It Doesn't Have To Be Right…

… it just has to sound plausible


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100 Must-Argue Science Fiction Novels

100 Must-Read Science Fiction Novels by Stephen E Andrews and Nick Rennison is a new reading guide to the genre. It is not, the authors write, a list of the best of science fiction. Their intent was to provide “100 books to read in order to gain an overview of the rich and diverse writing to be found in SF”.

By its very nature, the contents of such a book are going to be contentious. Why that book, and not that one? Christopher Priest says as much in his foreword, and even names some of the novels he would himself have included. Likewise, I could argue the inclusion or exclusion of many of the titles given in the guide. But what’s the point?

However, what is interesting is that of 100 books named, more than half are from the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s (and near half of those are from the Sixties). There are two novels from the 21st Century. It is the least-represented decade since the 1930s – and while the decade is not yet over, it has surely seen more sf novels published than the first three decades of the 20th Century. But then that’s science fiction’s single biggest problem – for a genre that frequently uses the future as its setting, it spends an inordinate amount of time looking backwards. I have seen people recommend fifty-year-old novels to readers new to the genre. Fifty years old. Why? Would they recommend Dennis Wheatley to someone looking for an introduction to contemporary fiction?

It could be argued that the language of sf requires readers to work their way through its history in order to gain fluency. But that’s complete rubbish. Current day narrative techniques and styles of story-telling – not to mention the attitudes and sensibilites embedded in the text – bear little resemblance to those of, say, the 1950s. Modern readers expect modern texts. So why foist old ones on them?

An example: last year, nostalgia drove me to re-read EE ‘Doc’ Smith’s Masters of Space. Unusually, I remember exactly when and where I originally purchased and read the book: it was Easter 1978. My father had picked me up from school, and we spent a couple of days in London before flying out to the Middle East. I’m not sure in which book shop I bought Masters of Space – probably Foyles. But I remember the occasion, because it was the first time I saw Star Wars. So. Almost thirty years ago. The book itself was first published in 1961, although in style and content it harkens back to Smith’s works of the 1930s. When I read it in 1978, I remember enjoying it. When I read it in 2006… oh dear. I don’t know which was worse: the rampant wish-fulfillment, the cheesy 1930s dialogue, the neanderthal sexual stereotypes… Halfway though Masters of Space, the characters are given the opportunity of replacing their bodies with ageless, super-strong android bodies. The women are all for it – because it means their tits will never sag. While spung! may not have actually appeared in the pages of Masters of Space, it was very much there in spirit.

I would never willingly force someone new to sf to undergo the same experience. Not if I want them to continue to read science fiction. There is an unrealistic expectation among fans of science fiction that non-sf readers will appreciate classic works as much as they themselves do. Not as classics of the genre, but as straight genre works. No one reads Jane Austen without recognising that she lived 200 years ago. You, a science fiction fan since the age of eleven, may have fond memories of Asimov’s Foundation – but does that really make it an appropriate example of science fiction to give to someone new to the genre?

I argued a couple of posts ago that science fiction stories should contain a science-fictional conceit. As fans of the genre, have we become so hung up on the “idea” that it has become the only criteria by which we can judge genre works? Is that why we think of a fifty-year-old novel on the same terms as we think of one from last year? Is that why the genre won’t recognise that it has an historical dimension, and insists on categorising all its works as if it belonged to an eternal present?

They say the Golden Age of science fiction is thirteen. It’s certainly true that sf fans grow older. Perhaps it’s time they grew up too.


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He Do the Prose in Different Voices

There’s an interesting discusion here on the extra-textual relationship between reader and writer, and how blogs may affect this. I’m sort of reminded of those scam artists who accost you in the street, spend ten minutes persuading you they were at same school as yourself and so qualify as an old friend… and then ask you to lend them “a couple of quid”… On the other hand, which would be scarier* to a published author: a reader who says, “I feel I know you from your novels”, or one who says, “I feel I know you from your blog”? Is there, in fact, a difference?

(* in a Misery sort of way, I suppose.)


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The Heart of the Matter

I’ve always taken it as a given that science fiction requires at least one central science-fictional conceit. In other words, if you remove the sf furniture, and your story does not change… well, then it’s not science fiction. It’s “skiffy”. And skiffy is bad.

I don’t remember where I picked this up from, although I think it’s common parlance in British sf fandom. Wikipedia is no help – it describes “skiffy” as a “deliberate humorous misspelling or mispronunciation of the controversial term ‘sci-fi'”. No mention of skiffy as a description of a story (or its shortcomings). The Turkey City Lexicon, however, calls it the “Just-Like Fallacy” – a “SF story which thinly adapts the trappings of a standard pulp adventure setting”.

To my mind, Wilson Tucker’s original definition of space opera as “the hacky, grinding, stinking, outworn space-ship yarn” was in part a dig at the sort of stories I know as skiffy. Certainly, Galaxy magazine’s later pendant to the term – a series of ads featuring Bat Durston, under the banner “You won’t find it in this Galaxy” – were pretty clear as to what they thought was bad sf. Their example was a western in space – a well-known and much-derided form of bad science fiction.

However, a recent discussion on a forum has made me question this given.

I still think it holds true – I can’t see the point in making a story science fiction if all you’re doing is slapping a thin coat of rocketships-&-rayguns paint on it. But how relevant is an insistence on a science-fictional conceit in a post-Star Wars genre? That film was little more than a hodge-podge of story archetypes dragged by the scruff of their necks into a space opera setting.

David Weber has done something similar with his Honor Harrington series. His heroine is Nelson in Space – even down to losing an eye and having an adulterous affair. The People’s Republic of Haven is Revolutionary France – the chief villain is even called Rob S Pierre! Where’s the central science-fictional conceit in the Honor Harrington series? What is it about the series’ story-arc that means it can only take place in the Honorverse? There are plenty of science-fictional ideas in the books, from Weber’s take on faster-than-light travel, the weaponry used by the various warships, the… er, well, the furniture, basically. The Honor Harrington novels are very successful. Yet they aren’t that much different from Bat Durston. True, a female admiral could never have existed during the Napoleonic Wars, but turn Honor Harrington into Horatio Harrington, the Warshawski sail into a canvas sail… and you have essentially the same story.

So… is the genre nothing more than its furniture? Is that all sf readers really need for a story to meet their definition of science fiction?


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Nothing is safe from the Pseud

Not even death metal - to wit...

"Demilich hold true to the melodic tradition of Finnish metal by merging the heavy metal tradition of rich tonal space liberated by abstract conceptions of harmony with death metal, layering their ideas into songs where complexity silhouettes but does not illustrate an overall thematic space via postmodernist metastructuralism."

From a review of the album Nespithe by Demilich on the American Nihilist Underground Society's web site.



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The Truth is Out There

“One of the most common critical mechanisms of hard-line fandom is the rationalisation of shabby prose as ‘entertainment'”. Discuss.

From a review of Anne McCaffrey’s Restoree written in 1969 by M John Harrison, and collected in Parietal Games: Critical Writings by and on M John Harrison, edited by Mark Bould and Michelle Reid. It may be worth noting that Restoree was apparently still in print as late as 1999…


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By Popular Request…

Here are a couple of true stories I’ve been told I should put on my blog. And as I don’t like to disappoint my public…

Interview Technique
A few years ago, I worked for an ISP. At one point, management decided to put together a new team to work on the next generation platform. So they placed ads on the web site, contacted a bunch of recruitment agencies, and waited for the applications to roll in. Which they did. I ended up interviewing several of the candidates. One of these candidates – call him Ed… It’s his real name; there’s none of that “names have been changed to protect the innocent” here since no one is innocent.

Anyway, I interviewed Ed. And during the course of this interview, the subject turned to degree courses.

“I have no respect for anyone with a degree in Business Studies,” Ed told me. “Er, you don’t have one, do you?”

“I’m afraid so,” I replied.

We didn’t offer Ed the position – for a number of reasons, none of which were related to his remark in the interview.

One year later, I was down the pub with Craig, who had also worked at the ISP. Like me, he’d since left their employ. Some colleagues of Craig’s entered the pub. One of them was Ed. He didn’t recognise me – mind you, it had been twelve months since the interview. After around thirty minutes, Ed turned to me and asked me how I knew Craig.

“I used to work with him,” I replied, and named the ISP.

“I went for an interview there,” Ed said. “But some twat wouldn’t give me a job because I told him his degree was crap.”

“That was me,” I said.

Shared Cultural References
Before the ISP mentioned above, I worked in the Middle East. In Abu Dhabi, to be precise, the capital of the United Arab Emirates. My last job there was for a national oil company, and I worked in the Training & Development department, managing an application used in competency development. One day, I was talking to Vanik (Iraqi/Armenian), when Mohammed (Palestinian) poked his head into Vanik’s office.

“You have spoken to Saeed?” Mohammed asked Vanik.

“Yes. I saw him earlier. He said he’d finish it by one o’clock.”

Mohammed frowned. “He just told me he had not started it.”

The two began to argue about whether or not Saeed had actually started his assigned task, or would complete it in time. It was a good ten minutes before they realised they were actually talking about different people called Saeed.

“Well, you know what they say,” I said. “There’s two Saeeds to every story.”

Apparently, it’s funnier if you’re English…


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Bah Humbug

I’m terrible at Christmas shopping. I went into town yesterday to buy two presents: a book and a DVD. And ended up coming back with more purchases for myself than presents.

In Waterstone’s, I bought the paperback I’d picked out as a present… and then bought myself two books. While browsing, I spotted The Muqaddimah by ibn Khaldun – one of the great mediaeval Arabic books mentioned in The Penguin Anthology of Classical Arabic Literature – and couldn’t resist buying it. I also picked up The Middle East by Bernard Lewis because I wanted to put the classical Arabic literature I’d read about in historical context.

In HMV, I bought the DVD I’d picked out as a present… but couldn’t resist Fortunes of War, the 1987 BBC adaptation of Olivia Manning’s The Balkan Trilogy (see below). I’ve now watched the first two episodes and… Kenneth Brannagh as Guy Pringle and Emma Thompson as Harriet Pringle are pretty much as I’d imagined them. But the other characters don’t really fit the mental images I’d built up when reading the book. This is not all that uncommon when watching a film or television adaptation of a book you’ve read – David Lynch’s Dune anyone? But it does take some getting used to. And then there are the chunks missing from the plot – Fortunes of War is based on both The Balkan Trilogy and its sequel, The Levant Trilogy. That’s a lot to get through in six hour-long episodes. Well, a book per episode, in fact. Anyway, four episodes to go – Um, just thought: I may have to read The Levant Trilogy before I can watch the last three episodes… Damn.


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The Year in Question

I used to do this several years ago when I was a member of an APA (a sort of paper-based snail-mail blogosphere with a membership of around 30). I thought it was time to resurrect the practice. Below are my choices for the best five books I read during 2006, the best five films I watched during the year, and the best five albums I purchased. Oh, and just to balance things out, there’s also the three worst books I read in 2006.

Top 5 Books
The Tourmaline, Paul Park (2006, Tor) – the second book in the fantasy trilogy which began with A Princess of Roumania. Miranda has been transported to an alternate world in which magic works, the Balance of Power remains much as it did in the opening decades of the Twentieth Century, and Roumania has an empire. She discovers that the real world (our world) existed only in a book, created by her aunt and in which she hid Miranda from Roumania’s enemies. Fine prose, excellent characterisation (the villainess, Baroness Ceaucescu, is particularly good), and an inventive setting.

The Balkan Trilogy, Olivia Manning (1960-1965, Penguin) – a young British couple are living in Bucharest as World War II breaks out, and are forced to flee to Greece. This trilogy is apparently quite autobiographical. Finely written, and an excellent evocation its time and setting. It was made into a television series. I plan to buy the DVD.

Europeana, Patrik Ouřednik (2001, Dalkey Archive) – a somewhat sideways look at the history of Europe during the Twentieth Century. How can you not love a book which has the opening line, “The Americans who fell in Normandy in 1944 were tall men measuring 173 centimeters on average, and if they were laid head to foot they would measure 38 kilometers.” Poetic, informative, and just a little bit strange.

The Dark Labyrinth, Lawrence Durrell (1947, Faber & Faber) – Durrell is one of my favourite writers (and The Alexandria Quartet is one of my all-time favourite novels). I treasure his books for the beautiful descriptive writing, rather than the somewhat random plotting: “A white sail boat lay like a breathing butterfly…”

Geodesica: Descent, Sean Williams & Shane Dix (2006, Ace) – um, the only sf novel in my top five. Williams & Dix write cutting-edge hard sf / space opera. The Geodesica diptych (begun with Geodesica: Ascent) is an excellent example of its type. Mind-bending concepts, lots of gosh-wow, and a satisfying conclusion. What more do you need?

Top 5 Films
Syriana, dir. Stephen Gaghan (2005) – having lived out in the Middle East, parts of this film rang horribly true. Perhaps the plot was a little confusing in places, but it was gripping entertainment nonetheless.

The Double Life of Veronique, dir. Krzystof Kieslowski (1991) – there’s not much you can say about this film. It’s generally reckoned to be Kieslowski’s best, and Kieslowski is generally to be the best European director of the late Twentieth Century.

Serenity, dir. Joss Whedon (2005) – so Serenity‘s universe is badly-designed and populated with used furniture and hoary clichés, but Whedon’s witty dialogue, and a likeable cast, make up for its shortcomings. Perhaps the television series would have been great if it had been allowed to continue. We’ll never know. This is all we’ve got.

>Batman Begins, dir. Christopher Nolan (2005) – sigh. Another reinvention of Batman. Hang on, this one is actually good. Batman never really worked for me – he doesn’t live in a superhero world… which makes him something of an anachronism in his setting. But Nolan manages to make the whole thing eminently plausible, helped by a good performance from Christian Bale in the title role.

Crime and Punishment, dir. Aki Kaurismäki (1983) – Kaurismäki’s films can be a bit hit and miss (Juha, anyone?), but there’s something about the po-faced way his cast play their parts that adds a layer of appealing strangeness to his oeuvre. This one is a little more serious than most, which may be why I liked it so much.

Top 5 Albums
Pitch Black Progress, Scar Symmetry (2006) – Scar Symmetry play a mixture of power metal and death metal. And Christian Älvestam has a fine set of pipes. On first listen, I didn’t like this as much as their debut of last year, Symmetric in Design, but it definitely grew on me. I think I now prefer it.

Above the Weeping World, Insomnium (2006) – Insomnium can’t do wrong in my eyes. Er, ears. And they just get better with each new album. They’re bloody good live too.

Worlds Beyond the Veil, Mithras (2004) – I missed the hype when this album was released, and only came to the band this year. But the bizarre mix of ambient music and technical death metal works really well. I’m looking forward to the new album next year.

Red for Fire: An Icelandic Odyssey Part 1 (2005) and Black for Death: An Icelandic Odyssey Part 2 (2006), Solefald – Solefald are post-black metal. Which I like. Black metal, I don’t really like. Too much posturing, silly make-up, and clouds of synths. But there’s none of that in these two connected albums. An odd bricolage of musical styles and genres, featuring vocals in English and Old Norse, and telling the story of a legendary Icelandic bard.

The Intrigue of Perception, Hypnos 69 (2005) – this Belgian band apparently play “space rock”. Whatever that might be. It sounds like ambient Pink-Floyd-esque rock with easy listening thrown into the mix. It works… in a relaxing sort of way.

Worst Books
Hunters of Dune, Brian Herbert & Kevin J Anderson (2006, Tor) – after the dire Legends of Dune trilogy, my expectations for this continuation of Frank Herbert’s Dune series were low. But this still failed to meet them. Can someone please tell me what “Like a dragon empress…” means?

Majestic, Whitley Streiber (1989, Putnam) – I have no idea why I read this book.

The Plutonium Blonde, John Zakour & Lawrence Ganem (2001, DAW) – it’s very difficult to do humorous science fiction, as Zakour & Ganem amply demonstrate. The idea of spoofing pulp sf tropes has legs, but marrying that with feeble IT jokes and heavy-handed PI wisecracks is a bad move.