Review: Inside Man, by K. J. Parker

Review: Inside Man, by K. J. Parker

by Rich Horton

Inside Man is a 2021 novella by K. J. Parker (Tom Holt.) It was published by Tor.com. I got my copy from John O'Neill at Windy City Pulp and Paper a little while ago. Parker is a writer I always find entertaining in his sardonic fashion, so I brought it with me while I attended my niece Katie's wedding, figuring (correctly) that I wouldn't have much reading time, so something slim would be appropriate.

This story is set in Parker's oft-used fantasy world, but it has an oddly Christian feel to it, complete with references to Saint Michael. It's already clear that we are not to expect any particular historical consistency in this setting, and not necessarily consistency of, say, magical rules either. It's just a convenient frame for stories. (The ISFDB suggests that this is part of a series with Prosper's Demon (2020), which does treat the idea of demonic possession with the goal of influencing future events in a "long game", much like this novel, but otherwise it doesn't seem closely related. I will say that I liked Prosper's Demon rather more than this book.)

The narrator is the Devil, or, as he quickly explains, part of the Devil's organization, thus the Devil in the "My Name is Legion, for we are many" sense. He has been demoted to liturgical compliance at a monastery -- attempting to disrupt the prayers for the soul of a particularly foul sinner who gave the monastery a bunch of money. The ambiguity implied there -- the side of God is taking money to allow a terrible man to escape his deserved punishment while the Devil is trying to stop that -- is part of the point: the narrator argues that he and his fellows are a necessary counterpoint to the hosts of Heaven.

Over time we learn the reason for the narrator's demotion -- a traumatic event while he was possessing the mind of an unborn child with the intention of subverting him as an adult. We learn a bit about unfortunate event in the distant past -- the Rebellion. We learn a lot of Satanic bureaucracy. And we encounter a new assignment for the narrator -- back on the front lines, so to speak -- which is entangled with all that history. 

It's reliably amusing and provoking in Parker's trademark cynical fashion. There is a mass of spot on Biblical references, lots of snark, and a very twisty and clever plot. And there is a certain amount of philosophical/theological speculation. And some real feeling. But it still feels to me like pretty minor K. J. Parker. Not quite as intricate as his novels (not surprisingly, due to length), and lacking the extended passages on how things work that are an abiding pleasure in other Parker stories. (There are also no women characters, which is not necessarily an issue, as Parker's typical view of male/female relationships is quite odd and quite dark. This can be profoundly effective and affecting, as in Tom Holt's masterwork, The Walled Orchard; but it can also come off as unproductively and unconvincingly cynical.)

If you like Parker, you'll enjoy this novella. But it's not essential.

Hugo Nominees for Best Novel, 2024: review summary

Hugo Nominees for Best Novel, 2024: review summary 

by Rich Horton

Over the past few weeks (with one exception that I read last year) I have read and reviewed all six novels on the 2024 Hugo ballot. Those reviews are linked below, in alphabetical order by author:

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, by Shannon Chakraborty

The Saint of Bright Doors, by Vajra Chandrasekera

Translation State, by Ann Leckie

Starter Villain, by John Scalzi

Some Desperate Glory, by Emily Tesh

Witch King, by Martha Wells

As I think my reviews make clear, none of these books are terrible -- they all have redeeming values, and I'm glad I read them all. Having said that much, it also might be clear that I'm having a hard time enthusiastically supporting any of them for the Hugo. Is that a statement about the state of SF today, or the state of me as a reader of SF today? Probably both, in all honesty.

In my reviews, I identified one even split between the novels: there are three nominees who are all a bit older than the other three, and who have all won Hugos for Best Novel. These are Leckie, Scalzi, and Wells. The other three nominees are actually not terribly young, but they are younger than the others and I believe the only Hugo nomination among them, before this year, is Chakraborty's for Best Series. (And Chakraborty's nominee is her fourth novel -- Chandrasekera and Tesh's books are first novels.)

There is another even split: three are Fantasy (The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, The Saint of Bright Doors, and Witch King), the other three are Science Fiction. In my view there is a third split -- this may be a more controversial statement, but it's what I think -- three of them are more ambitious, while three strike me as, let's say, "entertainment first" (which doesn't preclude ambition, to be sure.) The more ambitious books, I claim, are Translation State, The Saint of Bright Doors, and Some Desperate Glory. By ambitious, I mean to suggest that these three books tackle knottier themes, and introduce more intriguing and original SFnal or Fantastical ideas. 

Two of the books are the first books in series (The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi and Witch King), while Translation State is an entry in a long set of books set in the same universe, but it is essentially a standalone (thought there are definite references to events in other books.)

One other link to note -- and this has nothing to do with the quality of any of the books -- is that only one of them (Translation State) has a love story, or romance plot, of any real significance. That doesn't mean there aren't romantic relationships depicted in the other books (though there really isn't one in Starter Villain) but that those aren't central to the novels, and indeed are mostly quite backgrounded. Mind you, this isn't a complaint -- it's a well-motivated artistic choice in each case, I think. (For example, The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi is noticeably about a group of middle-aged people, a couple of whom are married, and a couple more do have love interests but those are just a small part of their depiction.)

So -- in summary, what do I think of these books -- how do I rank them? I'll state my prejudices first. As hinted above, I do prize ambition -- both literary ambition (I definitely give extra points for good prose) and thematic ambition -- asking difficult questions, and presenting intriguing and original ideas. Especially science fictional ideas: cool extrapolation, and the treatment of technologies or scientific ideas that raise interesting question or that throw light on broader ideas, such as, say,  what does it mean to be intelligent. I also concede that, for the Hugo, I will tend to favor Science Fiction over Fantasy. This isn't an absolute rule: a great enough Fantasy (Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, say) will get my vote over even very good SF, but it is my prejudice. Partly this is simply that I personally am more of an SF fan, and partly it is a feeling that there is a very prestigious award for Fantasy (the World Fantasy Award) and I think it would be OK if the Hugos took (or took back?) a similar role for SF. Having said that, I concede that Fantasy absolutely is eligible for Hugos, and I'm happy for anyone or everyone else to disagree with me and vote for all the Fantasy they want to! (And, too, I concede the difficulty of drawing a bright line between the two genres.)

So, here's my current ballot:

1. Translation State

2. The Saint of Bright Doors

3. The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi

4. Witch King

5. Some Desperate Glory

6. Starter Villain

An SF novel comes first, but then somehow the three Fantasies! I am already inconsistent. Though, frankly, it was Translation State's SFnal virtues that broke a tie between it and The Saint of Bright Doors. I simply felt that the flaws of the last two novels on the list were sufficient that I couldn't vote for them any higher -- Some Desperate Glory's artificiality, weak worldbuilding, and arbitrary (and manipulative) characterization hurt it, and Starter Villain's insubstantiality, basically, hurt it.

I thought the best written book was The Saint of Bright Doors. All three "veteran" writers do solid professional work, but in no case did their prose stand out for me; and honestly I thought the other two books would have benefitted from another pretty strict pass of line editing. Both the Chakraborty book and the Wells book were, for me, quite fun reads, really solid adventure fantasy, but not much beyond that. (They are also both first books in series, and while they do each conclude their central stories quite fairly -- the reader isn't cheated -- there are unanswered questions that won't be treated with until later volumes -- this isn't a fatal flaw but can serve as another tiebreaker.)

(I'll also caution that I might grade a bit harder for Hugo nominees -- I think that's fair, really.)

What was my nomination ballot? Here it is, again with links to my reviews:

1. Orbital, by Samantha Harvey

2. Terrace Story, by Hilary Leichter

3. The Terraformers, by Annalee Newitz

4. Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon, by Wole Talabi

5. The Scarab Mission, by James L. Cambias (actually not on my nomination ballot because I read it too late)

Three SF novels, one odd borderline case (the Leichter) and one Fantasy. Talabi's novel is the only first novel on my list. The first three are very ambitious books, and the last two are more on the "entertainment" side but also do engage with interesting and important ideas. I will say that the Talabi and Cambias novels could have been replaced on my nomination list with the Leckie and Chandrasekera books -- I may well have ended up ranking them third and fourth if they'd been on the ballot but it would be close. As far as prose goes, Orbital is one of the most beautifully written books I've read in some time. Leichter's writing is quite different but also very effective. Newitz and Cambias fit in the "solid professional prose" category, and so too does Talabi though I think there are some first novel flaws in his book. 

Hugo Nominee Review: Starter Villain, by John Scalzi

Hugo Nominee Review: Starter Villain, by John Scalzi

by Rich Horton

Here is the sixth and last of my reviews of the 2024 Hugo nominees for Best Novel

I don't think John Scalzi needs any introduction. Suffice it to say he has won three Hugos, including one for Best Novel (Redshirts, in 2013), and been nominated many more times. He's a very popular writer, and deservedly so -- I've enjoyed those of his novels I've read quite a lot.

Starter Villain is in many ways of a type with his other novels. It's told in his usual rather snarky voice. It's fast-moving and fun. I'm happy I read it (listened to it, I should say, as narrated by Wil Wheaton.)

The narrator is Charlie Fitzer. He's a journalist who has lost his job due to the general troubles print journalism is experiencing, and is making do by substitute teaching. He is divorced, and had been living with his father for the past several years. But his father has died, and now he's living in his father's house, while his half-siblings pressure him to sell so they can get their chunk of the inheritance. His career plan is to buy the local pub, in Barrington, IL,* and keep it going, as he has many fond memories of it. He has a cat, and soon will get another. And now his uncle, Jake Baldwin, his mother's brother, has also died. He never really knew Jake, who had a falling out with Charlie's father when Charlie's mother died. But Jake was actually very rich, as the owner of a number of parking garages. Charlie's last contact with Jake was a wedding gift, in which Jake included a brief note that predicted to the month when Charlie's wife would leave  him.

So far -- so what? But then a mysterious woman shows up at Charlie's house. Mathilda Morrison had been Jake Baldwin's chief assistant, and she wants Charlie to stand up for Jake's funeral. Apparently no one else liked Jake, as evidenced by the extremely hostile audience at the funeral. And shortly thereafter, Charlie's house is blown up -- luckily while he (and his cats) are outside, though a Federal agent is inside -- which means that Charlie might be a suspect in a case of arson and murder. Fortunately, his cats lead him to a nearby house, and reveal that they are intelligent and can communicate via a special computer and keyboard. And Mathilda Morrison soon tells him that he has inherited Uncle Jake's entire fortune -- which turns out to comprise a great many businesses besides the parking garages.

Soon Charlie is at Uncle Jake's private island, which turns out to be something like a superhero lair, complete with satellite destroying weapons, intelligent dolphins that want to form a union, and a hidden storeroom containing treasures looted by the Nazis. Charlie learns that he is now a villain, in charge of Jake's array of companies, many of which are involved in secretly inventing disruptive technology. He also learns that there is an entire convocation of villains, engaged in similar enterprises, and that Jake was an enemy of that convocation ... and that he must soon visit them for their yearly convention at Lake Como.

Naturally, when a bunch of supervillains get together, there is a great deal of potential for violence, and backstabbing, and shady dealings. Charlie is thrown into this world, with his only help being Morrison and his cats. And so things go -- there are plenty of twists coming, lots of implausible events that are only partly explained by the final revelations, lots more snark, plus negotiations with the oppressed dolphins, etc. etc.

It's a fun novel to read -- Scalzi can do this sort of thing by reflex, it seems. But it's really pretty insubstantial. None of it makes much sense. The science is implausible (as you expect from supervillain stories.) The depictions of evil corporations and of the dolphins' labor-organizing efforts are profoundly unconvincing. (The Hugo Book Club does a better job than me in criticizing this here.) Charlie himself is kind of a thin character, and his eventual happy ending is very predictable and also not terribly convincing. It's decent light entertainment -- it's worth reading -- but in my book it's not worthy of a Hugo, nor even, really, a nomination.

*The novel depicts Barrington as a sort of typical modest suburb -- and I'm not saying the neighborhoods described don't exist. But I grew up in the Chicago suburbs, and my internal image of Barrington (where Gene Wolfe lived, by the way) is of a quite affluent suburb, even more so than my hometown of Naperville. (And a recent visit to the environs of Barrington did not contradict that image!) This isn't a complaint, mind you -- I dare say that the parts of Barrington Scalzi describes are real. 

Hugo Nominee Review: Witch King, by Martha Wells

Hugo Nominee Review: Witch King, by Martha Wells

by Rich Horton

Here is the fifth of my reviews of the 2024 Hugo nominees for Best Novel. Martha Wells published her first novel, The Element of Fire, when she was 28, in 1993. It was well-received, getting a nomination for the Compton Crook Award for Best First Novel, and she went on to publish five novels and a half-dozen or so short stories in its series, collectively called Ile-Rien. She began another series, the Books of the Raksura, in 2011, and that too comprises five novels and some short fiction, and it was shortlisted for the 2018 Hugo for Best Series. All those stories are Fantasy, and until 2017 her only science fiction was some work in the Star Wars and Stargate franchises. But in 2017 she published All Systems Red, the first novella in her Murderbot series, which is definitely SF. It was an immediate sensation. I remember the buzz about Murderbot at the 2017 World Fantasy Convention in San Antonio, where Wells was the Toastmaster. The stories and novels have since won four Hugos: two for Best Novella, one for Best Novel, and one for Best Series. I think they are definitely deserving, for what that's worth. More recently, she has nobly taken to withdrawing Murderbot stories from award consideration, presumably feeling that they've received their fair share of recognition. This includes this year, in which she withdrew Nebula and Hugo nominations for the Murderbot novel System Collapse. But Witch King, the first in a new Fantasy series, is still on the ballot.

I have only read a couple of Wells' fantasy short stories (which were quite good) -- the only longer works I've read by her until now are Murderbot stories. So Witch King is an introduction of sorts, for me, to this important aspect of her oeuvre. I will add that according to the Amazon listing, the book is the first in the Rising World trilogy, but it works quite well as a standalone novel. (That said, there is plenty of room for more stories in this world.)

The novel is told on two threads. The main character is Kai, a demon prince who is called the Witch King. The novel opens as he wakes from some form of imprisonment underwater. It turns out he has been wakened by an expositor -- some form of magic worker -- who planned to make him a familiar to increase his power. This doesn't go well for him. Kai ends up freeing his friend Ziede, a witch (an actual witch -- not a demon called Witch King!) They escape, and realize quickly that while they were gone Ziede's wife Tahren Stargard, an Immortal Blessed, has also been captured and imprisoned -- an action that threatens the stability of the treaties maintaining the Rising World, a new polity that emerged after the Hierachs' War, some 60 years earlier. 

Lots of questions already! What are demons? What are witches? What are Immortal Blessed? What are expositors? What are Hierarchs? We learn the answers over time. (In essence, all are different sorts of magic users. This world also has mortals, some of whom can become magic users such as expositors.) Each type of magic is different, with limits and costs. The other question is -- what happened 60 years ago? And for that, we get the other thread.

This thread also involves Kai, Ziede, and Tahren (after all, they are all immortal to some degree or other.) Kai is now (then) Kai-Enna, a demon who has taken the body of a dead member of the Saredi people, according the the terms of a treaty Kai's (human) grandmother established, whereby demons can come from the Underearth to the surface to live among the Saredi -- but only by occupying the body of a dead human. We see Kai-Enna as an adolescent -- but war is coming, as the mysterious Hierarchs advance, using their tremendous magical weapons to obliterate all in their path. The Immortal Blessed have allied with the Hierrachs, but one, Tahren Stargard, has rebelled and tries to help the mortals resist the Hierarchs. Kai, having taken another body after Enna's death, ends up imprisoned. But with the help of a brilliant mortal Prince-heir, Bashasa, he and the witch Ziede and Tahren manage to kill two of the Hierarchs -- something thought impossible. But in the process Kai takes over the body of a living expositor -- a terrible betrayal of the agreement the demons had made. This alienates some demons, but Kai and Bashasa and company are more concerned with taking the battle to the Hierarchs.

Meanwhile, in the more recent thread, Kai, Ziede, and a growing band of allies (a street child they rescued from the expositor, some soldiers another expositor had enslaved, Tahren's brother Dahin, and more) journey to recover a "finding stone" that may lead them to Tahren, while being chased by what appear to be members of a conspiracy to disrupt the Rising World. 

I don't want to say much more. The plot is well executed, and both threads are great fun. The magic is effectively portrayed and in context convincing. The political questions are worthwhile. There are deep mysteries in this world that may provide material for further books. The gender background is intriguing if kind of understated -- for example, Kai is a demon who strongly identifies as male, but he occupies both female and male bodies without stress or change in his personal identification. Tahren and Ziede are both female and are married, and Ziede has a child, but it's not clear (to me, perhaps I'm obtuse) who the father is or if Tahren is even though she's female. The battles are well described, the geography is interesting. 

It's a good, fun, novel. But is it a Hugo winner? I'm not so sure. For one thing, it's -- well, it's in many ways a typical fantasy novel. A well done fantasy novel, to be sure, but while it rings some interesting changes on some of the tropes it plays with, it doesn't really do anything spectacularly new. I liked it. I'm glad I read it. I'll read more in the series as they come. But, for my Hugo votes, I want something at another level.

Review: The Blazing World, by Margaret Cavendish

Review: The Blazing World, by Margaret Cavendish

by Rich Horton

This is one of the better known works of what might be called early proto-SF. And its author is one of the more interesting authors. She was born in 1623, the youngest child of Sir Thomas Lucas. They were a Royalist family. In 1644, she went into exile in France with William Cavendish, the Marquess of Newcastle, and they married in 1645. He was 30 years her senior, and had five children by his previous marriage -- she never bore him any children, but the marriage seems to have been a loving and successful one. They returned to England after the Restoration, and William's title was elevated to Duke of Newcastle, so that Margeret Cavendish is known as the Duchess of Newcastle (or Newcastle-upon-Tyne). She died in 1673.

Margaret was a very prolific writer, on philosophical subjects and natural history. She also wrote some 20 plays, and several works of fiction, poems, a memoir, and a biography of her husband. The Blazing World -- full title The Description of a New World, called the Blazing World -- appeared in 1666, a companion to her Observations upon Experimental Philosophy. She was the most significant woman writer of her time, though Aphra Behn, about 17 years her junior, was also a major contributor.

The Blazing World remains her most famous work. Partly this is because her philosophical works, and her natural history, have been superseded by later discoveries. The Blazing World itself, however, is to some extent a philosophical tract, and much of it concerns her ideas on politics, gender, and natural philosophy.

The story opens with a man kidnapping a woman of higher social status than him. She is not terribly excited about this, and the man flees with her to the North Pole -- and there learns that there is another world joined to his world at the pole. It is very cold, and he and his fellows die, but the young woman survives and is taken into this new world, which, we learn, is the Blazing World. She is transported by a sequence of the different intelligent creatures of this world to the home of the Emperor, who immediately makes her his Empress. 

Much of the rest of the novel concerns the Empress' investigations into the nature of this new world, and by extension, to the nature of natural science in general. She makes use of the investigations of the various peoples of the Blazing World, who each have different abilities -- so, she discusses with the Bear-men, Fox-men, Bird-men, Syrens, Fish-men, and so on, asking about different aspects of the world. Eventually she decides she needs a scribe, which must be a woman, and she ends up recruiting the Duchess of Newcastle, and there are further discussions, contrasting the politics and social organization of the Blazing World with the Duchess' home. (There is a fair amount of satire in this section.)  Cavendish's politics were certainly Royalist, and she advocates for a benevolent monarchy. She is not a radical about gender (for her period) but certainly an advocate for women's intellectual prowess. 

The book closes with a section in which the Empress desires to intervene from the Blazing World in favor of her home country, which is under attack. (This section seems to me to imply that she was not from our Earth, but a third separate world.) This bit reads a bit unfortunately to me -- in essence advocating for her country to conquer her entire world. There are also curious bits in which a plea is made to allow the Duchess' unproduced plays a theater -- in London -- in which they can be produced. This seemed a bit odd to me.

In the end this is a odd confection. It's wildly imaginative, and interest purely for that. It's not much of a novel, really -- the fictional part is a thin lattice on which to hang the imaginative and philosophical speculations. It's written -- not surprisingly -- in 17th Century prose, which is hard going at times, though I think some editorial attention to normalize spelling and to introduce more paragraph breaks would have helped. My edition is from Ian Randal Strock's Fantastic Books imprint -- but I confess I've decided to get a Penguin edition with some more editorial matter, and with a couple additional prose works of fiction, I'm glad I read this -- it's fascinating in its way, it's important in its way -- but I couldn't quite love it.

Review: Cold-Forged Flame, and Lightning in the Blood, by Marie Brennan

Review: Cold-Forged Flame, and Lightning in the Blood, by Marie Brennan

by Rich Horton

Marie Brennan has been publishing short SF and Fantasy (mostly Fantasy, I think) for a couple of decades, after winning the Asimov's Undergraduate Award back in 2003. (That's an award which spurred some excellent careers over time -- writers like Rich Larson, Marissa Lingen, Eric Choi, and Seth Dickinson are also among the past winners.) I've enjoyed a lot of her short fiction over the years, including the pieces that became her mosain novel Driftwood (2020), as well as "From the Editorial Pages of the Falchester Weekly Review" (a short story related to her popular Lady Trent novels) and “Vīs Dīlendī”. 

The novellas I review here were published by Tor.com in 2016 and 2017. I got them from John O'Neill at the Windy City Pulp and Paper Convention a few weeks ago, a couple among a great many duplicates John had. (I too had a number of duplicates from other places, some of which made their way into John's hands.)

The two books concern Ree, whom we meet "coming into existence" as Cold-Forged Flame opens. She has no idea of her name, only a dim sense of her abilities (she is a warrior, for one thing) and of her character (suspicious, prickly) -- but also aware that she is bound to do what the nine people who have summoned her ask. After some debate, she learns what these people want: she must go and bring back a vial of blood from the cauldron of the Lhian. And, in exchange, they offer her her freedom -- and, but only after the fact, what knowledge they have of her ... history. To tell too much in advance would harm her, they suggest.

So she is rowed to a mysterious island in a nearby bay. And immediately presented with a series of challenges, in almost game-like mode. (For a moment I worried that this would be a story set in a game universe, but thankfully that's not the case.) She struggles to climb a dangerous cliff, and in the processes meets a man on a similar quest. Again her suspicions take over, but she eventually agrees to cooperate with this Aedet, as they work they were through more obstacles, finally finding the cave which holds the cauldron of Lhian.

The story turns, then, on a couple of things: Ree learning a bit of her true nature -- she is an archon (just as his Lhian) -- a person built of story; and on Aedet understanding, with Ree's help, just what he needs to ask for. (He is a revolutionary, opposing a repressive usurper in his home country.) And then Ree returns the vial to the people who summoned her -- with a similar lesson for them. And they grant her her freedom, as the promised (instead of returning her to the apeiron, where archons are sort of maintained until they are summoned) -- and she can begin to search for more fragments of her memory.

In Lightning in the Blood, we see Ree returning to Solaike, Aedet's home country. The revolution has been successful, the usurper deposed, and a new King installed. Ree quickly encounters a group of people -- the Korenat, travelers, essentially Romani-analogues -- who have been attacked by marauders. Once this group realizes Ree can be trusted, they beg for her help: they'd like permission to stay in Solaike, and of course the marauders are a threat to the whole country. Ree reluctantly helps -- she has some influence, as her friend Aedet is one of the "King's Wives", a ceremonial term for especially important advisors. And she also has learned that one of the group she has encountered is another archon. This man recognizes her as another archon -- and more to the point, he thinks she is an archon of the Korenat. But Ree cannot believe this -- and she has no thread of memory suggesting it might be true.

Much of the novella is taken up with some political maneuvering, involving both who will lead a group aimed at eliminating the marauding group, the Red Leopard, which is led by a General from the preceding regime. But another aspect is the fate of archons in Solaike. The usurper had outlawed them, and killed any he found. There is pressure on the new King to retain this policy -- archons are feared -- but also a realization that Ree, at least, had been of great help in the revolution.

More important is Ree's struggle to learn more of her true full nature. And, while she is wandering the woods during the expedition against the Red Leopard, she has a mysterious revelation. In the end, all the threads from this specific story are tied up neatly -- the future of archons in Solaike is clear, the Red Leopard are vanquished, and Ree has some more clarity as to her true nature -- and a there's a slingshot to the possibility of more stories in this world. 

Alas, however, no further stories about Ree have yet appeared, though clearly some were planned. There is a short story, "The City of the Tree", from Uncanny in 2020, that is set in the same world but does not feature Ree. These two novellas serve as an interesting setup. The first novella is pretty strong -- the second one doesn't work as well, but is a reasonable hinge to potential future stories about the same character. Perhaps we'll see some some day. Brennan's website, and the subtitle to the second novella ("A Book of the Varekai") suggest that the collective title for the series might be The Varekai.

Review: To the Resurrection Station, by Eleanor Arnason

Review: To the Resurrection Station, by Eleanor Arnason

by Rich Horton

Eleanor Arnason is one of my favorite writers, but until now I had really only read her short fiction. I love almost all her Hwarhath stories, perhaps most particularly "The Lovers", "The Actors", and "The Potter of Bones"; and also her Lydia Duluth stories, especially "Stellar Harvest". She has written many other excellent shorter works: very recently, "Mr. Catt"; early in her career, "The Warlord of Saturn's Moons"; and in between, stories like "Mammoths of the Great Plains", "My Husband Steinn", "The Grammarian's Five Daughters", "Kormak the Lucky", "The Scrivener", "Knapsack Poems", and many others.

You might think I'd have started in on her novels with the Hwarhath one, Ring of Swords; or with her Tiptree winner, A Woman of the Iron People; or with Daughter of the Bear King, also highly regarded. But a couple of weeks ago, with my grandkids staying with us (which is lovely but absolutely exhausting), I wanted something shorter and lighter, and picked up her second novel, To the Resurrection Station (1986). And I need to warn in advance -- I have a feeling my reading experience was reflected first by reading it in very small snippets in between getting up to calm a screaming toddler, and later by finishing it while suffering from what turned out to be Covid.

The story opens on the planet New Hope, which had been lightly colonized by humans a few centuries earlier. A young woman, Belinda Smith, has been summoned from New Harvard college to her uncle and guardian's place, Gorwing Keep. There she learns to her shock that she is not named Smith but Hernshaw -- and that she is a descendant of the Captain of the ship that brought humans to the planet. Also, that she is ALSO a descendant of one of the planet's natives. For New Hope has an indigenous population, though it should be said they are extremely human-like. Worse, native law requires that she marry one of them -- a man named Claud. Worse still, they soon realize that they each have lovers in the big city, Port Discovery, and that the lovers are the same person -- Belinda's roommate Marianne. 

This all seems like potentially a wacky comedy, but though it's lightly funny at times, and there's plenty of underlying satire, it's not really a comedy. Belinda and Claud mutually agree they don't want to marry, though they soon learn that Marianne herself is actually married to someone else. Strange things keep happening -- notably, Gorwing Keep turns out to contain a spaceship, which they twice use to escape potential death or prison. There are encounters with natives (their relatives) and with humans, including a crazy policeman. And they are accompanied by a robot who claims to be Godfrey Hernshaw -- Belinda's ancestor, the original Captain, who had his brain uploaded to the robot as he was dying. They decide to flee back to Earth, even though it is a ruined planet after war broke out between humans and robots. On Earth, the robot hopes to find one of the "resurrection stations", which can transplant brains back into android bodies. Belinda and Claud aren't sure what they want.

Earth, it turns out, or at least the ruins of New York City, is occupied by crazy robots, crazy uplifted rats, crazy humans, and poetry-loving dolphins. And the threesome from New Hope, soon joined by a rat they rescue, keep searching for the resurrection station, which apparently is in Brooklyn. But will that really solve their problems?

I found the novel a bit hard to get into for the first half or so (on New Hope.) I didn't find the natives or humans very interesting characters, for the most part, and the action seemed haphazard and often silly. This is explained, mind you, by a psi power Belinda seems to possess, but I didn't find that satisfying. Things get more interesting on Earth, especially in the final section of the novel, which is sometimes quite funny and even moving. The ending is -- I think on purpose -- rather unresolved (and possibly a sequel could have been written, though perhaps the themes of this book had been sufficiently examined.) The science and worldbuilding don't hold together much, but I don't think this was meant to be that kind of novel. On the whole, a lesser part of Arnason's ouevre, for sure. I probably wouldn't start here if I was planning to investigate Arnason -- read some of the stories I mentioned above! For myself, I should probably get to Ring of Swords next.