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3.8 AVERAGE
3.8 AVERAGE
I came to Vonda McIntyre’s Dreamsnake via a review of the book written by Ursula K. Le Guin and collected in her collection of essays called Words Are My Matter. In that lovingly written review, Le Guin bemoaned the fact that the book was out of print, and concluded, “Dreamsnake is a classic, and should be cherished as such.” So I went looking for a copy, and finding that our library system only carried a e-print of the book, I found one used on Ebay.
What a wonderful book! Le Guin sites it as an influence on her, and I can see that immediately, although, I would have said that the influence worked the other way, given what Le Guin had already written by 1978 when the book was published, or even 1973 when McIntyre published the short story “Of Mist, and Grass, and Sand,” which would become the first chapter of the novel. There is a sincerity and warmth to the characters and the world, an open honesty that never falls into tweeness or cloying sweetness. Such a stance is all the more surprising when we consider that the novel is a kind of post-apocalyptic work, set in a world devastated a long time ago by nuclear war, though by this point recovering from that damage. It is a hard world full of thoughtful people who are well-conceived.
One of the things I loved about the book, and noticed immediately, was the way that the conflicts originated from the dramatic situations rather than from quarreling between characters. Can Snake save young Stavin dying from a tumor? Can Jesse, paralyzed by a spinal injury, make it to Center? The characters are dealing with life and death and love, and emotions run high, but everyone treats everyone else with respect and integrity. There are a few notable and necessary exceptions, of course. I say necessary because cruelty and selfishness exist in the world, and it would feel unreal to have it absent from this one. McIntyre keeps those traits limited to a few individuals, and gives them their own set of reasons and motivations, understandable even if detestable. You don’t have characters using their emotional duress to attack and misunderstand each other. The emotional duress is instead socially navigated and embraced and encountered head on. It was too me, utterly refreshing, and beautifully moving.
The other thing that I loved and admired was McIntyre’s ease in envisioning and presenting a social world so much more functional than ours in many ways. The triadic relationships are presented with ease and without explanation. Merideth’s genderless identity is handled so deftly that I don’t know if I would have recognized it were it not for Le Guin’s review. Sex and childbirth are decoupled effortlessly in a way that makes sex this easy and beautiful act, a chance to connect and find comfort.
In her review, Le Guin made an observation that I think captures the spirit of the book so well that it is better to quote her than to steal her sentiment: “The writer Moe Bowstern gave me a slogan I cherish: ‘Subversion Through Friendliness.’ It looks silly till you think about it. It bears considerable thinking about. Subversion through terror, shock, pain is easy—instant gratification, as it were. Subversion through friendliness is paradoxical, slow-acting, and durable. And sneaky. A moral revolutionary, rewriting rules the rest of us were still following, McIntyre subverted us so skillfully and with such lack of self-promoting hoo-ha that we scarcely noticed. And thus she has seldom if ever received the feminist honors she is due, the credit owed her by writers to whom she showed the way.”
I am not the kind of reader that always hopes for sequels. I like a book to give me everything it has to give and then end beautifully. But I found myself wishing there was a whole slew of books set in this world with these characters. I can’t think of higher praise.
What a wonderful book! Le Guin sites it as an influence on her, and I can see that immediately, although, I would have said that the influence worked the other way, given what Le Guin had already written by 1978 when the book was published, or even 1973 when McIntyre published the short story “Of Mist, and Grass, and Sand,” which would become the first chapter of the novel. There is a sincerity and warmth to the characters and the world, an open honesty that never falls into tweeness or cloying sweetness. Such a stance is all the more surprising when we consider that the novel is a kind of post-apocalyptic work, set in a world devastated a long time ago by nuclear war, though by this point recovering from that damage. It is a hard world full of thoughtful people who are well-conceived.
One of the things I loved about the book, and noticed immediately, was the way that the conflicts originated from the dramatic situations rather than from quarreling between characters. Can Snake save young Stavin dying from a tumor? Can Jesse, paralyzed by a spinal injury, make it to Center? The characters are dealing with life and death and love, and emotions run high, but everyone treats everyone else with respect and integrity. There are a few notable and necessary exceptions, of course. I say necessary because cruelty and selfishness exist in the world, and it would feel unreal to have it absent from this one. McIntyre keeps those traits limited to a few individuals, and gives them their own set of reasons and motivations, understandable even if detestable. You don’t have characters using their emotional duress to attack and misunderstand each other. The emotional duress is instead socially navigated and embraced and encountered head on. It was too me, utterly refreshing, and beautifully moving.
The other thing that I loved and admired was McIntyre’s ease in envisioning and presenting a social world so much more functional than ours in many ways. The triadic relationships are presented with ease and without explanation. Merideth’s genderless identity is handled so deftly that I don’t know if I would have recognized it were it not for Le Guin’s review. Sex and childbirth are decoupled effortlessly in a way that makes sex this easy and beautiful act, a chance to connect and find comfort.
In her review, Le Guin made an observation that I think captures the spirit of the book so well that it is better to quote her than to steal her sentiment: “The writer Moe Bowstern gave me a slogan I cherish: ‘Subversion Through Friendliness.’ It looks silly till you think about it. It bears considerable thinking about. Subversion through terror, shock, pain is easy—instant gratification, as it were. Subversion through friendliness is paradoxical, slow-acting, and durable. And sneaky. A moral revolutionary, rewriting rules the rest of us were still following, McIntyre subverted us so skillfully and with such lack of self-promoting hoo-ha that we scarcely noticed. And thus she has seldom if ever received the feminist honors she is due, the credit owed her by writers to whom she showed the way.”
I am not the kind of reader that always hopes for sequels. I like a book to give me everything it has to give and then end beautifully. But I found myself wishing there was a whole slew of books set in this world with these characters. I can’t think of higher praise.
Science fiction is not my preferred genre, but as this was a Nebula winner, I gave it a try. The story was more straightforward than most of the books I've read for the 52 in 52 series. The characters are perhaps less well developed, and there is little flashback or play with time. This one can be read in one sitting.
At the same time, the second wave feminist influence is palpable. The main character is a strong (white) woman who heals by chemically modifying the venom of snakes. The story is a quest to recover a rare dreamsnake that is killed at the beginning of the novel. Over its course, the novel imagines a world in which sexual orientation is a fact of life, children are trained in how to experience sexual pleasure and not become pregnant when unwanted, and where women and men engage in all kinds of activity including science. There is a bit of a man riding in to the rescue at the end, but not before Snake, the protagonist, proves to be a more than adequate self-rescuing heroine.
A good romp, and worth getting engrossed.
At the same time, the second wave feminist influence is palpable. The main character is a strong (white) woman who heals by chemically modifying the venom of snakes. The story is a quest to recover a rare dreamsnake that is killed at the beginning of the novel. Over its course, the novel imagines a world in which sexual orientation is a fact of life, children are trained in how to experience sexual pleasure and not become pregnant when unwanted, and where women and men engage in all kinds of activity including science. There is a bit of a man riding in to the rescue at the end, but not before Snake, the protagonist, proves to be a more than adequate self-rescuing heroine.
A good romp, and worth getting engrossed.
A 3,5 roundedup to a four.
I liked a lot of things about this book, especially the worldbuilding and the different groups of people Snake encounters. I especially liked the sense of equality and respect running through (most of) those encounters. It feels like that is rare in novels with a post-apocalyptic setting.
But while I felt for some of the characters, the book never touched or moved me deeply, so it never reached the point that made me love this book unconditionally.
I liked a lot of things about this book, especially the worldbuilding and the different groups of people Snake encounters. I especially liked the sense of equality and respect running through (most of) those encounters. It feels like that is rare in novels with a post-apocalyptic setting.
But while I felt for some of the characters, the book never touched or moved me deeply, so it never reached the point that made me love this book unconditionally.
A healer travels through an inhospitable desert with her snakes, genetically engineered so that their venom can be used as medicine. Dreamsnake is kind but ungentle. Its protagonists are sympathetic and well-drawn, its world compelling and cruel, and the two mesh well: the focus is not on how the world came to be, but how individuals attempt to survive, and heal, within it, rich with personal struggles and daily details. That leaves many mysteries about the setting unresolved, which isn't a drawback but does (almost for the first time) make me want to read other books in the same setting. The human element can be slipshod--antagonists are particularly underwhelming--but the central trio is accessible and their victories hard won, enough even that the abrupt ending is satisfying. This isn't a perfect book but it's lovely, small and private and heartfelt; I adored it, and will read more from the author.
The world she built was really cool but the ending felt abrubt. I listened to the audio book and the narrator was amazing.
My one-word review of this book would be "frustrating". There are a lot of good ideas in this book but they don't seem very well developed. Some of that may be a side-effect of having expanded a short-story into a novel. Much of the middle part felt like padding. A lot of people complement the world building but even that I found incomplete. The names, in particular, drove me to distraction. Some were conventional, modern names like Melissa and Gabriel. Some were just improper nouns with capital letter (Snake and North). And some were made-up name (Grun and Ras). This wouldn't bug me but there was absolutely no logic to who had what kind of name. It just seemed symbolic of the novel's imcompletness to me. Which is a shame because there is a lot good ideas in this book--I wouldn't mind going back to the world, with different characters and a better-planned story.
I agree that there is something about this book that feels YA but I cannot put my finger on it. It may be that it feels a lot like some of those dreadfully depressing YA books that got foisted on us in middle school, I guess because they decided that we weren't ready for real literature or because it won some kind of award. Or they wanted us to read something "contemporary". (Though I must say most of them were not as interesting as "Dreamsnake".)
A lot of the reviewers here comment that Snake is a Mary-Sue, or maybe more accurately an author insert. I have to disagree. I don't think Snake is unlikeable because McIntyre is trying to hard to make her perfect or universally liked. I think Snake is just plain unlikeable. She is over-bearing and rather self-pitying. I didn't care for her at all or care much about her. This may actually be the biggest flaw in the book and certainly dragged it down a star for me.
I agree that there is something about this book that feels YA but I cannot put my finger on it. It may be that it feels a lot like some of those dreadfully depressing YA books that got foisted on us in middle school, I guess because they decided that we weren't ready for real literature or because it won some kind of award. Or they wanted us to read something "contemporary". (Though I must say most of them were not as interesting as "Dreamsnake".)
A lot of the reviewers here comment that Snake is a Mary-Sue, or maybe more accurately an author insert. I have to disagree. I don't think Snake is unlikeable because McIntyre is trying to hard to make her perfect or universally liked. I think Snake is just plain unlikeable. She is over-bearing and rather self-pitying. I didn't care for her at all or care much about her. This may actually be the biggest flaw in the book and certainly dragged it down a star for me.
adventurous
emotional
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
adventurous
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes