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OtherRealms Issue 25 Part 06
Electronic OtherRealms #25
Summer/Fall, 1989
Part 6 of 17
Copyright 1989 by Chuq Von Rospach
All Rights Reserved
OtherRealms may not be reproduced without permission from Chuq Von Rospach.
Permission is given to electronically distribute this
issue only if all copyrights, author credits and return
addresses remain intact. No article may be reprinted or re-used
without permission of the author.
Odds 'n' Ends
Reviews by Alan Wexelblat
Copyright 1989 by Alan Wexelblat
Last time everything was more or less the same. Which is great if you
happen to like a steady diet of the same sort of thing. This time
there's something for everyone: semi-serious SF, dark fantasy, light
fantasy, and war story.
Software [***+]
Rudy Rucker
Avon, 167 pp, 1982, 0-380-70177-4
In the kingdom of cyberpunk novels, Rudy Rucker is something like the
court jester -- irreverent, rude, sometimes corny, always risque.
Underneath the farce, though, is something worth listening to. Software
is not his best work but if, like me, you're interested in robots, AI,
and the problems of consciousness, it's a nice addition to your shelves.
Software is a novel about programs, the kind that drive our bodies and
the kind that drive computers. Rucker juxtaposes a decaying human
society, top-heavy with aged baby-boomers, against an infant robotic
society coming to grips with its own evolution. Sounds weighty? It's
not. Rucker's a jester and, even though he breaks into Narrator's Voice
on occasion, he keeps things amusing for most of the novel.
The main characters are an old pheezer (freaky geezer) named Cobb
Anderson and a young wastrel who insists on being called Sta-Hi, an apt
description of his only talent in life. Cobb is the man who, to the
dismay of humanity, created robots with the potential to evolve self-
awareness. Humans were unable to directly create artificial
intelligences but Cobb, by simulating evolutionary processes, created
conditions out of which AIs could emerge. Naturally, people didn't want
to lose their slaves, so they've banished the rebellious machines to
the moon. So it's something of a surprise when a robot who looks
remarkably like Cobb shows up in Florida offering him an
all-expenses-paid trip to the moon.
It seems that some of the larger robots have decided that they need
recorded human brain patterns. Just as humans were unable to create
intelligence by themselves, the evolved intelligences of the robots
cannot produce other creatures with the spark of self-awareness. In
order to continue along the path toward unified consciousness, the
robots are looking for a few good men. The process of recording the
brain patterns is destructive but, since the robots have promised Cobb
an all-but-immortal mechanical body to house his consciousness, he's
willing to go along with the plan. He and Sta-Hi set off for the moon.
Unfortunately, they arrive in the middle of an anarchist revolution. The
little boppers, not wanting to be absorbed into the group consciousness
that the larger robots are trying to impose, are rebelling.
Rucker pontificates a bit and some of the puns are truly awful, but the
action is good and the ideas are excellent. People who are not 'into'
computers and the problems of self-consciousness will probably get less
out of this book than those who are into it.
Fairie Tale [***]
Raymond Feist
Bantam fantasy, 435 pp, 1988, 0-553-27783-9
Faeries are not nice people. Not cute, not funny. They're an alien
species living in, at best, an uneasy truce with mankind. At worst,
they're implacable enemies of humanity. Like the jacket blurb says: not
all fairy tales are for children.
The story revolves around the family of Phil Hastings, his wife,
college-age daughter, and young twin sons. They have purchased a
farmhouse in upstate New York and are living there for the summer. Phil
is trying to write a novel, his daughter Gabbie is trying to fall in
love with Jack Cole, a doctoral student. The twins, Patrick and Sean,
are trying to find someone to play baseball with and Gloria, their
mother, is trying to keep order in the house. Then the Magic comes.
It starts off simply enough: under the Troll Bridge in the woods is a
Bad Thing. Sean and Patrick know it's there even though none of the
adults seem to be aware of it, and they can avoid it. Unfortunately, it
seems to have quite an interest in them, showing up in their bedroom
and frightening them badly. Meanwhile, the adults are engrossed in
unravelling the mystery of the house. It seems to have been the refuge
of a mysteriously-rich immigrant who left Germany in something of a
hurry after a period of odd activities there. The hunters are aided by
Mark and Gary, a pair of professional oddity-investigators who make
their livings tracking down mysteries and publishing books on their
findings.
As the house's secrets are being unravelled, it becomes more and more
obvious that odd things are going on. First, Gabbie has her horse's
shoe fixed by a mystery blacksmith, then Patrick is swept by a flash
flood under the Troll Bridge and badly injured by the Bad Thing.
Finally, Gabbie is nearly raped by what, to all appearances, is a
particularly vicious teenager. From there the plot accelerates as the
family is caught up in the faeries' machinations.
Feist does a good job of portraying people hopelessly outclassed by the
Magic forces arrayed against them. He switches to the faerie point of
view long enough for the reader to get a sense of the importance of
actions which are not apparent to the family members. As the trouble
worsens, no wizards or heroes show up to help the family out. They have
to make do with Mark's parapsychological research and the maunderings
of a drunk Irishman who remembers the old legends well. The adults
staunchly refuse to give up their rationalistic explanations for what's
happening, leaving the children to deal with the situation.
Unfortunately, the novel is marred by a number of problems. For all
that Feist pushes the Magic aspects, he seems unwilling to allow that
to be an explanation. The characters keep talking about "energy beings"
and "alien races," as if Feist thought that were a more logical
explanation. The first seventy-five or so pages move very slowly as a
lot of time is spent introducing characters without really making them
distinct. Feist's style is a bit pedantic; he spends too much time
telling you what's happening instead of showing it. The ending also has
a logical flaw in it that makes it look like the author was trying to
take the easy way to tie up a loose end.
The good points and the bad just about balance out. I'd have liked
something exceptional for the effort of reading 400 pages, but you
can't have everything.
The Story of the Stone [****+]
Barry Hughart
Doubleday hardcover, 236 p, 1988, 0-385-24636-6
Putting The Story of the Stone in the same 'genre' as Fairie Tale makes
me wonder about the usefulness of genre labels. It would be hard to
think of two books less alike. Hughart's specialty is humorous tales of
a China that never was. His first novel, Bridge of Birds won a well-
deserved World Fantasy Award. The characters from that book -- Number
Ten Ox and Master Li -- return in this story. While this one isn't
quite up to the caliber of the first, it's still a fun book.
For those who haven't read the first book, go out and find it. This one
will make much more sense if you have. Hughart doesn't assume that
you've read that one, but the background explanations in The Story of
the Stone are pretty sparse. The in-jokes are also funnier if you're in
on them from the beginning.
This book tells the story of a mysterious and powerful stone, a prize
people are willing to kill for. It is also the story of the Laughing
Prince, an ancient evil ruler who appears to have risen from the dead.
Li and Ox are initially hired to investigate the death of a monk in the
monastery of the Valley of Sorrows. The monk has lost his life over a
document that, while appearing rare, is actually a fairly obvious
forgery. Clearly there's more to the monk's death than initially meets
the eye, and our heros are soon off on a quest to discover who has
murdered the monk and why. Along the way they meet the usual quotient
of magic, madmen, schemers and innocents. Saying any more would, I'm
afraid, ruin the plot.
Those who have read Bridge of Birds are apt to be taken somewhat aback
by the prologue and first couple of chapters of this book. They're
written in a harsh and unexpectedly brusque style. It's almost as
though it took a while for the author to settle back into the
characters. In addition, there's an ongoing rant about Neo-Confucianism
running through the whole book. I'm sure it's supposed to be an
allegory for something, but for me it just detracted from the enjoyment
of the book.
Even with these weak points, I still found The Story of the Stone
enjoyable exciting light fantasy and I look forward to seeing what
Hughart will do next.
The Healer's War [****-]
Elizabeth Ann Scarborough
Doubleday, 303 pp, 1988, 0-385-24828-8
There's a lot to be said for anyone who has the guts to try and write
honestly about her experiences in the Vietnam war. For anyone who wants
to get some idea of what China Beach was really like or of what it
meant being an Army nurse in Nam, this book is for you. It's not
exceptionally gross, but it's not prettied up either. Elizabeth Ann
Scarborough, a Vietnam vet and former nurse, doesn't pull a lot of
punches in this one.
Add to that the fact that she's not writing her own story, or even a
purely factual one: she's writing a fantasy novel, weaving in the
elements of a native Vietnamese healer and his magic. Combining these
two ideas is a tall order. Scarborough succeeds partway; the book has
flaws, but my hat is definitely off to her for her audacity and honesty.
The book tells the story of Lieutenant Kitty McCulley, a midwestern
girl with a family and a prospective boyfriend at home. She writes
frequent cheerful lies to her mother to shield the old woman from the
horrors of the war; her boyfriend gets the real stuff, when Kitty can
bear to write it.
Kitty treats both the GIs and the Vietnamese. The former leave quickly
and don't play a large part in her life. The latter, however, stay as
long as they can, trying to heal before being shoved back out into the
war. This gives the hospital staff a chance to become attached to them.
One day an old man appears on the Vietnamese side of the ward. He has
lost both legs and is clearly dying, yet he keeps trying to help the
other patients. His power is somehow connected to an amulet which he
always wears. When the doctors make him take it off for surgery, he
insists that Kitty wear it. She discovers that it allows her to see
auras and that it amplifies her natural healing tendencies to unnatural
levels. By using her energy, she can effect miraculous cures of
everything from broken nails to infected amputations. Before the old
man dies, he passes the amulet on to her.
I had a hard time getting started with this book; the pace is extremely
slow for almost the entire first half. A lot of characters who aren't
very important to the story are introduced in great detail while those
who are important tend to stay enigmatic. I suspect that many of the
minor players are drawn from the author's experiences. The important
characters, with the exception of Kitty, seem to be creations and
therefore less detailed.
In addition, Scarborough spends a good deal of effort on describing the
surroundings and setting from the nurses' quarters to China Beach to
the Vietnamese jungle and villages. While this gives the book its
unshakeable feel of authenticity it further slows the pace of the
action. It also had the unfortunate side effect of distancing me from
Kitty. At times when I most wanted to be drawn in, I found myself
sitting back admiring the book like I'd admire a painting in a museum.
Still, this is a far cry from most of the war stories that find their
way onto the fantasy shelves and I recommend it.
Past Imagining: Forgotten Classics
Lawrence Watt-Evans
Copyright 1989 by Lawrence Watt-Evans
World Out of Mind by J.T. McIntosh
The Sentinel Stars by Louis Charbonneau
Costigan's Needle by Jerry Sohl
A Scourge of Screamers by Daniel F. Galouye
The Circus of Dr. Lao, by Charles G. Finney
I couldn't remember the title or the author, but for years I remembered
the story. It was one of the very first novels I ever read; I think I
was eight. It was the story of Eldin Raigmore, a man with no past, and
his rise in a society where social status is completely dependent upon
one's performance in a series of tests of intelligence, creativity,
character, morality, etc. I looked for it half-heartedly for years --
half-heartedly because I was afraid it wouldn't be as good as I remembered.
I found it; it's World Out of Mind, by the much-maligned and underrated
Scottish SF writer J.T. McIntosh, published in the U.S. under the name
J.T. McIntosh so as not to look so foreign. And if it's not quite the
great epic I remembered, it's still a fine novel in the pulp tradition,
with its stratified society of Browns, Purples, Reds, Yellows, and
Whites, sub-graded as Circles, Crosses, and Stars, threatened by
emotionless alien spies working from within. It's naive by modern
standards, but a good read all around. It was a Science Fiction Book
Club selection, and can be found in either paperback or book club
edition in the used book stores.
I know now that The Sentinel Stars owes a lot to the classic dystopias
of 1984 and Brave New World, but I read it before I read either of
them, so I didn't care. It's an odd combination of the two; most of the
world is a drab, oppressive 1984-style world state where citizens labor
to whittle away their tax debts. However, there is hope, a goal they're
working toward -- Freeman status. That's right, when one's debt is paid,
one is free to live in one of the special freeman reservations, where
nobody works, where there are endless entertainments -- and occasional
bits of nastiness that the workers don't hear about, as it might harm
the idyllic image, and where the real danger is terminal boredom.
TRH-247 is an ordinary citizen who finds himself tangled in the truth
behind the idealized image of the freeman camps, involved in an illicit
romance with ABC-331, and just generally running afoul of the entire system.
This was a 40" Bantam paperback, one of dozens they churned out in the
sixties, but it's one that stands out in my memory as being a notch or
two better than the rest.
Costigan had invented a gadget that did something amazing; things that
went through the "eye" of the needle-shaped device didn't come out the
other side. At least, not in our world. They did come out somewhere, though.
The local religious fanatics considered this tampering with other
worlds to be diabolical, and during the first critical testing of the
first man-sized "needle" (prototypes had been little table-top models)
one of them threw a monkey wrench in the works.
The resulting power surge put the entire population of a one-block
radius around the needle into a harsh alternate reality where survival
was difficult. Costigan's Needle is a "survival" novel in the tradition
of Heinlein's Tunnel in the Sky (except I believe Needle is the older,
actually) or Tom Godwin's Space Prison, where a bunch of people are
thrown into a hostile environment and not all make it to the end of the
novel. In Costigan's Needle there's the added twist that they know how
to build a needle that might get them back -- if they can get their
technology to a high enough level in time.
Daniel Galouye's writing career was aborted in 1973, apparently as a
result of an argument with his publisher, Bantam. Before he left the
field, however, he produced a series of midlist novels that were pretty
nifty. The best, in my opinion, was A Scourge of Screamers, in 1968.
For no known reason, people all over the world suddenly burst out
screaming in anguish; is it a plague of some sort? Is it a new weapon?
What is it?
It's the onset of zylphing, a result of rault previously obscured by
the huge Saggitarian dust-clouds that block Earth's view of the
galactic core, rault that's now getting through. It's a new means of
perception. Why the screaming? Imagine if you had grown up in total,
absolute darkness, having functional eyes but not knowing that you did,
never seeing anything, having no concept of light or vision -- and then
suddenly you're plunged into brilliant displays of light and color.
You'd scream, too. It's a nifty idea done well.
I almost didn't include The Circus of Dr. Lao in this, because unlike
the others, just about everyone who has ever read this acknowledges it
to be a classic. Even so, far too many people out there (and you know
who you are) haven't read it.
Well, you should. It's been reprinted several times, either by itself
or with other stories; I originally read it in an anthology edited by
Ray Bradbury, but the copy now on my shelves treats it as a complete
novel. It's an awkward length -- just under 50,000 words, where novels
are generally considered 60,000 and up, and novellas are 20,000 to
45,000. That may have something to do with its not having gotten the
attention it deserves.
If you've seen the movie version, The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao, don't
think you know the story, because you don't, and it wouldn't matter if
you did; it's one of the most literary fantasies ever produced, and
needs to be read.
Written in 1935, in the depths of the Depression, it's the tale of the
very strange circus that arrives mysteriously in Abalone, Arizona one
day, a circus run by an odd little Chinaman named Dr. Lao and featuring
attractions that are much more real than anyone can quite deal with --
when they realize just what the attractions are at all.
It's a story of mysteries -- most of them never explained -- and of how
people deal with mysteries -- usually, by ignoring them. The whole
thing is written in a cynical style that's at odds with what's being
described, giving a peculiar result indeed, epitomized by the weird
"Catalogue" at the end -- "An explanation of the obvious which must be
read to be appreciated" -- which lists the characters, starting with
the more or less human ones and working down to the foodstuffs, which
also, as it happens, include a human or two.
This is really simply indescribable; the author drew on extensive
travels in China and Mexico as well as experiences in the American
Southwest, and seems to have managed to put everything he ever did or
believed into this one story -- which virtually no writer ever
manages. If you haven't read it, you should; there have been many
editions over the years, both hardcover and paperback, so you should be
able to find one.
------ End ------
