The Eclectic Speculative Fiction Reader

The Heart of Valor, by Tanya Huff

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 10:54:46 -0600

Last month I ripped through the Omnibus edition that had the two precursor novels, Valor’s Choice and The Better Part of Valor. This month, I have my own novel #2 due at the end of the month plus the Pikes Peak Writers Conference workshops to finish -- but that didn’t stop me from staying up late to finish The Heart of Valor.

This novel picks up after The Better Part of Valor and Torin ends up in a training scenario that goes very, very wrong. Once again, she’s up to the challenge (why I love this character, see previous post) of protecting civilians and trainees. I particularly enjoyed how the plot twists back into issues introduced in book #2, so I think the reader will enjoy the book better if they read The Better Part of Valor. It’s not truly necessary, but I think one would enjoy the few returning characters more if they read the precursor novel.

Speaking of returning characters -- there’s not that many. I’ve been fascinated with Huff’s capability to replace almost the entire “cast of supporting characters” between each book, yet still engage the reader. In my case, I was willing to give up some much-needed sleep to see what happens to this ensemble of characters.

Omnibus: A Confederation of Valor, by Tanya Huff

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 08:55:32 -0600

Important note: this is an omnibus edition with two novels, Valor’s Choice and The Better Part of Valor. These are previously released novels, re-released in this omnibus edition. Some Amazon reviewers complained that this wasn’t made clear on the Amazon detail pages, so beware. In my case, I hadn’t read about Staff Sergeant Torin Kerr when the novels were first released, so I was excited to get both novels in this omnibus edition.

I loved reading about this heroine. Torin is calm and logical, a thinker and a planner. This doesn’t prevent her from flying by the seat of her pants, however, and she reacts quickly. Just like Kris Longknife, she doesn’t have any flaws that prevent her from doing her mission. On the other hand, Torin tends to be prickly, cynical, and suspicious, which means she doesn’t have much of a personal life but these “flaws” help her bring her people back alive. She’s also the only noncom female character in a military-flavored SF series that I’ve read (of course, I haven’t covered every series). Honor Harrington (D. Weber), Kris Longknife (M. Shepherd), Kylara Vatta (E. Moon), and my character Ariane Kedros are all officers, or in Moon’s series, the character went to military academy and trained to be an officer.

Huff’s voice, given the noncom (non-commissioned officer) flavor, cynicism, and dry humor made this series fresh and fun to read. Torin isn’t insubordinate, quite the opposite, yet the tongue-in-cheek comments and internal dialogue about civilians, officers, and orders-from-on-high were spot on for somebody’s that’s been in the military. Since everyone can read book jackets and I don’t do spoilers, I’ll only add that each of the two novels stands alone, encompassing a specific mission. The military environment feels solid and realistic, even with the futuristic technology -- I thoroughly enjoyed these novels and I have to read the next in the series.

Kris Longknife: Audacious, by Mike Shepherd

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 07:02:49 -0600

When I look into a new series and don’t have time to read every book, I usually ensure I read book #1 in addition to the book of interest. I didn’t do that this time, and I think my enjoyment of the story suffered for it.

Kris Longknife is both a princess and a naval officer. She and her entourage (personal security plus staff plus maid) are taking “shore leave” on New Eden, where she again becomes the target of unknown assassin(s). Kris discovers that New Eden never emancipated its citizens when it should have (probably fully explained in previous books). This stratified society, with strict definitions of who can vote, has a great divide between haves and have-nots. It also has communication barriers between law enforcement organizations, resulting in a significant black market as well as an insecure environment for a princess with many enemies.

Because I didn’t read any background books, I have no idea of Kris’s previous struggles. In this story, Kris seemed a bit too perfect. There were hints and references to prior flaws, already overcome, and that’s why I should have also read an earlier book. Kris’s maid Abby is quite interesting, but once again, I would have benefited by having more background. An Amazon reviewer said that this should not be the first Kris Longknife book that one reads... darn, I should have followed the reviewer’s advice. However, the characters are complex and likable, so now I’ll probably go and read some of the precursor books.

Pushing Ice, by Alastair Reynolds

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 16:34:44 -0700

I’d originally bought this book for my sister-in-law, mostly because I wanted to read something by Alastair Reynolds and I’d be able to read it after she was finished. Reynolds is a relatively new U.K. author that’s been lauded for revitalizing space opera. After my sister-in-law read it, I asked her how she liked it. She was ambivalent and lukewarm about the book, saying she was curious to see what I thought after reading it.

I must first make the point that Ace is trying to straddle sub-genres with Reynolds’s books (yes, I’m still into studying sub-genres, also “subgenres”). Reynolds’s books send two messages: the artwork and layout says Hard SF, while the blurbs and quotes say Space Opera or Adventure SF -- literally. On the front of Pushing Ice, the Denver Post says “A thrilling ride in the new era of well-written space adventure.” Two quotes on the back specifically call it “Space Opera.”

So what’s the difference between Hard SF and Space Opera (also Adventure SF)? It can be a fuzzy line, particularly if the Space Opera in question uses plausible science which, for the most part, Reynolds does. Hard SF is usually more about the “concept” and how characters react to it, than about the characters, their growth, and their relationships. Space Opera is the opposite. It can have epic scope and usually, there’ll be a few characters that are larger than life and will display heroic qualities. This is why publishers think men gravitate toward Hard SF and women toward Space Opera -- although that’s stereotypical and since I like both, I hope there’s plenty of people like me.

The Hard SF side: this is about a commercial ship and crew, who mine comets/asteroids (push ice) in 2057. When Saturn’s moon Janice decides to leave orbit and head out of the solar system at high speed, the ship is asked to follow, catch up, and spend a couple days getting information (like, how and why is it behaving in a very un-moon-like manner?). They’re the only ship that’s within reach. To avoid plot spoilers, I’ll say the crew meets many challenges with their near-future technology, but things go very wrong and their destiny is changed. From a Hard SF perspective, the book is a pretty satisfying read.

The Space Opera side: this is about a struggle between two strong-willed women. One is the ship’s captain and the other is the ship’s engineer. It’s also about individuals on the crew having to make personal life-wrenching decisions. From the framing story we find their journey covers the entirety of mankind’s existence so, in a way, the story has epic proportions although the characters don’t realize this time dilation until late in the book. Unfortunately, hardly any of the characters are likable. Not only that, throughout the book the characters can be expected to display the worst side of humanity. They also don’t tend to be consistent. The engineer who, in the beginning, suspected their bosses were sending them on a suicide mission, was quite happy later to trust mercenary aliens that aren’t considerate of individual organisms or individual lives. [Another character even points this out, but I don’t think Reynolds does a good job of explaining away her natural suspicion.]

Space Opera readers may consider the ending somewhat dissatisfying and they may notice there’s no reward for “heroic” behavior. Really. If somebody shows larger-than-life altruistic behavior, they’re usually ridiculed, slapped down, punished, imprisoned, or killed [at first, this doesn’t seem so, but go ahead and track the character arcs through -- you’ll see]. This matches the slightly dystopian theme that some readers may notice and some may not, depending upon the underlying views of life the reader may have. All in all, if you like Space Opera more than Hard SF, as my sister-in-law, then you may not find the book as satisfying as the Hard SF reader.

On Basilisk Station, by David Weber

Wed, 30 Jan 2008 15:57:19 -0700

When I decided I needed to read the very first Honor Harrington book, I picked it up for reading while on a trip. I needed the distraction, since the purpose of our trip was to attend my father-in-law’s funeral.

Based upon the comments made by characters in following books, I expected to see Honor when she was young, before she was in the position of commanding an entire ship. Not so. She shows up as commander and this is at least her second command. She’s already been adopted by her treecat Nimitz, so no more background there. I also expected she’d make her reputation in this book, but I think she merely bolsters much of the reputation she has already established prior to the book’s beginning.

Actually, I was disappointed that I couldn’t learn much more about Honor than I already knew. When I’d read The Honor of the Queen, the references to what happened at Basilisk seemed to promise more. The story was still interesting and I enjoyed the cast of secondary characters, but there’s no serious insights into Honor nor do I think that any personality-shaping events occur for her in the first book.

Considering the mood I was in while I read this book, I should add a mitigating comment. It’s likely my assessment and enjoyment of the book was tainted by the events in my life.

The Nymphos of Rocky Flats, by Mario Acevedo

Thu, 10 Jan 2008 15:07:19 -0700

Mario Acevedo is a fairly new Colorado author. I think it was the 2006 Pikes Peak Writers (PPW) conference where Diana Gill said the opening lines of his book were so great that she had to read it and eventually make an offer to a first-time novelist:

I don’t like what Operation Iraqi Freedom has done to me. I went to the war a soldier; I came back a Vampire.

Those lines sounded cool and I was deep in my Urban Fantasy fad, so I was sure I’d be reading Mario’s book soon, but I didn’t get to it until early this year. After Mario held a workshop for PPW, I finally bought his first book and had him sign it. By this time, my enthusiasm had cooled for vampire stories, but I really liked Mario’s voice -- it felt fresh. I liked the slightly humorous tone and his protagonist Felix, who isn’t too deathly serious (okay -- that’s a pun that’d make my husband proud).

While Mario was signing his book, I asked him whether his publisher felt this series was Urban Fantasy or Horror. He replied, “Horror, of course.” When I asked why (because I’ve been collecting information on sub-genres inside speculative fiction), he said, “From what they tell me, Urban Fantasy has a romantic undertone.”

After reading this book, I’m thinking “Horror” was a marketing decision by the publisher, perhaps to attract more male readers. When comparing Mario Acevedo’s series with Jim Butcher’s Dresden series, Acevedo’s Felix gets waaaaay more romance (real romance, as well as sex) than Butcher’s Harry Dresden. Hmm. We already know that genre is about marketing, but it can be rigid (for instance, it’s hard to package space opera as anything else). Sub-genre appears to have a significant influence on packaging (book title, cover, copy, etc.) and may be more flexible.

Regardless, Nymphos was a fun read. If I get a chance, I’d like to continue reading more of the series, but I’ve got this time management problem to iron out...

A Civil Campaign, by Lois McMaster Bujold

Mon, 3 Dec 2007 15:29:37 -0700

My sister-in-law owns every Miles Vorkosigan novel, but up to this point, I’d only read Komarr. While looking over her collection, I was examining how speculative fiction authors use humor and my sister-in-law thrust A Civil Campaign at me, saying, “This one’s so funny that it kept me up at night and I had problems keeping quiet so my husband could sleep.”

Luckily for me, this book is the one that follows Komarr, so I had no problems picking up the story. I didn’t really need to read Komarr because the relevant details are provided by the author, but it was good to know how Miles met and became interested in Ekaterin in the first place. As for the humor, I enjoyed the story and laughed at many of the situations (and luckily for my husband, I was able to do it quietly because I, also, stayed awake late to finish this book). Bujold does the smart thing: she doesn’t try to write funny (as in Terry Pratchett style), but uses her own voice to present humorous situations that get totally out of hand for the characters. Her characters are complex, although some of this complexity is built in previous books. For instance, I knew nothing about Mark (Miles’ clone) and Kareen, so I found that part of the plot less interesting. Regardless, it’s a fun read.

This book has three intertwining plots: Miles courts Ekaterin, Mark (Miles’ clone) courts Kareen, and Ivan (Miles’ handsome womanizing cousin) finds he has no one to court and gets involuntarily embroiled in politics. That’s how the back jacket reads, but each story line is really a smokescreen for a female character rebelling against suppressive Barrayar society and law. Newly widowed, Kareen thinks she has finally found peace and independence, but finds herself fighting off manipulative suiters and male relatives that would snatch her son’s guardianship away from her (which they can do, under Barrayar law). Kareen is younger, but she finds her social activities abruptly curtailed by her parents when she returns to Barrayar. She tries for independence, financially, socially, and sexually, by managing and investing in Mark’s new business. Since woman are not allowed to inherit titles or take a seat on the Council of Counts, Ivan finds his previous lover has gone to extreme lengths to do just that -- and tumbles Barrayar law on its ear. Plots, politics, and gonad-stealing attempts ensue from these multiple story lines that come together quite nicely in the end, which kept me up until three in the morning.

Note: on Amazon.com, many readers complained that the mass market paperback jacket doesn’t reflect Miles’ physical challenges. Take a look, however, at the cover for the audio version...

Scardown, by Elizabeth Bear

Fri, 9 Nov 2007 14:40:42 -0700

This is the sequel to Hammered, which I read a few years ago. I had been intrigued by Ms. Bear’s protagonist Jenny Casey: she was prior military, older (~50), and scarred emotionally and physically. Her military career had nearly been life-ending and she’d lost an arm -- but the military saved her from a nightmarish life on the streets. That street life of drugs, pimps, and prostitution was the result of escaping a homicidal sister willing to get rid of her own family members... The farther back you went, the worst Jenny’s life proved to be. So the reader realizes that as bad as her life gets in Hammered, it’s nothing compared to what she’s been through. However, it explained Jenny’s self-enforced anonymity and her attempt to keep everyone at arms’ length (or further).

It took years for me to get to the sequel, Scardown, and I paid a price for my delay. The two novels feel a bit like one novel that was divided down the middle. Even though the settings change and some characters exit in the climax of Hammered, one still needs to remember certain facts -- and my memory wasn’t up to the task. I also had difficulties remembering the motivations and beliefs of certain characters, but with the help of the author, I managed to limp through. I recommend reading the two books fairly close together (which wasn’t an option for me, since the first is still packed in storage from my 2006 move).

In Scardown, the political and ecological situation of the Earth is more sharply drawn than in Hammered. China and Canada are the foremost rivals for space exploration, made necessary by predictions that the Earth will be unlivable within a century. The deadlines shorten and the Chinese decide to hasten the Earth’s demise. The stakes become very personal for Jenny. Complication after complication kept me glued to the story as the climax builds and the situation darkens; Elizabeth Bear does a masterful job of cranking up the tension. And while Hammered didn’t seem to have a forceable climax from Jenny’s point of view, Scardown kicks her (and the reader) below the belt.

At the end, however, there’s still plenty of problems. Presumably, Worldwired will pick up the story and deliver the same page-turning tension. See Elizabeth Bear’s website and LJ blog for more of her work.

The Atrocity Archives & The Jennifer Morgue, by Charles Stross

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 05:06:07 -0600

Stross’ world is a unique blend of Lovecraft-ian monsters, computer science, and British secret service noir. It’s so clever that many an SF/F author probably beat themselves with the now-why-didn’t-I-think-of-that stick while reading it. The theory is that the “many-angled ones live at the bottom of the Mandelbrot set” and that many (assumed) unsolvable mathematical and computer algorithms will create rifts that allow such monsters access to our dimension/world. On the other hand, algorithms can create protective charms and tools (as well as protective screen savers). The POV character is Bob, who was inducted into service because he came too close to solving a famous (and assumed unsolvable) problem while fiddling around in his previous IT job. Now he works for The Laundry, which is the nickname for the very secret service dedicated to protecting the populace from terrors they can only imagine.

Bob’s voice is alternately dry and sarcastic, and intended to be humorous. I say “intended” because humor is so fickle and personal, and I had two very different experiences with the books. In The Atrocity Archives, we’re introduced to Bob and his world as he tangles with a Nazi death cult. However, I didn’t warm up to Bob or the humor. The jokes seemed to be trying too hard, or perhaps they were a little too painfully close to real life. I got the jokes: I’ve enjoyed watching “Pinky and the Brain,” I’ve encountered (sometimes too personally) some of the IT drudgery that Bob experiences, and I took Automata and was introduced to NP/NP-complete problems. I also have some familiarity with Lovecraft and Cthulhu-horror game-playing. My conclusion, though, was that the book dragged in places and I felt the humor was heavy handed.

So I started The Jennifer Morgue with trepidation and immediately had a different experience. I started cackling on the first page and continued through the entire book. Why? I haven’t a clue why I thought this book was so funny, in comparison to the first. Once again, I understood Bob’s dilemmas and have been in exactly the same places. On the first page he’s on the German Autobahn with “someone shooting at me from behind with a cannon that fires Porches and Mercedes.” I particularly enjoyed the use of Microsoft PowerPoint as a soporific, and then as a possession device with a soul-eating algorithm built into a slide dissolve that starts with the 1984 Apple ad. Sure, it was complicated, but real: I challenge anyone who’s been given a PowerPoint ROI lecture or marketing plan after a big lunch to argue that they weren’t under a sleep charm... After that, The Jennifer Morgue works off a James Bond structure, in more ways than one. This is more than a spoof, because Bond-ian behavior becomes enforced in the characters through multiple geas.

All in all, a mixed bag. I enjoyed The Jennifer Morgue much more than The Atrocity Archives and the writer in me would like to nail down the reasons. I suspect that better pacing had something to do with it and perhaps the use of the Bond stereotyping that gave the novel its structure. It’s certainly a mystery I’d like to solve.

Deliverer, by C. J. Cherryh

Sun, 5 Aug 2007 07:04:43 -0600

This is the final book of the third series of C. J. Cherryh’s “Foreigner” saga (see my entry on Pretender, the second book). I’ve already talked about Ms. Cherryh’s wonderful ability to create mindsets, as told through the human “ambassador” Bren Cameron, called the paidhi by the atevi.

Bren Cameron, the latest paidhi, has helped the atevi enter space and negotiate with aliens (other than humans). Bren also has an atevi lover, although he keeps that low profile because it’s rather scandalous to sleep with one’s security staff. As book after book goes by, the reader sees Bren’s thought processes and internal dialog become more and more atevi. Then, in this novel, Ms. Cherryh does something she’s never done before. Gasp -- she has an atevi character carry part of the story. Granted, she uses an atevi child who’s interacted with humans (perhaps too much for his own good), but now the reader gets closer to the atevi mindset and point of view (POV).

Not too close, however, because Cajeiri (the aiji’s son and heir) is a fish out of water regardless of whether he’s in human or atevi society. He’s atevi, but he’s been in space for several years, during which time he was reared by his great-grandmother (a dangerous political unity of one) and he had significant interaction with humans. As his POV is interspersed with Bren’s, we can see that Cajeiri is dealing with internal issues; he doesn’t feel comfortable with his parents and his atevi staff, yet he no longer has contact with his human friends from the ship. Cajeiri is lonely (in an atevi numerical sort of way) and even Bren has withdrawn from him, because Bren is fearful he’ll be seen as unwanted human influence upon the heir. Events lead to Cajeiri’s kidnapping and attempts by certain political factions to use his kidnapping against the aiji -- but they get more than they bargained for and I’ll leave it at that.

I enjoyed this book and liked it better than Pretender. Perhaps, since we only see the results and clean-up of past conflict in Pretender, it doesn’t feel personal. More seems to “happen” in Deliverer, and there’s a satisfying balance of politics with action. In Deliverer, the reader easily identifies with Bren and Cajeiri as they both attempt, in different ways, to feel their paths through a violent political minefield.