Julian Comstock by Robert Charles Wilson

During the cold war, we saw quite a few post apocalypse novels. Most were after the bomb novels, though we also had some after the plague novels. Almost all involved the aftermath of the huge war we feared during those cold war days, whether it be nuclear, biological, or both. Now though, the major element of after the collapse novels isn’t “after the bomb.” Instead, it’s “after the oil runs out.” Wilson’s Julian Comstock is a great example of this subgenre.

In Julian Comstock’s world, oil ran out in the mid-twenty-first century. This, combined with some climate change, resulted in a drastic change in our world. There were major food shortages and major epidemics, and the population shrank drastically. Major cities fell -- though some later recovered to a degree -- and many suburban and urban areas became dead zones -- sites for future scavengers. In the United States, civilization recovers to something like a 19th century level, but with a government clearly established by the religious right. The three pillars of government are now President, Senate, and church (the Dominion), the Supreme Court having been abolished. The rich have become an intrenched aristocracy, while indentured servitude can be hereditary, though the rich put a very libertarian spin on this, by saying people must have the right to sell themselves, and that debt and private property are essential to society.

As the story starts, Julian, the title character, nephew of the President, is in exile in the West. His uncle Deklan executed Julian’s father, essentially for being too popular a general, and views Julian himself as a threat. Julian makes friends with the story’s narrator, commoner Adam Hazzard. Adam follows Julian throughout, through war in Labrador (where the U.S. is fighting Europe over disputed territory). through his return to the capital in Manhattan, tracing his rise and fall.

The society has the feel of a populist 19th century, but with more tight control from the church. On the surface, it’s reminiscent of popular novels of the 19th century, but without the “objectionable” elements of the great 19th century American writers. And fittingly, while 22nd century America admires 19th century America, Whitman, Hawthorne, and Melville, and when a character talks of great presidents of the past, Washington is mentioned, Lincoln is not. The narrative style fits this worldview, the prose sounding like 19th century America, and the narrator being hesitant to talk about sex or about things that seem anti-religious. The latter is something he must come to terms with, since Julian is very much a free thinker, and his true desire in live is to make a film about Charles Darwin. (Silent films exist, performed with live music and live actors, hiding behind the stage, reciting lines.) Julian, in fact, in many ways is a parallel to the Roman emperor of the same name.

Julian Comstock works on a number of levels. At the surface level, of course, we have a great adventure story, full of great exploits, drama, triumph, and tragedy. It is a very entertaining read, though those who just want to read an adventure story will find the last quarter of the novel to be not what they expected or wanted.

But Julian Comstock also explores the way history works, and the way culture and history impact one another. It examines the nature of society, and looks closely at the role of class, religion, and the role of the individual. It also looks at the inertia history can have, and how attempts at radical change can result in stronger push back -- something Julian runs into but cannot stop. Good intentions and idealism -- ultimately doing the right thing -- may not be enough if not tempered to some degree to allow the changes to make their way deeper into the system. The speed at which some kinds of changes can happen has limits. And it’s also about the nature of drama and of writing, about the tenison between truth and drama -- something Adam discovers as he works to become a writer.

This is a fine novel. The Windup Girl (another novel about a world in which we’ve run out of essential resources) is probably still first on my Hugo ballot, but Julian Comstock is a close second. (Though I still have two more nominated novels to read, so this could change.)

Battlestar Galactica vs. Lost: How Endings Matter (or Don’t)

Battlestar Galactica and Lost were both series that I watched regularly, that I looked forward to during every off season, and that I often liked a lot. Both also had endings that were letdowns, that veered off into murky mysticism. But yet the Lost ending bothered me a lot more than the Galactica ending. While I didn’t like the very end of Galactica, I still look back at the many moments along the way I liked (and in fact started rewatching the series from the beginning soon after the final episode aired) whereas Lost’s ending left a bad taste in my mouth and diminished what had come before. I’ve been giving some thought to why that is so, and I’ve come to a few conclusions.

Both shows had characters I like and cared about, characters that usually seemed real. But on Lost, the story in which those characters were involved was all about the central mystery of the island. It’s what drove things week after week. So when we reached the end and they didn’t resolve much what had seemed so important through six seasons -- and what they did resolve seemed trite -- it reflected poorly on what came before. Our key focus for six seasons was for nothing. Galactica on the other hand was about far more than the central mystery or mysteries of the show: what was the Cylon plan; would they find Earth. It was about war and how it can drive good people to do bad things -- and in some cases turn reasonable people into monsters. It was about how we govern ourselves in the face of extreme circumstances, the balance between freedom and necessity, and the conflict between military and civilian authority. And like Lost, it looked at faith vs. reason, but I think it did so in a more logical and deeper fashion.

Both shows also had characters that changed, and in some cases had characters who we sometimes liked, sometimes didn’t. But in Galactica, I thought they changes grew out of the characters and their situation, and the reasons we grew to like or dislike them were real ones, not simply random. Lost did that with some characters, but with others, by the end, I’d lost interest. I started out liking Jack, then found him overbearing, and finally threw up my hands and quit caring since he seemed to be someone only doing what the story needed, not a real character who’d earned my caring about him. Why, for example, did he decide he had to go back to the island? Best I could figure is that the story needed him to go back. Likewise, with Kate, Locke, and most of the other main characters. In the end, of the main characters, only Sawyer and Hurley were characters I cared much about. (And unlike a number of people, I never changed my attitude toward Sawyer. I liked him from the start, since he was the only character on the island who did what I’d do: try to find all the books so he’d have something to read.) Contrast that with the character of Laura Roslin, who I early on didn’t like but who I grew to like a lot. The change in my attitude was due to the exploration of her character and her growth as a character, not simply because the character for whatever reason started acting differently.

Finally, in Galactica, all the major pieces seem to be there as part of the integral whole. I don’t look at any major plot line and become puzzled trying to understand why it was there. But on Lost, I still don’t see the point of the flash sideways (the alternate universe of the final season, which turns out to be a waiting room for the afterlife). Why did we need that? How did it fit in with the main story in any real way? Not to mention that, given the answer we’re finally given about it, why was it set up the way it was. Why were Sawyer and Miles partners? Why did Jack have a son? And so on. It all seemed random and unconnected.

Maybe in a few years I’ll go back and watch some Lost episodes again. I loved some of the more science fictional episodes like “The Constant.” But I doubt I’ll ever bother to take the time to go back through the whole series from beginning to end again, because it’ll still take me to the same place that I didn’t like.

Restarting my blog

A few years ago, I started a blog as a place to post reviews: mostly of books, movies, and TV, but occasionally of food, restaurants, beer, or wine. But I haven't posted in almost a year. The main reason for this is that a while back I did something to my neck such that spending much time in front of a computer caused neck pain. Since I spend all day in front of a computer, I didn't also want to spend evenings there.

But, though not 100% better, my neck hurts less often than it did. So, perhaps over this weekend, I'll start posting again. It'll take a bit of work: when you don't write reviews for a while, it takes some effort to get back into form and really say something and not just blather on. But I'd like to get this going again at some point.