Sandman: Brief Lives by Neil Gaiman

Years ago, when I was reading a lot of comics, I did read some attempts at fantasy in that medium. The attempts never were satisfying in the same way written fantasy was, for a number of reasons. The universes never seemed really well thought out or defined. There was no real depth to the stories or to the characters. Much of what happened seemed arbitrary. I assumed that this was perhaps a limitation of the genre itself, until a few years back someone recommended Neil Gaiman’s Sandman books to me. The first few were good – certainly better than the vast majority of what is done in the medium, and good enough to get me to read to read more –they were very good comics. But they hadn’t stepped quite to the level of the really good written fantasy. But as the series progresses, Gaiman does cross that line, and some of his Sandman books stand as good fantasy, regardless of media.

In the universe of the Sandman graphic novels, there is group of gods (for lack of a better word) called the Endless, who have existed since soon after the universe was created. The Endless are the personifications of fundamental concepts – Death, Destiny, Destruction, Despair, and so on – much in the way Death in the Discworld is such a personification. One of the Endless is Dream, the main character of most of the stories. (Hence the title Sandman as the bringer of sleep and dreams. Gaiman started by taking the name of an old DC hero, but took his stories down a completely different path.)

Brief Lives is one of the best of the series, and also one of the most straightforward. It may be a good entry point for those who haven’t read any Sandman stories before, even though it’s later in the series. It involves a quest. One of the Endless – Destruction – had abandoned his role 300 years before the start of the current story. At the start of the current story, Dream’s sister Delirium (whose actions and way of speaking match her name) decides suddenly that she misses her brother Destruction and wants to see him again. She tries to get her siblings to help, but only Dream – for reasons of his own – agrees to accompany her on her quest.

The quest takes them through peril and marvel, while Gaiman himself looks at issues of life and change. The character of Dream has grown and changed over the years – something that Dream himself doesn’t want to admit. In fact, Dream’s continuation of the quest stems in large part from his need to give some meaning to the death of a woman who is killed while helping them – something that would have been inconceivable to Dream earlier in his life. The quest also leads him to seeing his son, something again that he had put behind him, but something he now realizes he must confront.

The quest itself is resolved in a way that I certainly didn’t anticipate, in a way more creative than the simple confrontation I had thought the story was building toward.
Brief Lives is also a good example of how the media can really be used to tell a story in a way that couldn’t simply be told through prose. The art conveys feelings and actions in ways that are different from how it can be done in prose; they enhance the story. Even simple things – like the use of rather psychedelic-looking word balloons when Delirium speaks – add to the overall impact.

Back in the 1980s, there were several graphic novels that people recommended as ones to try for those who didn’t otherwise like comics (Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns and Moore’s Watchmen spring to mind). These were indeed good comics, and I enjoyed -- and still enjoy -- many like them, but I don’t think they really were of much interest to those who already didn’t have some liking for comics (or, more to the point, some intertest in the superhero genre, which really is distinct from SF and fantasy in general). But Sandman is different. Brief Lives is a good piece of fantasy, even for those who have no knowledge of or interest in comics.

The Monster Legacy Collection (Universal Pictures DVD)

Boris Karloff once stated that the movies he made shouldn’t be called horror movies: they weren’t trying to horrify anyone (certainly not in the sense of most modern splatter fests); rather, he felt they should have been called “terror movies.” These days, when many folks discuss the early efforts of Karloff and Lugosi, they instead refer to them as “monster movies,” since by modern standards they are frightening. But what they lack in that department, they more than make up for in other essential movie qualities: plot, mood, and so on. Many of early efforts from Universal Studios are classic films and are still great fun to watch today. The Universal Monster Legacy Collection packages all of the original cycle of Frankenstein, Dracula, and Wolfman movies, as well as the other Universal werewolf efforts – Werewolf of London and She-Wolf of London – and several interesting documentaries. The films range in quality from very good to schlocky but fun.

The best of the lot are the two James Whale films: Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein. Whale was an idiosyncratic director, very influenced by German expressionism, and his sets are bizarre masterpieces, with everything at a slant and no right angles except in places where they probably don’t belong. In Frankenstein, he manages to take Mary Shelly’s classic but generally dry novel and make the classic atmospheric monster film, the one that establishes many of the traditions of the genre. Karloff, who stars in the film as the monster created by Dr. Frankenstein, plays the role in a way that makes the audience feel for him at the same time as they are repelled by him. And he’s even better in The Bride of Frankenstein, the sequel that proves to be even better than the original. It takes all of the aspects of the first film and adds black humor to the mix, in the character of the eccentric Dr. Pretorious. Both films in are well worth watching, and stand up as great films.
The remaining Frankenstein films are of varying quality and are mostly of interest only to those people who like the genre, not necessarily to the wider group of movie fans. Son of Frankenstein features Karloff’s last performance as the monster, a role he again handled well. It’s an interesting enough film, but a bit overlong, and not up to the level of the first two classics in the series. Subsequent films are of a lower level – Ghost of Frankenstein, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, House of Frankenstein, and House of Dracula all are fun in their own ways, but all are lesser efforts.

Dracula remains the best of the Dracula films. Bela Lugosi’s creep performance, the bizarre sets, the terse, fast-paced script, all come together in a film that remains interesting. The DVD also features the Spanish-language version of the film. At that period – in 1931 – the early days of sound, Spanish language films were often made using the same script, on the same sets, using Mexican actors filming at night while the English speaking actors filmed during the day. The effort is an interesting one. In some ways, it’s better directed than the English version, but without Lugosi’s presence, it’s overall a lesser film.

The Wolf Man was created by German SF writer Kurt Siodmak. The role was played by Lon Chaney, Jr., who starred in the role in all of the Universal films that featured the Wolf Man – something that Karloff did not do for the Frankenstein monster nor Lugosi for Dracula. The original film, like the best of the Frankenstein and Dracula films, uses art direction to establish much of its effect. The setting are dreamlike – at times nightmare like, especially the forest in which the Wolf Man stalks his victims. And Channey, playing Larry Talbot, the human cursed to become a wolf at the full moon, instills such sympathy in the character that it helps make the later, lesser films still interesting (and makes House of Dracula, an otherwise weak movie, popular with fans as the movie in which the Wolf Man is cured). It’s also interesting to note in looking back at this film how much of what all films, books, etc. take as part of the “werewolf legend” that were made up by Siodmak for the film – such as using silver to defeat the werewolf.

Several of the films here are recommended to almost anyone who likes movies. All are fun and recommended to those who have fond memories of watching these films on the late show when they were kids; they’re still enjoyable to watch today.

Warriors of God by James Reston, Jr.

The popular view of Richard the Lionheart (Richard I of England) is often an extreme one. Most people know him as the good king in the Robin Hood stories, who returns to England to restore justice and boot out his usurping brother John. Others know him as the arrogant young man of The Lion in Winter, controlled by his lover, Philip of France (historically, it was more the other way around). And yet others know of the stories of his cruelty during he Crusades. There are grains of truth in all of these views, but all miss some of the qualities of the real Richard. He was both chivalrous and cruel. But he was also a great leader of men in battle, a great tactician, and a great warrior, at times like someone out of legend. In the final battle of the Third Crusade, for example, Richard was surrounded by a sea of Muslim soldiers. In a vicious fight, he left a number of them dead while breaking free himself. Another story tells of him wading ashore from his ship and his mere presence, with a small band of men, routing a much larger force. I’ve been rereading The Illiad and these exploits are worthy of Hector or Achilles.

Warriors of God tells the story of the Third Crusade, centering on its two greatest warriors, who are also its two most interesting characters: Richard and Saladin. It’s well written and provides a good overview of this period in history, even for those who are completely unfamiliar with the events of the Crusades.

A bit of background on the Crusades. While many of those involved in the Crusades did so because they truly believed they were doing something important for Christendom (regaining the Holy Land, freeing the Church of the Holy Sepulcher from the infidels), etc., the reasons the church encouraged them were actually two fold. The first was the surface reason: to free the Holy Land. But the second was the various European principalities were constantly engaging in petty wars with one another; the Popes hoped to channel this energy into a more noble cause and thereby stop the local squabbling. And, by and large, at least for a time, this worked.

The First Crusade, which ended in 1098 with the conquest of Jerusalem and the massacre of thousands of Muslim defenders (the streets were said to have been awash in blood) was a success for the Christians. It conquered the Holy Land. A Crusader’s Kingdom was established, which within thirty years governed most of Palestine and the Syrian coast. Numerous fortresses were built, and the two great orders of military monks – the Templars and the Hospitalers – flourished. But this was the only successful Crusade.

The Second Crusade began in 1144, when among several Crusader Kingdoms fell to the Muslims. It was lead by, among others Louis VII of France and his Queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine (who was later to Mary Henry II of England and was the mother of Richard the Lionheart and John). It was a disaster, and ended in total defeat outside Damascus in 1146.

At this point, the most important military leader in Muslim history enters the picture: Saladin. He manages to fulfill the dream of uniting Syria and Egypt (the two great Muslim states) and reconquering most of the area. The Crusaders hold a few cities and a number of fortresses, but Saladin wins a great victory at Hattin in 1187 and then goes on to recapture Jerusalem. This is the spark that starts the Third Crusade.

The story of the Third Crusade is very much the story of Richard and Saladin, in that they were the larger than life figures on either side of the fight who led their respective sides. Reston does a good job of balancing the material about these two great leaders with historical narrative about the crusade.

It was a fascinating time, full of acts both great and cruel on both sides. Both leaders had to content with dissension, Saladin with Arab groups who had different priorities, Richard with the French (the latter situation complicated by the French King, Philip, who was Richard’s ex-lover). (The Richard/Philip relationship was something that soap opera writers would have rejected as too far out. It broke up in large part because Philip was angered that Richard would not marry his sister. Richard rejected Philip’s sister not only because he was homosexual (the modern term gay really doesn’t seem like the right one to use when referring to Richard) but because Philip’s sister was sleeping with Richard’s father. Jerry Springer would have had a field day with this.

In the end, the Third Crusade fails for reasons that are still inexplicable. Richard’s army was approaching Jerusalem. It was finally united; even the French were eager to win back Jerusalem. Saladin knew he couldn’t hold and was pulling out. But Richard, for the only time in his life, hesitated and didn’t attack. Historians don’t know why. He could have been spooked by a prophecy, it could have been that he was worried about water supplies (Saladin had poisoned the wells around the city), though the latter wouldn’t normally have deterred him. But for whatever reason, Richard pulled back.

He did have one more great victory at Jaffa – the one mentioned above in which he fought his way free of a much larger force. This is also the battle that features one of the anecdotes that typifies Saladin: at one point in the battle, Richard is unhorsed. Saladin, looking down on the battle, sees Richard fighting on foot, beside his men. Saladin sends him two Arabian stallions, with the message that “… a man as great as he is should not be in parts such as these, on foot with his men.” By the end of the battle, it’s said that the Moslems had lost 700 men and the Crusaders only 2.

But this wasn’t enough. The Crusade ended. Richard headed for home (only to be captured and held for ransom – a story known to all Robin Hood fans).This is a great popular history.

Two reviews for Trafalgar Day

Today is the 200th anniversary of the battle of Trafalgar, one of the most important naval battles ever fought and the last great naval battle of the age of fighting sale. Earlier this month, I decided to read a couple of books on Trafalgar and Nelson that I hadn't already read, hence the two reviews below. But, in addition to the two books listed below, there are numerous other good books out there on Trafalgar and Nelson, including Dudley Pope's fine England Expects and Alan Schom's Trafalgar: Countdown to Battle.

Trafalgar: The Nelson Touch by David Howarth

With the 200^th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar rapidly approaching, I decided to read one of the books on Trafalgar that I hadn't yet read. Therefore, I picked up a book by a popular historian whose works I’ve always enjoyed, David Howarth, whose books on Waterloo and 1066 I had enjoyed. His Trafalgar: The Nelson Touch provides a good overview of the battle, as well as the key events that lead up to it and the horrific storm that followed it.

Trafalgar was a pivotal moment in history. It ended any plans by Napoleon to conquer Britain, and by keeping Britain free, thus prevented Napoleon from every truly conquering Europe. For the next 10 years, Britain was able to stand against him, hemming him into the continent, providing aid to those fighting against him, and eventually providing the army that would most contribute to his defeat.

As Howarth points out, in many ways, the battle was one before the first shot was fired. There were three key reasons for this:

• The British, even though outnumbered, were convinced they would win. They never doubted it. Likewise, the French and Spanish fleet knew it would lose.
• The English were far better sailors.
• The English were far better gunners.

The first of these was directly attributable to Nelson (who of course had a major part in the other two as well). The latter two were a direct result of the proceeding two years. During those two years, the French and Spanish had been blockaded into ports, such as Toulon on the Mediterranean. The English, in an incredible naval accomplishment, patrolled outside, keeping them from breaking out. (A major French sea expedition could have been disastrous to Britain, as Napoleon only needed a fleet to control the English Channel for perhaps 48 hours to give him time to ferry his waiting army across.) For two years, the British patrolled, preventing the French from escaping. (Though in the Mediterranean, Nelson actually tried to tempt them out, hoping to finally defeat part of the fleet.) It was hard work; keeping ships in line, on patrol, in all forms of weather, is not an easy task. And it was boring work. But it honed the skills of the English, who became the best sailors of wooden ships the world had ever seen. And, since the British engaged in gunnery practice while on patrol, they also became superb (and what is very important, fast) gunners; they could fire, reload, and fire again twice as fast as the French, something that was decisive in ship-to-ship combat.

The French and Spanish fleet, meanwhile, in harbor, rarely able to put to sea, could not practice their sailing or their gunnery. As a result, when they finally did get loose, they could neither sail nor shoot every well. Moreover, they were often manned by landsmen and soldiers, who really didn’t understand or like the naval life.

The French had the additional handicap of being ruled by a soldier who thought he understood the sea, but didn’t. Napoleon was prone to give the navy orders that were impossible, then fume that they were all cowards or slackers for not doing what he asked. This sort of thing is of course a major problem with most dictators: Hitler did the same sort of thing in World War II, issuing orders to the army that hindered them in many ways.

Meanwhile, the British had Nelson. I’m surprised that nobody has written a pop-management book on “managing the Nelson way” as he was the model of a good commander. He genuinely cared for and worked well with those around him. (The term “Band of Brothers” was coined by Nelson to describe his close relationship with his captains.) He knew them and trusted them; he gave general instructions but expected his people to use their best judgment and initiative in executing them. He took pains to show concern for all the seamen. As Howarth said, the result was that he wasn’t just respected and admired but truly loved by the sailors. When his death was reported after the battle, sailors all over the fleet were seen crying at the news.

Howarth provides a good general history of the Battle of Trafalgar. He provides enough of background that a reader who knows at least a bit about the Napoleonic Wars has some context, but not as much as some of the more detailed histories I’ve read. There is enough detail of how the battle was fought to satisfy both those who don’t know much about the technology behind and the operation of wooden ships as well as those who do. And he explores the lives and thoughts of both the officers – not only the English but a few key French figures – and the men. He provides a reasonable balance – he is sympathetic to Villeneuve, the French Admiral whom Napoleon blamed for the loss (forgetting everything that he, Napoleon, had done to contribute to the loss) – though he is clearly and Englishman and is proud of the achievements of the Royal Navy.

For serious history buffs, there are perhaps better books on Trafalgar, but if you want a quick yet accurate and reasonably detailed history, this one is recommended.

Nelson by David Walder

After reading the above book on Trafalgar, I wanted to fill in some of the gaps in my knowledge about Nelson with a biography. David Walder’s biography is a good one. It has enough background material so that if you are even a little familiar with British history, you can follow along, but not so many details of the small moments of Nelson’s life that you become bogged down.

Nelson was, as alluded to in the previous review, an amazing man. He led the British naval forces in three major battles – the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar – and was responsible for the key maneuver that lead to victory in another, the Battle of Cape St. Vincent. He changed naval strategy, moving it from one in which lines faced one another and could break off after a few ships had been taken or disabled to a more daring one, involving new, aggressive tactics, and one in which victory meant overcoming the opposing fleet.

He was a great man, yet at times didn’t understand his own weaknesses. In addition to his great victories, his style led him into at least one large defeat: this one in leading troops in a land/sea operation. He was generous, kind, and could be morally upright – but in the end left his wife in favor of Emma Hamilton, his mistress. He was in favor of navy discipline, but sometimes thought it didn’t apply to him. Admittedly, his success let him get away with it. The victory at St. Vincent was a result of Nelson disobeying orders and doing what he, on the spot, thought best. And at Copenhagen, the story of Nelson putting the glass to his blind eye and stating that he did not see the signal to withdraw (and then going on to win the battle) is one that every British child knows.

Walder’s biography provides a balanced look at Nelson. It of course emphasizes his accomplishment – which far out numbered his faults – but it doesn’t turn a blind eye to those faults, and looks at Nelson cleanly.

A good biography, and recommended to those interested in Nelson or in the Napoleonic wars.

Poul Anderson's The Earth Book of Stormgate

The Earth Book of Stormgate by Poul Anderson

When people talk of the “big 3” of science fiction writers, they mean Asimov, Clarke, and Heinlein. But Poul Anderson may very well have been produced more very good material than any of them. Throughout his career, he produced a very large body of work, spanning the SF and fantasy genres. Some of his work is standalone, but much of it falls into a half a dozen or so series (and some of these series are interconnected). One of the best and most popular of his series is that involving the Polesotechnic League. This series, set from the 22^nd through about the 26^th centuries (the related “Flandry” series is tied to it and covers the time after this) tells of human exploration of the nearby stars and of the alien races we encounter. The key time in this period, and the one in which most of the stories are set – the 23^rd and 24^th centuries – is dominated by the Polesotechnic League, a group of interstellar trading companies that explore and then exploit (and note that this word is not necessarily to be taken in its pejorative sense, though sometimes that is the case) what they find, setting up trading arrangements with non-humans and with human colonies.

The Earth Book of Stormgate is a collection of short works and one novel set in this universe. All of the stories are at least enjoyable and many of them are very good. The book has framing material from the point of view of what must be Anderson’s favorite alien race, the Ythrians, and a number of the stories feature the Ythrians. Several stories also are part of two of Anderson’s most popular sub-series – those featuring the great trader Nicholas van Rijn and those featuring David Falkayn (and one of the stories features both).

The first story, “Wings of Victory,” tells of mankind’s first contact with the Ythrians. Anderson set out to solve a problem with this story – how could an intelligent race of flyers exist? What conditions, particularly biological conditions – are needed to enable this? The energy required to enable a large creature to fly seems prohibitive. Anderson solves it by giving the Ythrians biological “supercharges” – gill-like organs on their sides that pump oxygen directly into the blood when the wing are used. The story involves a xenobiologist who is sure that the Ythrians can’t really be the intelligent species on the planet because he’s convinced that flyers couldn’t develop intelligence. The story is enjoyable, though of course the reader knows all along that the xenobiologist is going to turn out to be wrong.

“The Problem of Pain” examines religious beliefs – human and Ythrian – from Anderson’s sympathetic point of view. It’s a somber look at how we view life and death and doesn’t soften its conclusions.

“Margin of Profit” is a fine van Rijn story, showing off his shrewd intelligence and understanding of economics as well as his bargaining skills. An alien race is capturing human ships that pass through an area of space that they claim and enslaving their crews. Van Rijn knows his ships must pass through that area, but the spacers union is refusing. But his skill at economics allows him to solve the problem.

“Esau” (also known as “Homecoming”) also features van Rijn, but in this case in a framing story. Again, an alien power is trying to step in on some of van Rijn’s business, in this case by taking over harvesting on a planet that van Rijn’s company is working. The manager on the spot finds an innovative way to beat them, though in a way that some managers may not like. He’s called home for what he fears is a demotion; instead, Van Rijn, in his usual fashion, praises him and promotes him.

The centerpiece of the book is the van Rijn novel The Man Who Counts (also called War of the Wing Me). Van Rijn and two companions are stranded on the far side of a large, mostly-oceanic planet, where they can’t eat the food and may well starve before they can get a message back to the humans on the other side of the planet. They find themselves in the midst of a war between two nations of winged sentients. Van Rijn uses this fact and his managerial skill to become an important person in one of the nations, something that eventually leads to their helping the humans and saving their lives. This is a fine novel – not Anderson’s best, but even mid-level Anderson is quite good. The characters are well drawn – both van Rijn and the young engineer who can’t understand what van Rijn really does, especially so. The aliens are interesting, as are their societies and the underlying causes of the war. The story moves along well, and the various twists that van Rijn and his crew bring to the war are both interesting and plausible; a key thing he teaches the group he’s with, for example, is mass production.

“Day of Burning” features David Falkayn and the crew of the Muddlin’ Through. They have come to the planet Merseia (a planet that is to become a key rival to Earth a few hundred years later, in the Flandry stories) to warn the inhabitants that, in three years time, the planet will be devastated by the output of a nearby supernova, whose light has not year reached them. They are there to help the natives to prepare and thus lessen the problems, but wind up in the midst of a lot of political squabbling. The choices they make eventually do save the planet – but also create the resentments that set the stage for the relationship we see the Flandry novels.

“Lodestar” features both van Rijn and Falkayn, and sets the stage for why the Polesotechnic League eventually fails. The lose alliance and capitalism constrained to some degree by morality and reason is beginning to fray. Laissez faire capitalism is exploiting minor planets or letting others out of the picture if they don’t have the resources. Our area of the galaxy is coming to be dominated by haves and have-notes – the galactic equivalent of economic superpowers and third world countries – and the haves are showing no interest in helping the have notes, just in exploiting them where worthwhile or ignoring them otherwise. Van Rijn and Falkayn are both, in their ways, better than that; van Rijn is a capitalist who wants to squeeze every honest dollar out of every situation he can, but there are lines he won’t cross – this in a situation where more and more companies aren’t drawing such lines. And Falkayn feels for the poorer planets and understands their unrest. The story itself is interesting enough, but it’s most important in that it starts to bridge the gap between the galaxy at the time of van Rijn and that at the time of Flandry.

As I mentioned at the start, all of the stories are at least good and some like The Man Who Counts, “Margin of Profit,” and “Day of Burning” are very good.

Steven Saylor's The Judgement of Caesar

The Judgment of Caesar by Steven Saylor

Steven Saylor’s Roma Sub Rosa books, featuring Gordianus the Finder, started out much like Lindsay Davis’s Marcus Didius Falco books – as mysteries set in ancient Rome. In both series, the characters were interesting, the details of life in Rome well researched, and plots well constructed. But while Davis continues to write mysteries (very good mysteries, I should say), Saylor really has gone down a different path. More and more his books are becoming historical novels (usually very good historical novels), with the mystery being only a small part of the story. The Judgment of Caesar is perhaps an extreme example of this trend.

As the novel opens, Gordianus and his wife Bethesda, along with his latest adopted son and two young slaves, are heading to Egypt. Bethesda has been ill, and she wants to return to Egypt to bath in the waters of the Nile. However, the trip brings Gordianus to Egypt in time to once again take part in the great historical events of his time. First, he’s captured by Pompey the Great, who had promised to kill him, and is on hand when Pompey is assassinated by the servants of King Ptolmey (who is ruling Egypt, but in the midst of a civil war with his sister Cleopatra). He meets Ptolmey, but is also on hand when Caesar arrives to meet Ptolmeny (accompanied by Meto, Gordianus’s adopted son, whom he had disowned in the last book). Soon, Cleopatra is smuggled into Alexandria to meet Caesar, and the Civil War is rekindled as Caesar – pursuing Rome’s (and his own) best interests tries to bring about a settlement.

The portrait of Caesar – the man who is changed from a Consul to someone more and more fascinated with the absolute power of Eastern monarchs – is fascinating, and I think spot on. Egypt is a pivotal point in Caesar’s transition from Consul to absolute monarch. Gordianus presents a view that is both modern and, to a strong degree, pre-imperial Roman. He abhors the way people in Egypt revere their monarchs and bow to them, treating them like Gods. He hates the way they exercise absolute power and wield life and death on a whim. Through him, the novel gives us a good glimpse of the clash between the fanaticism of the Egyptians and the practicality of the traditional Romans (and presents some parallels between the Middle East and America of our own times).

The mystery is only a minor part of the novel. This is a 320 page novel, and the mystery doesn’t start until about page 200 or so, and is over within about 60 pages. It almost feels like Saylor – whose novels are marketed as mysteries – felt he couldn’t simply write a straight historical as part of the series and had to add the mystery to it. While the mystery does provide him an opportunity to further explore the relationship between Gordianus and Meto and to further reveal the characters of Caesar and Cleopatra, the novel could have done without it.

The novel could also have done without its last ten pages, where we have a happy ending added on in what feels like an artificial manner. As a reader, I found myself on one hand hoping it would work out that way (I like these characters and want things to turn out well for them) but at the same time it felt wrong, it felt contrived.

Overall, though, the book is a very good historical novel, well worth reading even if you don’t normally enjoy mysteries.

Charlie Stross's Accelerando

Accelerando by Charles Stross

A number of people have tried to portray the accelerating rate of technology as humanity approaches the Vingean singularity and the absolute strangeness of such a society. None have done it better than Charlie Stross in Accelerando.

Accelerando is a fix-up novel based on a series of short works by Stross, several of which have been Hugo nominees. It manages – using both style and detail – to capture the growing strangeness of the next few hundred years, but in the same time drawing you into those situations, making you feel at least somewhat at home amidst the bizarreness.

The story starts not very far in the future from now. Computer connectivity is everywhere, and some people are in constant connection to the world-wide network. The main character in the first part of the novel – Manfred Macx – is one such person. He lives in a world of constant connectivity, one in which he has access to unheard of amounts of information at his request. But he is also an heir to the open source movement. He wanders the world, coming up with brilliant ideas and giving them away. He makes no money, but has done so many things – given away so many ideas that have made others rich – that he never needs anything. What money he has is no good anywhere; he can get anything he needs for the asking.

The novel as a whole follows Manny and his extended family – his first lover, then wife, then ex-wife Pamela, his daughter Amber (in several versions – by a third of the way through the book, humans can download and fork extra versions of themselves), his lover Annette, his grandson Sirhan, and his artificial cat (soon to become a metahuman intelligence) Aineko. As the novel progresses, change accelerates. What seemed like an off-the-wall idea by Manny in the early part of the book – that humanity should destroy Mercury, Venus, and Mars to make computronium (intelligent nanocomputers) – comes to pass. With each passing chapter, the world is torn asunder and new, strange things come to pass.

The characters – particularly Manny and Amber – are well done and interesting. The plot moves along quickly. And, as noted above, the details are incredible. Stross invokes our sense of wonder and does an incredible amount in a surprisingly short space, accomplishing in just under 400 pages what might take other writers a series of books.

And, of course, since the novel is by Stross, it has moments of geeky humor. This ranges from terminology (group minds are called “borganisms”) to method, as when historical simulations are resurrected and given a FAQ to read to explain their situation. This FAQ is several pages long and is perhaps the funniest part of the novel. My favorite quote is: “Note that fictional resimulation is strictly forbidden. If you have reason to believe you may be a fictional character, you must contact the city immediately.” He also has an invention that I want now. At a time when humans are wearing many connections to computer such that computers can have some control over how they perceive reality, they have the ability to add people at parties, etc. into their kill file. At that point, they don’t see the kill-filed person (if they look that way, they just see a blur) or hear anything they say. They kill-filed person is effectively no longer there.

This is a great novel, and I think it is going to be remembered as one of the great, original novels of the last five or ten years. It’s currently number one on my Hugo nominations list.

Introduction

I have been reveiwing books and movies in SF APAs and the occasional SF fanzine for a number of years. I read a lot and see a lot of movies (and at least a few TV shows). This blog will mostly be a venue for those reviews, though I may from time to time comment on other things, ranging from politics to the World Series.