Review: The Curious Case of the Somnambulist and the Psychic Thief, by Lisa Tuttle

Review: The Curious Case of the Somnambulist and the Psychic Thief, by Lisa Tuttle

by Rich Horton

Lisa Tuttle began publishing with a story in a Clarion anthology in 1972, and in the ensuing years built a reputation as one of the field's most interesting writers, mostly at shorter lengths though she published several novels. I hadn't read any of her novels (except her collaboration with George R. R. Martin, Windhaven) though I kept track of her short fiction over the decades, and a while back I noticed two entertaining stories in large anthologies edited by George R. R. Martin and Gardner Dozois. These two stories were about a pair of investigators of supernatural crimes in the late Victorian Era, Jasper Jesperson and Miss Lane, and they were lots of fun.

However, I never learned that she had published three novels about the two until last year. The reason is simple enough -- the books aren't available (except in ebook form) in the US. I went ahead and bought the first in the series, The Curious Affair of the Somnambulist and the Psychic Thief, from 2016. (The sequels are The Curious Affair of the Witch at Wayside Cross (2017) and The Curious Affair of the Missing Mummies (2023).) It took me until now to get around to reading the first book, though. 

The Curious Case of the Somnambulist and the Psychic Thief is an origin story for the Jesperson and Lane partnership (though it was already established in the two previously published short stories.) Miss Lane is the primary narrator, and as the novel opens she has left her position with the Society of Psychical Research (SPR) because she has learned that her friend and mentor, Gabrielle Fox, is willingly to abet psychic frauds. Miss Lane heads to London in need of a job -- and she sees Jasper Jesperson's advertisement, looking for an assistant in his private detective business. Jesperson is a young man, living with his mother, and a man of apparent ability but unable to hold a conventional job. He and his mother are down to their last few pounds -- but they gladly welcome Miss Lane into the business, and their house. I should add that this is about 1890, and Arthur Conan Doyle is publishing the Sherlock Holmes stories -- which server as a sort of model for Jesperson and Lane.

But starting a business is tricky, and finally in desperation they see if their landlord will extend credit on their rent if they investigate any problems he has. And fortuitously there is something to look into -- their landlord's brother-in-law has been sleepwalking. Perhaps they can see what might have caused this? Is there something sinister behind it?

So that's the somnambulist. What about the psychic thief? Again somewhat fortuitously, Gabrielle Fox reenters the picture. She is back in London, and she is with a woman who claims to have psychic powers. Soon she has invited Miss Lane to a séance. And things start to get crazy: psychics are being kidnapped. A couple of them even seem to have real powers. And an American psychic, with a Russian princess for a wife, seems particularly powerful -- and, soon, particularly interested in Miss Lane.

This is all quite fun stuff. The Victorian milieu is well enough depicted -- I've been buried in Victorian fiction for a while now and the real stuff is inevitably more convincing but Tuttle didn't throw me out of the novel with anything too silly. The two main characters are very much worth spending time with. The mystery -- is just OK, I have to say. (Once magic is involved it's harder to keep mysteries properly mysterious!) Having said that, the setpiece climax is quite nicely done. I'll be getting around to the sequels sooner or later.

Answers to the Victorian Fiction Quiz

Answers to the Victorian Fiction Quiz 

The answers are given in bold below. If you want to see the questions first without the answers, my original post of the quiz is here.

1. By the 1890s, English morés seemed to shift away from the traditionally stuffy image of Victorians (exaggerated as that image may be). The writer who represented that shift most directly might be the Irishman Oscar Wilde, author of plays such as Lady Windermere's Fan, poems such as "The Ballad of Reading Gaol" and "The Sphinx", and what short novel, which might fancifully be read as allegorizing the decadence that could be seen as lying beneath the decorative exterior of the art of the "Naughty '90s"?

The Picture of Dorian Gray

2. Charles Dickens' first several novels were published under a pseudonym and several of them, as well as some later works, were illustrated by Hablot Knight Browne, who chose the pseudonym "Phiz" to correspond with Dickens' pseudonym. Give Dickens' one-syllable pseudonym.

Boz

3. Elizabeth Gaskell is loved for her novels Cranford, Wives and Daughters, and a novel that was serialized in Charles Dickens' magazine Household Words right after Dickens' own Hard Times. Both Gaskell's and Dickens' books are considered "industrial novels", and both were set in Manchester (Gaskell's home, though Gaskell renamed the city Milton.) Name this book, which had a BBC adaptation in 2004, and the title of which refers to the protagonist's split time between London (and a nearby village), and her new home in Milton. 

North and South

4. Anthony Trollope, author of the Barsetshire and Palliser novels among many others, was famous for his prolificity. But despite the many novels (and often very long novels!) he wrote, he was also a very energetic worker in another area, part of the civil service of the United Kingdom. For which part of the civil service did Trollope work?

General Post Office (anything hinting postal service or mail was accepted)

5. George Eliot was a bête noire for many high school students in my time who were forced to read Silas Marner, though these days she is (deservedly) a golden girl for her novel Middlemarch. (I say Middlemarch is transcendent, and Silas Marner is a fine short novel.) Those novels, and much of the rest of her work, were set in the 18th and 19th centuries in provincial England. But Eliot went far afield -- to Italy in the 15th Century -- for which novel published in 1863? (This novel's title is also the first name of an actress who appeared in an adaptation of Eliot's novel Daniel Deronda as well as several other period pieces.)

Romola

6. Three English sisters published novels in the 1840s that are still regarded as classics today. Their first books were published under a common surname, Bell. Their brother Branwell published some poetry but no novels. Name any one of the three pseudonymous first names the sisters used, each of which had a first letter matching the author's real first name.

Currer, Acton, Ellis

7. Stanley Kubrick's 1974 film Barry Lyndon is adapted from a novel by William Makepeace Thackeray, who also wrote Henry Esmond (my personal favorite), The Rose and the Ring, and, most famously, a novel which takes its title from John Bunyan's decidedly non-Victorian allegory The Pilgrim's Progress. Give the title of that novel.

Vanity Fair

8. The now common practice of titling novels with quotes from poems doesn't appear to have begun until the Victorian Era (though there may be earlier examples.) Dickens' The Cricket on the Hearth (1845) takes its title from Milton's "Il Penseroso", and Rhoda Broughton's Red as the Rose is She, from 1870, uses a quote from Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner". Just four years later, Thomas Hardy had his first major success with which novel titled after a line from Thomas Grey's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard"?

Far from the Madding Crowd

9. "The Jewel in the Crown" of the British Empire was India. Needless to say, the record of the British Empire in India is highly checkered. There was a writer who was technically a subject of Queen Victoria, born in Calcutta (now Kolkata), educated in India and England, who wrote major plays such as Risarjan (or Sacrifice), from 1890, poetry such as the collection Gitanjali, novels including 1901's Nastanirh (later filmed as Charulata by Satyajit Ray), and numerous short stories such as "Atottju" ("The Runaway"). In 1913 he became the first non-European to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. Who was this polymath?

Rabindranath Tagore

10. Some of the Victorian novelists were also poets, though only a couple achieved significant reputations. But one major poet produced an epic poem, Aurora Leigh, that the author called a "novel in verse", and which was called by the influential critic John Ruskin "the greatest long poem of the nineteenth century". Please give the first and last name of this poet, who was married to another major Victorian poet.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Elizabeth with either last name or both was accepted)

11. I loved Robert Louis Stevenson's novels as a child, such as Kidnapped, Treasure Island, The Black Arrow and Catriona, and I continue to enjoy such books as The New Arabian Nights as an adult. Stevenson traveled widely in his brief life -- he lived at times in his birthplace of Scotland, in England, in France, and in the United States (home of his wife Fanny.) He spent his last few years in what South Seas island group?

Samoa (or Western Samoa, or the Samoan Islands, or even Upolu, the island on which RLS lived, were accepted)

12. One of the best and most prolific Victorian woman authors was Margaret Oliphant, who wrote over 90 novels between 1849 and her death in 1897. Perhaps her best work (at least in my eyes) is which 1883 novel in which the title woman crosses horns with her older cousin, as both eventually forsake marriage and instead work to maintain the family's bank in place of their feckless male connections? The title character shares a name with the tragic main character of a colorfully titled major American novel published during Victoria's reign. (First name only.)

Hester

13. Leo Tolstoy published the bulk of his work during Victoria's reign, though he was of course not one of her subjects. But he did, for example, admire both Dickens and Trollope, and indeed Anna Karenina is shown reading a novel that seems clearly to be by Trollope on the fateful train journey at which she meets Vronsky (that cad!) and also witnesses what tragic foreshadowing incident? 

Person killed by train

14. "Sensation novels" were very popular in England in the second half of the 19th century, showing scandalous doings behind the facades of seemingly ordinary families. Wilkie Collins was one of the first such novelists, and Rhoda Broughton a later example, but what woman, an actress in her teens, made a fortune in that genre, most notably with Lady Audley's Secret.

Mary Elizabeth Braddon

15. Herman Melville is undoubtedly best known for Moby-Dick, but I love the last novel he published in his lifetime, which sold so poorly it ended not just his career but bankrupted his publisher. I'm sure you can tell me its title. 

The Confidence Man: His Masquerade (just The Confidence Man was enough)

16. One of the most popular French novelists of the Victorian era was Alexandre Dumas, author of such enduring classics as The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. Dumas' son, also named Alexandre, was also a successful writer. He is best known today for a novel that was the source material for a great opera by Verdi. Give either the title of the novel (in French or English), or of Verdi's opera that was based on it.

La Dame Aux Camellias/The Lady of the Camellias/Camille; or La Traviata or The Fallen Woman (though I've never heard the opera actually called that!)

17. Queen Victoria died in 1901, and there are of course writers whose career encompassed both her reign and those of her successors. One of the greatest published his most famous novel in the year of Victoria's death. This writer's stories published in Victoria's reign were often set in India, where he lived in early adulthood, though an important book of stories for children seems to be set in Africa. Just who was this man?

Rudyard Kipling

18. This author of The Ordeal of Richard Feverel and The Egoist was also a well-respected poet, who wrote the lyric that inspired one of Ralph Vaughan Williams' most popular orchestral pieces, The Lark Ascending.

George Meredith

Review: Rakesfall, by Vajra Chandrasekera

Review: Rakesfall, by Vajra Chandrasekera

by Rich Horton

Vajra Chandrasekera made a big (and deserved) splash with his first novel, The Saint of Bright Doors, which won the Nebula Award last year. Rakesfall is his second novel, and it is if anything even more ambitious than his first, and it has been nominted for this year's Nebula. It is intricately -- and to be honest, sometimes confusingly -- structured. It is very well written. It audaciously mixes fantasy and science fiction -- and the fantastical parts are original and intriguing, while the science fiction ventures into the very far future with some very cool technological speculation. It even briefly visits the milieu of The Saint of Bright Doors. I was really primed to love it -- but I felt Chandrasekera didn't quite pull it off. 

Rakesfall opens with an excitingly confusing narrative -- a group of people -- a "fandom" -- are watching a TV series following the lives of a girl named Annelid and a boy named Leveret, shown on an old TV. The "fandom" seems possibly to consist entirely of dead people, and Annelid and Leveret seem to sometimes watch the "fandom" on their own TV. This is strange and cool ... and then we are in another milieu, and then another, and another ... And there are stories within stories. There is a long sequence in which the viewpoint character (seemingly a version of Annelid called Vidyucchika) is haunted by a corpse (a version of Leveret called Lambajihva) while living in a house whose owner's husband and son are both, well, undead. There is a justifiedly angry sequence set in Sri Lanka during the recent wars. Things jump forward to increasingly far futures, with a ruined Earth subject to ambiguously successful attempts at restoration, and with humanity spread into space, and also into digital worlds. Some of the embedded stories are real tours de force -- a postmodernist play about the horrible history of European colonization of Sri Lanka; and a fairy tale of sorts about Kings and Heroes and Wasps in particular. 

It's impressive, urgently and often beautifully written. It's powerfully felt. It's new, it's original. And ... for me, it didn't quite work. My main problem was the last half or so, in which the SF speculation kind of goes off the rails for me, and which was for some time rather boring, and by the end rather banal. This is a shame, because Chandrasekera can really write, and because his aims are impressive. Better, I think, that he try things like Rakesfall than settle for the routine -- but it's a risk/reward game, and sometimes the risks win. I'll add that perhaps the fault is with me -- perhaps it is my failure to understand the book more than the author's failure that I'm displaying. Fair enough! (Though I think the banality of the concluding segment is real.)

Is Rakesfall worth reading? Yes. Is Chandrasekera one of the most exciting newer writers in the field? Absolutely. In a way, the fact that he isn't afraid to do something as audacious as this novel, even if (in my opinion) the result is flawed, is good news. Because his next effort may be just as audacious -- and may absolutely nail it.

Review: Phineas Finn, by Anthony Trollope

Review: Phineas Finn, by Anthony Trollope

by Rich Horton

(In the belief that some people coming to this post might be interested in Victoriana, I will note that I have posted a quiz about Victorian Fiction that I recently wrote for an online trivia league. The quiz is here: Victorian Fiction Quiz.)

Phineas Finn (sometimes subtitled The Irish Member) is the second novel in Trollope's Palliser, or Parliamentary, series of novels. The series comprises six novels. I read the first, Can You Forgive Her?, about a year ago. It seems, however, that Phineas Finn begins what might be considered the main story arc of the books, which is continued in the final three volumes: Phineas Redux, The Prime Minister, and The Duke's Children. (The Eustace Diamonds is book three.) All six books share many characters, most of whom are significant players in the political world, and some of whom are evidently based on the actual Parliamentary leaders of the time, people like Disraeli and Gladstone. It should also be noted that these books are also connected to an extent with the Barsetshire novels -- for example, Plantagenet Palliser, probably the most important character in the series, is introduced in the fifth Barsetshire novel, The Small House at Allington, and his father, the Duke of Omnium, is an important minor character in the Barsetshire books, and is also a very important minor character in Phineas Finn. It does appear to me that the four Palliser books of the main arc should probably be read in the order of publication, but the other two books needn't be. (Though there is a key subplot in Can You Forgive Her? that sets up the future of Plantagent Palliser and his wife, Lady Glencora, in ways that do impact Phineas Finn.)

OK, that's just introductory blather. What about this novel? Phineas Finn is a young Irishman -- 25 at the opening of the book, 30 at its conclusion -- the son of a doctor in County Clare. He studied at Trinity, and has spent the previous few years in London, studying for the Bar. He is ready for his professional life, and suddenly the opportunity arises for him to take a seat in Parliament: the seat for Loughshire, near his father's home, is controlled by one of his father's patients, Lord Tulla. Lord Tulla has quarreled with his brother, who holds the seat, and is looking for another man to take over. Soon Phineas is back in London as the MP for Loughshire. As MPs are not paid, he must still live on the small amount his father can afford. But his life's ambition is to be in politics. 

That sets up the political plot of the novel, which concerns the first five years of Phineas Finn's career. He must navigate a course between his Liberal principles and various expediencies, such as keeping his seat (Lord Tulla is a Tory) and even keeping his borough in existence, as the Reform Bills which are the main controversy of the day will significantly redistribute the boroughs, to more fairly equalize representation. Even within the Liberal Party, he has issues of conscience -- must he do what the Party leaders wish, even if they differ from his own beliefs? All these elements reverberate through the novel, as for example he gains a (paid, crucially) Cabinet position, but if he bucks the Party leaders at any point, he must resign. This might seem dry, but it is not, in Trollope's telling. Part of this is Trollope's voice. Part is Trollope's knowledge -- which included a run for Parliament (though that was after writing Phineas Finn.) Part is that he uses these issues both for delineation of character, and discussion of governing theory, etc.

The other key plot is about Phineas Finn's personal life -- which is to say, mostly, his love life. There are four women in the book whom he calls lovers (or who, in one case, thinks of him as a potential lover.) These are Lady Laura Standish, who is intensely interested in politics and strongly supports Phineas' career. Then Violet Effingham, Lady Laura's friend, whom Laura wishes will marry her rackety brother. Violet is beautiful and intelligent and very independent in spirit. And there is Marie, Madame Max Goesler, a beautiful widow just a few years older than Phineas. Madame Max is very wealthy, very intelligent -- and, possibly, Jewish and of lower class origins. Finally, there is Mary Flood Jones, a good friend of Phineas' sister. Phineas has enjoyed her company while in Ireland, and probably has given her reason to believe he might marry her. She is pretty, and affectionate, and loyal -- and it seems not nearly as intelligent and interesting as the other women. 

There are ups and down, dramatic (even shocking) events in both threads, and the two intersect interestingly and effectively. There are extensive parts which don't directly involve Phineas -- one truly terrible marriage is closely examined, the behind the scenes influence of powerful women on the political world they are technically barred from is depicted, the attitudes and actions of ordinary people (that is to say, neither politicians nor aristocrats) are given voice. There are comic interludes, and tragic ones. Two of my favorite chapters are in essence almost entirely in the voice of other characters -- the one is called "Violet Effingham", and lets her discuss at length her attitudes about marriage; the other is called "Mr Monk Upon Reform", and is primarily a letter from Mr Monk (one of Phineas' political mentors) detailing his beliefs on the reform of the electoral system in the UK, and on the reasons it is desirable, and the shape of the best outcome. 

I'm trying not to detail much at all about the actual plot. Phineas's career, both political and personal, has high points and low points, and ends mostly happily, though with some ambiguity and a lot of stress -- and, of course, there will be further changes ahead, elaborated mostly, I assume, in Phineas Redux. Phineas himself is a fine character, a good man with flaws, a rather lucky man whose successes are partly due to his abilities, but also to his good looks, and to sheer good fortune. The three English women he is involved with -- Lady Laura, Violet, and Madame Max -- are wonderful characters. There is a host of minor characters who are intriguing: Phineas' fellow Irish MP Laurence Fitzgibbon; the journalist Quintus Slide; Mr. Low, the barrister who teaches Phineas the law; Mr and Mrs Bunce, Phineas' landlords; Plantagenet Palliser's wife, Lady Glencora; Lady Laura's unstable but oddly likeable brother Lord Chiltern; and many more. 

I have now read seven of Trollope's novels, all with at least some enjoyment, and most with immense enjoyment, but I think Phineas Finn is (so far!) my favorite. I said recently somewhere that, while Dickens and Eliot are undoubtedly greater novelists than Trollope, Trollope is more enjoyable. Does Trollope's hand on the scales sometimes noticeably influence the outcome? Sure (but so does Dickens' hand.) Is Eliot's moral and philosophical view of the world more complex than Trollope's? Yes, though Trollope's ideas are by no means negligible. Is Trollope's prose less energetic and surprising than Dickens', and less elegant than Eliot's? Definitely, though Trollope is never less than readable. What can I say? Trollope is a wonderful writer who deserves to be read, and will reward the reader. 

Quiz: Victorian Fiction

Over the past years I've posted some quizzes I've written for an online trivia league I play in. These quizzes have a format of 12 questions each, but naturally I typically write at least 15 questions before figuring out which work best. This year I outdid myself, and wrote 18 questions (with the help of Michael Moorcock, who made a few suggestions, one of which is in the list below.)

The theme was Victorian Fiction, originally intended to be concerning any fiction written during Queen Victoria's reign (1837-1901). After running the questions by a number of volunteer testers, I decided that it was best to restrict it to fiction written by actual subjects of Queen Victoria -- that is to say, anyone from the British Empire during her reign (in the end I included writers from England, Scotland, Ireland, and India -- abashedly, I realized I don't really know many writers from Canada or Australia or other British colonies from that period. (I read a Canadian SF novel from 1896 while writing the quiz, but that novel was so obscure I suspect I am one of maybe a dozen people alive who have read it, and in fact I alerted both the Science Fiction Encyclopedia and the ISFDB to its existence.))

I'll post the answers in a few days. Give your guesses in the comments if you feel like it.

So, here are the questions: 

1. By the 1890s, English morés seemed to shift away from the traditionally stuffy image of Victorians (exaggerated as that image may be). The writer who represented that shift most directly might be the Irishman Oscar Wilde, author of plays such as Lady Windermere's Fan, poems such as "The Ballad of Reading Gaol" and "The Sphinx", and what short novel, which might fancifully be read as allegorizing the decadence that could be seen as lying beneath the decorative exterior of the art of the "Naughty '90s"?

2. Charles Dickens' first several novels were published under a pseudonym and several of them, as well as some later works, were illustrated by Hablot Knight Browne, who chose the pseudonym "Phiz" to correspond with Dickens' pseudonym. Give Dickens' one-syllable pseudonym.

3. Elizabeth Gaskell is loved for her novels Cranford, Wives and Daughters, and a novel that was serialized in Charles Dickens' magazine Household Words right after Dickens' own Hard Times. Both Gaskell's and Dickens' books are considered "industrial novels", and both were set in Manchester (Gaskell's home, though Gaskell renamed the city Milton.) Name this book, which had a BBC adaptation in 2004, and the title of which refers to the protagonist's split time between London (and a nearby village), and her new home in Milton. 

4. Anthony Trollope, author of the Barsetshire and Palliser novels among many others, was famous for his prolificity. But despite the many novels (and often very long novels!) he wrote, he was also a very energetic worker in another area, part of the civil service of the United Kingdom. For which part of the civil service did Trollope work?

5. George Eliot was a bête noire for many high school students in my time who were forced to read Silas Marner, though these days she is (deservedly) a golden girl for her novel Middlemarch. (I say Middlemarch is transcendent, and Silas Marner is a fine short novel.) Those novels, and much of the rest of her work, were set in the 18th and 19th centuries in provincial England. But Eliot went far afield -- to Italy in the 15th Century -- for which novel published in 1863? (This novel's title is also the first name of an actress who appeared in an adaptation of Eliot's novel Daniel Deronda as well as several other period pieces.)

6. Three English sisters published novels in the 1840s that are still regarded as classics today. Their first books were published under a common surname, Bell. Their brother Branwell published some poetry but no novels. Name any one of the three pseudonymous first names the sisters used, each of which had a first letter matching the author's real first name.

7. Stanley Kubrick's 1974 film Barry Lyndon is adapted from a novel by William Makepeace Thackeray, who also wrote Henry Esmond (my personal favorite), The Rose and the Ring, and, most famously, a novel which takes its title from John Bunyan's decidedly non-Victorian allegory The Pilgrim's Progress. Give the title of that novel.

8. The now common practice of titling novels with quotes from poems doesn't appear to have begun until the Victorian Era (though there may be earlier examples.) Dickens' The Cricket on the Hearth (1845) takes its title from Milton's "Il Penseroso", and Rhoda Broughton's Red as the Rose is She, from 1870, uses a quote from Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner". Just four years later, Thomas Hardy had his first major success with which novel titled after a line from Thomas Grey's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard"?

9. "The Jewel in the Crown" of the British Empire was India. Needless to say, the record of the British Empire in India is highly checkered. There was a writer who was technically a subject of Queen Victoria, born in Calcutta (now Kolkata), educated in India and England, who wrote major plays such as Risarjan (or Sacrifice), from 1890, poetry such as the collection Gitanjali, novels including 1901's Nastanirh (later filmed as Charulata by Satyajit Ray), and numerous short stories such as "Atottju" ("The Runaway"). In 1913 he became the first non-European to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. Who was this polymath?

10. Some of the Victorian novelists were also poets, though only a couple achieved significant reputations. But one major poet produced an epic poem, Aurora Leigh, that the author called a "novel in verse", and which was called by the influential critic John Ruskin "the greatest long poem of the nineteenth century". Please give the first and last name of this poet, who was married to another major Victorian poet.

11. I loved Robert Louis Stevenson's novels as a child, such as Kidnapped, Treasure Island, The Black Arrow and Catriona, and I continue to enjoy such books as The New Arabian Nights as an adult. Stevenson traveled widely in his brief life -- he lived at times in his birthplace of Scotland, in England, in France, and in the United States (home of his wife Fanny.) He spent his last few years in what South Seas island group?

12. One of the best and most prolific Victorian woman authors was Margaret Oliphant, who wrote over 90 novels between 1849 and her death in 1897. Perhaps her best work (at least in your smith's eyes) is which 1883 novel in which the title woman crosses horns with her older cousin, as both eventually forsake marriage and instead work to maintain the family's bank in place of their feckless male connections? The title character shares a name with the tragic main character of a colorfully titled major American novel published during Victoria's reign. (First name only.)

Here are two questions that didn't make the final cut, the first because the writer was not a subject of Queen Victoria, and the second because the testers thought the question very hard, and I couldn't figure out how to supply any particularly good hints.

13. Leo Tolstoy published the bulk of his work during Victoria's reign, though he was of course not one of her subjects. But he did, for example, admire both Dickens and Trollope, and indeed Anna Karenina is shown reading a novel that seems clearly to be by Trollope on the fateful train journey at which she meets Vronsky (that cad!) and also witnesses what tragic foreshadowing incident? 

14. "Sensation novels" were very popular in England in the second half of the 19th century, showing scandalous doings behind the facades of seemingly ordinary families. Wilkie Collins was one of the first such novelists, and Rhoda Broughton a later example, but what woman, an actress in her teens, made a fortune in that genre, most notably with Lady Audley's Secret.

And here are the other questions I cut:

15. Herman Melville is undoubtedly best known for Moby-Dick, but I love the last novel he published in his lifetime, which sold so poorly it ended not just his career but bankrupted his publisher. I'm sure you can tell me its title. 

16. One of the most popular French novelists of the Victorian era was Alexandre Dumas, author of such enduring classics as The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. Dumas' son, also named Alexandre, was also a successful writer. He is best known today for a novel that was the source material for a great opera by Verdi. Give either the title of the novel (in French or English), or of Verdi's opera that was based on it.

17. Queen Victoria died in 1901, and there are of course writers whose career encompassed both her reign and those of her successors. One of the greatest published his most famous novel in the year of Victoria's death. This writer's stories published in Victoria's reign were often set in India, where he lived in early adulthood, though an important book of stories for children seems to be set in Africa. Just who was this man?

And this was Michael Moorcock's suggestion:

18. This author of The Ordeal of Richard Feverel and The Egoist was also a well-respected poet, who wrote the lyric that inspired one of Ralph Vaughan Williams' most popular orchestral pieces, The Lark Ascending.

Review: The Forever War, by Joe Haldeman

Review: The Forever War, by Joe Haldeman

by Rich Horton

This review will be full of spoilers -- it's a classic SF novel, and pretty much everyone in the field (except John Scalzi :) ) has read it. Short answer: it's definitely worth reading -- a bitter and cynical look at war, some cool ideas including the effect of time dilation and lots of physics, a somewhat transcendent but pretty creepy conclusion. And, also, some very '70s things, including pretty questionable -- at times downright offensive -- "sexual revolution" era sexual politics, and oddly 70s-ish notions of dystopia.

To my impressions:

I read The Forever War back in 1975 when it came out, mostly in the Analog quasi-serialization, though I bought the paperback too. I had to get the first two parts of the novel out of the library as I didn't start buying Analog until the August 1974 issue. The last two sections (in Analog) were in the fourth and sixth issues I bought. I liked it then and I endorsed its Hugo and Nebula wins. But if I am telling the truth, my memories from 50 years ago have become pretty dim, so I only recall the basic outline: William Mandella is drafted into a war against the aliens, there are several very impressive battle scenes, he falls in love with fellow soldier Marygay Potter, they are separated by time dilation, the war ends when it is realized the whole thing was a mistake due to poor communication, Marygay waits for William by flying back and forth in a spaceship until time dilation means their timelines are synchronized again.

We scheduled it for our book club this month, so I finally reread it. I got a Kindle edition, partly because I had heard that a significant chunk of the novel had been rejected by Ben Bova at Analog, and had only been added back to the book edition much later. The funny thing is, that chunk, was published as a separate novella in the November 1975 Amazing. And I don't remember it at all! -- even though I was buying Amazing at the time. I don't even remember the other stories in that issue, nor do I recognize the cover. Either my memory is completely shot -- possible! -- or I somehow missed that issue -- I don't think I had subscribed yet.

What did I think on a reread? It's still a pretty effective book. The telling is cynical in a totally believable way. The Army scenes ring very true -- and Haldeman would certainly be a better authority than me anyway. The soldiers are foulmouthed, dislike their commanding officers, but fairly disciplined if only because the alternative is dying. From my perspective a couple of things bothered me. One: in the Army "confraternity" -- sexual relastions with your fellow soldiers of the opposite sex -- is essentially mandatory, and (at least for a while) on a rotation basis. This seesm that it would be particularly hard on the women -- and there are hints of this in the novel. But only hints -- for the most part people seem happy to be always ready for sex and to be bedding a different person each night. In reality -- probably not much fun for most women, and, really, not so much fun for lots of men. Two: the casualty numbers are incredible, probably significantly higher than Russian casualties in Ukraine (and partly for a similar reason -- the politicians on Earth don't care.) Even worse, part of this is to my mind very avoidable casualties during trainging. Three: I don't quite buy the concept of only recruiting geniuses (150+ IQ) for the Army. I get that there's some satirical point to that, but still.

That said, it's very exciting, and well-written. The battle setups are interesting, and seem like a plausible use of the technology Haldeman invents. Some of this tech is pretty implausible, but in an almost believable fashion. The new section, originally called "You Can Never Go Back", concerns William and Marygay's return to Earth after their battles, at which time they are eligible to muster out. They describe at thoroughly decayed Earth society, in a very '70s fashion. Homosexuality is encourage as a population control measure (though -- as Mandella even points out -- birth control is pretty easy to enforce anyway.) Haldeman's depiction of homosexuality is mostly positive, I suppose, but there are some cliches, which I understand he regretted in later years. The rest of the depiction of Earth at that time seems a bit over the top -- but partly it's a device to make it plausible that the two of them reup.

The social changes from then on remain interesting. Homosexuality is eventually mandatory, and enforced by medical treatments. All births are by artificial insemination and by using artificial wombs. There are algorithms to ensure genetic compatibility for "better" children. The novel takes a somewhat neutral stance towards this, though I find it horrifying. And the final fate of mankind -- where every one is clones of a single individual, linked a sort of hivemind, is appalling, and really dangerous. There is a backup plan -- a few planets where heterosexual relationships and natural birth is allowed -- which of course is where William and Marygay end up. But seriously -- what is "good", what is valuable, what sort of art would be possible, etc. etc., in a world with only one actual individual. It's really truly terrible. 

Anyway, it remains a good novel. As with so many books, it doesn't hold up as well 50 years later -- I wasn't as impressed as I remember being back then. Nonetheless, it definitely heralded an outstanding careers, and beginning some time in the 1990s I got in the habit of reading every Joe Haldeman novel as they came out, every 2 years or so, and they are reliably strong work. (My favorites are The Hemingway Hoax, The Coming, and Old Twentieth.)

Review: The Elfland Prepositions, by Henry Wessells

Review: The Elfland Prepositions, by Henry Wessells

by Rich Horton

Henry Wessells is a bookseller, writer, and publisher. His imprint, Temporary Culture, has published a number of books in the SF/Fantasy genre as well as some critical works. He also runs a website and newsletter devoted to Avram Davidson. I first encountered his fiction with a remarkable story in the New York Review of Science Fiction back in 2003, "Ten Bears; or, A History of the Weterings: A Critical Fiction". Shortly thereafter he published a beautiful collection, Another Green World, which also displayed his bookbinding talents. (The allusion to one of my favorite Brian Eno albums also delighted me.) Since then I have met Henry in person a few times at the science fiction convention Readercon. 

His latest book is this collection of four more "critical fictions", a label which I take to mean works of fiction that openly acknowledge, and comment on, their debt to previous works. These stories, written between 2017 and 2024, depict the interactions of people from our world and Elfland from the point of view of the lower classes; and rather cynically. The main charactes are a cleaner, a barmaid, a dry-cleaner (and automobile manufacturer!) and a detective. The afterword directly cites Lord Dunsany's The King of Elfland's Daughter, Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist, and Sylvia Townsend Warner's Kingdoms of Elfin; and the stories themselves directly allude to many other writers (a helpful list of works cited is included.)

In "Cleaning Up Efland" the narrator wants to go to Elfland but not as a changeling or slave, and learns how to get jobs there as a house cleaner -- there's not much more to the story than that except of course for the language, and sly references, and the way we see something real about life (if that's what it is) in Elfland. In "The Barmaid from Elfland" the narrator recognizes the title character as an elf and falls for her -- which we know is dangerous! And things go, more or less, as the rules for these stories say they must -- and the story gets there beautifully. "John Z. Delorean, Dry Cleaner to the Queen of Elfland" gives the notorious automaker a backstory in which he makes an Elfland fortune by doing dry cleaning for the elves, which leads to some good fortune as he starts his business -- but of course bad fortune when the Queen turns against him. The last line here is a killer. And "A Detective in Efland" has a man hired to retrieve a young girl who has disappeared -- kidnapped by elves, the mother says. Of course there is more going on -- this is a hardboiled detective story after all -- and we learn a little more about the seamy underside of Elfland, especially the uses a certain school has for kidnapped humans.

These stories are elegantly done, very clever, beautifully dark in implication. The tricks of making Elfland effectively mysterious are ready to Wessells' hand, and so too the ways of showing both the glamour and the danger. It is nice but not necessary to pick out the allusions. Henry Wessells is not prolific at all (in fiction) but what he does is outstanding.

Review: The Tents of Wickedness, by Peter De Vries

Review: The Tents of Wickedness, by Peter De Vries

A review by Rich Horton

Peter De Vries is one of my favorite midcentury American writers, and one somewhat neglected these days. This is in part because he was a comic novelist, and his primary subject, suburban adultery, may have lost centrality as time passed. For all that though, he could be very funny indeed; and he could also be very serious, in the midst of comedy, as with my choice for his greatest novel, The Blood of the Lamb.

The Tents of Wickedness (1959), however, is not quite a success. It's a sequel to Comfort Me With Apples, from 1956. The main character, Charles (Chick) Swallow, was also the main character in Comfort Me With Apples, and in both novels he is tempted into adultery, though in very different ways. In the first novel, he had just taken a job as advice columnist for the local paper in Decencey, CT, the Picayune Blade; and through the course of the novel his advice had at times backfired, in particular in the case of his brother-in-law Nickie. He still has that job in the new novel, and Nickie is still a problem -- indeed, Chick's sister is ready to divorce him.

But the main engine of the plot is Beth ("Sweetie") Appleyard, a girl he had dated in high school but had never managed to get into bed. As The Tents of Wickedness opens, he and his wife are going to a neighborhood party -- and it turns out Sweetie is to be their babysitter. This is a bit of a problem for Chick, as he's convinced his wife will ferret out their shared past. But the big problem is Sweetie herself, who has gotten stuck in an extended adolescence. And her father seems to blame Chick -- for an incident in the coalbin when they were very young; and then, paradoxically, for not deflowering Sweetie when they were teens. 

So Chick ends up entangle in various schemes to get Sweetie to mature. This involves at first a number of parodies she has written of prominent poems, which Chick manages to get published. On the strength of this Sweetie moves to Greenwich village, but, disappointed that the boys she meets seem too serious, she returns to Decency, and tells Chick that she wants a child, but doesn't want to get married. Chick refuses to impregnate her until is seems she'll choose Nickie instead, and so to try to save his sister's marriage, he nobly sleeps with Sweetie.

The results of Chick's various maneuverings, along with Nickie gaining a second personality as a master thief, not surprisingly gets Chick in more and more trouble. Add in Sweetie's father getting involved with a British woman who might have her eyes on the family fortune; plus changes at the newspaper, and then an attempt to place Sweetie's child with an appropriate adoptive family, and ... well, lots of tangles.

The problem is, these tangles end up being a bit tiresome, and not terribly convincing. The characters are not as well realized as many of De Vries' characters -- particularly Sweetie, who never really comes to life. And the novel itself is a stylistic tour-de-force, that only works about half the time -- the chapters are written in the style of a series of well-known novelists. For me, alas, while I had no trouble figuring out when the novelist was Austen, or Hemingway, or Kafka; I was stymied by the likes of John P. Marquand. More importantly, though, the effort of mimicry -- well enough pulled off -- seemed to interfere with De Vries' comic timing, and the book just isn't as funny as his best work. 

Review: I Who Have Never Known Men, by Jacqueline Harpman

Review: I Who Have Never Known Men, by Jacqueline Harpman

by Rich Horton

Jacqueline Harpman (1929-2012) was a Belgian novelist, filmmaker, and psychoanalyst; a woman of many parts who was also fascinated by physics and astronomy. She was of Jewish heritage, and her family spent the war years in Casablanca to escape the Nazis. (Several relatives were killed in the Holocaust.) Her first husband was a film director and she collaborated on several of his films, and turned to writing and then to psychiatry. She published a couple of dozen books, with considerable success. I Who Have Never Known Men (1995) was the first of her books to be translated into English, in 1997 as Mistress of Silence; and several further novels have been translated since then. Mistress of Silence was reissued in 2022 as I Who Have Never Known Men, a more direct translation of the French title (Moi qui n'ai pas connu les hommes) and also a direct quote from the novel. It gained considerable popularity at the time. The translator is Ros Schwartz. I listened to the audiobook, read very well by Nikki Massoud.

The unnamed (even to herself) narrator opens by telling us that she is alone as she writes this account, and will likely die soon. And then she tells of her life. Her first memories are of life in an underground cage. She is the only child in a group of 40 women, who are kept prisoner by a group of men, guards. They never leave the cage, and the men never enter the cage. They are kept in order by whips, though by the time of the story, the women never seem to be hit -- the snap of the whip near them is enough. They are not allowed to touch each other, and they have no books, no paper, no clock. The single toilet is out in the open.

This goes on for years, until the narrator, called the "child" by the other women, is about 15. She is pubescent, and has what seem to be sexual fantasies, but is not wholly developed sexually. She has passed from a feeling of anger with the other women to some accommodation -- after years of refusing to tell her anything, they begin to tell her what they know of their situation, and what they remember of their past life -- very little in either case. The narrator learns simple math, learns to count time, and becomes friends with a 40ish woman named Anthea. 

Then, one day as food is passed into their cage, there is an alarm, and the guards suddenly flee, leaving the keys in the lock -- and so the women escape. They head upstairs and go outside, and find themselves on a large and almost featureless plain. There is lots of food stored in their prison, and some equipment. They set up a camp outside, and then, led by the narrator, begin exploring. In time they discover additional prisons, in which they inevitably find 40 dead people -- sometimes all women, sometimes all men. They make themselves homes. And, of course, the women begin to die, of old age, illness, and suicide. Meanwhile the narrator is ever learning, learning eventually to read and write, and after everyone else has died, making a couple more significant discoveries.

But still, never an understanding of what disaster led to their imprisonment (and that of so many more.) Nor do they even know where they are -- this planet can hardly be Earth. In this way this novel -- rightly acknowledged as a work of science fiction -- radically differs from most genre SF, for there is no explanation, no understanding. What is it about, then? It is most definitely NOT, unlike what some remarkably obtuse critics have suggested, anything at all like The Handmaid's Tale. And while in many ways it describes a terrible, and very sad, situation, it is oddly not bleak in tone. This is largely a function of the narrator's voice, and of her innocence, resulting in her knowing nothing of the Earth where she was born. But nor is it at all triumphalist. The narrator knows that her life in the end means nothing, solves nothing. She appears to -- to the extent possible -- live a good life, if a lonely life; but she certainly mourns what she missed. The story does have something to say about organizing a life, a small society, in a nearly hopeless situation. It does have something to say about life without men -- but remember that the men imprisoned here had a life without women. It's a strange and mysterious book -- more involving than I expected on first encountering it. I don't think it's as good as its reputation suggests -- perhaps I am so much a genre reader that I really do miss some explanation -- but it's worth reading. 

Review: Bewilderment, by Richard Powers

Review: Bewilderment, by Richard Powers

by Rich Horton

Richard Powers is a very successful literary novelist whose works always address scientific ideas, and often cross the ill-defined border into actual science fiction. He became a bestseller with his 2018 novel The Overstory, about trees and forests. He is roughly my age, and we were at the University of Illinois at the same time (though I didn't know him), so I've long kept track of his work, and I loved his early novel The Gold Bug Variations. He has won a MacArthur Fellowship, a Pulitzer Prize, and a National Book Award. 

His most recent novels have been intensely concerned with ecological systems and with ecological catastrophe. Bewilderment, from 2021, certainly fits that template. And it is definitely science fiction -- set in the present day more or less, but in a slightly alternate history.

Theo Byrne is an astrobiologist at the University of Wisconsin, with a nine year old son, Robin, who has some problems. Robin presents to this reader, at least, as somewhere on the autism spectrum (quite high-functioning.) He is prone to fits of rage, and he is very sensitive. Also, his mother Alyssa died in an accident a couple of years before the events of the novel -- a loss that has devastated both Theo and Robin. As the novel opens, the two are on vacation in the Smoky Mountains, near where Theo and Alyssa had honeymooned, and we see Robin's fascination with the stars (Theo's focus) and wildlife (Aly's focus.)

Back in Madison, we learn about Robin's troubles in school, and about Theo's impatience with the "medicate first, ask questions later" attitudes of school officials and doctors -- he doesn't think that treatment will help his son. The two are vegan -- learned from Aly, who was an animal rights activist. One of their shared pastimes is virtually visiting simulations of exoplanets, using a program Theo has developed with the intent of understanding how to detect signatures of life in the data from worlds circling other stars. One of Robby's obsessions is following in his mother's footsteps: doing everything he can to protect animals from the ecological devastation caused by humans. In pursuit of this he starts drawing animals from the Endangered Species List, and even stages a protest at the state capitol building.

Under pressure to enter Robin in a treatment regimen, especially after he broke a classmate's cheekbone in an understandable fit of rage, Theo takes up another Professor's offer of seeing if an experimental treatment will help. The technique is real -- Decoded Neurofeedback, or DecNef, and Professor Currier is hoping to use the treatment for emotional problems, indeed, to induce empathy in subjects. Theo and Aly had contributed some early brain state readings, but Theo has come to suspect that Aly and Currier had had an affair. Still, any hope for Robin is worth it, and Robin enters into the program, with good results that become astonishing when he trains himself using Aly's brain scans. Indeed, he begins to feel that his mother is somehow present in his mind.

But all this is set against an horrifying political backdrop. The President is viciously anti-Science, for essentially religious reasons. In many ways he resembles Trump -- though in his case his attempt to overturn an election result is successful. And his stance against science imperils not just the program Robin has been using; but Theo's life work, which depends on the Next Gen Space Telescope, and then on a follow on project which will allow very precise observations of exoplanets. Alongside all this, their are increasing climate-related catastrophes, and serious threats of plagues, and other more mundane issues.

I won't detail the way the book is resolved, though we are given hint after hint. (Most obviously, a book Robin and Theo read is Flowers for Algernon.) But it's a remarkable achievement. I did find myself arguing with it at times, and I do feel that Theo (and perhaps the author) failed to show empathy for some of the characters cast as villains, which I found ironic in a way. But the ultimate message comes through, and does so very powerfully, and the final scene is beautiful indeed. The various themes are wonderfully intertwined -- our empathy, for humans and other species is important. Understanding life on other planets is important. The various different forms of life Theo's simulations show is important. Alyssa's life, death, and lifework is a sort of running commentary. Beauty is everywhere, and so is ugliness and tragedy. And the scientific ideas are not only interesting in themselves but truly reinforce the novel's themes. Even the title is an intertwined them: "bewilderment" at the way people ignore science, "bewilderment" at the way Robin's mind works, and also a command, sort of, to "be wilder", or to engage in "bewilderment" as a sort of analog to "rewilding".

An outstanding book, and one of the best SF novels of the past several years, which, sadly, was not noticed with the field as much as it should have been.

Review: The English Air, by D. E. Stevenson

Review: The English Air, by D. E. Stevenson

by Rich Horton

(I reviewed a few novels already by Robert Louis Stevenson's cousin Dorothy: so, biographical details can be found here.)

D. E. Stevenson published two novels in 1940 -- The English Air, and Rochester's Wife. Both novels are set in the late '30s. Both novels feature families with men in the military. Rochester's Wife was the first Stevenson novel I read, and I thought it kind of a mess -- though it was just good enough in certain ways that I decided to keep trying her novels. (Also, I had enough friends eagerly promoting her work that I figured something was going on!) Since then I've read a few more of her novels, and the best of them are quite delightful, so I'm happy I kept up with it.

One of the things that bothered me about Rochester's Wife was how oblivious the characters seemed to the coming catastrophe. So it was interesting to get to the The English Air (which I believe was written right after she wrote Rochester's Wife, though it may have been published earlier in the year.) The English Air opens in 1938, when Franz Heiden, a young German man, whose father is a midlevel official in the Nazi regime, but whose late mother was English, comes to stay with his mother's first cousin, Sophie, at Chellford, a seaside town. This visit is on the surface a reason for Franz to (at long last) visit his mother's family (his father's controlling nature, and anger at the English role in WWI, had previously prevented this.) He also wants to improve his English, and his father wants him to report on English morale (not strictly spying, just observation.)

Sophie's daughter, Wynne, is a free-spirited and attractive girl just a few years younger than Franz, and so any reader of D. E. Stevenson knows where that's going right away. And there are really no surprises in that romance plot. But that's not really the heart of the novel. For one thing, it's an ensemble piece, and we see things via several characters. Sophie herself is an important character -- a fortyish woman with a reputation for a sort of silliness, but with a way with people so that everyone likes her, and a way with her silliness that's rather deep. Sophie's husband has died, and his half-brother Dane, who is independently wealthy, manages the house and Sophie's finances. Dane himself, Major Worthington, is an interesting and mysterious character -- he had a "good war" in the first War, but suffered some sort of injury, and so doesn't do any particular work, and spends a fair amount of time overseas, for his health. (Again, most readers will quickly cotton to what Dane really does with his time.) Wynne's brother Roy is in the Navy, and their local friends include members of the military as well. 

As time goes by, Franz learns colloquial English, and sends increasingly puzzled reports to his father. At first he finds the English lazy and unprepared, but slowly learns that there is steel behind this attitude. (It could be said that there is a bit of English bias behind some of Stevenson's depictions.) He realizes his feelings for Wynne, but knows it is impossible for them to have a relationship (plus his father would never consent.) His frustrated father begins to ask him to return to Germany, but he doesn't want to leave, and eventually Dane (who also is worried about his attraction to Wynne) gets him a job in London. The Munich Agreement comes in September, and Franz is overjoyed. No war! Peace in our time! Germany and England friends forever! But of course these hopes are dashed when Hitler takes Czechoslovakia -- and Franz's eyes are fully opened. He quickly converts to complete opposition to Hitler -- but he knows his place is back in Germany ...

All along the English characters realize that war will surely come. And Stevenson is really very good in portraying the months before the War, and the few months after it starts. (The book ends on February 29, 1940 -- exactly when Stevenson finished writing it, and a couple of months before Dunkirk.) Each of the characters is affected, of course. Franz (now called Frank by his English friends) is back home, but alienated from his father. Wynne and her friends set up a hospital. Roy and the others in the military are in active service of course. And Dane -- Dane has a pretty important role himself. I won't detail what happens, but there is adventure and sweetness and surprise -- and an ending that is meant to be hopeful but, as written, almost certainly means that (as with so many in the War!) the final fates of some of the characters will be sad. 

Oddly, the specific conclusion to the novel -- at least, Franz's plans -- became impossible within days of Stevenson finishing the book, and this edition (from the Furrowed Middlebrow imprint of Dean Street Books) reproduces some correspondence between Stevenson and her publishers, in which she wonders if she should alter the ending, and even if the book should be shelved until after the War. But the publishers felt that wasn't necessary, and settled for a brief explanatory note. (Apparently, Stevenson did provide a replacement conclusion, but it has been lost.)

This is quite a fine book -- much better than Rochester's Wife. The romances (there are two) are well enough done but kind of minor. Where the book shines is simply the portrayal of life in England (and a bit of life in Germany) in the runup to the War. And the characters are nicely done as well, particularly Sophie -- another wonderfully captured middle-aged woman -- Stevenson (a middle-aged woman herself at the time) was really good with those characters in many of her books.

Review: Den of Thieves, by Daniel Hatch

Review: Den of Thieves, by Daniel Hatch

by Rich Horton

Starting in 1990, Daniel Hatch published a couple of dozen stories, mostly in Analog. I always looked forward to them, and I've missed them over the past decade or so. They were well done science fiction, careful with the scientific details, interesting with the social organization.

I met Daniel in person just recently at Boskone, and he revealed that he is beginning to self-publish a number of novels. The first two (and I don't know how many more) are part of a series called Slow Space -- the basic conceit being that space travel is roughly instantaneous to the traveler, but lightspeed to the rest of the universe, via the "soliton drive". The novels are based in part on stories that first appeared in Analog. I bought the first one, Den of Thieves.

Den of Thieves is assembled from four separate long stories, the last three of which appeared in Analog ("Den of Foxes" (December 1990), "Den of Sorrow" (March 1991), and "Den of Wolves" (July 1991).) There is a long opening novella length section as well. The stories are set on a planet of Mu Casseiopia, Asgard. A crowded Earth has started a planetary colonization project, first by sending smallish groups ("dens") of "scouts" to survey a promising planet and prepare the way for the colonists. As the novel opens, young Guy Stanger, just a short time before official adulthood, is leading a group of young scouts on a routine inspection tour to Glacier Valley. The kicker is that not long after this is "Colony Day", the date when the "breakthrough" colonists will arrive, 20 ships with 5000 people each. Guy's feelings are bit mixed -- for one thing, the scouts won't have the planet to themselves anymore. 

This story continues to set up the main conflict of the novel. The colony ships arrive, but so does another ship. This latter one is from the Eta Casseiopia system, which had been colonized some time earlier. A group led by one Peter Kolberg is offering advice on how to avoid the mistakes they had made at Eta Cass -- in exchange, of course, for some room on Asgard. But there is a lot of suspicion as to their motives -- from Guy Stanger, for sure, and also from one of the leaders of one of the colony "dens", Suzanne Baxter. As the first section ends, Guy and Suzanne (and others) manage to keep the Kolbergs from achieving all their goals, but they remain a threat. And Suzanne's daughter Emily and Guy quickly become an item. A couple of other significant characters are introduced: Emily's precocious younger brother Joey, and a struggling but hardworking colonist, Lin Palmer

The rest of the novel details the Kolberg's continuing machinations, mostly political, but involving some pretty slimy stuff as well (rape and murder included.) At the same time, the Kolbergs do have some beneficial experience to offer, and the ending of the novel reveals a the pretty clever (and science fictional) plan they are really following. The novel also interestingly treats basic issues of the colonization process -- from the way the den organization works, to the choice between a more centralized political structure and a more dispersed structure, to the really impressive amount of equipment the colonists bring -- this is something that few SFnal stories seem to deal with. Add some crises -- adapting to severe weather (and setting up weather prediction systems), finding a way to at least minimize the inevitable ecological damage a huge human population will cause, setting up a durable government, and so on.

It would be fair to call this "old-fashioned" science fiction (and after all the bulk of this novel is over 30 years old.) But the political issues are still pertinent (and a bit sneaky at times.) And stories like this can be great fun -- and Den of Thieves is great fun. If I were to nitpick -- the first three sections end in slightly over-convenient and swift resolutions to the main plot problems. But the novel as a whole ends in a more satisfying fashion, and also sets up a continuing conflict that I assume will play out in future books.

Den of Thieves can be bought at various places online, and here's a link to where I buy most of my books these days, an online place to order from many of your favorite independent bookstores: Den of Thieves at bookshop.org. As it happens, the second book in the Slow Space series, The Long Game, is officially released tomorrow! And here's a link to Daniel's webpage.

Review: Annie Bot, by Sierra Greer

Review: Annie Bot, by Sierra Greer

by Rich Horton

Annie Bot is a 2024 novel, the first adult novel from a successful writer of YA books. "Sierra Greer" is a pseudonym, presumably to differentiate the author's adult work from her YA novels. It's a striking book, one of the best novels I read from last year.

Annie, the point of view character of Annie Bot, is a "cuddle bunny" -- essentially a sexbot -- owned by Doug Richards, who bought her as he was going through a divorce. As the novel opens, Doug has had Annie for a couple of years, and his friend Roland is coming to visit him, to aak Doug to be his best man. Doug has turned Annie into an "autodidactic" robot, converting her from the baseline "Stella" he had bought. "Autodidactic" robots have the capacity to learn, and the capacity for independent action -- within strict limits imposed by the owner. So, Annie essentially never leaves Doug's apartment, and is always ready for sex, which she quite enjoys (partly because she is programmed to desire to please Doug.) But on this day Doug lectures her about her lax cleaning skills (and, after all, she is not an "Abigail", a type of robot programmed for housemaind duties. We learn, over time, that there are also "Nannies", "Hunks", and "Handies".) 

Roland immediately notices that Annie resembles Doug's ex-wife Gwen, except for slightly lighter skin and different eye color, and he teases Doug about that, and about the cleaning issue. And, that night, he opens the closet door where Annie is recharging, and half-coerces her, half-seduces her. And thus Annie now has a secret to keep from Doug -- which bothers her, but also excites her. And in a sort of payment for sex, Roland gives her instructions on how to learn to program robots. 

Over the next few months her relationship with Doug has severe ups and downs. At times he is terribly controlling, insistent on her absolute loyalty and on his privacy. At other times he is very affectionate, buys her nice dresses, and they have lots of sex. He buys another robot, named Delta, to do the cleaning, but he also has sex with her, making Annie jealous. He powers Annie off for a long time as a punishment. We see Annie visiting the manufacturer for updates, which include tweaks Doug asks for to her weight and breasts; and also leads to a revelation that Annie's brain is becoming quite special -- enough so that the manufacturer want to pay Doug for copies.

The reader sees -- though Annie doesn't -- that this is a profoundly abusive relationship, complete with gaslighting and verbal abuse but mostly nothing physical (not counting the episode where Doug left her off for weeks!) And then things seem to change -- Doug is nicer to her, their relationship reaches new heights of affection, Annie gets permission to talk to AI friends, and to learn to ride a bicycle; and Doug even plans to take her to Las Vegas for Roland's bachelor party. But then it all comes crashing down when Doug figures out what Annie and Roland did that one night, and Annie fears she'll be discarded or have her memory erased, and runs away (along with Delta.)

What follows is scary, and liberating, and eventually horrifying, as Doug's rage is titanic. And he devises a truly dreadful punishment for Annie ... but then comes a period of repentance, and a return to a happier and apparently healthier relationship. Doug even agrees to a form of couples therapy, and is willing to continue to give Annie more independence ... he really is a changed man. But does that make their relationship any fairer? Then Doug does something quite remarkable for Annie ...

This is an excellent science fiction novel, exploring admittedly familiar ideas but very intelligently, and very movingly. The novel at one level reads almost like a metaphorical depiction of a particularly bad sort of sexual relationship between humans. But it is also a really thoughtful look at AI rights, and AI needs. I was reminded a bit of Rachel Swirsky's great story "Eros, Philia, Agape". It's well told, and Annie is a very believable character. Doug is perhaps less convincing, and there are some plot developments, and personality developments, that seem a bit forced to me -- the plot at times is clearly driven by the novel's didactic requirements. But that's a small complaint -- the book knows what it wants to do, and it works. I won't tell the ending, but I will say I think it sticks the landing. Highly recommended. 

Review: The Artistry of Magic, by Helen De Cruz

Review: The Artistry of Magic, by Helen De Cruz

by Rich Horton

Helen De Cruz is a Professor of Philosophy at Saint Louis University, and a writer of SF and Fantasy. She is also one of my collaborators on a forthcoming anthology of science fiction stories with philosophical themes. We know each other quite well, and have worked together not just on that anthology but on a writing seminar for philosophers, so calibrate this review as you will! The Artistry of Magic is a novella, about 18,000 words, her longest story to date, published by an intriguing South Africa based concern, The Pink Hydra.

The Artistry of Magic is set in a version of Belgium, in the late 18th Century. It is told in two threads, one from the point of view of Maarten, an unhoused man; and the other from the point of view of Johanna, a middle-aged librarian. Maarten is an unlicensed magician (having been born to a sheep farmer) and Johanna discovers him drawing pictures and enhancing them with magic outside the library. This is illegal, ostensibly because the magic might interfere with the powerful magic contained in some of the books, so Johanna must stop him. But she too came from a lower-class background, and had to battle to get her position, and she feels sympathy for Maarten.

Soon they are meeting regularly for coffee, which serves partly as a way to feed Maarten somewhat unobtrusively. Their relationship grows more personal, and soon they are lovers. And Johanna, learning of Maarten's ambition to learn more about magic and to gain a license, lends him a book from the library.

In the background, we begin to realize that there are knottier social issues impacting the characters' lives. Some of this we see through Maarten -- his life on the streets, with two friends, the three of them helping each other, as they travel from city to city depending on the attitude of the law towards unhoused people. Some we see through Johanna -- her somewhat tenuous position at the library, and her awareness of the revolutionary sentiments in neighboring France. And we see how both Maarten and Johanna don't really understand the other's positions.

Eventually Maarten learns enough, and earns enough, to get a ring to help with his magic, and to get licensed. But this puts some tension in his relationship with his friends -- and, too, there are problems with Johanna -- the missing book, and Maarten's wandering ways. There is also a sense that both Maarten and Johanna need their consciousness raised about social issues -- and the way magic in this story mirrors to an extent class divisions. All these aspects are interesting and well presented. The one weakness here, I thought, is that the story is concluded rather quickly, leaving certain questions unanswered, and resolving the central story a bit conveniently. Still, this is a sweet and enjoyable story, with the magical art a nice background, and with the sympathy for the lives of unhoused people front and center and believably conveyed.

Review: Evelina, by Frances Burney

Review: Evelina, by Frances Burney

by Rich Horton

Frances Burney (1752-1840) was the daughter of Charles Burney, a musician, composer, and writer. She was a writer from a very early age, and eventually wrote novels, plays, a biography of her father, and diaries. She also had a rather remarkable personal life -- for example, "Keeper of the Robes" for the Queen; a significant supporter of the French revolution (not the violence, but the political changes), married a French refugee, had a mastectomy -- without anesthesia! She wrote four novels, and several plays though only one was produced in her lifetime, besides her diaries, which when published posthumously were much admired, though now I think her novels are the foundation of her repuation. She was often called Fanny Burney; and Madame D'Arblay after her marriage.

Evelina, or the History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World (1778) was Frances Burney's first published novel, though curiously it is a sequel. As a teenager Burney wrote a novel called Caroline Evelyn, about Evelina's mother. But at the age of 15 she burned all her early writing efforts, apparently out of doubt that it was proper for a woman to write for publication. Happily, she had changed her mind by her 20s, though she did bow to her father's wishes and did not seek public performance of any of her plays save one. The plays survived in manuscript, but her juvenilia obviously did not. So it's hard to say whether Caroline Evelyn was any good -- my guess is, probably not that good! -- or even how long it was. It was surely tragic, however, for at the beginning of Evelina we learn that the title character's mother was abandoned by her dissipated husband, Sir John Belmont, after she became pregnant, and that she died bearing Evelina, who has been raised to the age of 17 by her grandfather's close friend, the Reverend Arthur Villars.

Arthur Villars is a good if very morally conservative man, and has given Evelina an excellent education. She is a very beautiful young woman, very shy, and very moral. Mr. Villars only hopes to find her a good husband before he gets too old, and for her to have a happy life in the country. And he hopes to keep the secret of her birth a secret, for her father has long refused any contact, and has even refused to acknowledge that he was married to Caroline Evelyn. As the novel opens, he sends her to visit a close friend of his, Lady Howard, and eventually accedes to Evelina accompanying her friend, Lady Howard's granddaughter Miss Mirvan, to London. As Caroline Evelyn's rackety French mother (who had disowned Caroline and only recently learned of Evelina's existence) thinks Evelina is still with Mr. Villars, and Sir John Belmont is supposedly in France, there should be no trouble in the visit.

In London, Evelina and her friend go to a couple of social events, and Evelina creates something of a minor sensation with her great beauty. She is the object of unwelcome, and often quite rude, attention from various young men, including a foppish M.P., Mr. Loval; and a handsome Baronet with questionable manners, Sir Clement Willoughby. She also meets Lord Orville, a much more decent-seeming man, and dances with him. But trouble arrives when her Grandmother, Mme. Duval, tracks her down in London, and insists Evelina stay with her. This forces her to spend time with some exceedingly boorish social-climbing cousins, the Branghtons, who insist on her accompanying them to some much less savory places, where, indeed, Evelina is violently accosted by some young men. At last she manages to return to Lady Howard's, though in the mean time she has had further encounters with Sir Clement and with Lord Orville, as well as meeting a very sad young man named Mr. Macartney. Sir Clement makes more unwelcome advaances, while Lord Orville remains the perfect gentleman. But as she leaves London she sends Lord Orville a letter of thanks, and is shocked to receive an unpleasantly insinuating reply.

Now convinced that a life in the country is all she wants, she still must deal with Mme. Duval's importunities, which include a plan to sue Sir John Belmont to force him to acknowledge Evelina -- which would be fine in its way except that Mme. Duval hopes to marry her off to the loutish Tom Branghton. Captain Mirvan, meanwhile, Miss Mirvan's father, a very coarse Navy man, acts with absurd rudeness to Mme. Duval, as he hates all things French. After additional tribulations (some of them quite comic in the telling) Evelina returns to Mr. Villars, but having fallen ill is sent to Bristol to recover. And there again she encounters Sir Clement Willoughby and Lord Orville, along with some additional mostly comic characters, and over time finally gets to meet her real father, learn a secret of Mr. Macartney's, and resolve her issues with Lord Orville and with Sir Clement.

The novel is really very entertaining throughout. There is plenty of implausibility and coincidence, to be sure. Evelina's otherworldly beauty has long been a staple of romance novels, so it's hardly a surprise. Her virtue is so carefully held that at times one wishes she (and Mr. Villars) would be a bit more tolerant. Also, her dislike of causing too much of a fuss led me to wonder why she didn't give Sir Clement, or Tom Branghton, or any of a number of other men, a ringing slap from time to time. There are two threads to the novel, in a sense -- the love story, combined with the mystery of Evelina's birth (which ends up entangled with Mr. Macartney's story) is one; and the other is the lightly satrical and often quite funny observation of English social life. Both are interesting, though it's the satirical parts that make it special.

Review: Martin Chuzzlewit, by Charles Dickens

Review: Martin Chuzzlewit, by Charles Dickens

by Rich Horton

To be honest, I had planned for Great Expectations to be my next Dickens novel. But a friend had decided to attack Martin Chuzzlewit, so I figured I'd read along. I got impatient, though -- and read it through faster than advertised. I listened to much of it on my commute, but of course I also have a print copy, the Oxford World Classics edition originally from 1982, edited and with an introduction and notes by Margaret Cardwell.

Martin Chuzzlewit was published in 1843. Dickens was by then an extremely popular and financially successful novelist, and was very proud of his achievement in this book, apparently because he spent a lot of effort making the book work as an examination of a consistent theme -- that of selfishness. For all that, the novel was a comparative failure commercially -- though it must be said it still sold well. It's interesting to note that around that time Dickens turned to his Christmas novellas, with A Christmas Carol appearing in 1843, The Chimes in 1844, and The Cricket on the Hearth in 1845. 

Dickens was very open about his aim in this novel, and said aim is pretty clear. He was portraying the effects of selfishness on people, and showing the harm -- to others and often to themselves -- that selfishness does. With four exceptions (not counting minor characters) everyone exhibits selfishness -- of differing kinds. Two characters reform (not necessarily convincingly) -- these are the two title characters, Martin Chuzzlewit and his grandfather, who shares his name. The other significant selfish characters are all punished, though, again, there's reason to believe that some of the punishment is wielded by the author, and might not have resulted in the real world.

In brief terms -- hard to do for such a long novel (Martin Chuzzlewit is about 700 pages in my edition, around 340,000 words) -- this is the story of Martin Chuzzlewit, the grandson of a rich miser of the same name. Martin the younger offends his grandfather by falling in love with Martin the elder's ward, the orphan Mary Graham. Martin is disinherited, and in the process loses his position as an architect in training working for Seth Pecksniff, another relation of the elder Martin. Martin the younger travels to America to try to make his fortune, in company with his friend Mark Tapley. Meanwhile, the other parts of the Chuzzlewit family are angling for the elder Martin's good will -- the egregious hypocrite Mr. Pecksniff, the vicious Jonah Chuzzlewit, the, er, slimy Chevy Slyme. Mr. Pecksniff tries to up his odds for a piece of old Martin's fortune by dangling his somewhat unpleasant daughters in front of Jonas. Mr. Pecksniff's much put upon assistant Tom Pinch, nearly saintly in his self-abnegation, does his best to  help his friends, particularly Martin and Mary Graham, until he finally realizes Mr. Pecksniff's villainy. Jonah and Mr. Pecksniff are both entangled in the doings of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assurance Company, a pretty overt Ponzi scheme (before Ponzi!) run by Montague Tigg, or Tigg Montague, who was also involved with Chevy Slyme. Martin and Mark return from America, completely unsuccessful, and everything starts to unravel ... There are murders, thefts, terrible marriages, multiple fraudulent schemes in both England and America, plague, even an early literary detective ...

The novel is baggily structured, and there is a lot of coincidence driving the plot. The supposed main character, young Martin Chuzzlewit, isn't terribly interesting, and his romance with Mary Graham is very flat. Martin also takes up very little of the book for a protagonist -- perhaps a fifth of it. Dickens does not seem to have been able to portray love interests well -- the two virtuous young women in this book, Mary and Tom Pinch's sister Ruth, are both cyphers as characters, much like Dora and Agnes in David Copperfield. The conversion of the nice but unthinking and quite self younger Martin Chuzzlewit and the repentant elder Martin are both more convenient than believable.

All of the above are reasons why this is not one of Dickens' more highly regarded novels. But for all that -- it's really a very entertaining book. There are longueurs of course -- but there are longueurs in the much greater David Copperfield. The joys of this novel lie primarily in two areas. One is Dickens' prose, full of extended and strange but apposite descriptions of just about everything -- people, nature, buildings, schemes. The other, of course, is the characters, especially the villains. Mr. Pecksniff is one of Dickens' great creations, one of the most obscenely hypocritical of humans, full of borrowed aphorisms and borrowed ideas, constantly presenting a facade of virtue while keeping an eye on the main chance. Jonas Chuzzlewit is less interesting -- he's simply so horrible a person one can only gasp. The nurse Mrs. Gamp, not so much a true villain as a hopelessly almost innocently self-involved person, along with her imaginary friend Mrs. Harris. The various Americans don't get much space, but they are in their brief compass satisfyingly mean. Montague Tigg is in his way a somewhat conventional fraudster, but still holds the interest. There is a variety of less villainous but still involving characters -- Mark Tapley, ever convinced that for him to gain "credit" in life he must maintain jollity in the face of terrible circumstances, and who finally gets his wish in America; Mr. Nadgett, the almost invisible detective; the lugubrious Augustus, the much persecuted fiance of the elder Pecksniff girl; the energetic and ambitious boy Bailey and his friend Mr. Sweedlepipe, the barber and bird seller. There is always (well, almost always) something going on in the book, so one's interest doesn't flag. Is this a great novel? By no means, but it's a demonstration that Dickens had the magic gift of entertainment.

Hugo Nomination Thoughts, 2025, Novels and Novellas

Hugo Nomination Thoughts, 2025, Novels and Novellas

by Rich Horton

This will be a shorter Hugo nomination post than usual for me, as I really haven't read many novelettes or short stories this year. Too many 800 page novels I guess!

Novels

1. Cahokia Jazz, by Francis Spufford. This is first on my list by a wide margin. Brilliant alternate history set in a world where the Mississipian culture of native Americans survived long enough to form their own state -- it's a murder mystery, a political thriller, a love story, and has some of the best writing about the experience of music I've seen.

2. The Ministry of Time, by Kaliane Bradley. A really neat time travel story about people rescued from the past, wrapped around a love story between a man taken from the disaster of the Franklin expedition and his "bridge" in the near future. 

3. Three Eight One, by Aliya Whitely. A very strange story that hardly bears explanation in a paragraph -- mostly it's about the sort of coming of age journey of a young woman from an oddly retro community across a strange nearish future world (maybe?) -- but it's much weirder than that.

4. Navola, by Paolo Bacigalupi. This one is not so weird. It's a lovely fairly traditional quasi-historical fantasy (sort of in the Guy Gavriel Kay mode) set in analog of an Italian city in the early Renaissance era: a coming of age story about the scion of a powerful family. Nothing much is new here, but it's beautifully done.

5. Euphoria Days, by Pilar Fraile. Near future SF about the intertwined lives of several people, satirizing corporate culture and investigating relationships in a slowly disintegrating world affected by some algorithmic meddling with love.

Also:

 The Book of Love, by Kelly Link. This is a good book but it falls short of great. Probably longer than it needs to be. Kelly Link will write a great novel at some time, I'm sure, but this is well worth reading but not up to the level of her short fiction.

 Vinyl Wonderland, by Mark Rigney. A fine novel about a kid making a mess of his life after his mother's death and his father's decline, as he encounters a strange landscape behind the "Elvis door" in a '70s used record store.

Novellas 

1. A Mourning Coat, by Alex Jeffers. A really lovely story about a man mourning the death of his father and forming a new relationship. The fantastical elements are minimal but they enhance a moving and convincing small scale narrative.

2. The Practice, the Horizon, and the Chain, by Sofia Samatar. A dark parable of class structures in the society on a group of mining spaceships.

3. The Tusks of Extinction, by Ray Nayler. Searing story of a woman with her consciousness uploaded into a mammoth's brain, and her efforts to keep them from being hunted as elephants were.

4. Haunt Sweet Home, by Sarah Pinsker. An enjoyable story about a young woman struggling to find her way in life who gets a job with the title home improvement show, and finds some of the "haunts" more real than expected.