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3.51 AVERAGE
3.51 AVERAGE
South African speculative fiction. This is similar in both subject and format to books like [b:The Dervish House|6993091|The Dervish House|Ian McDonald|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1257600283s/6993091.jpg|7235789] and [b:The Windup Girl|6597651|The Windup Girl|Paolo Bacigalupi|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1278940608s/6597651.jpg|6791425] -- nearfuture soft scifi, half a dozen characters living separate lives a major city in the developing world, whose stories slowly start to intertwine. This is a much better execution, though. Normally I'm not a fan of books that switch characters regularly; I find it hard to get momentum and irritated when it switches and I have to reorient myself. This did it well, though, with pretty much equally gripping storylines and characters and engaging plot twists. Lots of interesting interactions between megacorporations and advertising and state control and civil liberties and poverty and technology.
Corporations are legally people—how long before they become nation-states? Some of them own islands, or indeed, virtually entire countries. I’m not as pessimistic as some about our short-term survival odds in the coming century. Sure, we have problems, but we’ll muddle through—somehow. Yet if I had to pick which chilling dystopian vision of the future I feel is most likely, the corporations-own-us-all future is the one I’d choose. It’s feudalism all over again, baby—party like it’s 1214. Corporations wield increasing influence over our democratic processes. Governments, either through fear of losing big donors come election time or simple greed and corruption, are increasingly unwilling to stand up to behaviours and business practices that are counterproductive and dangerous in the long run. And so it goes.
This train of thought has become more prominent of late thanks to protests like the Occupy Wall Street movement. And I’m glad for it, because there’s a sense of complacency in some developed countries. We evangelize democracy in Africa, the Middle East, and southeast Asia … but when it comes to our own internal affairs, we turn a blind eye to the abuses of power politicians and corporations commit. We are unwilling to admit that ours is a hollow democracy, a frayed and decaying process. We have freedoms—but for how long?
One striking feature of Moxyland is that, while it picks up the corporate dystopian visions of its cyberpunk predecessors, it does so not in Canada, or the United States, or the UK, or even Japan. No, it’s set in South Africa. Its characters are artists and criminals, freelance bloggers and refugees, corporate citizens and self-proclaimed freedom fighters. The people in this book aren’t politicians, CEOs, or even protestors in the usual sense. And this isn’t about Wall Street, the 2008 meltdown, corporate lobbies on Capitol Hill, or News of the World. Lauren Beukes challenges us to look up from our Westernized tunnel vision of the world’s problems and consider that other countries are struggling with the same issues.
It’s notable that the only manifestation of governance we see in Moxyland is the police service. (And it isn’t clear whether they are publicly-run or outsourced to a corporate outfit.) The corporations are, if not in principle, then in practice the law. One of my favourite parts of the book happens early on, when Lerato is detained going through customs because someone reported her suspicious cough. She waves her shiny corporate ID and receives obsequious apologies, and as she walks away, she mutters that corporations should just go ahead and issue passports, make it official. After all, Lerato’s employer already assigns her roommate and pre-approves her dating pool. Why not go ahead and become a full citizen of the corporation?
Instead of the big picture, bird’s eye view of the world, Beukes takes onto the streets. We see everything from the level of the pawns of this game. Toby is the observer, somewhat above everything—but also inextricably involved, much to his dismay. Tendeka is the hot-headed idealist whose partner tries, very hard, to provide the balanced opinions he needs. Kendra is the artist in love with her anachronisms, using them to take refuge from a nihilistic worldview that threatens to swallow her up. And Lerato is the antihero, the corporate sympathizer—at least she admits she’s biased—who nevertheless has the kind of console cowboy flair that makes her an attractive character.
Truth be told, there is little to like about any of these characters. I can sympathize with their problems but not with their attitudes. Some of them, like Toby and, to some extent, Lerato, are fatalistic in their approach to the world: life sucks, corporations rule, deal with it. They do what they can to get their thrills. Kendra, on the other hand, is spinning her wheels. She’s trapped in a dead-end relationship and allows herself to get talked into a sponsorship deal she never really wanted. Her story, in my opinion, is the most tragic of all, and if any of the characters were my favourite, it would be her.
Its characters might not be likable, but they are diverse and richly portrayed. Like her world, Beukes spends considerable effort developing perspectives to deliver her story. Unfortunately, Moxyland falters in its execution of plot. It demonstrates that plot is more than a sequence of events; in this book, one thing happens after another, but there’s a distinct lack of any sense of causality. These characters seem to go stumbling around from one problem to the next with little motivation—they react, rather than act. The grand conspiracy at the end, while clever, is somewhat trite and not all that satisfying.
Moxyland is pregnant with possibility, but it never quite manages to realize much. I like its depiction of the corporate dystopia. Beukes’ extrapolation of current technologies—and how we use them—is modest in a very effective way. But a setting can only take a story so far, and Moxyland is adrift without a plot. Good books can be entertaining or thought-provoking—great books have to be both.
This train of thought has become more prominent of late thanks to protests like the Occupy Wall Street movement. And I’m glad for it, because there’s a sense of complacency in some developed countries. We evangelize democracy in Africa, the Middle East, and southeast Asia … but when it comes to our own internal affairs, we turn a blind eye to the abuses of power politicians and corporations commit. We are unwilling to admit that ours is a hollow democracy, a frayed and decaying process. We have freedoms—but for how long?
One striking feature of Moxyland is that, while it picks up the corporate dystopian visions of its cyberpunk predecessors, it does so not in Canada, or the United States, or the UK, or even Japan. No, it’s set in South Africa. Its characters are artists and criminals, freelance bloggers and refugees, corporate citizens and self-proclaimed freedom fighters. The people in this book aren’t politicians, CEOs, or even protestors in the usual sense. And this isn’t about Wall Street, the 2008 meltdown, corporate lobbies on Capitol Hill, or News of the World. Lauren Beukes challenges us to look up from our Westernized tunnel vision of the world’s problems and consider that other countries are struggling with the same issues.
It’s notable that the only manifestation of governance we see in Moxyland is the police service. (And it isn’t clear whether they are publicly-run or outsourced to a corporate outfit.) The corporations are, if not in principle, then in practice the law. One of my favourite parts of the book happens early on, when Lerato is detained going through customs because someone reported her suspicious cough. She waves her shiny corporate ID and receives obsequious apologies, and as she walks away, she mutters that corporations should just go ahead and issue passports, make it official. After all, Lerato’s employer already assigns her roommate and pre-approves her dating pool. Why not go ahead and become a full citizen of the corporation?
Instead of the big picture, bird’s eye view of the world, Beukes takes onto the streets. We see everything from the level of the pawns of this game. Toby is the observer, somewhat above everything—but also inextricably involved, much to his dismay. Tendeka is the hot-headed idealist whose partner tries, very hard, to provide the balanced opinions he needs. Kendra is the artist in love with her anachronisms, using them to take refuge from a nihilistic worldview that threatens to swallow her up. And Lerato is the antihero, the corporate sympathizer—at least she admits she’s biased—who nevertheless has the kind of console cowboy flair that makes her an attractive character.
Truth be told, there is little to like about any of these characters. I can sympathize with their problems but not with their attitudes. Some of them, like Toby and, to some extent, Lerato, are fatalistic in their approach to the world: life sucks, corporations rule, deal with it. They do what they can to get their thrills. Kendra, on the other hand, is spinning her wheels. She’s trapped in a dead-end relationship and allows herself to get talked into a sponsorship deal she never really wanted. Her story, in my opinion, is the most tragic of all, and if any of the characters were my favourite, it would be her.
Its characters might not be likable, but they are diverse and richly portrayed. Like her world, Beukes spends considerable effort developing perspectives to deliver her story. Unfortunately, Moxyland falters in its execution of plot. It demonstrates that plot is more than a sequence of events; in this book, one thing happens after another, but there’s a distinct lack of any sense of causality. These characters seem to go stumbling around from one problem to the next with little motivation—they react, rather than act. The grand conspiracy at the end, while clever, is somewhat trite and not all that satisfying.
Moxyland is pregnant with possibility, but it never quite manages to realize much. I like its depiction of the corporate dystopia. Beukes’ extrapolation of current technologies—and how we use them—is modest in a very effective way. But a setting can only take a story so far, and Moxyland is adrift without a plot. Good books can be entertaining or thought-provoking—great books have to be both.
Full of jargon and a little tough to follow at the beginning. I couldn't really get into this story though the premise seems promising. I haven't finished this book yet and may give it another try once I'm through the rest of my "to read" list.
So many levels to this story
I spent the time in this book feeling disoriented while also spotting and leaning into ideas and concepts that seemed both possible, if not eventualities. This is a book that you plunge into an see where it takes you. I was pleasantly surprised by the layering of politics and pop culture, African specific memories and points of reference, and interesting characters. Well done!
I spent the time in this book feeling disoriented while also spotting and leaning into ideas and concepts that seemed both possible, if not eventualities. This is a book that you plunge into an see where it takes you. I was pleasantly surprised by the layering of politics and pop culture, African specific memories and points of reference, and interesting characters. Well done!
I ended up reading two of Beukes' books in fairly short order, but the first one last. They're not in a series, so that isn't the issue. What is is how assured her debut novel is. It really took my breath away, and the ending was so stunningly well-realized and dark as hell that it knocked me for a loop for a while.
Note: The rest of this review has been withheld due to the recent changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.
In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook
Note: The rest of this review has been withheld due to the recent changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.
In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook
This is a near-future cyberpunk-based dystopia set in South Africa where four people from disparate spheres of life are drawn together in a web of mystery and intrigue.
This was a free book that was in the con pack at Eastercon, and it's not one that I would have picked for myself. It's brutal, packs a punch and realistically disturbing. It postulates a society where having your phone locked as punishment means more than just not being able to make calls. The society is rigged so that public transport, money, access to your own home are done through your phone, and if the corporates and the government control that, they control your life. Our smartphones aren't there yet, but connect the phones to something like London's Oyster Card system, and you're getting pretty close.
What I felt was going a little OTT was the 'diffusers' - tasers built into the phones by law that can be activated remotely by the police with hardly any checks and balances, and the releasing of a deadly virus as crowd control - only the authorities have the antidote so if you don't want to die, you have to hand yourself in.
I didn't find any of the characters particularly sympathetic, from the obnoxious journalist/blogger off his head on drugs to the rigidly idealistic anti-capitalist, which meant there was no real entry point that made me care about the story, apart from it being a sick world that I really wouldn't want to live in.
Useful as a cautionary tale about the possible downsides to the heady mix of technology and corporate interests that makes up so much of modern life, but certainly not something I'll read again.
This was a free book that was in the con pack at Eastercon, and it's not one that I would have picked for myself. It's brutal, packs a punch and realistically disturbing. It postulates a society where having your phone locked as punishment means more than just not being able to make calls. The society is rigged so that public transport, money, access to your own home are done through your phone, and if the corporates and the government control that, they control your life. Our smartphones aren't there yet, but connect the phones to something like London's Oyster Card system, and you're getting pretty close.
What I felt was going a little OTT was the 'diffusers' - tasers built into the phones by law that can be activated remotely by the police with hardly any checks and balances, and the releasing of a deadly virus as crowd control - only the authorities have the antidote so if you don't want to die, you have to hand yourself in.
I didn't find any of the characters particularly sympathetic, from the obnoxious journalist/blogger off his head on drugs to the rigidly idealistic anti-capitalist, which meant there was no real entry point that made me care about the story, apart from it being a sick world that I really wouldn't want to live in.
Useful as a cautionary tale about the possible downsides to the heady mix of technology and corporate interests that makes up so much of modern life, but certainly not something I'll read again.
[a:Beukes'|426034|Lauren Beukes|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1355991431p2/426034.jpg] representation of Africa is always weirdly familiar. First with Moxyland and then with [b:Zoo City|7163862|Zoo City|Lauren Beukes|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1303632588s/7163862.jpg|7514703], the author talks about worlds in which the reader can see themselves in an oddly detached way; it doesn't matter whether the story takes place in a seedy fantasy land in which segregation is a major problem, or in an hypertechnological near-future in which disconnecting is tantamount to suicide, it's all vivid and rancid and palpable, right there in front of your eyes, you can smell it, you can feel it.
Every book written by this author is a baseball bat that slams into the mouth of your stomach, leaving you retching from the awful reality of the situation, how human the inhumane really is. I want more. I won't grow tired of these dark and beautiful realities anytime soon.
Every book written by this author is a baseball bat that slams into the mouth of your stomach, leaving you retching from the awful reality of the situation, how human the inhumane really is. I want more. I won't grow tired of these dark and beautiful realities anytime soon.
I don't know, I guess this was good. Great setting, great language, great concept. But telling the story through four characters, something I don't normally mind, actually meant that you only cared 25% about each person. I think this could have been amazing if the author picked one character and was more in-depth with/about them.
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Absolutely challenging and painful at times, but the way Lauren Beukes crafts the story and the realistic flaws of her characters left me clinging to the last few pages and desperate for more.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Addiction, Death, Violence