Arts & Letters

The Book Queue

It’s been a long time since I posted a book queue, so naturally it’s been filling up with lots and lots of things that I want to read. For the most part, this is separate from the Hugo Award reading list which I’m also hoping to tackle in the coming few weeks (finishing up novels now, moving to short fiction this week).

  • Mission of Gravity by Hal Clement – I really enjoyed Clement’s Needle, so this one seems like a good next step. Often mentioned as a classic of hard SF, I’m looking forward to this one.
  • The Player of Games by Ian M. Banks – I started Banks’ loosely connected Culture series a while back and it seems like it gets better as it goes, so this one is up next. I’ve heard great things about the next book in the series, and even though I don’t think you need to read them in order like this, I guess I’m a completist and just want to go in order.
  • Jhereg by Steven Brust – Back when I finished up Bujold’s Vorkosigan series of novels and started going through withdrawal pains, I started seeking out a replacement series. Something that would give me that same high. This… has not been a successful effort. I’ve read some decent books, of course, but nothing that quite reached the level of Vorkosigan. Not even close, really. But one of the suggestions I found was Steven Brust’s long running Vlad Taltos novels, of which this one is the first. It’s a fantasy series, so it’s nothing like the Vor novels, but still, I’m willing to give it a chance.
  • Startide Rising by David Brin – I read the first novel in Brin’s Uplift series not too long ago, and thought it was fine, but I only really read it so that I could get to this novel, which has a great reputation. And yes, I’m cheating, I’m already in the midst of reading this book. And it’s quite good! More to come!
  • Lest Darkness Fall by L. Sprague de Camp – I’m not sure where this one came from, but I’ve heard good things and I’ve never read anything from this author, so there’s no time like the present. Or a few months from now, when I’m more likely to find time to read this…
  • Heaven’s Queen by Rachel Bach – I “read” the first two novels in this trilogy last year, but never finished it off… because I was listening to them as audio books and for some reason, this final installment isn’t available on audiobook. So I’ll just have to bit the bullet and read it. Poor me. Still, I’ve greatly enjoyed the series so far, so I’m looking forward to this one.
  • The Two-Bear Mambo by Joe R. Lansdale – I will, inevitably, become fed up with SF/F in the near future, so I’ll return to Lansdale’s Hap and Leonard series of Texas crime novels. I’ve read two so far, and greatly enjoyed both, so this third installment is next up…
  • Provenance: How a Con Man and a Forger Rewrote the History of Modern Art by Laney Salisbury – And now we move on to the non-fiction phase of the book queue, and this one sounds fun. Art fraud, con men, and so on, what’s not to like?
  • The Victorian Internet by Tom Standage – I’ve read excerpts from this novel and greatly enjoyed them. It’s about telegraphs and the stairstep in communication that it represented. It turns out that many of the “strange” things about the internet (another stairstep in communication improvement) have happened before. History repeats itself. Sounds great.
  • Time Travel in Einstein’s Universe: The Physical Possibilities of Travel Through Time by J. Richard Gott III – I’m a sucker for time travel stories, and this book goes through some possibilities and supposedly references some fictional stories that I’ve read, so I’ll check this out at some point…
  • The Ascent of Wonder: The Evolution of Hard SF edited by David G. Hartwell and Kathryn Cramer – Another cheat! I’ve been reading this for, like, 9 months. Well, not straight. It’s a collection of short stories, so every time I finish a book, I take a break and read a short story or two. It is excellent! There are great stories here, and it seems to be giving a fantastic overview of hard SF throughout the history of SF, ranging from 19th century fiction to the 80s (the book was published in the early 90s). It’s a huge book, featuring stories from all the classic authors and more, but it’s going to take a while to finish. Over 1000 pages and it’s dense, small-type pages so it’ll take a while, but I want to finish it this year.

Well, that should keep me busy for a while, right?

Hugo Awards: The Fifth Season

The Fifth Season is death… or maybe the end of the world. It’s happened before and it’s going to happen again, metaphorically and maybe even literally. Spoiler alert, I guess, but the grim nature of N.K. Jemisin’s Hugo-finalist novel and the downright misanthropic outlook it gives us on its world are almost immediately apparent. After all, this is a book that opens with a woman grieving for her infant son who had been beaten to death by his father. It’s a rough way to start the story, coupled as it is with some deft but also quite dense world building, but don’t worry, things get way, way worse as the story proceeds.

The setting is a world with a giant supercontinent that is under constant state of geological distress, occasionally leading to catastrophic Fifth Seasons that humanity barely survives. To help quell the earthquakes and volcanoes and tsunamis are the orogenes, magic users with seismic powers that are essential to keeping the world alive. For their trouble, they are generally feared and despised by the rest of the population (I kept thinking of X-Men). The plot considers three different orogenes, each at a different point in their life. One is Essun, an older orogene in hiding and also the aforementioned grieving mother who is now determined to seek out her husband (who has also presumably kidnapped their daughter). Then there is Syenite, a cranky but talented orogene sent on a mission with another, very powerful orogene named Alabaster. Finally, there’s the child Damaya, who we follow as she’s taken from her home to be trained at the Fulcrum and serve at the will of the Empire. Meanwhile, Winter is coming a fifth season is brewing.

To some people, this dark (to put it mildly) approach is like catnip. At least, judging from the reviews, that’s the case. I found myself floundering a bit at the beginning, at first in a good way. I like the dense worldbulding and the magic system (such as it is) is well thought out and used in clever ways. The characters are well drawn and yet, I didn’t particularly like anyone. This can be fine, but they’re not particularly interesting either, except insofar as they are instruments of the worldbuilding. The twisted and misanthropic nature of the relationships and institutions don’t help. There are no real friendships here, only betrayals. There isn’t any love, only lies. Every relationship is a twisted power struggle resulting in exploitation at best and usually outright abuse. Every institution is oppressive and exploitative. The result is misery porn.

Look, I don’t need a book to have all the answers or be uniformly upbeat, but this book takes such an extreme and dismal view that it resulted primarily in a sorta detached experience for me. The end of the book even has a revelation or two that are genuinely interesting, but it’s all undercut by this relentless horror that only served to desensitize me. It could almost approach self-parody, but it’s far to horrifying to ever reach comedic levels. Towards the end of the book, there was a big twist that I find interesting on an intellectual level, but which didn’t have nearly the impact it should have because I just didn’t care that much about the characters. As a result, the twist felt more like a cheat than a revelation. Progress is made on all of the storylines, but little is resolved in the end, perhaps because this is the start of a series. The final line of the novel holds an interesting promise, but I can’t say as though I’m at all interested in revisiting this world or its characters.

In her review at the New York Times, fellow Hugo nominee Naomi Novik praises Jemisin’s novel, noting that:

Fantasy novels often provide a degree of escapism: a good thing, for any reader who has something worth escaping. Too often, though, that escape comes through a fictional world that erases rather than solves the more complex problems of our own, reducing difficulty to the level of personal struggle and heroism, turning all obstacles to monsters we can see and touch and kill with a sword. But N.K. ­Jemisin’s intricate and extraordinary world-­building starts with oppression…

…Yet there is no message of hopelessness here. In Jemisin’s work, nature is not unchangeable or inevitable. “The Fifth Season” invites us to imagine a dismantling of the earth in both the literal and the metaphorical sense, and suggests the possibility of a richer and more fundamental escape. The end of the world becomes a triumph when the world is monstrous, even if what lies beyond is difficult to conceive for those who are trapped inside it.

That’s an interesting perspective, but from what I can see, Jemisin’s pendulum has swung way too far in the other direction. 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. As usual, judging a book from a series presents certain difficulties with how to rank this on the Hugo ballot. Right now, Novik’s Uprooted and Stephenson’s Seveneves are at the top somewhere, which puts this book about on par with Leckie’s Ancillary Mercy (another book that bounced off me).

SF Book Review, Part 23

Just catching up with SF reading, including the tail end of Hugo candidates and some other stuff. One of these actually made the cut for my Hugo ballot, but alas did not become a finalist. Let’s hop in:

  • Corsair by James L. Cambias – The “space pirates” trope can be a fun one if you’re willing to sacrifice scientific rigor in favor of a ripping good yarn, essentially pretending that space is an ocean and thus vulnerable to piracy. But space isn’t an ocean and the logistics of piracy in space make such an outcome unlikely. And yet, James Cambias has actually managed to make it work in this novel. He does so by cleverly setting up the “ocean” in a limited fashion, speculating about mining operations on the Moon by unmanned semi-autonomous spacecraft (whether there’s anything actually worth the trouble of mining on the Moon is another question). This means that piracy is actually conducted from the comfort of our home planet via hacking attacks (sometimes involving other unmanned spacecraft, but still). While the space between Earth and the Moon is vast, energy efficiency essentially dictates the past most of the valuable cargo will have to pass through. The Earth/Moon Lagrange Point is essentially pirate-infested waters. All of this is background, of course, but it’s this sort of subtle cleverness that Cambias threads through his work that attracts me. The story itself takes a little while to get going, but works well enough. David Schwartz and Elizabeth Santiago meet each other at MIT, but while they initially hit it off, it seems clear that their general attitudes don’t fit together (especially David’s more morally flexible approach). A decade later and Santiago is in the Air Force helping fight space piracy. Unbeknownst to her, David is secretly “Captain Jack, the Space Pirate”, the most infamous and successful space pirate of them all. Captain Jack’s latest endeavor, though, is sponsored by a shady group with their own agenda. When things start to go pear-shaped, David and Elizabeth’s paths cross again. Some of the space pirate stuff feels a little cheesy, to be sure, and David’s attitude seems naive, egotistical, and maybe even sociopathic at times, but he’s at least competent and otherwise likeable enough that he sneaks through. Still, once things get going, it’s a lot of fun, and the underlying cleverness worked enough for me that I threw it a Hugo nod (which, of course, did not make the finalists). Cambias is quickly becoming an author I look out for…
  • Zero World by Jason M. Hough – Peter Caswell is an technologically enhanced assassin. To ensure operational security, he has neural implants that prevent him from remembering any details of his missions. After his handler activates him for an emergency mission, Caswell finds himself on an alien but oddly familiar world, tasked with seeking out and murdering an escaped human. Naturally, all is not what it seems, and as Peter goes further down the rabbit-hole, other revelations make him question his involvement… until he hits his time limit and regresses to his “innocent” state. This was an enjoyable enough read, and while some of the later plot twists are well done, others are wholly predictable. It’s a bit overlong and yet, incomplete, as it seems like there will be more books in the series. I’m on the fence as to whether or not I’d read those books, which I guess says something about this one. Again, very enjoyable, but somewhat disposable…
  • Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang – A few years ago, I read Chiang’s story “The Truth of Fact, the Truth of Feeling” and was impressed enough that I made a note to go back and check out more of his stories. In typical Kaedrin fashion, we’re only now getting to read more of his stories, but they’re pretty fascinating. Some of them are more purely fantasy, but clearly from the mind of a SF author (“Tower of Babylon”, “Hell Is the Absence of God”). Most of them have very human cores, even when delving deeply into the science of this or that. “Story of Your Life” is certainly a standout, covering a team of scientists and liguists making first contact with an alien species (Cross-cut with one of the scientist’s memories of her daughter). It’s apparently going to be a movie directed by Denis Villeneuve and starring Amy Adams, which sounds promising, though I can’t imagine this being a “crowd-pleaser” of a movie… “Understand”, about a man given an experimental drug to heal brain damage which has the unexpected side-effect of dramatically improving his intellect. Soon, he’s being hunted by the government and, more ominously, another super-intelligence. Very interesting and entertaining. Like all short-story collections, this is a bit uneven, but the quality is overall pretty high.
  • Triplet by Timothy Zahn – I always come back to Zahn, a solid craftsman who I can usually count on for some SF comfort-food. This is one of his earlier efforts, about a three planet system connected through magic. It’s yet another play on Clarke’s infamous “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”, though in this case, Zahn takes it literally, positing flying carpets, trolls, demons, and so on… It’s not a long book, but it does take a bit of time to get going, and our main characters aren’t quite as enjoyable as you’d probably want here (my favorite character is the bodyguard Hart, a man our main characters spend most of their time avoiding… drats.) Zahn has lots of better efforts, but this was fun enough.
  • The Commuter by Thomas A. Mays – Originally a finalist for this year’s Short Story Hugo, Mays asked to be removed because all of the nominees were part of the Rabid Puppy slate. But I greatly enjoyed Mays’ previous effort, a novel called A Sword into Darkness, so I decided to pick this up and give it a shot. It’s a fun little fantasy tale of a man whose daughter is inadvertently stuck in the Faerie land. Action packed, fun, and a little clever, it’s a good little story and worth checking out…

And that’s all for now. I’ve started making my way through this year’s Hugo finalists, so you should be seeing some more reviews here soon enough…

The 2016 Hugo Awards: Initial Thoughts

The 2016 Hugo Award Finalists were announced this week and yes, it’s another shit show, but maybe sorta not as bad as last year? I hope? Assorted thoughts below:

  • So the Rabid Puppies once again dominated the finalists, presumably due to their habit of generally following the slate laid out by their dark leader. In comparison, Sad Puppies seem ineffectual, but actually, this is probably what the whole Puppy effort should have looked like from the start. They got some things on the ballot without dominating the process. If we are to take them at their word that they just wanted to highlight works that traditionally get short shrift at the Hugos (I know it didn’t start like that, but it did evolve into that), then this seems nice. The Rabid approach seems tailor made to hurt the award and just plain piss people off. As I mentioned last year, it’s one thing to be more successful than expected, but it’s another to experience that backlash and then just double down on your approach. In any case, it does seem as if their influence is centered around the lower-participation categories. As such, I expect anti-slating measures to end up in the rules for next year, which will hopefully erode attempts to game the system like this.
  • Fortunately, at least part of the Puppy success this year was driven by the inclusion of works from mainstream authors on the lists. The Rabids had folks like Neal Stephenson , Neil Gaiman, Alastair Reynolds , and Lois McMaster Bujold on their slate, which, well, these are all people who don’t need any help getting nominated. In addition to those names, the Sads even included the likes of Ann Leckie, John Scalzi, Nnedi Okorafor, Naomi Novik, and Cat Valente, most of whom don’t seem to exactly fit the puppy mold if they aren’t actively hostile towards each other. I am, of course, not the first to mention this, but it does seem to have the effect of softening the impact such that the scortched-earth No Award response feels less likely this year. There are some who are calling these mainstream choices “shields” and coming up with elaborate conspiracy theories about their inclusion, but who knows? I mean, yeah, I could dig through the muck and try to figure out what the Rabid intentions really are, but jeeze, who wants to get into their head? I like a lot of these authors and hell, I even nominated some of them (completely independent of recommendation lists or slates, imagine that!). Of course, this has been my approach all along, but others, even strident opposition, seem to be getting on board that train.
  • This post will hopefully be the extent of my Puppy wrangling for the year. As usual, I plan to read the works and judge them accordingly. More thoughts on major categories below, but at an initial glance, there are most certainly some things I’ll be putting below No Award (especially when you get to the lower-participation categories), but some of the categories are actually pretty exciting.
  • Best Novel features a pretty solid little lineup, three of which I’ve already read. A little heavy on the fantasy side of the award for my tastes, but that happens sometimes. Neal Stephenson’s Seveneves is the clear frontrunner for me, though Naomi Novik’s Uprooted isn’t too far behind (i.e. there’s a reason both of these novels were on my ballot). I wasn’t a huge fan of Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Mercy, so N.K. Jemisin’s The Fifth Season or Jim Butcher’s The Cinder Spires: The Aeronaut’s Windlass certainly has the chance to climb up the ranks. From what I know of these two unread novels, I don’t expect them to overtake Seveneves, but I’m rooting for them. I should probably note that I’m a Stephenson nut, so it would take a lot to unseat him, even if I think this particular effort is more flawed than some of his others. One last note about the Puppies with respect to this category: I’m pleasantly surprised to see that John Wright’s Somewhither didn’t make the cut. From what I can see, it was very popular with puppies and John Wright has been a bannerman for the movement, so the fact that this didn’t make it to the final ballot means that, for Novels at least, you need to have broad support (the one Puppy nom that didn’t have a good chance to make it otherwise was The Aeronaut’s Windlass, but then, Butcher is an incredibly popular mainstream author, so his book was probably bolstered by non-Puppy votes).
  • Best Novella is actually looking pretty good too. I’ve only read one (Bujold’s Penric’s Demon), but that one work was better than anything nominated in this category for the past few years (and a damn sight better than last year’s John Wright dominated slate). None of the nominees fill me with the dread of reading dross, which again, is a big step up from last year. I’m kinda looking forward to reading something by Brandon Sanderson that isn’t 1000 pages long. Binti, The Builders, and Slow Bullets sound pretty interesting too.
  • Best Novelette is less clear to me, but I don’t see any major red flags (though I suppose having two stories from the same anthology is a bit gauche). The only author I recognize is Stephen King, an author you don’t see in the Hugos very much to be sure, but I’m not complaining. This is the least popular of the major fiction categories, which probably explains Puppy dominance here. I’m as guilty as the next fellow here though, as I didn’t nominate any novelettes this year.
  • Best Short Story is… bizarre. Where to start? The elephant in the room is, I guess, Space Raptor Butt Invasion by Chuck Tingle (a writer of gay, science fiction erotica who would fit right in with my Weird Book of the Week series alongside our last selection, Lacey Noonan, author of I Don’t Care if My Best Friend’s Mom is a Sasquatch, She’s Hot and I’m Taking a Shower With Her and A Gronking to Remember (first in a series of Rob Gronkowski themed erotica novels)). In some ways, this is an inspired choice. In other ways, what the fuck? Also of note, Thomas A. Mays has asked that his story, The Commuter, be removed from the ballot (for admirable reasons), which is a shame, because I really enjoyed his last novel (and even nominated it last year!) I will most likely still read his short story. After that, we’ve got two military SF stories (one from the same anthology mentioned above in Novelettes) and If You Were an Award, My Love, a clear reaction to Rachel Swirsky’s infamous If You Were a Dinosaur, My Love, which, like, ugh. Really? It was written about a year or two too late and it’s just an exercise in petty spite, filled with Scalz-hate-boners and the like. There is something wrong in Short Story land. I read plenty of decent short stories every year, but they never end up on the ballot, and I suspect the problem is that there’s too much short fiction out there and none of us are reading all the things so our votes get spread far and wide, making the category vulnerable to slating and even very popular authors (even before the Puppies, witness the inclusion of John Scalzi’s absurd April Fool’s joke, “Shadow War of the Night Dragons: Book One: The Dead City: Prologue”, a funny little parody to be sure, but best short story of the year?). I don’t know what the solution is here, though maybe the rules changes will have an impact.
  • Best Dramatic Presentation (Long Form) turns out exactly like I thought, with my three favorite nominees in addition to standards like Star Wars and Avengers… Still would have rather seen something like Predestination make the ballot, but I guess it’s too much to expect for the Hugo voters to actually look for small, independent movies.
  • As for the other categories, ehhhh, we’ll see. Few of these categories hold much interest for me, though I might be tempted to look at a couple of them because I like a nominee or two there. For instance, long time Kaedrin compatriot Shamus Young made it on the Fan Writer ballot this year, which is pleasant to see (another instance of Rabids glomming onto a popular writer, albeit one who primarily writes about video games). Despite a long history of awards, File770 probably deserves some additional recognition for becoming the defacto clearing house for fandom during last year’s clusterfuck of a Hugo process. And so on.

As usual, I plan to spend most of my time reading through the nominees and judging them accordingly, rather than attempting to wade through the usual BS.

Dark Knighted

In the wake of the disastrous Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice*, I thought it was time to take a look back at Batman, so I went out and read a bunch of the more famous and lauded comics as well as a few peripheral bits of media. My experience with comic books and graphic novels is limited, to be sure, but I did briefly go through a phase in the early 1990s where I read a bunch of stuff, including some Batman and Superman. These weren’t particularly memorable, though there was that whole Death of Superman thing (and the subsequent return) that was pretty hard to miss. I also read a bunch of them newfangled Image comics, but believe it or not, my focus at the time was more on licensed properties like The Terminator, Aliens, and Predator (and come to think of it, Batman versus Predator was nestled in there somewhere). More recently, friends turned me on to the likes of Locke & Key and Morning Glories, but not so much superhero comics. All of which is to say that you should probably take what follows with the appropriate boulder of salt.

  • The Dark Knight Returns – A 4 issue miniseries set in an alternate, dystopian Gotham City where a 55 year old Batman snaps and comes out of retirement to deal with a growing gang menace as well as some old foes (and while he’s at it, friends). Grim and gritty, this is probably one of the most influential comics of all time. Also, probably one of the most overrated. Coming at this from the outside (and 30 years later), it seems like a dramatic pendulum swing, the polar opposite of the campy 60s Adam West Batman TV series. Perhaps a necessary change, but almost certainly an overcorrection. Written by Frank Miller with art from Miller and Klaus Janson, I found the book to be a bit of a slog. Miller’s writing is pretty text heavy, with a clunky overuse of cross-cutting (or whatever the comic book equivalent to that is) and relying a little too heavily on an extended critique of the news media. The artwork feels kinda sloppy and jumbled, with some exceptions. The use of a 16 panel grid sometimes leads to highly repetitive and awkward visual cues. It sometimes feels like the art isn’t finished. I’m guessing the washed out tone was intentional, but aside from the new Robin character, a lot of this feels a little too muddled. The one visual thing that did work for me are the striking splash pages.

    Splash Page

    Perhaps because of the repetitive grid preceding them, the splash pages have a high impact and the art is usually much more distinctive and focused. They’re doled out sparingly, but that only increases their effectiveness. From what I can tell, this is one of the influential things about this book, though I don’t know enough to say for sure… Storywise, there actually isn’t much going on here. It’s all just an excuse for Miller to indulge in graphic excess, relying too much on the shock value of having, say, Selina Kyle be a hooker or Batman riding up to criminals in a tank or something. It’s not so much that the story is dark that’s the problem (though it does feel excessive), it’s that there isn’t much of a story at all, it’s just a flimsy pretense to go dark. Reading this after seeing Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice*, I’m guessing that Zack Snyder was majorly influenced by this book. His movie has a similar disjointed structure (except that it’s a lot worse on screen that it is on the page). Overall, glad I read this, but I can’t see myself revisiting it much.

  • Batman: The Killing Joke – This short graphic novel, written by Alan Moore with art from Brian Bolland, is more like it. Once again, we’re greeted with stultifying darkness, but here, at least, it works. The art is also quite beautiful and much more appropriate for the story. Speaking of which, there actually is a story. A very dark, very gruesome story, to be sure, but at least something that makes sense. There’s shock value here, but that’s a means to an end, not the end in itself.

    Reveal of the Joker

    What’s more, the art seems singularly focused on moving the story along. It’s not an afterthought or formality, it’s specifically designed. Everything feels deliberate and planned, like Moore and Bolland are actually taking advantage of the medium (imagine that) to, for example, provide a surprise when you turn the page. There is little of this in Miller’s TDKR. There are some strange choices here, notably the idea of showing the Joker’s origin (though I suppose you can retcon it as being another made up story, a la Heath Ledger’s Joker), but it’s all something I’m willing to go with. To continue the pendulum metaphor from above, we’re still on that grim and gritty swing, but we’re starting to fall back down towards the equilibrium. Not by much, but enough. I found out after I read this that apparently there’s some sort of argument about the ending, whether or not someone is killed. In some ways, the book is ambiguous, in others, it’s visually very clear. The artwork is so generally well done that I have to take this as being intentional. Sorry, trying to avoid spoilers here, but this is well worth checking out.

  • Batman: Year One – Another 4 issue run written by Frank Miller, this one is illustrated by David Mazzucchelli, and thus avoids much of the sloppiness I perceived in TDKR. Miller’s script is also toned down a bit here too, retaining the darkness but relying less on shock value and more on actual story, which I appreciated much more. It’s a retelling of Batman’s origin, and his initial forays into crime-fighting. Much of this is focused on Batman’s failures, to be sure, but hey, one scene follows another in a generally logical progression that actually makes sense. Way to go, Miller! The art is generally better than TDKR as well, and some of the imagery does feel quite iconic (if not as great as Killing Joke). It’s clear that some of this inspired Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins, even if it’s not a one-to-one adaptation.
  • Batman: The Animated Series – This is basically my Batman. I had watched some of the 60s show and I’d seen the Tim Burton Batman movie, but this series, more than anything else, is what made me love Batman as a character. I noticed that this was on Amazon Prime streaming, so I threw on a few episodes, hoping it would live up to my memory. I’m happy to report that it has held up incredibly well. This show is fantastic. From the unique German expressionism/Art Deco visuals, to the voice acting, to the well paced and plotted stories, this gets everything just right. One of the many reasons the show works so well is that it, like its source material, is episodic in nature. This causes so much angst in filmic portrayals because the filmmakers are always trying to cram so much into their 2 hour limit that they often have trouble balancing it all together. The series does not need to worry about such things, and manages to stay very focused and on point throughout. The show was created for kids, but it has a surprisingly ambitious streak, such that adults can still get a lot out of this. Take, for instance, the pure visual storytelling on display in the opening credits – a heist is foiled by Batman, no dialogue, just visuals. While the tone is not as dark as the other things in this post, it was a welcome respite, while not descending into ridiculous camp. They struck a perfect balance here, and it’s the sort of thing that I think everyone enjoys, including the hardest of hard-core comic fans and normal people alike. I’m really looking forward to watching more of these…
  • The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture by Glen Weldon – This recently released cultural history of Batman, tracing him from his origins up through current incarnations, was quite enlightening. Weldon (of Pop Culture Happy Hour fame) clearly has a love of the character that runs deep, and he has done his homework. He posits an interesting cycle for the Caped Crusader, from noir detective to kid and family friendly superhero and back again, it seems like my pendulum metapahor earlier in this post is particularly apt for this character. As evidenced by this post, I’m no expert, but it does seem like Weldon has taken a pretty comprehensive look at the character on both the pages of comic books as well as other adaptations. If you’re a fan of Batman, this is well worth checking out.

And that just about covers it. Up next on the Batman front: Batman: The Long Halloween, which seems like something I might want to save for later reading…

* This is the actual title of the movie. Someone actually thought that up, and then more people actually approved it and put hundreds of millions dollars behind it.

SF Book Review, Part 22: Ye Olde School SF

One of the things that participating in the Hugo Awards process has evoked in me is a strong desire to read older SF. This often lends a sense of deja vu, as older works are foundational and thus many things you’re used to think of as modern are actually quite old hat in the SF world. Sometimes this is a conscious homage, others are more inadvertent (or, at least, unclear). Anywho, I’m once again quite behind in reviewing these books, so here goes nothing:

  • Needle by Hal Clement – A pair of amorphous alien beings crash lands on earth, their hosts dying in the process. One is a Hunter, a sort of policeman, and the other is a criminal. They are symbiotes, and after their crash landing, they must immediately seek new hosts. The Hunter ends up in the body of 15-year-old Robert Kinnaird. After making contact, they must seek out their quarry, but how do you find a needle in a haystack… especially when the needle appears to be a piece of hay? Clement is an author I’m going to need to read more of, as I quite enjoyed everything of his that I’ve read, including this, his first novel. He has a very hard SF style to him, spending a lot of time working out the logistics of, say, the way the Hunter establishes contact with Kinnaird (it’s not simple and there are several fits and starts, but it makes perfect sense). This is the book’s primary strength, and that process was my favorite part. Once they’ve established ways to communicate, the hunt is on, but that part is actually less well plotted than you’d expect and goes on a bit too long (though the book is quite short). I don’t know if this book is the ur example of symbiotic aliens in SF, but its among the first, and I’m guessing one of the more rigorous attempts as well. I’d be curious if, for instance, Wesley Chu had read this book before embarking on his Tao series… Regardless, this is a quality work and probably a good introductory text for novice SF readers. I will most certainly be reading more Clement in the near future.
  • The Stainless Steel Rat by Harry Harrison – Slippery Jim diGriz is a con-man who is out-conned by the Special Corps, but instead of going to jail, he’s recruited by the Corps to help investigate a new warship being built in secret. Along the way, he meets Angelina, a deadly con-woman who is orchestrating the whole thing. This book was a little more disappointing, though the premise is certainly sound and some of the ideas work well. The execution is a bit off though; the character of Angelina didn’t feel right and I’m thinking there are probably better con-man turned police stories out there. Then again, this is apparently just the first in a long series of books, so perhaps that’s why this has the reputation that it does. I’d be inclined to check out some more of these, but probably not anytime soon.
  • Callahan’s Crosstime Saloon, Time Travellers Strictly Cash, and Callahan’s Secret by Spider Robinson – The first three books in a long series of short story collections all centered around Callahan’s Bar, your friendly neighborhood tavern where the reguars are anything but regular. time travelers, vampires, con-men, cybernetic aliens, telepaths, and perhaps worst of all, expert punsters. Yes, if you like puns, you will love these stories. As with most short story collections, these can be a bit uneven, and as the series progresses the stories tend to get longer and more complex. Still, for the most part they are fun exercises filled with interesting ideas. Robinson clearly loves Science Fiction, and in many cases will make references or homages to SF in-story (even using the SF initials). The setting is the clear draw here, as Callahan’s Bar is a wonderfully warm and inviting location filled with empathetic patrons who, despite their love of groan-inducing puns, are quite smart and helpful to strangers who have big problems. Some highlights include “The Centipede’s Dilemma”, “Mirror / rorriM Off The Wall”, and “Pyotr’s Story”. I enjoyed a lot of the stories here, but I think I’ve had my fill for the moment, though if I ever get a hankering for more, there are several other collections available.

That covers it for now. Up next are some newer books, then we’ll be in the swing of Hugo season…

Hugo Award Nominations

As the nomination period for this year’s Hugo Awards draws to a close, I figure I should cobble my shortlists together. I have not made a ton of progress since last time, but there’s a few new things on the list and some other categories that I neglected. The Sad Puppies released their list recently, and it appears to be less of a clusterfuck, though everyone still has their undergarments in a bunch about the puppies, which I just don’t get. The brand is pretty muddled at this point, and the lists include a lot of works by authors that typical puppy voters ostensibly hate (i.e. Ann Leckie? John Scalzi? Nnedi Okorafor? Cat Valente?), though there are a few stereotypical Puppy authors. My guess? John Wright’s novel will make it (ugh) and possibly Jim Butcher’s book, in addition to the mainstream nominees that I think almost everyone is voting for (like, uh, my list below). I’m hoping this will be less controversial, as I hate all the requisite whining that everyone has to wade through once the finalists are announced. For next year’s Sad Puppies, what they should do is allow each participant to rank 5 works in each category, and then use Australian rules voting to determine a winner in each categor… wait a second, this sounds familiar. Anywho, I’ll just leave it at that and throw up my nominations (additions from last time are marked with an asterisk):

Best Novel:

No changes here. I read three more eligible books since last time, but none which I think should be nominated. I really, really enjoyed Bujold’s Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen, but it seems like a poor point to enter the series and I hate it when someone nominates a book and, like, you have to read 10 other books in order to understand what’s going on (also not sure it’s even eligible for this year). I’m currently in the midst of James Cambias’ Corsair, which is still a possibility, but so far it’s not really at the level of my current nominees so I’m guessing I’ll leave it off the final list.

Best Novella:

Duh. No change from last time, and while I have my hesitations on her novel, this novella is great.

Best Short Story:

I managed to read some more short stories; most didn’t make the cut, but I liked the two additions, even if I won’t be heartbroken when they inevitably fail to become finalists (though hmm, looks like one is on the Sad Puppy list).

Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form:

This lineup works for me. I’m betting that Mad Max and The Martian as locks, and Star Wars too (which is partly why I’m not nominating it). I’m really hoping that Predestination and/or Ex Machina can muster enough support to make it, but small, independent, smart movies rarely make the Hugo finalists. It’s baffling. I think What We Do in the Shadows will only get one vote (mine), but hey, a man can dream and I do love that movie.

Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form:

I added Jessica Jones S1E1 to the list because it’s a pretty fantastic introduction to the series, getting right to the heart of the matter and just how terrifying the villain can be. Otherwise, I’m not particularly sanguine about this list, except for The Chickening, which is utterly brilliant.

Best Fanzine

Normally a category I avoid, but I had to single out File 770 for excellent coverage of the Hugos during last year’s clusterfuck. Mike Glyer covered the controversy, but also managed to highlight, you know, actual posts about the stories, etc…

Campbell Award

  • Andy Weir*

People seem to think Andy Weir is eligible for this award, despite The Martian not being eligible last year? Or was it? I don’t know, but I figure it’s worth throwing this up in case it’s an actual possibility.

And I think that just about covers what I’ll be nominating. There’s an off chance I’ll get to some other stuff during this week, but for now, this is what I’ve got. Curious to see how the finalists turn out, but not particularly anxious for more controversy and hand wringing. Still undecided as to whether I’ll be voting this year…

Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen

One of the great things about Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkosigan novels is the sheer variety of genres and stories that she manages to wring out of her universe. It speaks to how well the worldbuilding in the series works, but also to her breadth as a writer. I’m sure you could generally categorize the series as action/adventure in the mold of Horatio Hornblower, but when you start to narrow it down, you find a wide array of sub-genres: military SF, spy thriller, drawing room intrigue, political conspiracy, mystery (of many kinds), legal drama, and even straight up romance. As the series has progressed, she has trended away from the more action oriented aspects and more towards interpersonal dramas and romance. Most of the series is told through the eyes of the pint-sized force-of-nature that is Miles Vorkosigan, though the series (chronologically) began with his mother Cordelia Naismith and father Aral Vorkosigan. It’s been 25 years since Cordelia headlined a novel, but she has returned in Bujold’s latest novel, Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen. Spoilers, I guess, more from the series rather than just this book, though I guess some of that might pop up too.

Three years after her husband’s untimely death, Cordelia Vorkosigan thinks it’s time to resign her post as Vicereine of Sergyar and move her life in another direction altogether. Along the way, she ensnares the unsuspecting Admiral Oliver Jole in her schemes, and he suddenly finds himself contemplating possibilities he would never have dreampt up on his own.

This may not sound like much of a plot, and truth be told, there really isn’t one. There’s no grand political conspiracy driving the events, no dead bodies, no explosions, no Cetagandan invasion fleets, just a rather well executed character piece. This usually isn’t my sort of thing, so I think it speaks volumes about Bujold’s worldbuilding and capability of producing lovable characters that I really enjoyed the novel. Part of this is certainly that this is something almost completely new to the series. The books it most resembles would be A Civil Campaign and indeed, there are some light parallels between the stories (I’m thinking primarily of an unexpected family visit). But even A Civil Campaign had the structure of an adventure, even if it wasn’t strictly so. The centerpiece of that novel was a dinner party for crying out loud. And what’s more, it was fantastically exciting. No such disasters here.

There are subtleties here that Bujold has yet to explore in the series. Since most of the series was seen through the eyes of the young, we don’t get a lot of insight into what was actually going on with the parent’s generation. It turns out there were some, er, interesting relationships being built. This novel reveals many of these things, and concerns itself with the concept of dealing with the grief of losing a loved one. Aral’s loss is keenly felt by most of the main players, and Cordelia’s plan to course correct her life is her way of acknowledging that she must move on.

For reasons I’ll leave unclear, Admiral Jole felt the loss of Aral nearly as much as Cordelia, and her plans have suddenly given his late-life a hope that he never really considered. Jole is not strictly a new character, having been briefly mentioned in several previous novels, but his part was always as a handsome, competent aid to Aral Vorkosigan. As usual, I’m left wondering if Bujold always had this story in mind and was peppering hints to this obscure side character in order to lay groundwork for this story, but this generally speaks to her ability to craft lovable characters.

The pairing is a good one, and it deals with late-life issues in a way that most stories never dare. This being a science fiction universe, a 76 year old woman deciding to change careers and have more kids does not seem so far fetched since she can expect to live to 120 years old. Similarly, a career military man can find other uses for his keen observational skills, and maybe have some kids of his own. Interestingly enough, Bujold is still wringing new and intriguing implications out her concept of a Uterine Replicator, even now, thirty years after she began writing these stories.

The usual coterie of side characters pepper the story, both new and old, and as per usual, they are all delightful. Despite a wide cast of characters, it never falls into an unfocused, episodic trap, and generally remains deceptively compelling.

It’s a fascinating book primarily for what it doesn’t do. One of the things I cherish about this series of books is how frequently Bujold manages to subvert expectations. I often find myself thinking This can’t be right!? Is she really doing this? and then being utterly enthralled as Bujold sooths whatever stupid reservations I may have. I have learned that you must simply go with the flow and trust in Bujuold. In this case, I suspected that we might see some political intrigue or inciting incidents, but as the novel progressed and the story stubbornly refused to indulge my predictions, I started to get a feel for something different and interesting. Like Cordelia and Oliver, you have to be willing to let the story go its own way.

In a recent interview, Bujold noted that sort of difficulty in certain audiences:

Bujold, 66, remarks she was once part of a book club discussion of her fantasy novel, The Curse Of Chalion, with a group of junior high students, “where it gradually became apparent that the hero was far more alien to them by being an old man of 35 – practically like their parents! – than by being a demon-ridden medieval fantasy nobleman.”

I suspect Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen would garner a similar reaction, though I think ones experience in SF/Fantasy greatly reduces any complaints you might have about the exploration of late-life challenges this novel confronts. After all, if you’re willing to consider the implications of a “demon-ridden medieval fantasy nobleman”, why not a 76 year old widowed Vicereine and her desire to raise a new family? Or maybe I’m just getting older and wiser…

Hugo Award Season 2015

It’s that time again. Well, almost. The nomination period for the 2015 Hugo Awards is fast approaching, so I thought I’d get some thoughts on potential nominees down before all the requisite whining and controversy begins in earnest. This marks the third year I’ve participated, and while I was very gunshy about nominating in the first year, I went far out of my way to find stuff last year, to middling success (i.e. almost none of my nominees became finalists, but a couple things snuck in!) This year, I’m coming in somewhere between that level of effort. I’ve definitely read a bunch of eligible stuff, but I’ve only got a handful of definite nominees and I’m not really planning on any Herculean efforts to swell this list. My current nomination ballot, some thoughts on same, and a few things I’d like to read before I finalize my ballot are below. Enjoy:

Best Novel:

Nothing too controversial (as if any of you were surprised that Stephenson would make my ballot) or even obscure here, and in fact, I’m reasonably sure that both of these will become finalists for the Hugo. There are a few dark horse books that I’d like to check out that may make the list, including: Zero World, by Jason M. Hough, Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky, and Dark Orbit by Carolyn Ives Gilman. I doubt I’ll get to all of them, but I should be able to swing at least one before nominations close. Will it make the cut? Only one way to find out.

Best Novella:

Another completely unsurprising nomination, given that Bujold is one of my two favorite writers (the other being Stephenson). If those two weren’t publishing last year, I’m not entirely sure I’d participate this year. And it looks like we’ve got a new Bujold novel coming in the next few weeks. Most exciting.

Best Short Story:

This was actually on my original nomination list for last year… until I found out that while the “January” issue of Fireside Fiction was released in very late 2014, it would not be eligible for the 2014 awards due to the listed publication date (2015), and so here we are. I have no idea what its chances are. Certainly it’s had plenty of time to build a following and it’s a wonderful story, but it also has the great misfortune of being an initial Sad Puppy pick (like me, they removed it from their list once the eligibility issue reared its head – at least, that’s how I remember it, I could be very wrong), so there might be some weird backlash. Whatever, it’s on my ballot.

Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form:

Those of you following along with the Kaedrin Movie Awards will probably not be surprised by this list, but I suppose the one missing entry that might raise some eyebrows would be Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Call it a “snub” if you like, but given the Hugo voters’ historical record and generally surprising lack of depth in this category, I opted to highlight some wonderful films that actually need the help. Star Wars will almost certainly make the ballot, along with Mad Max and The Martian. I think Ex Machina has an excellent chance, while Predestination is a true dark horse (perhaps a resurgence of Heinlein fans will get it done?) and What We Do in the Shadows has almost no chance at all. If you’re reading this, though, seek all these movies out, they are worthy of your time and nomination.

Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form:

The only one of these I’m really passionate about is The Chickening, which has virtually no chance of becoming a finalist. It is maybe a bit on the outskirts of fannish interest (being a take on Kubrick’s The Shining) and strikingly bizarre, but it is absolutely brilliant. You should totally watch it and then wonder about my mental state afterwards. Seriously though, I found myself reaching for more short films this year than TV episodes (which normally comprise approximately 100% of the finalists). Kung Fury is a hoot, but I suspect not really the Hugo voters’ thang. I have mixed feelings about World of Tomorrow and it might not make my final ballot, but then, I’d rather see that there than any number of the usual suspects (and it does seem rather fannish). Game of Thrones is a lock to be a finalist, but they’ve gotten a lot of Hugo attention the past few years, so maybe it’s not necessary this year (but then, who else can stop the Doctor Who juggernaut?)

And that just about covers it for now. I suspect I’ll read a few other things before nominations are due, but this is where I’m at now. Suggestions are welcome, though comments are still wonky, so hit me up on twitter @mciocco or @kaedrinbeer (if you’re more of a lush) or just send an email to tallman at kaedrin dot com.

SF Book Review, Part 21: Hugo Prep Edition

I read a lot of books last year, but I’m way behind in reviewing them, so in an attempt to catch up, here are some thoughts on a few Hugo Award related books. Last year I went out of my way to seek out stuff that would be eligible for the Hugos. This year: not so much. But I’ve read a few things that could qualify, so here goes:

  • Lines of Departure by Marko Kloos – This book was nominated for the Hugo Awards last year, but Marko Kloos withdrew the book due to the whole Puppy kerfluffle (thus clearing the way for the eventual winner, The Three-Body Problem). As a result, Kloos emerged mostly unscathed from the whole affair, and many pledged to purchase and read his book anyway. For my part, I really enjoyed the first book in the series and thought it showed a lot of promise, so I was inclined to check out the sequels anyway. This book starts off with humanity in pretty bad shape. Already suffering from a civil war and overpopulation, a new and relentless alien race (referred to as Lankies) has seemingly targeted human colonies throughout the galaxy. Our intrepid hero, Andrew Grayson, is right in the thick of it. After some disastrous operations, he gets scapegoated and assigned to a tiny, ice-bound colony in the middle of nowhere. Naturally, that situation ends up in mutiny and treason… and then the Lankies show up. I liked this well enough, but it also felt a little like the series was treading water. The first book was a little derivative, but well executed and it set up some interesting dynamics. This one is also well executed and moves the ball forward a bit, but not very far. The Lankies still remain inscrutable, which could wind up being a good thing, but what we do know about them is straightforward and not all that “alien”. Grayson and pals are competent and likable, but there’s some discomfort with the whole treason thing. The military here is presented as incredibly dysfunctional, especially when you move higher up the ladder (the grunts are all pretty honorable folks). Depressing, but certainly a valid extrapolation of current political trends. The book ends with a desperate counterattack against an invading Lanky ship. They use a tactic that’s treated like a breakthrough, but that any reader even remotely familiar with space combat tropes already knew about. So what we’re left with is a reasonably well executed MilSF novel, entertaining, but not mind-blowing.
  • Angles of Attack by Marko Kloos – The third of Kloos’ series sees our intrepid heroes marooned on that tiny, obscure planet that’s been cut off from supplies. Lankies are getting closer and closer to Earth at this point, and human institutions are breaking down. Again, we’ve got some well executed Military SF here, a capable enemy and competent heroes. Kloos is good at action, and the stakes are certainly higher here. Our heroes wind up striking an alliance with former civil war enemies (the Sino-Russians) and defending the Earth from disaster. There’s still no real insight into what’s going on with the Lankies, and this book feels, again, like we’re treading water. I understand there’s a fourth book coming out this year, which I’d hope would move closer to a resolution or at least understanding. I feel like I’m being pretty hard on these books; I’ve enjoyed each of them quite a bit, and I’ll probably end up checking out the next book. There’s a possibility that this will get nominated this year, but I’d rank it as more of a dark horse than a lock. I don’t think I’ll be nominating it, but it’s worth checking out.
  • Penric’s Demon by Lois McMaster Bujold – A novella set in Bujold’s Chalion fantasy universe, this one concerns a young man who accidentally contracts a demon. Demon possession is rarely considered a good thing, but in the Chalion universe, it can be a manageable thing and if you can control it, you will get a fair amount of power. Penric is a likable young chap, and I love the way this story treats the relationship with his demon. I won’t go into too much detail, but this was a fantastic novella, one that doesn’t require any familiarity with the other stories in this universe, and will definitely be on my Hugo ballot. Check this one out, it’s short and very good.
  • Uprooted by Naomi Novik – Agnieszka is a clumsy, homely girl who loves her little village, but the corrupted Wood, filled with monsters and evil presences, has slowly been encroaching on the territory. The Dragon, a magician who is assigned to the area, holds the Wood at bay, but requires an assistant from the village. Each assistant is a young girl taken by the Dragon and serves for 10 years before being freed again, usually moving away from the area afterwords. Agnieszka assumes her best friend, the beautiful and talented Kasia, will be taken, but of course it turns out that Agnieszka is chosen. At first, she seems singularly unsuited to the task, and can’t even learn simple spells. But it turns out that she has a knack for a more intuitive form of magic. Soon, the Wood starts to become emboldened in its attacks, and Agnieszka and the Dragon must find a way to counter the offensive. This is a wonderful little fantasy book. It’s got some flaws. I wasn’t a big fan of the romance and some of the conflict is rooted in profound lack of communication. Some people like that sort of thing, but the Dragon’s initially terse relationship with Agnieszka was frustrating for me, and indeed, a lot of the initial confusion and conflict would have been resolved had he spent a few seconds explaining some things. Similarly, the rigid way all the magicians in this universe treat magic seems unlikely, especially when Agnieszka starts showing them her more intuitive version. Those minor complaints aside, this is a well constructed story, with an ominous and cunning enemy and some interesting allies. Novik manages to cultivate a good sense of dread throughout the story, and when the shit really starts to hit the fan later in the novel, it’s much more effective because of that slow buildup. You could say that the ending is a bit rushed and convenient, but one thing I really love about it is that this feels like epic fantasy, but it’s not 7 books of 800 pages. Novik builds a complex, interesting world here and tells a complete story, and I like it more for that. I will probably be nominating this for next year’s Hugo, and near as I can tell, it’s a frontrunner. Recommended for fans of fantasy!

And that’s all for now. I’m not completely caught up at this point, but I’ll get there someday! In the meantime, the Kaedrin Movie Awards will be kicking off soon enough, so stay tuned!