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A review by elanna76
Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky
4.0
Boy did one love this novel!
Solid classy sci-fi exploring deep philosophical questions: what does it mean to be sentient? What would a non-mammal culture look like? Is there a chance for inter-species/cultural communication and, subsequently, collaboration? Or are we doomed to war and self-extinction?
On one side, and for half of the book chapters, humanity tries first to expand to new words thanks to advanced technology in a non-specified future, then to survive a series of spectacular fuck-ups without annihilating themselves completely.
Weaved around the humanity chapters, a new sentient species strives to build a culture starting from human experiments in dna manipulation. Featuring: giant spiders, ant invasions, and Portal's computer on steroids. And here things get quite interesting.
As endearing - albeit with the slightest tinge of stereotype - as the human protagonists are, what makes one listen to this audiobook into the small hours of the night is the fact that Adrian Tchaikovsky manages to bring one inside the mentality of non-mammalian sentient species to the point that you, well, root for the spiders. This is no small feat. As a first-hour aracnophobe, to get to the point where one looks at videos about spiders with the same rush of affection and nostalgia usually reserved for Brent Spiner's appearances at Start Trek conventions, well, is quite THE feat.
And indeed, there is something Star Trek-ish in the novel's philosophy, but no more of it: spoiling the plot would be a crime against humanity.
Indeed, the plot is as solid as it could be, when one temporarily suspends disbelief and accepts technology and characters for what they are: elements of a symphony of events and actors in an ecosystem (a very lax one, spanning time and space more largely than one would expect) blessed with the beauty that comes from complexity. Our writer studied zoology and psychology, and one closes the book with a certain gladness that he did, as evidently all this knowledge was put at work.
He is also a big fan of RPGs. Happily, he didn't fall victim of any of the nerdy-role-player-turned-writer's classical shortcomings - egomania, poor style, Manicheism, shallowness, inferiority complex, covert (?) misogyny etc. - that plague many an attempt at sci-fi and fantasy reads from such authors in one's adult life, to the point that one refrains from sci-fi or fantasy sagas as from, coherently, the Plague. On the contrary, the best gift of this novel is a deep empathy and sympathy for all its characters, human and not.
And let's not forget the intellectual challenge to all we know about how the cosmos should be well ordained in intelligent species (us, the aliens, or what-not) and the un-sentient, inanimate sub-stratum, aka the cosmic wallpaper: animals, plants, fungi, even machines ignore the cue to stay still and malleable and take the centre stage, finally putting humanity in their place: an actor in a crew, rather than the prima donna under the spotlight. The spotlight itself shifts towards different questions: which values guide the choices of non-mammalian cultures, with the caveat that a common dna recombination made them gregarious? (here, momentary suspension of disbelief!); and, how do we, humans, even find the structures to imagine such alien points of view? How do different, alien, un-connected species communicate between each other when the common ground is so thin? What is the meaning of individuality when experiences and subjectivity can be transmitted and replicated? This is the ultimate gift the novel leaves one with, and there must be something going on in one's brain about this challenge to anthropocentrism, as the parallel reading to the second novel in the saga ([b:Children of Ruin|40376072|Children of Ruin (Children of Time, #2)|Adrian Tchaikovsky|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1548701599l/40376072._SX50_.jpg|62663185]) is [b:Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures|52668915|Entangled Life How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures|Merlin Sheldrake|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1575341220l/52668915._SX50_SY75_.jpg|73100236].
Now, Children of Ruin pushes the boundaries of sentience and communication, and the very boundaries of individuality, a little bit farther, and one suspects that further wonders are ahead as the listening proceeds; we'll see. What is astounding is that much of the spirit of the novels also permeates the popularisation book about fungal life: the way in which fungal mycelium is described as an exploration process rather than a static structure of the fungus is related to the way an American Native language describes features of the environment as verbs ("it's hilling on the east, it's rivering on the north"...), challenging the very eurocentric idea that Lynneus' classification be apt to describe more than European attitudes towards their place is nature; the way in which fungi interact with plants and animal raises spine-tingling, delicious questions about what makes us so sure of our individuality, and about boundaries between beings and their functions, all across nature. You see? It's a Zeitgeist, and all titles in this review piece together its fragments.
One is slightly jealous of anyone who still has to discover the rabbit hole, and very curious about any comment from people with more knowledge about the topics.
Solid classy sci-fi exploring deep philosophical questions: what does it mean to be sentient? What would a non-mammal culture look like? Is there a chance for inter-species/cultural communication and, subsequently, collaboration? Or are we doomed to war and self-extinction?
On one side, and for half of the book chapters, humanity tries first to expand to new words thanks to advanced technology in a non-specified future, then to survive a series of spectacular fuck-ups without annihilating themselves completely.
Weaved around the humanity chapters, a new sentient species strives to build a culture starting from human experiments in dna manipulation. Featuring: giant spiders, ant invasions, and Portal's computer on steroids. And here things get quite interesting.
As endearing - albeit with the slightest tinge of stereotype - as the human protagonists are, what makes one listen to this audiobook into the small hours of the night is the fact that Adrian Tchaikovsky manages to bring one inside the mentality of non-mammalian sentient species to the point that you, well, root for the spiders. This is no small feat. As a first-hour aracnophobe, to get to the point where one looks at videos about spiders with the same rush of affection and nostalgia usually reserved for Brent Spiner's appearances at Start Trek conventions, well, is quite THE feat.
And indeed, there is something Star Trek-ish in the novel's philosophy, but no more of it: spoiling the plot would be a crime against humanity.
Indeed, the plot is as solid as it could be, when one temporarily suspends disbelief and accepts technology and characters for what they are: elements of a symphony of events and actors in an ecosystem (a very lax one, spanning time and space more largely than one would expect) blessed with the beauty that comes from complexity. Our writer studied zoology and psychology, and one closes the book with a certain gladness that he did, as evidently all this knowledge was put at work.
He is also a big fan of RPGs. Happily, he didn't fall victim of any of the nerdy-role-player-turned-writer's classical shortcomings - egomania, poor style, Manicheism, shallowness, inferiority complex, covert (?) misogyny etc. - that plague many an attempt at sci-fi and fantasy reads from such authors in one's adult life, to the point that one refrains from sci-fi or fantasy sagas as from, coherently, the Plague. On the contrary, the best gift of this novel is a deep empathy and sympathy for all its characters, human and not.
And let's not forget the intellectual challenge to all we know about how the cosmos should be well ordained in intelligent species (us, the aliens, or what-not) and the un-sentient, inanimate sub-stratum, aka the cosmic wallpaper: animals, plants, fungi, even machines ignore the cue to stay still and malleable and take the centre stage, finally putting humanity in their place: an actor in a crew, rather than the prima donna under the spotlight. The spotlight itself shifts towards different questions: which values guide the choices of non-mammalian cultures, with the caveat that a common dna recombination made them gregarious? (here, momentary suspension of disbelief!); and, how do we, humans, even find the structures to imagine such alien points of view? How do different, alien, un-connected species communicate between each other when the common ground is so thin? What is the meaning of individuality when experiences and subjectivity can be transmitted and replicated? This is the ultimate gift the novel leaves one with, and there must be something going on in one's brain about this challenge to anthropocentrism, as the parallel reading to the second novel in the saga ([b:Children of Ruin|40376072|Children of Ruin (Children of Time, #2)|Adrian Tchaikovsky|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1548701599l/40376072._SX50_.jpg|62663185]) is [b:Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures|52668915|Entangled Life How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures|Merlin Sheldrake|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1575341220l/52668915._SX50_SY75_.jpg|73100236].
Now, Children of Ruin pushes the boundaries of sentience and communication, and the very boundaries of individuality, a little bit farther, and one suspects that further wonders are ahead as the listening proceeds; we'll see. What is astounding is that much of the spirit of the novels also permeates the popularisation book about fungal life: the way in which fungal mycelium is described as an exploration process rather than a static structure of the fungus is related to the way an American Native language describes features of the environment as verbs ("it's hilling on the east, it's rivering on the north"...), challenging the very eurocentric idea that Lynneus' classification be apt to describe more than European attitudes towards their place is nature; the way in which fungi interact with plants and animal raises spine-tingling, delicious questions about what makes us so sure of our individuality, and about boundaries between beings and their functions, all across nature. You see? It's a Zeitgeist, and all titles in this review piece together its fragments.
One is slightly jealous of anyone who still has to discover the rabbit hole, and very curious about any comment from people with more knowledge about the topics.