re:considering

When I decided to read The Forever War it was for three primary reasons -

A) The praise it got from people I respect,
B) I’ve read my share of Military SF and often enjoy it, and
C) It was a group read at the Shejidan site.

The last happened this past fall and for different reasons I didn’t make it, even as I acquired the book well in advance. Now was the time, though, and I took it off the shelf with great anticipation.

The Forever War has apparently been published in several various editions. The one I read is the SF Masterworks 2010 edition.

As the lead character returns from what ends up to be his last campaign, a campaign that lasted a handful of years in his time-frame but 700 years on Earth, he is informed the war is long since over. Furthermore he gets to understand that the war was due to a misunderstanding. Humanity has spent over 1000 years fighting against an opponent that didn’t ever want a fight, and that only because neither party could understand or even communicate with the other. Not until humanity had changed enough – some would say “beyond recognition” – for communication to be possible.

At the time of its original publishing in 1974 the Vietnam war was yet to end. The story has generally been interpreted as a Vietnam war story, even while it is set in the future, but Haldeman himself states his intention was to write about war in general. Either way I think the story displays naivete.

Not in how people die or in the way military leaders have to distance themselves from the humanness of the people they send to certain death. Not in what it does to the ex-military who are trying to find a place in a civil society. But in the final chapters he displays his lack of understanding in what properly leads to war. Either that or he chose to evade that issue as too hot, back in the days.

If the book is about the Vietnam war anybody thinking that war being based on miss-communication should go home and read up on the history of the region.

If the book is about war in general anybody thinking war generally being based on a lack in communicative skills should go home and read some history, too. Especially with focus on political and economic history. Because every known war has, at the core, been about power – either as in independence wars (of which Vietnam was one of the last in the row of wars that ended Western sovereignty over former colonial holdings) or for control over natural resources or economically or militarily strategical sites (in modern times the Gulf wars comes to mind, even if the ‘Nam war also qualifies) or over territory in general (many local conflicts) or for ideological hegemony. Whatever the cover story is. War entirely based on a misconception regarding the intentions of the opponent is, while not totally improbable, highly uncommon.

Because he manages to totally evade this fact – the political side of war – I cannot take either him or his book, however acclaimed, seriously.

Apart from this Haldeman knows what he want to tell the reader and he keep close tabs on that line, not for once deviating from the track. He seems to know military mentality, how a military organisation works, and what it feels coming “back” to civilian life. (I say “seems to” because I myself is clueless and thus can’t judge him.) Also, he can write.

However, I would not recommend The Forever War other than as historically interesting to those trying to understand the 1970′s.

Onwards, to my next read :)

So, at last – Bacigalupi‘s The Windup Girl. A near-future story set in a world where we have run out of oil all the while genetic science has its heyday being used by the corporate world as a way to more or less covertly own and commandeer all of the world and its peoples.

Welcome to Thailand. A nation set on isolationism as a way to avoid ceding its national sovereignty to corporate America. The greenhouse effect has brought a rise in the water table so half of Bangkok is now more or less sunken while the other half is kept dry by way of dikes and pumps. A fight is on with the isolationists on one side and the ones favouring trade with the world outside on the other; when we enter the story we don’t really know who to side with but it is clear that confrontation is impossible to avoid.

As if this wasn’t complex enough Bacigalupi adds a vat-grown human being, debating if this really is a human or not, and we follow her in her ongoing and daily humiliation. Because in isolationist Thailand anything not from within is impure. And anything genetically enhanced is a symbol for the devil enemy from abroad, something that deserves abuse. And abuse she takes, until one day she lashes back…

As the Chinese are said to curse - may you live in interesting times. The people in this book certainly do so.

The story is well written and well imagined but roaming a territory defined by William Gibson, Ian McDonald and, to me, containing much of Jon Courtenay Grimwood.  It very much feels like a first novel, trying to stake out a part of that land for his own. Yet, and perhaps because of his territorial neighbours, whom I love so much, I recommend this book highly.

Fast, fun, imaginative; not without originality; good penmanship, a fluid mind. And with one foot clearly set in the now. Because the world he describes is a result of how we presently treat our planet and our fellow humans. As extrapolations go, not very far-fetched. Which is scary.

Read it.

First I want to thank Hakkikt, down on Tasmania, for his mention of this book, on the Recently Reads thread over at Shejidan. Without that mention I never ever would had found it.

Second I want to buy this book. I thought this would be a prime candidate for a library loan, but as soon as I got it in my hand I knew I wanted it on MY shelf. Having actually finished the book I still plan to get it.

This suggests it was a good book, and that it was. It is based on interviews made with Russian submarine officers, many of them commanders, and through these stories the history of Soviet submarine corps is sketched – triumphs and disasters alike, and always with a look at the policies and politics that motivated the decisions. We get behind the scenes in covert actions against the US but we also get to hear how politics killed people through means of defective materiel forced through the production process in too much haste, and we get to hear it from the people who were affected by it.

Rising Tide can be read by anyone; no need to know much about submarines or munitions, thankfully, but a knowledge of the Cold War and about recent history makes for a better reading experience.

My main complaint is a small one. Every now and again the repressive culture of the Soviet Union, firmly based in a lack of respect for human life, is alluded to, as it was specific to Soviet. In reality this has a much longer history and has taken different faces as time has passed. Also I think the story would had gained if the passionate tone of the last third of the book had been more present during the previous two thirds. These are minor points, though.

A readable book, for anyone with an interest in the subject matters – politics, history, and, to a lesser degree – management and psychology. And of course for all those of us who think submarines, much like space ships, are fascinating ;-)

It is high praise for C.J. Cherryh’s Foreigner series that when I received notice that my copy of Betrayer had landed at the SF bookshop I went to town after dinner to get it, arriving 15 minutes prior to the shop’s closing time.

Despite some problems with continuity, like certain populations varying in size (and with no small numbers, either), or with proof-reading the richness of the world, the step by step discovery and understanding of a very different culture, and the character interplay drags the reader into it, book by book, making it a personal experience.

Did this latest instalment live up to expectations?

My first reaction was “it’s so THIN”. So few pages… and the cover is not that well executed; it feels as it was done in great haste. But what counts is between the covers, so I dove into it, closing my eyes to the visual representation on the outside.

At first it was slow going. Not because I couldn’t read but because nothing much happened, storywise.
One of the things I liked with Deceiver was it was full throttle from the very start. Betrayer is a return to the older format were the first third to half is dedicated to reiteration of what happened earlier and to build-up. This builds tension, and ensures the reader remember the pertinent parts when things go sticky, so fills a purpose, but to someone like me, who have read the previous instalments a number of times, it’s a wee (very wee!) bit boring. The world in itself, and the renewed acquaintance with the people, makes it less so, though. And soon enough the pace quickens, which is reward enough.

The story itself, then. WARNING! SPOILER ALERT!!!
A handful of pages in quiet Algini reveals the existence of a rift within the Assassins’ Guild with a splinter faction trying to wreak havoc in the aishidi’tat – a reaction to the transformations to the atevi culture and economy (and political power) in the aftermath of the return of the Phoenix 13(?) years earlier. The renegade faction has manoeuvred to use Machigi and his ambitions on the Western coast as their smokescreen, making him the focus of the aishidi’tat, but with Bren’s, and then the dowager’s, arrival in Najida and then Bren’s arrival in Tanaja, their hand is forced.
Neither the dowager nor Bren had any idea this renegade faction existed and neither had they any idea the legitimate Guild had worked long on exposing and handling these renegades. They thought what happened (in Conspirator and Deceiver) was a plot amongst local lords, the infighting normal to the Marid area, and both finds themselves in over their ears.

Action commences.
END SPOILER

When the dust settles and the book is over my main urge, despite putting another and very interesting read on hold, to go back and reread all of this fourth story arc.

Definitely not a book to start this series with, and perhaps not the strongest instalment either, but definitely a worthy episode for us who need our shot of Foreigner Universe every now and then.

After having made several tries at other books I decided I wanted to return to the Culture. My choice fell on Look to Windward, the seventh novel set in the Culture realm, and previously unread by me.

To be honest I don’t know how much of this desire to revisit this particular universe stems from my esteem of the other Culture novels that I’ve read and how much of it emanates from curiosity fed by a discussion about Banks’ works that I’ve been party of. What is certain is that my first one – Use of Weapons – was a love/hate relationship. It was poetic and violent and generally promising, until the revelation at end, which turned my stomach and sympathy both. Yet something drew me in (it was something about the language and tone that I just couldn’t resist!) and I decided to read on, this time beginning from the start. So, Consider Phlebas. Which was gory, hopeless and bleak. Still, something I loved in there – the language, perhaps, and the promise of more to come?

Initially I had meant to continue in some kind of publishing order. I did not. As readers of this blog might remember I recently read Surface Detail. Which is the latest one. Seems kind of backwards, doesn’t it? The reason for the rush was Surface Detail got selected as the January group read over at Shejidan. I knew I would read the book sooner or later, anyway, and a good discussion only adds to the reading experience. So I jumped the train. Both the book and the ensuing discussion left me wanting more.

Hence Look to Windward, which most people pointed at as THE Culture novel.

What did I think of it?

Poetic. Sad. Worthwhile. And a bit of fun, too.

Grieving soldier Tibilo Quilan gets an unspecified offer which promises him death at the end – the only thing he really want ever since his wife – also a soldier – died in the lingering end of the civil war they both fought in.
The hidden powers behind what later appears a conspiracy manipulates him towards a horrendous task which step by step is revealed to the reader.

At heart this is a story about what war do to individuals and about the often hidden agendas behind the official reasons for war.
Or, this is what the story is about, to me – reading the analyses made by others I can see how different readers interpret the Culture stories in different ways, depending on background and personal politics.

This possibility of personal interpretations is one of the things that makes the Culture novels such a rich experience and while I can understand this is not everyone’s fare I do recommend them highly, with Look to Windward as perhaps the most accessible one (of those that I’ve read) – a good entry point, especially for those not previously very familiar with the SF genre.

Some books and series leaves you turning them over and over, again and again, to understand, to figure them out. Vatta’s War is NOT one of those. It is fast paced straight forward space opera, which means that there’s drama but precious few surprises – what you hope will happen, or guess will happen, pretty much do. Every time. This could be tedious, boring, uninteresting.

It isn’t.

The pace is so fast that at first you don’t notice how well written it is. But the fact is a story this predictable has to be very well told not to be uninteresting same same stuff, and uninteresting certainly isn’t a word I’d associate with Vatta’s War.

Main spice is Ky Vatta’s shame over the discovery that she gets a thrill not only from adventure, from taking command, but out of killing. She know she won’t be able to tell her father – she’s still pretty young – because she can’t face her disappointment in her, and when he is killed in the attack on her family she carry this with her; the dread at what she is, and the regret for not having told her dad. Carrying this darkness she enters on an enterprise to revenge her family nemesis.

She soon learns that the attack was not directed at her or her family as such but that the attack was part of a plan to take over the known universe, engineered by pirates, and the quest widens from one of avenging to one of preserving basic human freedoms. In the course of the action she almost alienates her sole surviving same-generation close family member, cousin Stella, who gets terrified when she learns what kid cousin Ky is capable of. Stella’s old flame Rafe, on the other hand, is intrigued as he recognises something of himself in Ky… Mutual attraction ensues, something none of them are willing to acknowledge until after their respective duties make them go different ways.
This last thing the author uses to add tension between the “Rafe uncovers what’s wrong with the monopolistic corporation controlling universal communications” and “Ky tries to found a multi-national defence force while hunting pirates” storylines and it is done in such a manner that the reader doesn’t feel manipulated. Which is a feat in itself.

And never ever does the author let the reader forget the question about if you can fight for peace, and what the toll is on those who are tasked with this fight, as their lives is in constant contrast with the values they are said to protect.

All main characters fight against the preconceptions of other people. Some of them try to use it in their favour, like Stella, or Aunt Grace. Stella did something stupid in her youth and have ever since been marked as the family idiot. Aunt Grace, who on the outside is a dotty old spinster but really is Vatta Enterprises head of security, recognises that Stella isn’t what she’s marked as, initiating her into the life of the corporate spy. They both use their disguises to the advantage of the family.

Ky and Rafe respectively have a harder time of making anything good out of the widespread misconceptions about each of them, mainly because to do what they want to do they each need to be trusted by others and those others have to see beyond the public images history has fostered to be able to give them this trust.

None of above is evident at the start. Rather the story and the characters expand through the course of the books, finding more depth in each new instalment, as what happens to them gets ever more complex. That is one of the major reasons such a straightforward tale can keep up interest and engagement from the reader, because even when the story is predictable the scope widens continuously, placing ever new challenges in front of the protagonists; challenges which seems probable, in line with the story, no less.

So – good writing, good storytelling, good plot, and good character development equals, in this case, a series which is both entertaining and a good read. Go head and read it.

It’s not often that I want a book or a series that I like to come to an end but with Victory Conditions, the concluding Vatta’s War volume, this was certainly the case. And not because I wanted it done and over with but because I wanted to know how it would end.

Being a formulaic space opera I was reasonably sure that it would be a happy one for everyone (even if there’s no such thing as “happily ever after” with good SF) but there was that nagging little idea that maybe, maybe not…

Again the story is told from multiple viewpoints, with each storyline contributing to the sum total – Rafe downplanet on Nexus II, fighting against corporate inertia and suspicion; Stella, changing the future forever when she patents the shipboard ansible; and Ky, trying to win the war against arch-villain Gammis Turek and his pirates; and all of them trying to make odd ends meet in their relationship to their respective heritages and personal expectations… not to mention the driving question – would Rafe and Ky manage to get together, or would “duties” interfere? Because really – how the war in space would end was predestined.
This is space opera, after all :D

On the minus side this last book was a bit impersonal. Up until then most of the people Ky interacted with had names and faces but after the battle at Moray this changed; then it was just about her and her directing the battle. Maybe this is what happens to people who kill for a living – they distance themselves from their comrades so not to get hurt when they get killed? Or perhaps it’s just that the series is about to end and there’s no time to properly introduce new faces.

The actual ending I think was… what I had expected, but a bit weak compared to the quality of the rest of the storytelling.
The story definitely stopped in the right place, though, because from there onward it would had been a very different kind of story, whichever turn it would had taken.
Or so I imagine.

All in all an entertaining and enjoyable read, worth the time it took reading it.

In Command Decision, book #4 in the Vatta’s War series, Ky Vatta proves she’s able to command a multiship space force… but will she get the funding that she need?

This novel is a bridge, much more so than the previous books, in that it’s main aim is to make the happenings in the concluding book credible. We get to follow what has happened to InterStellar Communications, to the embryo Vatta Enterprises Stella nurses, and Ky’s struggles to found Space Defence Force.

A lot of the details felt… too detailed – I often felt “now, let’s get on with the STORY” while reading it, but in hindsight this might be because the story demands that we leave space for a while, following Rafe’s tries at unravelling what is wrong with the communications network.

As the others – definitely not a standalone, but worthy of the series.

I’ve found it very hard to write up individual reviews for the Vatta’s War books so these will be real short ones, in anticipation of the series review I will write up later.

At the end of Marque and Reprisal, book #2, Ky Vatta had started to realise that her only honourable alternative was to try to locate remaining family members and to try to find the person responsible for the attack on her family. In Engaging the Enemy, book #3, she takes one step further – she starts to see that this is something that not only has to do with her family but with the power balance in their part of the known universe, all the while struggling with the implications of being someone who need to do something which needs be done if the world is to stay safe, this something being in conflict with the common idea of what is acceptable behaviour.

The book ends with an escape from a skirmish with the enemy – a real cliffhanger… Which means this book, just like Marque and Reprisal is blatantly part of a series, not to be read on it’s own. But I enjoyed it, just as I enjoyed the previous books.

When I picked up Consider Phlebas, the first of Iain M Banks‘ Culture novels, I knew this wouldn’t be an easy ride so it was no surprise when I first felt revulsion and then, later on, trepidation for both the story, the author’s obviously skewed sense of imagination, and the characters. That I should feel uncertain as to what it all was about was no big surprise either, but that the feeling would linger after I put the book down was one.

I would go so far as to say that it’s almost impossible to here place a paragraph starting with “This is the story about…”, because honestly, I don’t know.

Despite this I liked and enjoyed the book; it reminds me of my (admittedly rather vague) memory of Sartre’s Nausea – it is kind of more of an exposé of the futility of life and being /a treatise on the smallness of humanity and our wishes and hopes/ than anything else.

On top of this I love the way Banks’ write his prose. He uses ordinary words and sentences to vividly describe the unimaginable, to capture states and worlds no one will ever see except with the inner eye… and he makes them feel real.

This book is definitely not for the weak of heart and mind, and at times it was a struggle to get through it, but it was very definitely worth the time it took to read it.

Recommended reading for anyone with a flair for pretentious, bleak, and well written space opera.