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OtherRealms Issue 19 Part 08
Electronic OtherRealms #19
Winter, 1987
Part 8
Words of Wizdom
Reviews by Chuq Von Rospach
Copyright 1987 by Chuq Von Rospach
Reviewed in this issue:
Clypsis
Jeffrey A. Carver
[***]
The Urth of the New Sun
Gene Wolfe
[****+]
A Mask for the General
Lisa Goldstein
[***]
A Flame in Byzantium
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
[****]
The Watchmen
Alan Moore & Dave Gibbon
[***+]
Sign of Chaos
Roger Zelazny
[***+]
How Much for Just the Planet
John M. Ford
[***+]
A Difficulty With Dwarves
Craig Shaw Gardner
[***-]
Napoleon Disentimed
Hayford Peirce
[***]
True Names... And other Dangers
Vernor Vinge
[****]
Best SF of the Year #16
Terry Carr
[****]
The Essential Ellison
Harlan Ellison & Terry Dowling
[****]
Counting the Cost
David Drake
[***]
Adventures
Mike Resnick
[***+]
The TENth Planet
Leo Melamed
[*]
The Universe
Byron Preiss
[***+]
What's the next evolutionary step beyond the Shared World Anthology?
The Shared Universe.
The concept isn't new. Lovecraft did it with the Cthulhu mythos years
ago. Other authors have borrowed another Universe, from Oz (Farmer's
Barnstormer in Oz) to the Berserker worlds of Fred Saberhagen.
There were, last I looked, three different series of books being
published based on a top name authors Universe: A.C. Clarke's Venus
Prime, Isaac Asimov's Robot City, and Roger Zelazny's Alien Speedways.
What happens is this. A book packager goes to an author, and together
they either rework an existing story or build up a framework under
which stories can be written. The packager then contracts out to other,
not quite so Big Name authors to actually write novels based on this
universe. The books are then published, making heavy use of the Big
Name of the consulting author in the hopes that it will cause more
people to buy the book than would normally have done so.
What has me interested in this phenomenon is that it has the potential
to bring some of the good authors that haven't broken through to make
their own name yet.
Case in point: Jeffrey Carver, who wrote the kick-off novel in the
Alien Speedways series designed by Roger Zelazny and packaged by Byron
Preiss. Carver's a good author, and in Clypsis he writes a nice coming
of age tale.
Mike Murray wants to be a racer. Not just any racer, but a racer at
Clypsis, an entire solar system converted into an interplanetary
racetrack. When his aunt dies suddenly, he is forced to run away from
everything he knows and stows away on a ship, bound for his dream.
Carver's got the energy of the track, the obsession that makes people
attempt the impossible down cold. This is a good book and I hope the
use of Zelazny's name in the promotion brings some new readers into
Carver's stable.
But. As you might imagine, there always has to be a but. While it looks
to me as if Preiss and Zelazny have taken some care in crafting a good
basis for a book series, others may not. And there is always the
possibility that some readers buy the book believing it is a Zelazny
story -- if you look at the cover, the spine and the title pages, a
casual reader could easily make this mistake.
The Alien Speedways series seems to be crafted towards helping good,
relatively new authors get some sales and exposure. It's hard to fault
those goals. But if this fad succeeds, you can expect other series to
show up where the primary purpose is not to give exposure, or share an
interesting universe, but to try to leverage sales off a Name. Books
somewhere about the quality of a second rate movie novelization,
plastered with promotions from someone who's primary interest is the
royalties generated. If (or, as I fear, when) that happens, all the
writers involved in these series will have to tread warily or get
stomped in the backlash.
This new setup can be a no-lose situation -- authors can get sales they
normally wouldn't be able to generate on their own, readers can find
new authors they otherwise would have missed, and publishers can build
up a promotable universe and stable of authors that can be worked with
on a long term basis. Clypsis is an example of how this can all work.
Gene Wolfe is a master of the English language. He is not just content
with putting together words that tell a story -- the words themselves
have a story, a meaning steeped in the history and life of language
itself. In his series on the New Sun, he sent many a reader scurrying
off to the dictionaries in search of meanings.
One thing Wolfe does not do is snow the reader. Unfamiliar words are
found in context, and the meanings, the images behind the words are
there for the reader to find. All he requests is that the reader meet
him halfway.
A writer such as Robert Heinlein might be the master storyteller of the
genre, but Wolfe is the linguist. The enjoyment of reading him is not
in the story, but in the act of reading.
His latest work starts a new cycle in the stories of Severian the
Torturer, Severian the Autarch, Severian the hope for the New Sun and
the rebirth of Urth. The Urth of the New Sun [Victor Gollanz SF (UK),
372pp, #11.95, ISBN 0-575-04116-1; also Tor Hardcover] tells the
travels of Severian to the testing ground, to the place where his world
will be judged fit or unfit for a new beginning on his judgement and
worth as ruler.
The pace is staid, as a travelogue ought to be. The language is rich
and complex, as a Wolfe book will be. This is not an author to be used
for escapist reading. To enjoy The Urth of the New Sun requires active
participation of both writer and reader. Such participation is well
rewarded, however, by a book that is as enjoyable and engrossing and will
be remembered long after the average escapist pulp is gone and forgotten.
Wolfe is in many ways a writer's writer. You will find yourself reading
a page again and again, picking new meaning from the words with each
pass, savoring it as you would a fine wine. For those that aren't
afraid to work a little, I can't recommend this book highly enough.
Lisa Goldstein is a unique writer. I don't say that lightly, but she
has a vision and a voice that is unlike anyone in the field. Her
latest, A Mask for the General [Bantam Press, 201pp, $14.95,
0-553-05239-X] is another one of these works that is almost impossible
to categorize or talk about intelligently. It is set in a near-future,
post-collapse Berkeley. The United States has gone through an economic
collapse, and has been taken over by a military dictatorship run by the
General, and Berkeley is a hotbed of dissent and the home of the
counter-culture.
The counter-culture is identified by masks, totem identifiers created
by the Mask Makers, a group of people given mystical powers by the
populace looking for hope. The government, trying to snub out the
dissent, outlaws the masks, and Layla, the greatest of the maskmakers,
is given the quest in one of her visions to make a mask for the
General, so that he will understand.
The entire book is primarily character and mood oriented, as we watch a
group of people desperately trying to survive and find some pleasure in
the rubble of what was once a great society. At the same time,
Goldstein shows the government not as the Great Evil, but as a group of
people trying to simply keep things alive and getting them moving
forward again. The action in the book is minor, the books purpose being
to look at a slice of life of things that might be. The ending is
intentionally ambiguous and low- key, but not one that looks to be a
setup for a sequel.
It's a good book. It made me pick it up and read it until it was done.
There are images that sit in my memory and surface when my mind is
wandering. This book will mystify some, bore others, and ensnare many.
It will likely leave you feeling slightly troubled or uncomfortable.
It's marginally SF at best, but also one of the better mood pieces I've
read in a while.
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro is a veteran writer with over 30 books to her name
including a series of historical horror novels centered on a vampire
named St. Germain. Now, after a number of years, Yarbro has started a
new series of books based on another vampire from the series, Olivia
Clemens -- a Roman woman rescued from death by Germain and who has
acted as companion since.
The first Olivia novel, A Flame in Byzantium [Tor Books, 470pps,
$17.95, ISBN 0-312-93026-7], is set in Fifth century Constantinople,
during and immediately after the final fall of Rome in the reign of
Justinian. This is the Byzantine era, which seems to be growing more
popular with authors as everyone grows tired of celtic rehashes, and
Yarbro shows it in full, glorious details. Justinian is a rabid
orthodox Christian intent on restoring the full power of the Empire by
following God and expunging the pagans, the non-believers, the
heretical, the inconvenient. Justinian was responsible, among other
things, for the burning of the libraries of Alexandria, the single most
damaging act in the history of the written word and ancient knowledge.
Olivia, forced to leave her native Rome because of encroaching
barbarians, relocates to Constantinople. The story unfolds her attempt
to simply live her life as around here a fundamentalist regime takes
root and the powermongers try to do whatever necessary to get ahead.
Murder, torture, lying, extortion, rape -- all of these are proper
tools of the arbiters of the name of God.
Olivia is twice damned: a woman in a society where women legally do not
exist, can not own property, manage money, or plead their own case; and
a foreigner from Rome, the pagan state that destroyed the Empire. Her
benefactor, a General in Justinian's Army, becomes enmeshed in a web of
conspiracy by those looking to increase their own power, which further
complicates her life.
The story, then, is one of a woman trying to cope with a time in our
history when women were reviled and abused. Never mind that she is a
vampire, something that Yarbro tends to take for granted (this is not,
I might add, a negative against her book -- Yarbro has never used the
vampire as a character of horror in her stories, but as a character
through which to show the horror of humanities unwillingness to accept
anything "different" than themselves).
The books strength is the research Yarbro does on the period she is
writing about. The research is impeccable. She didn't just set the
story in Byzantium, this is a story about Byzantium, and her knowledge
of the period shows. The St. Germain stories were in many ways
historical romances with an edge of horror, but in this book Olivia has
little to feel romantic about.
Olivia is a much different person than Germain, and in many ways more
accessible and interesting. There are many differences between being a
male and a female vampire, an area Yarbro takes some delight in exploring
without ever letting the sexual angle get out of control or sideline the
book. A Flame in Byzantium is up to Yarbro's normally high standards,
and a great beginning of what looks to be a very good series.
And now to what is the most difficult book to review this issue. In
1986, DC Comics published a mini-series and graphic novel titled
Batman: The Dark Knight Falls. It was a redefinition of the Batman and
it showed that the graphic novel/comic format could be just as powerful
a storytelling medium as the word-based novel. It was well enough
received to make the final ballot for the Hugo (placed incorrectly on
the ballot as an Art book in the non-fiction category because the
category descriptions simply couldn't handle the graphic novel format
appropriately) and ended up placing second in the balloting.
And this year, a lot of ballyhoo has been made of another series that
has also been published in a combined graphic novel format. Many folks
have declared that The Watchmen, by author Alan Moore and artist Dave
Gibbons [DC comics, color graphic novel, $14.95], will follow Dark
Knight onto the Hugo ballot and take the honors that will prove, once
and for all, that the graphic novel is a legitimate art form and should
be recognized as such.
My big worry with The Watchmen is that it may do the opposite. If it
doesn't make the ballot and doesn't win, many people may write off the
graphic novel format, claim that Dark Knight is a fluke, and ignore an
entire sub-genre that is literally coming to life before our eyes. And
I want to make myself clear here -- anyone who refuses to look at the
graphic novel format is fooling themselves. The G/N will never replace
words, but as Frank Miller and Dark Knight proved, some stories can not
be told as well in just words. The Graphic Novel is here to stay, and
they deserve a space on your shelf.
Unfortunately, the proponents of Graphic Novels may be doing themselves
a disservice by pushing The Watchmen. The Watchmen is a story of
contemporary society, a society where super-heroes, the masked
avengers, were not super-power beings but a societal fad, regular
people running around in homemade costumes because it was The Thing To
Do. That phase is done, but Armageddon is at hand, as the super-powers
come closer and closer to mutual destruction.
And someone has started killing retired super-heroes. Why?
Coincidence? Or is there more going on?
The Watchmen is a very bleak book. It isn't as good as Dark Knight, in
my eyes, although it is certainly better than a lot of the stuff
published in the more traditional markets. As a
society-on-the-edge-of-survival novel it works, and works quite well.
It depressed the hell out of my while I was reading it, and it carries
a strong emotional impact. The art is quite good -- some of the best
and most complex art I've seen in the comic field in the last year.
So why do I think pushing The Watchmen may be a bad idea?
Accessibility. One thing that Dark Knight had going for it was the fact
that The Batman has a context outside of the comics field -- everyone
can relate to the Batman to some degree, which gives non-comics readers
a way to meld Dark Knight into their reality and enjoy it.
The same can't be said for The Watchmen. The primary focus of The
Watchmen is super-heroes, and Alan Moore uses the book as a platform
to poke a fair amount of fun at super-heroes, a comic-book staple.
Here, they aren't anything special, they're just a fad, something that
came and went again. While the end-of-the-world subplot is important,
and grows as the end of the book nears, if you have no interest in
super-heroes (and no context to figure out just which characters Moore
is lampooning) a lot of the attraction and interest in the book is
lost. Unlike Dark Knight, there isn't a lot here to make someone want
to cross over the line and want to read this book. Everyone cares about
Batman, which helped make Dark Knight a crossover runaway best seller
both in comics and Science Fiction. I don't think The Watchmen will
crossover nearly as well, or be nearly as well received. It tells a
good story, but a story that is primarily of interest to comics folks,
not the rest of us. And I think that will hurt it in the Hugo
balloting, and may well hurt the cause of Graphic Novels in the Hugos
in general. The Watchmen is a good book, and you ought to take a look
at it, but I hope that the publicity it has been getting doesn't
overshadow its quality and create problems for future crossovers.
If any other author had opened the middle book of a series in a bar,
with the lead character having a drink with the Mad Hatter and Cheshire
Cat, I'd worry about incipient senility. But this is Amber, where
anything you can believe in can be made real, and the author is
Zelazny, who has published the latest round in the hottest soap opera
in Science Fiction. He knows what he's doing. As you might expect from
the third book of five, there are no major resolutions to the burning
questions, although a Zelazny does toss a few interesting tidbits our
way to keep us interested. The fun is all in the journey, and in trying
to second guess the author in the twists and turns the plot takes. If
you're not already reading Amber (if that is possible) this is not the
book to start, as the series has a definite timeline and you'll get
completely lost. If you are reading Amber, this book will have you
looking forward to the next.
When you have a successful property, you would expect that the people
that own the property would do everything in their power to keep it
successful. Generally, this involves being very careful, very
conservative, and in some cases, stifling creativity until the very
things that make the property successful get squeezed out.
Nobody can argue whether Pocket Book's Star Trek series is successful.
They've shipped over three million copies of the titles in the series
in 1987 alone, with a lower than average return rate. New titles
regularly show up on the bestsellers lists. Star Trek is making a fair
amount of money for them. The last people you would expect to publish a
parody of Star Trek would be Pocket.
Pocket, however, has, with John M. Ford's How Much for Just the Planet
[Star Trek #36, Pocket Books, 253pps, $3.95]. Ford pulls out all the
stops -- take your average Star Trek story, wrap it with a Gilbert &
Sullivan staging, some W.C. Fields, a little Laurel and Hardy, a couple
of Hitchcock movies, Bogart, stir vigorously and you come out with one
of the most bizarre plots you'll ever see.
We open, for instance, in the mess room of the Enterprise on a normal
morning, as the officers attempt to carry on a conversation over the
kibbitzing of the food service:
[Scotty:] "Rubber's hardly the word for the material, Captain.
It's a triple-monolayer sandwich: an organic polymer inside to
keep th' gas in, metal film on the outside to reflect sensors
like a real ship's hull, an' a pseudofluid sealant between
'em."
"Ploop" went the wall. "I do not have that sandwich on today's
menu." it said, in a pleasantly maternal voice. "May I suggest
the grilled cheese with Canadian Bacon?"
Any ship that goes ploop can't be all bad....
By the time the plot really gets going, a planet called Diredia is
discovered and found to have one of the largest supplies of Dilithium
in the galaxy. The Klingons and the Federation both travel to Diredia
to compete for control of the planet under the terms of the Organian
truce (the Organians are affectionately called lightbulbs...)
The current residents have other plans, and before we know it, all hell
has broken loose as various members of the starships find themselves
wondering if long-term association causes mental disturbances. You see,
among other things, the colonists of Diredia have this unusual tendency
to burst into song, complete with canned music.
The climax of the story is, as you might imagine, a pie fight between
the Federation and the Klingons. ("Scotty: set your blueberry on
stain!" the reviewer interjects for the hell of it).
This is a funny book. But more importantly, and this is what makes this
book shine, Ford works the comedy around the series: while he expands
on the characterization of some of the characters, he never breaks away
from the Star Trek universe -- he uses it to his advantage.
This is a book that people who like Star Trek will love. More
importantly, I think, is that I also believe this is a book that people
who hate Star Trek will also love. It pokes fun at the series without
ever being mean or losing sight of itself, and never misses a beat (or
fails to take a straight line). It's the Blazing Saddles of the Star
Trek universe, and it had me laughing so hard at times that my sides
hurt. You gotta read this book.
Readers will know that I'm a fan of Craig Shaw Gardner's Ebenezum
series. So when the latest book, A Difficulty with Dwarves [Ace
Fantasy, December, 1987, 188pp, $2.95, 0-441-14779-8] came out, I
jumped at it.
I wasn't disappointed, either. This is the first book that is primarily
about Wuntvor, Ebenezum's apprentice. While trying to remove Ebenezum's
magic allergy, all of Vushta's wizards contract the malady themselves,
rendering the entire magical population useless. At the same time, a
new attack on Vushta begins, as the Netherhells starts their
devastating Conquest by Committee. Wuntvor, Vushta's last hope, sets
off to the Eastern Kingdom in search of assistance. Along the way, the
normal strange thing happen, and Wuntvor meets the Seven Other Dwarves
(Nasty, Touchy, Spacey, Snooty, Dumpy, Noisy, Sickly and Smarmy. Yes, I
know that's eight. Don't blame me, I'm only the reviewer).
It's about what you'd expect from an Ebenezum book. You either like it
or you run screaming from it. The only real criticism I have of it is
that, unlike the previous books, this one closes on a stopping point
instead of an ending point, leaving too many things open until the next
volume for my taste. But this isn't as bad as some series do it, and
don't let it keep you from some rather strange and funny fantasy.
There is no field so open to the newcomers as Science Fiction. Only
here will you find something like the Ace Science Fiction Specials,
edited until his death by Terry Carr. The only purpose of that series
was to publish first novels of authors that not only deserved
publishing, but deserved some special notice that first novels normally
don't get. The quality of the titles in the Ace Specials is legion,
including many that have not only withstood the test of time but have
come to be known as classics in their own right.
So when someone else starts up a line of first novels, it is inevitable
that it be compared to the Ace Specials. The new line is Ben Bova's
Discoveries, edited by the long time SF writer and former editor for
both Analog and Omni magazines. Even if the comparison is unfair, it'll
be brought up.
The comparison is unfair, of course, because the tendency is to compare
the best of the Ace SF series (which is what we all remember) with the
current releases in the Discoveries series. Better we compare track
records when Bova has a dozen books out, rather than two. So, now that
I've brought it up, I'm going to drop it back in the corner where it
belongs and try to deal with Hayford Peirce's wry Napoleon Disentimed
[Tor, November, 1987, 306pp, $3.50, 0-812-54898-1] on its own virtues,
and leave the larger comparisons for when we can make them intelligently.
In the preface, Bova compares Peirce to Vonnegut. That's asking a lot
of a new author, and while he shows flashes of brilliance, he's not
quite there. Yet. Napoleon Disentimed is basically an alternate
universe story with some convenient time travel tossed in. On our
current world, MacNair of MacNair, con-man extraordinaire, is working
his latest con when into his lap falls the infamous Godhead -- a
religious artifact of a local cult leader that happens to be encrusted
with lots of perfect, investment quality diamonds. Unfortunately, the
local Mob wants it, too, and the ensuing gunfight damages the Godhead.
Just as, on the alternate universe down the street, the local
resistance force tests its time machine. Next thing we know, the
MacNair is sitting in the time machine, wondering what's going on.
The reality crux the splits our universe from this other universe involves
Napoleon. In this alternate reality, Napoleon didn't send his forces
against Russia, and ended up splitting Europe with the Germans. He also
sired a line that continues rule to this day. England is under French
rule, and the resistance is trying to build a time machine so they can
go back and change history to return England to dominating independence.
From here, it starts getting strange. Peirce has a very dry wit and
strong sense of humor, and the story starts looking like a Gilbert &
Sullivan operetta. Peirce is almost up to the task -- while the plot
occasionally goes sailing off out of control, he always gets it reeled
in again before everything falls apart, and by the end of the book, all
the loose ends are tied up and the reader probably has figured it all
out. This is not an outrightly funny book like the Ford book, but a
book where the author tries to twist things as strangely as possible
while still keeping it from falling into a heap on the floor. You don't
so much laugh as you do groan and wonder how he's going to write
himself out of this latest plot twist.
I don't think Napoleon Disentimed is a classic on the lines of the best
of the Ace SF series, but I also don't believe that either Peirce or
Bova thought it would be. It's a good, solid, enjoyable book from a new
author with a lot of talent and potential.
In 1981, Vernor Vinge wrote a story called "True Names" that was
published as part of a series called Binary Stars. The series quickly
fell into oblivion, but "True Names" avoided the fate, being one of
those titles that computer hackers passed to each other whenever the
topic of books came up. Baen Books has now re-issued the story as part
of a collection of Vinge's shorter works, and all I can say is that
this is a must-read for anyone who uses the computer nets.
Vinge extrapolates from the current network situation to a time when
direct brain connections give a hacker a chance to go inside a network
and create a subjectively real counter-culture. The Government, of
course, doesn't like this, so a constant battle wages between the
hackers and the forces. The network, however, has been invaded by a
third force, and the Hackers and the Government are forced into an
uneasy truce trying to deal with something that might destroy both
sides.
There are strong SF and Fantasy elements along with a well done
detective/thriller story. When Varley's "Press Enter []" was published,
it got a lot of publicity and acclaim. I think it's safe to say,
however, that "True Names" is the work that is going to be remembered
as the classic computer story of the Eighties.
Every year there are a plethora of "Best of" anthologies that try to
compile the best short fiction published in the previous year. Every
year I look at them all and compare them to the volume put out by Terry
Carr, and invariably the others come up a close second. This year,
unfortunately, is the last time Terry's anthology will be published,
because he passed away last April, shortly after finishing this one.
Terry Carr's Best Science Fiction of the Year #16 [Tor Books, 402
pages, $17.95, ISBN 0-312-93025-9] is as strong as ever. While choosing
the best of anything is a subjective job, I can only find one story
where I might have chosen differently -- Carr chose Lucius Shepard's
"Aymara" instead of his Hugo/Nebula nominated "R&R." Both are fine
stories, and it's more an argument for Shepard's writing ability that
the choice is hard to make.
This book also contains Carr's yearly recommended reading list and a
year in review article by Locus publisher Charles Brown.
Is it possible to review over a thousand pages of material in a couple
of paragraphs? Is it possible for a mere reviewer to disagree with an
author who puts out a tome with the title The Essential Ellison? [Nemo
Press, 1019 pages, $29.99, ISBN 0-914261-01-0]
Well, I'm sure it's possible, but I'm not going to. Instead, I'm going
to rise to the questions implied by the title. Is this Essential? And
is this Ellison?
As to the latter, the answer is definitely yes. The Essential Ellison
is over 1000 pages of articles and stories from thirty five years of
the writing career of one of the most important writers in the field.
With editor Terry Dowling, Ellison has put together what they obviously
feel to be the collection of material that will prove his worth as a
writer to future generations. They have gone through and cleaned up the
manuscripts, updating some, removing the occasional unwanted editorial
improvement, and put them out for the world to see. This, they are
saying, is what Ellison is.
Some of the material is of primarily historical interest. The first
published story, published at the age of 15. The first professional
story. Other material is familiar, such as "I Have No Mouth and I must
Scream" or "A Boy and His Dog." The only story that I would personally
consider missing is "Basilisk."
On to the final question. Is it Essential? Or even Necessary? I'd say
yes. Much of Ellison's material is out of print or otherwise hard to
find. This book not only makes these stories available again, but in a
form that the author is happy with. If you're a person who appreciates
Harlan Ellison, this book is a must.
Adventures [Signet, 1985, $2.95, 239pp, 0-451-13867-8] is billed as a
Science Fiction novel by Mike Resnick. This is interesting, because
there isn't a single Science Fiction concept in the entire book. What
the book does have is a very enjoyable, light-hearted pastiche of every
Africa-white hunter-elephant's graveyard-Tarzan-jungle novel (and
movie, for that matter) you can name. We follow the adventures of
Father Lucifer Jones, pastor of Saint Luke's Tabernacle and cathouse,
as he travels the continent trying to gather enough funds to open his
house of worship. Jones, an unrepetant con man, wins and loses many
fortunes as he travels from place to place, normally one step ahead of
the local authority. It's a lot of fun -- who cares if there isn't a
laser beam or space ship to be found?
Counting the Cost [Baen Books, 267pp, November, 1987, $3.50, 0-671-
65355-5] is the latest in the Hammer's Slammers series. Author David
Drake writes about mercenaries doing their job -- not the glories of
war, but the day to day grind of fighting someone else's war. This is
not a series that glorifies battle, but goes from the assumption that
humanity will fight, and that war is a necessary evil.
This book has the Slammers on Bamberg, where two religious factions are
trying to exterminate each other over what the appropriate date for
Easter should be. Things are coming to a head, and the decision becomes
one of how to keep the current government alive long enough to get the
real offensive going.
Drake's books show a realistic view of humanity, one that many people
who believe that humanity has an inherent morality won't like. It shows
people's emotions -- greed, bigotry, lust, power, insensitivity -- in a
way that many will find disturbing, but it is a world view that history
tends to prove out. It's a good read. It isn't deeply moralistic, it
doesn't have axes to grind or positions to bolster, but at the same
time, it's going to make you think twice about man's humanity to man.
This is another good book from Drake.
I was really worried when The TENth Planet showed up for review. The
author, Leo Melamed, is Chairman of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange,
and according to the publicity is a life-long SF fan. The publisher is
Bonus Books, well known for technical books, but not for Science
Fiction. And it is published as an expensive trade paperback, by far
the most difficult format to successfully market. I went into the novel
expecting the worst.
I wish I could say I was pleasantly surprised. For a while, early in
the book, I was. Unfortunately, I think Bonus Books did Melamed a
disservice publishing the book themselves instead of passing it along
to a mass market house.
The reason I say this is two-fold. First, while I might have given this
book a marginal recommendation at $3.50 in a mass market format, at
$8.95, the book isn't worth it. There are too many structural flaws,
the prose is rough and uneven, it sputters, it strays, it never really
creates a focus for the reader. You just don't care.
This is what really bothers me about this book. Melamed can write, and
write well. But he isn't used to writing fiction -- his other books are
technical non-fiction, and it shows. This novel even has footnotes,
guaranteed to break up any narrative flow that might otherwise be generated.
If this book had had an editor who knew the field and edited fiction,
it could have been turned into a strong first novel. This book, with a
rewrite and under the care of a strong editor, could have been something
wonderful. As it stands, unfortunately, there is a good novel here, but it
is hidden under rough edges and the problems and glitches that a good
editor could have, and should have, tracked down and eradicated.
What got published was an unfinished manuscript, a gem in the rough.
What should have gotten published was a rewrite of this book.
This is a classic case of an editor and publishing house that fell in
love with a manuscript and published it despite the fact that it it out
of their expertise. The quality of the manuscript suffers, because the
editors can't edit the manuscript properly, and because the title is
outside the normal line of books, can't be marketed or sold properly.
The manuscript, with the best of intentions, gets killed with kindness.
If you're an editor, and you run into a manuscript that you have to see
published, even though it's wrong for your house, do everyone a favor.
Call a friend down the street and push it to them. There is a reason
why technical houses publish technical books, and mass market houses
publish mass market books. When you step outside your specialty, you're
asking for it. And when it does happen, rarely does it work out.
Hopefully, Melamed will try again. And hopefully, the manuscript will
fall into the hands of a fiction house. But this is not a book that you
should go out of the way for, or judge the author by.
Finally, a book that would make a good present to any SF Fan. The
Universe, edited by Byron Preiss [Bantam, 335pp, $27.95, 0-553-05527-6]
is expensive, but is one of those books who's worth can't easily be
summed up. What Preiss has done is taken essays about the various parts
of the Universe, written by the top experts on the subject, and teamed
them up with fictional views by some of the top writers. For good
measure, he's added some very high quality interstellar photography and
artwork to create something that not only looks good on a coffee table,
but is an interesting thing to read as well. Strong production values
and good writing make this something you can give your favorite fan for
Christmas with some assurance that they won't already have it and will
really enjoy it.
OtherRealms #19
Winter, 1987
Copyright 1987 by Chuq Von Rospach
All Rights Reserved
One time rights have been
acquired from the contributors.
All rights are hereby assigned
to the contributors.
OtherRealms may not be reproduced in any form without written
permission of Chuq Von Rospach.
The electronic edition may be distributed or reproduced in its entirety
as long as all copyrights, author and publication information remain
intact. No individual article may be reprinted, reproduced or
republished in any way without the express permission of the author.
OtherRealms is published quarterly (March, June, September and December) by:
Chuq Von Rospach
35111-F Newark Blvd.
Suite 255
Newark, CA 94560.
Usenet: chuq@sun.COM
Delphi: CHUQ
