But since the world is currently ending, they also have to deal with enemies at the gates, and all that fun stuff. Elsewhere, Essun’s daughter Nassun has wound up being trained as an orogene herself, and is starting to come into her own.

The horror of the opening chapter’s infanticide aside, I actually found this to be a somewhat less grim exercise than the opening novel. Nassun’s thread, in particular, is a welcome addition. Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty of misery to go around and Nassun is clearly coming under the influence of some unsavory folk, but maybe I’m just inured to it this time around, or maybe I just braced properly for the sucker punches. Still, it’s good to get a differing perspective on the world, even as Essun’s narrative seems to stall out. Such is the way of middle installments of a trilogy, but I’m still struck by a remarkable lack of progress in the overarching narrative. Two books in, and little has actually happened. Jemisin seems more concerned with her characters than the plot, and the big twists of these novels bear that out. In the first novel, we find that the three viewpoint characters were actually the same person. In this novel, we finally figure out who is telling Essun’s story in second person narration… it’s Hoa, the stone eater. This is not quite as interesting as the first book’s revelation (and I’m not entirely sure how Hoa knows enough details to narrate that way), but at least we’re getting somewhere. The various factions of the world (guardians, stone eaters, etc…) are fleshed out a bit more (though still plenty of open questions), as is the magic system, but it all still feels like characterization, worldbuilding, and setup rather than a satisfying story in itself. Not to overuse this bit from Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing, but I can’t help but think that too much of this book is “perpetrating hooptedoodle.” The clouds have been gathering for two novels, but I suspect the finale will be a light rain shower, not the exciting thunderstorm that would normally be expected.

I think I can see the outlines of the endgame. I suspect Essun will be reunited with her daughter… in battle! As Essun tries to save the world by bringing a renegade moon into orbit (thus perhaps permanently quelling the earthquakes that shatter the world so), it looks like Nassun is being manipulated to bring the Moon crashing down on the world, ending everything once and for all. Plus, her feelings towards her mother don’t exactly indicate any desire for reconciliation in the first place. Or something like that. Of course, I could be completely wrong. Jemisin seems to revel in subverting established tropes of storytelling, which sometimes results in an interesting spin on a familiar story (the “revenge” throughline of this series certainly hasn’t gone as expected, for instance), but that sort of thing is difficult to pull off. Sometimes tropes are tropes for a reason. I’m guessing the “battle” I mentioned above won’t be a big action setpiece, but rather a small, intimate battle of wills. Is that enough? On a personal level, I simply haven’t been able to get over the hump, even if it feels like the near unanimous sentiment of fandom is one of ecstatic enthusiasm.

Ultimately, if it weren’t for the Hugo Awards, I wouldn’t have read this, and I have no real interest in finding out if my above speculations will come to pass. Hugo voters doing what they do, though, means that the final book will probably get nominated and thus I’ll feel obligated to give it a shot. Jemisin is a talented writer, but not one that has really struck a chord with me. I’ve now read all of the novels nominated for this year’s Best Novel Hugo. Alas, this one will be bringing up the rear, along with Too Like the Lightning. A peg above those two is All the Birds in the Sky. I keep flipping Death’s End and A Closed and Common Orbit, but either would make a fine #2 or #3 ranking. At the top of the list remains Ninefox Gambit. A pretty good list this year, if a bit heavy on the hooptedoodle.

Hugo Awards: Too Like the Lightning

You will criticize me, reader, for writing this review of Ada Palmer’s Too Like the Lightning in the style that the book itself notes is six hundred years removed from the events it describes (though only two hundred years removed for myself). But it is the style of the Enlightenment and this book tells the story of a world shaped by those ideals.

I must apologize, reader, for I am about to commit the sin of a plot summary, but I beg you to give me your trust for just a few paragraphs longer. There are two main threads to this novel. One concerns a young boy named Bridger who has the ability to make inanimate objects come to life. Being young and having a few wise adult supervisors, he practices these miracles mostly on toys. Such is the way they try to understand his powers while hiding from the authorities, who would surely attempt to exploit the young child ruthlessly.

Looking after Bridger is Thisbe Saneer, a member of prominent bash’ (basically a house containing a family that is less biological or romance than interest-based, though all seem to coexist in this world) that controls the world’s transportation network and Mycroft Canner, who is our erstwhile narrator. He’s also a mass murderer, like a combination of Jigsaw and Hannibal Lecter. He was long ago caught for torturing and murdering an entire bash’ (a crime we’re told, repeatedly, was the worst in centuries), but in this society, most criminals are not sent to prison, but instead are relgated to becoming a “servicer” who wears a uniform and serves at the pleasure of society. With his Hannibal-esqe intelligence, Mycroft is actually highly sought-after by the most powerful people in the world, frequently mixing with rulers and highly-influential businesses. At least, he wants us to believe this is so. It is unclear as yet why Mycroft has such an interesting service regime. Has he been conditioned, Clockwork Orange-style, to be less violent? Or is there something deeper at work here? He’s our narrator, and we should, reader, assume that he’s an unreliable one (even if it’s not entirely clear in this initial volume of the series how this will manifest). Regardless, Mycroft has taken it upon himself to protect Bridger from the world powers in whose orbits he revolves (at least, until Bridger is old enough to fend for himself).

The other plot thread has to do with a stolen a Seven-Ten list (more on that in a moment) that mysteriously shows up at Thisbe’s bash’ house. A crude attempt at a frame-up that is immediately seen for what it is, but investigation is unavoidable. This bash’ is responsible for the world’s transportation network, after all, and if it was so easily broken into, this must be investigated, which, alas, may have the unintended consequence of exposing Bridger.

So Seven-Ten lists. There are things about the worldbuilding that might give pause, but this, reader, is perhaps the most difficult thing to swallow in the book. Each year, a number of publications present listicles in which the worlds most influential people are ranked. For some unfathomable reason, a given leader’s position on these lists can actually have a profound effect on the political, social, and economic order of the entire planet. Surely, these lists are based on some sort of objective, measurable criteria, right? No, dear reader, they are not! Completely subjective, and some appear to be ghost-written by the equivalent of a bright intern who thought it might be fun to shake things up. It is very nearly a bridge too far, reader, enough to almost make this feel like a Buzzfeed-feuled dystopia.

But no, reader, I exaggerate. Listicle worship aside, the rest of this world feels balanced and approachable, if not entirely convincing. Depending on one’s predilections, one could even go the opposite route and see a utopia in the making. On a personal level, I find that unconvincing though. This setting has the ring of tradeoffs. For example, there is a sort of internet that is easily and freely accessed by a device called a “tracker”, which I think you can intuit also provides various surveillance capabilities to authorities. It gives you convenient access to information and travel networks, but at the price of privacy. This isn’t new, reader, it’s just a simple and perhaps even likely extrapolation of current trends. Sure, it’d be a big change for us but after a period of adjustment, we’d probably get along fine. Not utopia fine, but just regular fine, complete with tradeoffs, like we’ve always had to deal with. Other aspects of the worldbuilding are somewhat less successful. Each of the “Hives” have interesting concepts attached, but we don’t really see how they play out and none of those concepts are sufficiently explored. There’s a lot of “telling” without actually “showing”, and all we really get a look at is the “Great Men” of this world.

Is this style starting to get to you, reader? Surely it is my own lack of knowledge and skill that grates, but my experience with the novel’s narration was sometimes strained as well. Science Fiction is infamous for its exposition and info-dumps, and indeed, this device provides an interesting and perhaps more justified approach than most. On the other hand, exposition and info-dumps are still out in full force, and this strategy, while clever, might also have provided a false sense of security for the author. The information that is summarily and frequently dumped on us, reader, is often interesting in its own light, but in context presents certain challenges. Pacing, for example, becomes a genuine problem. It’s difficult to get into the story when you’re constantly being interrupted. This is absolutely intentional, but self-awareness does not necessarily make it less of a flaw.

The information on offer ranges from worldbuilding tidbits to philosophical interludes to sexposition (a sequence that I must admit, reader, fooled me in precisely the way Palmer intended) to character background to Mycroft’s running commentary, a sort of humorless MST3King of the plot as it unfolds. Some of these are vital, others work at first but chafe after a certain point. The Eighteenth Century direct address and prostration for forgiveness bits work fine at the start, but halfway through the book, on the umpteenth occasion that our narrator lectures us on gender pronouns, it grates. Not because of the subject mater, reader, but because of the repetition and dismissive assumptions. I get it, and the gender pronoun contretemps presents some thought provoking ideas that have generated some interesting debate in the fandom. But after the dozenth time the plot is interrupted to rehash that very same idea, I was less willing to go with the device.

I have been calling you reader, but I’m virtually certain you do not frequent my writings. This is not an admonishment, reader! Just context, since you may not have seen a recent pointer to Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing, in which that estimable author perfectly describes my feelings on this book’s stylistic trappings. He calls it “perpetrating hooptedoodle”, and that, dear reader, is what this book is filled with. Also this review, so let it be clear, reader, that I’m not above hooptedoodle. But I’m not nominated for a Hugo award either, and with good reason.

All that being said, there is much boiling under the surface here. As absurd as the Seven-Ten lists are, their superficial nature belies the fragile balance the various world powers have struck. There’s clearly more going on here than the lists, which, indeed, appear to be a red herring and are dealt with in pretty short order. But the investigation of Thisbe’s bash’ does present other problems, and not just for Bridger. I must admit, reader, that this book had nearly lost me before the revelations of its final chapter (a chapter, I should note, that is not narrated by Mycroft, who you must remember is an unreliable narrator). Are those revelations enough to get me to read on? Will the potential be fulfilled? And how, reader, shall I rank this amongst other Hugo finalists?

In order to emphasize the incomplete nature of this story, I was going to try and end this review on a cliffhanger. Perhaps just finish the review mid-sentence, or add a “To be continued in one year…” note. But that would be unfair to you, reader, and to the author as well. It still does beg the question though: Is this like one of those TV series where you have to get through the frustrating first season to get to the good stuff? Or one of those video games where it, like, totally gets better after you put 40 hours into it? I almost certainly wouldn’t read the sequel to this book, with the one caveat that the Hugo Awards tend to revisit series throughout, and this feels like it could be one of those. This is clearly ambitious stuff, and I am curious about some of the open plot threads. The revelations of the ending could certainly lend themselves to a more engaging narrative and let’s not forget some of the logical endpoints of the Enlightenment, such as the Reign of Terror in France. Will this series actually go there? I admit curiosity, but not so much that I’d check it out without nudging from a second Hugo nomination. For all its interesting ideas and ambition, as it stands now, this book would fall somewhere towards the bottom of my current ballot.

Hugo Awards: The Dark Forest and Death’s End

The universe is so large that it’s inconceivable that we’d be the only form of intelligent life in existence, but in the words of Physicist Enrico Fermi, “Where is everybody?” If there’s lots of intelligent life out there, some far more advanced than we are, why isn’t there any evidence that they exist? This contradiction between probability and evidence is known as the Fermi Paradox. There are potential explanations, but the implications of the Fermi paradox are often not very comforting and sometimes downright depressing.

In science fiction, first contact stories usually deal with this in some way, at least implicitly (if not explicitly). In The Three-Body Problem, Cixin Liu lays out one reason first contact should be carefully considered. Spoilers for all three novels follow! In that novel, a Chinese scientist, disheartened by her Communist upbringing (during the Culural Revolution, her father is killed, she is persecuted for reading a banned book, other family members joined the Red Guard, etc…) and general cruelty of humans, basically invites a nearby alien race to come and “purify the human race.” The Trisolarans live in an inhospitable star system and the relative comfort of a planet like Earth is attractive to them, so they naturally begin invasion procedures. Interstellar travel being what it is, even for a civilization more advanced than we are, it will take their invasion fleet 400 years to reach earth. To clear the way for the invasion, the Trisolarans send and advance party of Sophons (basically a computer/AI embedded into a single proton in a handwavey but bravura sequence in the book) that will spy on the humans and also halt human scientific research and development by interrupting experiments and giving false results, etc…

The Three-Body Problem won the Hugo award a couple years ago, thanks in part to its absence from Puppy-related slates (and yet, being the type of story that Puppies seem to like). The follow up, The Dark Forest, picks up where the first book left off: Trisolaran fleet on its way, Sophons blocking technological progress, whatever shall humans do? After some speculation on the general impact such events would have on society and politics, the book settles into an examination of a human plan called the Wallfacer project. The UN selects four individuals and provides them with unlimited resources in order to devise a counterattack to the Trisolarans. However, thanks to the surveillance of the Sophons, these four men must keep their true plans secret. The Trisolaran response, carried out by human traitors in an organization called the ETO (Earth-Trisolaris Organization), is to designate four individuals in opposition, the Wallbreakers.

Due to the need to keep these plans secret, they all appear to be rather simplistic and silly on their face. However, as the novel progresses and the Wallbreakers study their opponents, the true nature of the plans come to light. Wallfacer Frederick Tyler, the former US Secretary of Defense, has a public plan to create a fleet of mosquito ships with kamikaze-like pilots that will swarm the attacking fleet and detonate nuclear bombs. His Wallbreaker reveals the true plan, which involves bringing a huge amount of water into space and using it to fuel a massive hydrogen bomb (this plan was never all that clear to me). Wallfacer Rey Diaz, famous for repelling a US invasion of Venezuela, has a similar public plan of creating huge nuclear bombs, but his true plan, to use the nuclear bombs to launch Mercury into the sun, thus destroying the entire system (including Earth), is exposed by his Wallbreaker. While this might have been an effective deterrent, it was revealed too early and the rest of humanity wasn’t too keen on the plan. Wallfacer Bill Hines, a British neuroscientist, wants to use genetic modification to improve the human mind. His true plan is subverted by his Wallbreaker, who is also his wife. Details are a little unclear, but it turns out that the “Mental Seal” device he created actually instills defeatism in its users. Fortunately, the process was never fully adopted.

Finally, there’s the most unlikely Wallfacer, Luo Ji. If this book could be said to have a protagonist, it would be him. He immediately refuses the honor, but his refusal is taken to be part of his plan. Resigned to his fate, he simply adopts a hedonistic lifestyle, finding an isolated home, drinking expensive wine, and using the UN as a dating service to find an attractive woman (who, for some reason, goes along with this?) Eventually, he reveals a public plan to transmit a “spell against the planets of star 187J3X1” into the universe. He says this will take at least one hundred years to work, but he predicts that his spell will be devastating. For their part, the Trisolarans seem the most afraid of Luo Ji, and rather than assign a Wallbreaker, they simply try to assassinate him. Luo Ji escapes barely, and manages to make his way into hibernation.

200 years later, he awakens to a changed world. Environmental degradation has lead to large underground excavations. Despite the Sophon block, technology has increased dramatically, and humanity now sports a fleet of thousands of spaceships. Observations of the Trisolaran fleet show trouble for our enemies, as the size of the fleet dwindles (presumably due to accidents or damage sustained during high speed travel). Humanity seems to regard the Wallfacer program a failure and is now seeking to establish diplomatic talks with the Trisolarans. Despite this, Luo Ji has to dodge a series of assassination attempts after he awakes, so clearly the Trisolarans are still scared of him.

All’s well, right? Well, not so much. The arrival of the first Trisolaran probe results in a devastating attack on humanity’s space capability (dubbed “The Battle of Darkness”). If such a tiny probe is so advanced, humanity has no chance against even a weakened Trisolaran fleet. That is, until Luo Ji’s spell finally takes effect and star 187J3X1 is destroyed. His Wallfacer plan is thus finally revealed, and it relies on one of the more depressing explanations for the Fermi Paradox: While intelligent life may be plentiful in the universe, if you reveal your location, at least one of those civilizations will be both more advanced than you AND be a scary, predatory culture that will only see you as a potential threat. The strategy of such a civilization would be to preemptively strike any developing civilization before it can become a true threat. Luo Ji had sent out a message indicating that it came from star 187J3X1. This message was presumably received by lots of alien civilizations, but it eventually reached a more predatory species who simply destroyed the system. The title of the book comes from a metaphor: The universe is a dark forest where every civilization is a silent hunter. Any civilization that announces itself becomes a target.

Phew, that’s a lot of plot, and believe it or not, I’m greatly simplifying here and leaving lots out. Like its predecessor, this book is stuffed with plot, ideas, and little thought experiments. This makes for interesting reading, and the overarching conflict is tense and exciting, but in execution it does feel a bit scattershot. The concept of the Wallfacer project is great, but it takes a bit too long to get at the hidden plans, and we spend a lot of time with characters who are closed off and focused on seemingly tangential plot points. It turns out that in deceiving the Sophons, the Wallfacers also have to deceive the reader, which is a great idea, but Liu only barely clears that bar, making this an entertaining read, but one that feels like it has a lot of filler. By design and for good reason, but filler nonetheless. That being said, I was surprised that it didn’t manage to make the Hugo ballot last year. Then again, it’s not like I read it back then or nominated it, so I don’t have to look far for an explanation.

So finally we get to Death’s End, the conclusion to Liu’s trilogy and one of the nominees for this year’s Hugo Awards. Naturally, this one starts with a segment set during the Fall of Constantinople. Without spoiling details, it ends millions of years in the future. Inbetween, we get some other approaches to the Trisolaran threat that parallel the Wallfacer project (a timeframe referred to as the “Crisis Era”), such as the Staircase Program (an attempt to send a lone human emissary to meet the Trisolaran fleet). We eventually get to the “Deterrence Era” in which Luo Ji is known as the Swordholder and deters the Trisolarans with mutually-assured destruction. But Luo Ji is getting old and must be replaced. His replacement is Cheng Xin, who worked on the Staircase project. Unfortunately, at the moment of transition, the Trisolarans immediately attack (using their probes and Sophons, etc…) and it’s revealed that a new invasion fleet, capable of light speed, has set out from Trisolaris and will arrive in 4 years. Cheng Xin does not initiate the Dark Forest broadcast (because that would kill both civilizations) and the Trisolarans start colonization procedures, allowing humanity to collect itself in Australia (while the Trisolarans will take the rest of the planet). When the full implications of this emerge (the Trisolarans expect only about 50 million humans to survive), humanity gets all uppity and ends up broadcasting the location of Trisolaris into the Dark Forest, resulting in its quick destruction. It’s only a matter of time before that same scary, predatory race intuits Earth as the origin of these broadcasts, so the Trisolaris fleet changes directions and flees into the galaxy. Humanity works on ways to counter the predatory race, either by hiding from it, escaping to interstellar space, or a few other tricks. Will they succeed?

Once again, what we have here is a novel that is overstuffed with ideas and thought experiments. Liu has a knack for naming things to evoke archetypal characteristics. Wallfacer/Wallbreaker, Staircase, Swordholder, and even the various Eras referred to throughout (Broadcast Era, Bunker Era, etc…); all of these lend a certain feeling of universality and scope that make this seem classical and enduring. High ambition, high stakes (that are actually earned), and a willingness to confront uncomfortable ideas and take them to their frightening but logical conclusions. I won’t spoil the ending, but it’s bittersweet at best, and existentially terrifying at worst. There’s a reason that Fermi Paradox folks like to say “No news is good news” and this novel nails why that statement works.

Those ideas that evoke the fabled SF goal of Sense of Wonder are what make these books work. The more sociological and philosophical aspects of the story are a little less focused and successful, leading to some inconsistency in terms of characters and pacing that perhaps make the series too long and pull the books down a peg or two. I suspect some things are lost in translation here, but this is not meant as a slight on Ken Liu (who translated the first and third books in the series), just an acknowledgement that translations naturally produce, for example, awkward dialog and pacing. I’ll put this on me too, as reading a book from another culture always presents challenges that I’ll readily admit I’m not always equal to. However, most of my complaints are far outweighed by what this series gets right, and this will rank high on my Hugo ballot, though I don’t know that it will unseat my current frontrunner (which remains Ninefox Gambit). This isn’t quite the diamond-hard SF of Greg Egan or Peter Watts, but it’s fully in the tradition of “literature of ideas” and even if some of those ideas don’t land for me, it’s definitely my kinda SF.