Inherit the Stars

Although we usually avoid some hard science fiction, Hogan's Inherit the Stars throws a number of intriguing scientific mysteries at the reader that are bound to pique everyone's interest. Humans in the late 2020s, beginning to expand beyond the Moon, uncover the remains of a man who died 50,000 years ago. A team of various scientists, linguists, and other specialists, operating under a department of UNSA, begin to investigate what turns out to be the origins of Charlie (the deceased man whose belongings and body is subjected to various tests, revealing him to be essentially human). Anyone familiar with the well-worn tropes of science fiction may guess where this is heading, but Hogan's story handles it well through the likable protagonist, Hunt, an English specialist who is able to collate information from various specialist departments. His willingness to think outside the box make him invaluable, although the novel nicely preserves one of its largest revelations to Danchekker, a biologist who was once an "enemy" of sorts to Hunt. The main flaw appears in the plot, which is advanced through Hunt or others encountering and rethinking conceptualizing evidence after getting stumped. But at one point, the plot inexplicably jumps forward after Hunt accepts Caldwell's secretary's idea of a calendar found in the papers of Charlie. This is somehow followed by sudden leap forward to the cracking of much of the "Lunarian" language and their origins on a planet called Minerva. This sudden advance in the plot is a bit rushed, although the overall novel is a "fun" exploration of a scientific mystery. Even the conclusion in which northern Sudan appears to have played an important role in human history was done well and humorously (Hogan's sense of humor is delightful here).

Eden: It's An Endless World

Although it took nearly a year to complete the manga, Eden: Its An Endless World, this nearly perfect science fiction tale with Gnostic themes is irresistible. Set in a postapocalyptic world of the future, no other manga series has quite captured the apparently pointless attempts at "solving" the problems of the world for it only to blow up in our collective faces. Uighurs, child soldiers, racism, environmental collapse, drug cartels and addiction, doctors trying to do their job, and the epic, but doomed to failure rescue mission to save Elijah's sister are all suspenseful, violent, and heartbreaking. Indeed, each protagonist has a backstory that led them on a path to violence, vengeance, or the search for power, but once their hands are bloody, they're never clean again. Yet, despite the seemingly endless conflicts, division, and destruction of human society, those who choose to resist joining the colloid (disclosure virus) make the hard choice of staying in our universe, finding meaning in the hope for a better future. Moreover, this is the only series we have read in which much of the story takes place in Peru, with a mix of cops, cartel dealers, gunman, and prostitutes occupy a central role. In fact, Peru is the setting for one of the great story arcs that pits Elijah, the main character, against gangsters and the sordid world of crime, drugs, and sex. Unfortunately, the ending of the series throws some curveballs at the reader and produces some deus ex machina characters/developments to wrap up loose ends. Nonetheless, we find the ending to be quite clever despite this. Indeed, with Maya and Alethia Lethia each staying in the respective "worlds," there is a great risk for both in terms of hope for a better future. 

The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

Robert Heinlein's classic novel of rebellion and the birth of a nation on the Moon is a classic for good reason. Humorous, engaging, suspenseful, thought-provoking, and a masterpiece of world-building, one is completely absorbed into this fascinating setting and its unique language, style, and revolution. Narrated through the perspective of one of the leaders of the revolution that led to the Moon's independence, Manuel, looking back on his life in the distant future, the reader sees how an ordinary (for the Moon) man can become part of history. Indeed, his friend, Mike, the supercomputer whose role in the Moon's secession from Earth's authority was indispensable, often refers to Manuel simply as "Man." In addition to Manuel, whose grit, everyday dedication, and deep roots in the penal colony make him an effective part of the revolutionary leadership, a beautiful woman named Wyoh, an elderly "Prof" with a past in fomenting revolution on Earth, and a wealthy Terran ally round out the rest of the team. 

What truly made the revolution possible was the help of Mike, the aforementioned supercomputer with sentience. Serving as a friend to Mike and then part of the leadership of the Free Luna movement, Mike is their superweapon. As an advanced computer, he can calculate trajectories for catapulting rock on Earth, use his connections to spy on communications of the Lunar Authority, and check probabilities for various scenarios throughout the revolution. Prof Bernardo, an anarchist with a deep historical and practical experience, represents the basic ideology of the revolution and tries to steer it toward a limited government. Wyoh, the initial leader of the first organization to free Luna, is also important but is somewhat sidelined later on. Man, or Manuel, plays a vital role throughout since he influenced how the Free Luna movement began with cells, and then, when Mike was not around, led the movement for independence to its final showdown with Terra. Ultimately, the Moon had no chance against Earth, but needed to engage in a combination of political theater, threats, and the image of being a bigger threat than it actually was to force the authorities on Terra to concede independence.

Through the lens of science fiction, Heinlein's own political perspective and view of what government can and should be seems clear. Although not a left-wing anarchist by any means, one can immediately detect a libertarian bias. The residents of the Moon, overwhelmingly descendants of convicts exiled by Terra and placed under the ineffective Lunar Authority which only buys grain at a fixed price, have developed a unique society to adapt to the harsh conditions of the Moon. Since men were outnumbered by women, co-marriages and distinct marriage customs evolved, perhaps best exemplified in Manuel's family with co-husbands and co-wives. Since the settlers of the Moon hailed from various races and ethnic groups on Earth, racial miscegenation is common. Russian words are also a part of everyday English on the Moon. The people of Luna have also learned to function largely without government. Through contracts between individuals, learning to survive in a harsh environment to find resources or start farms, and, when possible, avoiding the Lunar Authority and its ineffective Warden, the people of the Moon are a "nation." Furthermore, like the people of the United States in its Revolutionary War, the residents of the Moon are unfairly "taxed" by the Lunar Authority's control of the Moon's potentially lucrative trade with Terra in a free market. 

Clearly, Heinlein's novel espouses a libertarian perspective in which government intervention is minimal. While the Free Luna movement later establishes a Republic (through elections controlled by Mike and then the established Congress steered in the "right" direction by Prof to avoid it influencing the conflict with Terra), and symbolically draws on the Fourth of July, Prof, Manuel, and Wyoh do not want a strong, central authority after independence. Ineffectual yammerheads in this early Congress who do nothing but criticize and do not serve in any military capacity to defend Luna when Terran forces strike are severely criticized by Manuel, too, who threatens to resign when confronted by one in a committee. It seems that, to Heinlein (and Manuel), military service was essential for having a true say in the Revolution. The ultimate sacrifice, one might say, which many Luna men, women and even children do to defeat Terran troops sent to quell the revolt. Moreover, the ends justifies the means since our protagonists had to manipulate both sides with controlled media, deception, bluffing, fake elections, and grand-scale theft for funding. Yet, this type of limited government/libertarian ethos can only work in a setting in which a century of adaptation to difficult living conditions without strong central authority for most of the period have instilled  certain values, cooperative and extended kinship networks, and generations of ethnic/racial miscegenation. On overcrowded Terra, such an arrangement is impossible. Even in the United States, whose independence movement was an inspiration for Free Luna, race still serves as an obstacle to social unity while the overcrowded population suffers from exploitative and ineffective governments headed by the Federated Nations. In other words, libertarianism can work, but one must have both the cultural and economic bases for it established. This includes the understanding that there is no such thing as a free lunch, meaning the people of the Moon will not view government as a provider, unlike governments on Terra (like in overcrowded India, which relies heavily on grain imported from the Moon).

Sadly, the character of Mike is the most interesting and depressing of the novel. The only sentient computer, and more human-like throughout the novel as "he" gains friends, shares jokes, and even takes on a human persona as "Adam Selene" to help lead the revolution, Mike unfortunately disappears by the novel's conclusion. Perhaps this was necessary so the new nation of the Moon could truly act autonomously and take its destiny in its own hands. Nonetheless, it felt like a cop out and never addressed the possibility of other computers gaining sentience and perhaps having a voice in government. Furthermore, Mike had arguably become even more human throughout the novel, which would have been interesting if his "true" identity had been revealed after independence. Did Mike view the whole enterprise as "fun" and have chose to disengage from government? Would future advances in technology, perhaps with Mike along to nudge things, have led to more sentient computers capable of accelerating research for colonization of other planets and satellites? 

First Wave...

First Wave was a little disappointing. We missed the show the first time it aired but read and heard positive reviews. And at first, the show was promising. While admittedly somewhat silly since it attempted to pair prophecies of Nostradamus and an alien invasion with "cases of the week" modeled on that of The X-Files, Chris Brancato at least was capable of writing a decent episode of that latter show. Indeed, "Eve" in the first season of The X-Files does a decent job subverting audience expectations and creating a compelling narrative. To its credit, First Wave usually succeeded or at least "worked" in terms of its usual formula. The main problem with the first two seasons is that, unlike The X-Files, the show often relied on heavily on Eddie and Cade (with occasional appearances from Joshua, the Gua ally) to carry the show. 

Unlike Scully and Mulder, whose differing perspectives on the paranormal and the addition of romantic tension could make its formulaic approach to storytelling work, sometimes First Wave became a chore to sit through. Sure, Cade often meets attractive women in various episodes and the show probably relied more heavily on that than X-Files, but it was difficult to stay as invested in the "experiment of the week" formula of this program. Sometimes the show's writers also crafted episodes that lacked clear or logical resolution. This becomes a bigger problem in the show's final season, with Jordan joining the main characters...

Finally, the show tries to expand its main characters beyond Cade and Eddie (and sometimes Joshua), but the actress playing Jordan is not the best performer. Then, inexplicably, the show's final season has Joshua, who had already risked his life multiple times to assist Cade, part ways with our heroes about the best way to halt the Gua invasion (the Second Wave). So, now that the third season has established a main Big Bad leader of the Gua, one who threatens Gua and humankind, Joshua becomes a questionable ally. The writers did not know quite what to do with him and the Raven Nation of Jordan are rather foolishly removed from the equation through a series of narrative moves by the writers to hasten the final confrontation. Mabus as the Big Bad never made much sense and the climax and resolution of the third season is, to put it frankly, a mess. It's quite a shame, since it would have been nice to see First Wave build upon some of the plot developments in the first and second season. For instance, Joshua's ally among the Gua who occupied a position of leadership is never brought back. A lot of loose ends are never addressed and questionable or unexplained things happen in the final half of the third season. So, alas, yet another okay science fiction show was canceled before its time.  

A Memory Called Empire

Arkady Martine's A Memory Called Empire was recommended to us a few years ago by an avid science fiction reader. We purchased a copy last year and recently read the novel. It's an excellent example of science fiction borrowing from the history of empires to craft engaging space operas or tales of galactic imperial sagas. In this case, Martine has drawn from both the Roman/Byzantine Empire (like Asimov in Foundation) and the Aztecs. A number of words in the Teixcalaanli Teixcalaanli Empire's language are clearly inspired by Nahuatl, as are references to the Sun, sacrifices, the names of the citizens of the City, and even their physical features. Of course, references to the Byzantine Empire can also be found, such as a text referred to as The Buildings, a nice nod to Procopius. The City itself, a planetary metropolis and capital of the Empire, features pyramids and features that also reference Tenochtitlan. In short, it's an impressive example of crafting an intriguing empire in the far future with some inspiration from the Aztecs. 

The creative decisions by the author in the use of technology, especially the imago technology which allows the memory of someone who passed away to be implanted into another, raises a number of interesting questions about identity just as Mahit Dzmare, the Lsel ambassador, confronts her own position as a barbarian in love with the empire poised to devour her homeland. This, I believe, is where Martine's book really shines as a space opera. There are no epic space battles, but the internal tension of Mahit as she struggles to protect her people's independence and juggle her own loyalties while desiring so strongly to be accepted as something other than a barbarian. However, no matter how hard she tries, that sense of being a barbarian never truly accepted in the heart of Empire is inescapable. Anyone familiar with the literature of colonized people can immediately sense something deeper in this novel, as it explores the depths to which imperialism can wreak havoc on colonized (or, in the case of Lsel, semi-colonial territories, since it retains its independence) peoples. 

Fortunately for Mahit, however, Lsel possesses information on a greater threat that will preserve the station's autonomy for at least a little longer. So, even though we felt the ultimate conflict over imperial succession could have been resolved in a better fashion in this novel than the diplomat's political maneuver, and there are still so many loose threads, this novel was so suspenseful and captivating that we must read the sequel. We cannot wait to see how Mahit and Three Seagrass will communicate with the unknown threat beyond Lsel that is nearing the Empire. 

Infinite Ryvius

In our quest to watch all of the classic and overall decent science fiction anime of the 1990s and early 2000s (except mecha anime, which we still largely skip), we finally gave Infinite Ryvius a second chance. As a Lord of the Flies in space story with several dark, intense moments for the young, beleaguered crew, it was occasionally painful to watch. Some of the sub-standard animation and the lack of explanation for a lot of the technobabble and science fiction mumbo jumbo also made the story a little hard to follow. In other words, the show could have been so much better. Indeed, in some ways its young crew reminds one of Martian Successor Nadesico while Aiba Kouji is somewhat similar to the famous Shinji of Evangelion. The young crew, left to its own devices without adult authority or supervision, descends into chaos, violence, and by the end, fascism. The adult authority, represented by corrupt factions on Earth, however, are revealed to be no better given the extent to which they will go retrieve the ship and put the adolescents at risk. 

Still, seeing the extreme depths to which the teenagers descend will shock and disturb any viewer. One sees this in their highly unequal ranking system for the crew, the abuse of authority, and the problematic ethical systems used by the different groups which successively rule the ship. Blue, representing sheer power and fear, seizes power in a coup. A Spock-type character and the Zwei students retake the ship and use one character as a "puppet" captain while Heigar controls from behind the scenes. When that does not work, Aiba Kouji's friend, Ikumi, later seizes power and, despite having the noblest intentions of them all, establishes the most despotic, authoritarian regime that nearly destroys the ship. And while all this is going on, the Ryvius is attacked by other Vaia ships and Fiona is establishing a cult based on her religion from Uranus. The show does not take it in this direction, but she appears to be the force behind a theocratic type of authoritarianism while Ikumi, Stein, and Blue represent different types of authoritarianism, fascism, and police states. Oh, and the ship, like Moya in Farscape, is alive or rather is powered by a living organism that assumes a human form. 

The main protagonist, Kouji, wants to please everyone, is anxious, unsure of himself and lacks the skills of his younger brother or the willfulness of the other leaders. Yet Kouji, who seems occasionally pathetic, useless and perhaps even naive, never loses his sense of basic decency. By the end of the series, Kouji is more determined and willing to shape things instead of going with the flow, although events beyond the control of the students ultimately resolve the situation. Ultimately, what could have made this show great rather than "good" would have been a little more fleshing out of the post-disaster solar system and a little more background to some of the characters. For example, what was happening on Earth with the 2 groups involved in the conspiracy was not as clear as it could have been. I also would have liked learning a little more about the science of ship navigation and the origins of the alien lifeforms in the Geduld and part of the 6 advanced ships. It also would not have hurt to see what conditions were like in the other parts of the solar system, why were some groups independent of the Solar System Alliance government, and how class and religion operated in the 23rd century. 

Stand on Zanzibar

Although it took us several years to finally read novel in its entirety, Stand on Zanzibar is one of those necessary science fiction reads for everyone interested in the genre. It was not exactly what was expected. For instance, we initially thought President Obomi was the leader of the US, not of a fictional West African country, seemingly based on today's Benin and Togo yet distinct from Dahomey (Dahomalia). But we already knew what to expect with the more experimental narrative style of Brunner in this work, and the horrific dystopian future of the novel. The playful and clever slang phrases, intervening chapters that flesh out the world, and occasionally hilarious snippets of Chad Mulligan's writings or speeches make for powerful, sometimes frightening literature. 

The overpopulated world in which countries like the US have implemented eugenics legislation did not come into being by the 2010s, but it is a little scary how many of Brunner's predictions turned out to be true. We have our muckers today, as the frequency of mass shootings and violence indicates, just as we also witnessed the collapse of Detroit. Corporations do, more or less, control nations while US tensions with China is very real. Of course homosexuality is accepted, more or less, polyamorous couples exist and racism is less overt but pervasive. Racial tensions are ubiquitous, here in the US and across the pond. Old leftovers of colonial regimes in Africa likewise stand in for the lingering racial biases and tensions. African Americans refer to whites as "paleass" and characters like Norman are constantly on guard in a huge, corporate outfit like GT. On the other hand, we have not yet reached the scale of prostitution represented by shiggies or the perhaps the the level of terrorism and low-intensity civil war of Stand on Zanzibar yet, but it seems almost inevitable. 

What is perhaps most interesting about a novel written in the late 1960s, in an era when much of the Global South became independent states, is the projection of a future in which areas often deemed marginal became hugely significant in the fate of the species. By this, we refer to fictionalized West African and Southeast Asian nations. Yatakang, which appears to have been modeled on Indonesia, represented a third path for postcolonial states that is combined with the potentially dangerous genetic optimization program. Beninia offers hope through the genetics of the Shinka people. As one would expect, things do not quite go as planned and the reader is left feeling like Chad Mulligan: intensely frustrated by the human race yet madly in love with it. Mulligan almost certainly represents the sentiments of Brunner himself, and the fate of humanity remains in question. Whether the path forward lay with genetic engineering of the kind combining Shinka genetics with the techniques of the Yatakangi scientist, rule by sentient computers like Shalmaneser, or an alternative, one must remain optimistic. And the wealthy, powerful societies have a lot to learn from the backwards places like Beninia...

Rise of Endymion

Wow. Rise of Endymion is not a great conclusion to the series, although we enjoyed its rather literal title. After reading the entirety of the series, it becomes quite clear that the first book was really the only great work, combining different genres and ideas in a novel that never quite received a great sequel. The Fall of Hyperion is not a bad novel, but one can see how its flaws were inherited by Rise of Endymion. But Rise of Endymion takes the worst elements of that previous novel, such as the overwrought plot, and adds even more unnecessary length and plot developments that ruin the greater mysteries (such as the Shrike). 

Rise of Endymion quickly becomes a chore to read, introducing some characters of potential interest to drop them from the narrative while expanding into some excessive and unnecessary escapades or episodes of Raul traveling via the Void Which Binds to help Aenea spread the "communion" which will finally topple the power of the Church (Pax Empire). Don't get us wrong, we enjoyed certain chapters of the novel, and appreciate the attempt at trying to wrap up a series juggling multiple concepts drawing from Keats, Muir, religion, and how humanity can evolve across the galaxy. We even appreciated Albedo and some aspects of the explanation for the origin of the Core and the Ousters (finally, we learn more about the latter). Yet, the Shrike's character and the recycling of various characters from the original Hyperion Shrike Pilgrimage did not quite work for us. 

But one applauds Simmons for not pursuing the obvious type of space opera with long chapters of epic space battles between the Pax's Gideon-Drive archangels and the Ousters. The series has always demanded more of its readers, although working on multiple levels for those who know nothing of Keats, Teilhard de Chardin, Muir, Church history, AI, or the science fiction canon which inspired the galactic civilization of Hyperion. Unfortunately, some of the decisions made by the author weaken in this overly complex plot and the new characters are simply not as captivating as those in the first two novels. With the literary conceits of the first novel and its genre-bending, the reader could lose oneself in the various genres and homages of the author. Rise of Endymion is the direct sequel to Endymion, and Books 3 and 4 are rather conventional. At least Book 3 was not needlessly long and worked as a more cohesive narrative. Thus, the Cantos makes for a very uneven series. One is probably better off only reading the first two novels. Like Asimov's later Foundation works, the additions do not bring much to the table while failing to develop more interesting threads. 

Endymion

Book 3 of the Hyperion Cantos was not as bad as we initially expected. After the somewhat disappointing and torturous read of The Fall of Hyperion, we expected something in a similar vein with endless and unnecessary dialogue and excessive chapters. Sure, some of those problems remain. But Simmons uses a simpler narrative structure here, switching back and forth between fewer characters while focusing on the pursuit of Aenea by forces of the Pax, a revived Catholic Church which has accepted the cruciform and replaced the Hegemony as the dominant force of the old Web worlds. While the two later additions in the series are probably unnecessary reads, it is interesting to see how Simmons envisioned a post-Hegemony future of humanity centuries after the Fall, precipitated by Meina Gladstone when she destroyed the farcasters. 

Sort of like popular representations of post-Roman western Europe, the Church emerges as the dominant institution, but only possible in this setting through a Faustian deal utilizing enhanced cruciforms for a form of near-immortality. Instead of the older cruciforms that produced unintelligent and sexless Bikura on Hyperion, the Church has promoted a modified cruciform with none of those defects. Unsurprisingly, with its nearly immortal mechanism of the resurrection through cruciforms and combination of military power, it has replaced the Hegemony on several planets while waging war with the Ousters. For those of us readers who were expecting to see more of the unbelievable Ousters and their adaptations to live in deep space, perhaps we need to wait for the final book in the series to see if there will ever be a symbiosis of Ouster lifestyles and old Hegemony humanity.

But we digress. Endymion is basically a chase story that sees Aenea (the one who teaches), the daughter of the Keats cybrid persona and Brawne, use the old farcasters in the company of an android, A. Bettik, and Raul Endymion, a descendant of indigenie Hyperion stock. First escaping on the Consul's centuries-old ship, they use a raft to sail along the Tethys river, which once connected several Web worlds via the farcaster technology, while Federico de Soya of the Vatican/Pax military pursues them. Vatican politics and conspiracies, plus hints to the survival of the Technocore and the enigmatic genocide of Jewish and Muslim worlds add elements of suspense to the narrative. We thoroughly enjoyed it, although the ending of course is incomplete, requiring us to continue with the final novel to actually understand what it is Aenea, Raul, and A. Bettik encounter at their final destination. 

While less creative than Hyperion and not quite so literary in its pretensions and allusions as the first two books in the series, this is a worthwhile read for anyone interested in the universe of Hyperion. Of course, it continues the religious themes and symbolism of the previous novels, with a more overt focus on Roman Catholicism, but also attempts to grapple with the same themes of Teilhard, AI evolution into god-like beings, and the nature of God in a world so distorted by advanced technology from the future. Naturally, we are dying to know what is motivating the Shrike to protect Aenea in this novel, which will presumably be revealed in Book 4. 

The Fall of Hyperion

The Fall of Hyperion should be read with the first novel in the series. It is the necessary conclusion to the first installment, despite it being a worse experience for the reader. Continuing right where the previous story concluded, it expands our ensemble of characters, introduces another Keats cybrid persona, and changes the narrative structure. The second John Keats persona can experience what others see and do via "dreams," allowing him to relay data on the pilgrims to Hegemony CEO Meina Gladstone. Unfortunately, the change in narrative structure is a turn for the worse, as the reader no longer has a Chaucer-like plot structure to mix up the stylistic and genre references. Moreover, the plot is stretched out with turgid, sometimes unnecessary prose and exposition. The whole experience starts to drag after a while, which is why we here at the blog took our sweet time to finish this novel. 

While there are some interesting new additions to the setting here, particularly the introduction of Ouster characters (and their vast Swarms), time travel, additional Keats allusions and more context for the development of the civil war taking place in the Core, the overall reading experience was not the greatest. It just seemed excessive and unnecessary for the story to be stretched in the manner it was, for its numerous digressions and the lack of adequate attention on more interesting characters, such as Ummon. Some of the new settings and visual language are stunning, especially the Ouster Swarm invading Hyperion, and the metasphere. 

The religious themes and apocalyptic imagery were occasionally interesting, particularly for the fusion of AI and human spirit embodied in a certain character, and the dualism of a battle between future Ultimate Intelligences crafted by humanity and AI. Sure, very Manichaean and perhaps Gnostic influences evident there, but science fiction has always reworked these themes in intriguing ways. Clearly, the Hegemony was a civilization in decline, dependent on the Core for its greatest scientific and conceptual revolutions. Thus, a civilizational change was necessary, one that would change the nature of humanity's relationship with technology and the rest of the universe. Perhaps the next civilization will fuse the cultures of the former Hegemony with the Ousters, their belief in humans adapting to the universe rather than terraforming other planets and reproducing old Earth. This is more plausible as a desirable future than the collective consciousness of Gaia in Asimov's  Foundation series. Besides, it builds on the messianic and Christian symbolism of the cybrid persona and Brawne's child. Perhaps it also appealed to Simmons and the ecological interests he clearly possessed when creating the Templars.

Hyperion

After so many friends and acquaintances have recommended it, we have finally read Hyperion. Due to its narrative structure of combining multiple stories and characters within the larger narrative of a pilgrimage to the mysterious world of Hyperion, Simmons is able to get away with combining various science fiction subgenres, tropes, and literary allusions that encompass horror, noir, cyberpunk, and a plethora of writers, ranging from Keats and Chaucer to Edgar Allen Poe and William Gibson. Sure, it's cool. It's occasionally interesting and crafts a fascinating post-Hegira future of humanity in the 29th century, under the Hegemony of Man. Neologisms are dropped throughout the text and context helps the reader keep up and figure out this fast-paced, complex world and its characters. Unfortunately, due to its very hodgepodge nature combining various tropes and genres, it lacks cohesion and the somewhat silly conclusion left a sour taste. Nonetheless, the reader is occasionally swept up in the world built by Simmons, and the sad future of humanity represented by the Hegemony, its troubled relationship with independent AI, and the Ousters. That may be enough to convince us to read the rest of the series. We shall see...

The Paradox Men

The Paradox Men is one of those science fiction classics we here at the blog have heard is a great novel. Unfortunately, it's zany, fast-paced plot, nonsensical setting, and lack of greater characterization leads one to wonder how or why it became a classic to some readers. Harness's clever use of Einstein, Toynbee, and Aristotle for the science fiction mumbo jumbo window-dressing was the best part of this tale, as it brings to the table time travel paradoxes and ludicrous things like solarions and the comeback of fencing with rapiers. One can sort of see why The Paradox Men has been compared with the great works of Alfred Bester, and it does feature a somewhat interesting dystopian future with the return of slavery, an Imperial America ruling the Western hemisphere, and an organization known as the Thieves who seek to undermine the institution of slavery and Imperial America's ultimate goal of defeating the Easterners, which would surely end in the destruction of humanity. Sure, there's a lot of heavy-handed social and political commentary in this novel published during the height of the Cold War. But the time traveling paradox and interesting use of Toynbee and Einstein almost make up for the blandness of Alar as a protagonist. This work almost brings to mind Delany's Empire Star, but Delany handled it more effectively. 

Foundation and Earth

Isaac Asimov's final installment, chronologically, in the Foundation series was, in our opinion, an unnecessary addition. Whereas Foundation's Edge at least featured real or at least exciting conflicts with multiple perspectives as the narrative shifted focus to different protagonists, Foundation and Earth focuses entirely on Golan Trevize, Pelorat, and Bliss on their quest for Earth. It is, more or less, a direct sequel to the previous novel without much change in the timeline of the projected 1,000 years predicted by Hari Seldon. Of course, as the great novel that sought to connect the Robots series and Foundation universe, the fusion is far from seamless. It didn't necessarily make much sense that the Galactic Empire would have, for the most part, completely forgotten the history of robotics. Nor does the reader find much excitement here. This dialogue-heavy novel is mostly centered on specific stops the trio make before finally reaching Earth and a certain character from the Robots novels. 

However, the novel's frequent digressions on which path from the previous novel is the best path forward for humanity contains occasionally interesting references to the history of space colonization and the Foundation universe. Unfortunately, much of it seems to revolve around the same recurring doubts of Trevize and a quickly irritating personal disagreement between Bliss/Gaia and Trevize. Their constant bickering does not make for entertaining reading. Nor was the ultimate "revelation" about the force behind Gaia and psychohistory really logical, although Trevize raising the possibility of intelligent life in other galaxies was interesting. Indeed, in End of Eternity, we know that had humans never developed interstellar travel, another species would have done it and humanity eventually went extinct. However, in this version of human history, without Eternity, there is no confirmation of alien life. The novel's final scene hints at possible "aliens from within" (perhaps Follom and the people of Solaria), so maybe Galaxia seems the best solution for preventing humanity from extinguishing itself. 

So, the necessity of Gaia or a collective consciousness in a superorganism becomes strategic for planning the Galaxy's defense against possible outside forces. Sure, one can say, Galaxia becomes more attractive than a Second Galactic Empire, when seen in that light. And the various "Isolated" planets and lost Spacer settlements seem to offer additional evidence of the danger of too much isolation and individuality. But it never quite struck us why humanity would have to submit to a collective consciousness when a Second Empire that combined the best of the First and Second Foundations could have led to a rational Galactic state encompassing advances in mentalics and technology. Nor do many of the obstacles faced by Trevize and company actually strike us as compelling or threatening. Moss and feral dogs on two deserted Spacer planets are hardly interesting, and the novel's episode on Solaria, while another interesting link between the Robots and Foundation series, does not suffice. 

All things considered, Asimov should have either left the series alone or at least written a shorter adventure tale that did a better job clarifying the future history of the Galaxy. Perhaps less obsession with backsides of female characters and, maybe, juggling between protagonists to illustrate what is going on with the galaxy, would have created a more effective narrative. Sure, it was interesting to see Solaria develop into a society of hermaphrodites who view others as only half-humans, and the "primitives" on Alpha provided an occasionally interesting example of both "primitiveness" and technological advancement in their own form of unhealthy isolation. Clearly, Asimov envisioned the future of humanity lay in further association and union, yet one cannot comprehend exactly why Galaxia and the vision of humanity's future informed by ancient robots is the best direction for ensuring humanity's future. Nor does anyone consider the ethics of fusing a human child's brain with that of the decaying robot?

Foundation's Edge

Although we here at the blog were hesitant about continuing the later novels in the Foundation series, Foundation's Edge was not that bad. While perhaps unnecessarily longer than it needed to be, some of the additional length in the narrative and the changes in late Asimov's style are provocative, raising questions about how an older Asimov viewed the world and the question of science fiction in depicting some of the timeless problems of humanity: political division, ideological conflict, competition, and violence. It was still for the most part, a suspenseful tale of intrigue, galactic conspiracies and conflict, and continued backstory for the Foundation universe. Stylistically, it follows the similar pattern of his earlier installments, switching back and forth between various characters to advance the plot. Asimov also took the bold move of trying to connect his Robots series into the same universe, even adding the time traveling organization Eternity to connect all of these works in the same fictional world and provide an explanation for the origin of mentalics.

Sometimes, unfortunately, the narrative is dragged along by often unnecessary dialogue and exposition on various topics rather than direct actions or Seldon Crises to advance the plot forward. Nevertheless, Foundation's Edge gives the fans more details and adventures in the Seldon Plan, while also connecting various dots in his other works and the elusive Earth, the original home of humanity. One cannot help but smile when thinking about late Imperial archaeological fascination about the possible original planet, and then to see centuries later, an obscure Foundation historian obsessed with the quest for Earth. Nor can one not express some interest in technological developments with gravitics and shields developed by the First Foundation against mentalics. The world-building is fantastic, drawing the reader into this setting. One learns more about the Galaxy 500 years after Seldon first initiated the Foundation, seeing how the First Foundation has become the dominant force yet cannot subdue the Sayshell Union (who seem to be descendants of ancient humans who may be of Indian origin, if their names and dark skin are any reliable indicator). 

After 500 years in this epic, one would expect technological change to arise and perceive the lack of unity in physical sciences and mentalics, represented by the two Foundations, as part of the problem. How does one reconcile two distinct branches of knowledge that are both truly necessary for running a society? And what political form should it take? By the novel's conclusion, the protagonist, Trevize, is asked to decide between 3 possible options, with the third represented by an unknown entity that has been influencing from behind the scenes. Does one believe group-consciousness, uniting people, animals, plants, and inanimate objects to create a truly living Galaxy, is the solution? Or outright force by the First Foundation to establish the Second Galactic Empire after only 500 years of the Plan? Or can one trust the Second Foundation to guide and influence from behind the scenes, after the full millennium, to oversee a great Second Empire? As a rationalist, like Asimov, Trevize chooses the option which allows for the maximum chance of later correction. In spite of its flaws, and the problematic creative choices made by Asimov to connect the Robots series with Foundation, Trevize's quest of galactic proportions cannot disappoint. 

The End of Eternity

Time travel is really hard to write about. Asimov's suspenseful time travel standalone novel is no exception to the rule. Like many time travel tales, it occasionally veers into the absurd with paradoxes and neologisms to create a plausible world about a society of time traveling agents who oversee humanity's history, present, and future to maximize human happiness. Where Asimov succeeds in this novel is with the character of Harlan gradually coming to the realization of the dangerous consequences of a humanity whose gravest mistakes and errors are not experienced to create new challenges and reach greater heights in the long run. The plot twist of the tale was unexpected to us here at the blog, but excellently shows the connection between this universe and the alternate Reality that saw the rise of the Galactic Empire and human dominance of the Galaxy. In a world where Eternity, Harlan's organization, does not exist, humanity takes to interstellar travel successfully and avoids a future where sentient non-human life colonizes the Galaxy, leaving humanity several centuries of decay and gradual extinction. The ending sorta "makes" the novel work, at least for those readers eager to see connections in the various novels of Asimov. While the other question of the problems with determinism, utilitarianism, and the idea of a corrupt organization of "psychopaths" dictating the course of humanity's time are also explored in the novel, the "romance" of Harlan and Noys, particularly in the conclusion of the novel, are the most interesting aspects.

Pebble in the Sky

Pebble in the Sky is not a great novel. However, as the first published one of Asimov's vast body of work, it is interesting in its flaws and strengths. Set in an underpopulated Earth tens of thousands of years into the future, the tale features an unlikely hero,  the immigrant Joseph Schwartz, an old Chicago tailor from the 20th century. Through accident, he is hurled in time to arrive at the outskirts of Chica, the name for the Chicago area in the future. Instead of an Earth teeming with billions, Earth suffers from extreme areas of radioactivity, a dystopian government (yet still a part of the Galactic Empire ruled from Trantor) with productivity quotas for each inhabitant (not to mention the mandatory killing of everyone aged 60) and a conspiracy that threatens to destroy the entire Empire. 

Our unlikely hero, who is often passive throughout much of the novel, is a plump tailor who becomes the unwitting specimen for Dr. Shtek's Synapsifier, which somehow improves Schwartz's mental faculties and gives him telepathic powers. Along the way, the reader is treated to various digressions that all connect to the unbelievable theory of the Secretary of the High Minister of Earth's native government, who thinks Schwartz and Arvardan are spies sent by the Empire to ensure Earth's submission. Later, and somewhat randomly, the more menacing (and truthful) conspiracy of Earth against the rest of the Galaxy is revealed. Where the novel succeeds is in the world-building elements. The plot is zany, and the other characters besides Schwartz are usually more interesting or compelling (particularly the archaeologist Arvardan, who knows Earth is the original homeland of humanity and wants to prove it). For much of the narrative, Schwartz is often forgettable. And when he does, inevitably, save the day, Schwartz, like his role in much of the narrative, accomplishes this in the background. However, the novel persuasively builds a world in which the people of Earth are dismissed and hated by the rest of the Galaxy, believed to be carriers of dangerous bacteria and even a separate race. 

It is in this direction where Asimov seems to be drawing from the divisive issues of race in his day to point out the fallacy of racial and racist thinking. Arvardan, for instance, argues firmly against the idea of Earthmen as racially distinct, while also rejecting the idea of polygenesis. Instead of believing the humans of the Galaxy all evolved independently on several distinct planets, the more likely (and correct) theory of monogenesis and the oneness of humanity unites Earthmen with the rest of the Galaxy. However, Arvardan must confront his own prejudices and biases against Earthmen on a personal as well as academic level, distinguishing himself from the bigoted Imperial garrisons and representatives who look down on Earth natives are savage, violent, and untrustworthy. One must conclude Asimov was thinking of ongoing Jim Crow in the US and the recent experience of World War II and the Holocaust, two areas where racial thinking and racist policy carried devastating consequences for the world. It is perhaps for that reason he decided to make an old European immigrant tailor from Chicago a hero, one who was probably Jewish like the author. 

While the novel itself is nothing spectacular, it deserves attention for its unusual protagonist, the large ensemble cast of characters Asimov struggles to balance in the narrative, and the persistent thorny issue of racism and misunderstanding as causes for catastrophe. Of course, it's also an indispensable part of the Empire books, and features the Empire of Foundation in an era before its decline. One wonders why the effete imperial agent in the Foundation series, with an amateurish interest in archaeology and the study of human origins, did not know of the research of Arvardan and his conclusive proof of Earth as humanity's homeland...

The Naked Sun

The second installment in the mystery tales of Elijah Baley and R. Daneel Olivaw takes the reader to one of the Outer Colonies, Solaria. In this underpopulated human colony, social distancing is the norm and their society is based entirely on robots, eugenics, and strict population control. Unlike the overpopulated Earth with its vast Cities, where a fear of the open dominates, the people of Solaria fear the personal presence of others. When an inexplicable murder occurs, Baley and Olivaw are called in to investigate a mystery with Galactic implications. 

The ultimate message of this rather short novel appears to be a call for the embrace of the "naked sun" in order to grow or advance as a society, with the "sun" standing in for that which can limit a society or individual. As in the Foundation series, sociology as a discipline occupies a prominent place for understanding different human societies and weaknesses. As in The Caves of Steel, Baley is even more convinced of the need for Earthmen to become like the Spacers (at least with regards to colonization), and manages to question the Three Laws of Robotics in the process. 

However, this novel separates Olivaw and Baley for too much of the narrative, depriving us of their collaborative process. Due to the nature of the hidden threat to humanity posed in the novel, one can see why Baley sought to keep a certain distance from Daneel, but much of the strength of their first murder investigation relied on their pairing. Nonetheless, Asimov's second murder mystery still delivers, in spite of the different nature of this case. It is also more anthropological and sociological, showing us both quantitative and qualitative aspects of a future discipline of sociology. 

The Caves of Steel

Asimov's The Caves of Steel is a somewhat predictable murder mystery set in a future overpopulated Earth. The New York City of this novel is one of many Cities, vast urban expanses where most of humanity lives entirely regimented and strictly controlled lives in order to centralize production and consumption. The overpopulated Earth has created a new reigning ideology (civism) after a disastrous war with the Spacers, the descendants of human colonists who live on other planets. Unlike our protagonist Elijah Baley and the people of Earth, the Spacers live in underpopulated societies which protect individualism. However, the future of the human race is imperiled by the fragility of the overpopulated Earth, whose political and economic systems could collapse at any moment. Like the human homeworld, the colonies of the Spacers are seen as too stable and lacking the kinds of social cohesion and desire to expand colonization of the Galaxy. 

However, a fusion of the two types of human civilization, along with robot technology and labor (represented by C/Fe, a union of carbon and iron to symbolize human and robot society) could ensure the fate of humanity by expanding colonization through Earth emigration and issuing new social formations that combine elements of the corporate social bonds and solidarity of Earth with robots and pioneer spirit of the Spacers. Unfortunately for the long-held dreams of some Spacers, the murder of a prominent Spacer threatens this future. A human detective who shares the Earthmen's disdain for robots finds himself forced to solve the crime with the aid of an advanced (and humanoid) robot detective, Daneel Olivaw. The case takes our heroes across the vast sprawl of the City, its discontented Earthmen, the conspiracies of Medievalists (those who are calling for a return to the soil and ways of life that are closer to the 20th century than the dystopic future), and the prejudices and beliefs of Baley himself. 

While the ultimate mystery of who killed Dr. Sarton is, after a few plot twists, somewhat predictable, the tale of this overpopulated New York and the problematic fate of humanity reminds us at the blog of the then-current Cold War. The conflict between Spacers and Earthlings and their divergent ideologies almost sounds like Cold War conflicts between the US and the USSR. That a possible solution to the great problems of modernity could be found in a synthesis of the two civilizations may have appealed to writers like Asimov, who, as a rationalist, may have seen the path forward with both the embrace of reason, technology, and communalist aspirations, and a binding ethical vision. That could explain the numerous references to the Bible throughout the text, especially Elijah, Jezebel, and Jesus Christ.

The High Crusade

Anderson's The High Crusade is a compelling, readable, and hilarious romp in which 14th century Englishmen encounter an alien race, hijack one of their ships, and eventually defeat their galactic empire. Perhaps implausibly, medieval weapons, tactics, siege warfare, and hand-to-hand fighting give them an edge against the more advanced Wersgorix, who possess space ships, nuclear bombs, and other amenities of advanced civilizations. 

This short novel is endlessly entertaining as Sir Roger leads the English crusaders against aliens with guile, charisma, and exaggerated threats of Earth's military prowess. Somehow, against all the odds, he successfully forms an alliance with the other star-faring aliens and establishes English supremacy in a feudal political system across the former Wersgorix Empire. The novel succeeds so well because it is essentially the manuscript of Brother Parvis, a friar whose writing style and language almost really reads like something written by a 14th century English friar. The use of archaic English, references to medieval theology and philosophy, and the language and moods of Sir Roger, Owain, and others really does convince the reader these are feudal lords and knights. 

For such a silly novel, it is very entertaining and points to the possible problems of political overcentralization in a galactic administration, not to mention the fact that technology alone will not save a civilization. A strong, charismatic leader whose decentralized political system allows for local leaders and fealty successfully overthrows an empire. In a short story sequel of sorts, which is heavily based on Arthurian legends and the Holy Grail, we see how the English have spread Christianity and their culture across their new kingdom, led by Roger, and incorporated various alien races into their society. Surprisingly, Anderson never did write another novel set in the same universe, although one exploring relations between Earth and the descendants of these English adventurers. 

The Currents of Space

The Currents of Space is, like the previous entry in the Empire series, a fun 1950s sci-fi romp through interstellar intrigue, colonialism in space, and adrenaline-packed adventures. Set mostly on the Galaxy's only planet capable of producing the valuable resource kyrt, the story appears to develop the theme of colonial exploitation hinted at in The Stars, Like Dust. Indeed, unlike the model of the Mongol empire in the previous novel, the exploitation of the "native" Florinians by the Sarkites seems to recall the more ruthless and modern colonial relationships of European imperialism or apartheid South Africa (modern industrial exploitation combined with strict segregation of Sarkite "Squires" and Florinian "native" workers or civil servants).

In fact, the "racial" element does arise in this novel, although the native Florinians are described as "white" with lighter-colored hair instead of the olive-complexioned Sarkites. The color analogy is brought to to fore by the "black" character Selim Junz, whose Libairian homeland recalls their origins as dark-skinned peoples fleeing racial conflict in the distant past. Junz, recalling this ancient history of anti-black racism, feels a deep sympathy for the oppressed Florinians who occupy the other extreme of human color variation. The strict regimentation of "native" workers in the mills, the cultivation of a "native" bureaucracy that is inculcated to think itself superior to the other "natives," and the startling differences in quality of life and amenities between the Sarkite Upper City and the "native" Lower City 

Moving on from the themes of colonialism, The Currents of Space also highlights an important episode in the pre-Galactic Empire of the Foundation series. Trantor is the seat of the dominant power, but lacks complete control of the Galaxy. The question of kyrt and preventing a Galactic war between the Trantorian Empire and the non-affiliated planets such as Sark is of the utmost importance to Abel, the official envoy of Trantor. At the center of it all lies Rik, the victim of a psycho-probe that destroyed his memories after he unveiled the upcoming calamity that will strike Florina. Along the twists and currents of this sometimes zany novel, we learn how Trantor's expansion involved far more than simple imperial expansion through military conquest. 

Instead, like Abel envisions, the dream of Galaxy-wide rule by a single entity, capable of ushering universalist laws and standards (the like of which would end Sarkite colonial exploitation of Florinians) can gradually resolve differences among the various segments of humanity throughout the stars. Of course, Trantor's representative has to be forced into this position by events beyond his (and Sarkite) control. Clearly, the model of the Roman Empire and the US inspired Asimov's Galactic Empire and the ecumenical dream of restoring unity to the myriad descendants of Earth. Unlike the US Constitution's influence on the dream of a free Nebular Kingdoms in the last installment, the reader here is gifted with a view to the future Galactic Empire.