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beaconatnight's reviews
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N or M? by Agatha Christie
4.0
I love the idea of a spy novel, though I don't think I've ever read one. I also haven't read any of the novels that feature Tommy and Tuppence in their younger years. Actually, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Mrs. McGinty’s Dead, and And Then There Were None are the only Agatha Christie novels I had read so far. There was something about the setup of N or M? that intrigued me, though.
It's 1940 and the Blitzkrieg is taking place. Tommy and Tuppence Beresford are a middle-aged couple who feel terribly useless. They are considered too old to take their part in British war efforts and they are unable to find other occupation. Then one day Tommy is offered a job by what turns out to be a secret agent (a man named Grant).
Tommy and Tuppence used to be undercover agents themselves, and now Tommy is asked to become one again. German spies infiltrated British Intelligence. His job is to identify these members of the "fifth column". So far, they only have a note of what his predecessor said before his death: "N or M. Song Susie". The Secret Service assumes that this actually refers to the seaside hotel called Sans Souci. It's there that Tommy is sent to look for the spies. Of course, when he arrives there he finds that his wife already beat him to it.
As is so often the case, the group of people they find at the hotel are hardly the ones you would expect to be spies. With the exception of one, who so obviously qualifies that it's hardly to be expected that he will eventually be the one they had been looking for. The German refuge Carl von Deinim works in Britain as a chemistry researcher. Apart from him, there is a Major Bletchley, Mrs. Sprot (with her baby girl Betty), Miss Minton (who spends her days knitting), the colossal Irish woman Mrs. O'Rourke, the grumpy Mr. Cayley with his obsequious wife, and hotel-owner Mrs. Perenna with her daughter Sheila. Apart from that, a suspicious Polish lady shows up.
I loved how they appear at the scene assuming undercover identities. He poses as Mr. Meadowes, a widower who fought during the war. She turns up as Patricia Blenkensop, who has three sons in the army and who had two husbands before. Now she is after Mr. Meadowes. They smartly use their disguises to manipulate the people around them, trying to bring the supposed spies to make mistakes and to reveal themselves. For instance, Tuppence publicly talks about how she has this secret code that she and her fictional son use to talk about secret details of the war. Soon thereafter, someone sneaked into her room and read some letter (no finger prints... not even her own!).
During their investigation, they occasionally hesitate at how to properly interpret what they sensually perceive. For instance, is it just her or did Carl von Deinim sound as if he learned his lines by heart when he was talking about his family? Is she just imagining things or is Mrs. Perenna looking at the group with scorn? Is Mrs. O'Rourke just particularly perceptive or is she on the alert? Naturally, they also pick up quite a few red herrings before they get on the right track.
In the beginning, it's rather cozy. I liked the very manly afternoons of Tommy, Major Bletchley, and later a Commander Haydock. There is something effortlessly cool about these old men. I absolutely loved the twist about Haydock. His plan was just brilliant: He over and over and over tells everyone about how he acquired Smugglers' Rest after he identified the former owner as a German spy. As he himself admits, the place is perfect for communication and for secret meetings. As it turns out, the Germans consciously send one poor bastard to be debunked by Haydock - one of their own, now free to pursue the very same activities at the very same place.
Towards the end, it appropriately builds up the tension, though. The events pick up pace when the little baby is kidnapped. They receive a letter that the kidnappers would kill the child if they call the police. I didn't expect so much action as in the high-speed pursuit. You could scream when they come across this incredibly verbose fellow. They corner the kidnapper at the edge of a cliff. Commander Haydock is unable to shoot - then a shit is fired. Oh, you really hold your breath!
The climax offers everything you would want from the finale of a spy story. The Commander turns out to he more like a classic James Bond villain in his grandeur. Tommy is on to him. His slapstick performance is seriously hilarious. He slips on a dessert that was still lying on the ground - and finds wires! Now it's clear, the English sailor is in fact N. Will he be able to escape? Will he be able to trick him into thinking he is just a daft Englishman who doesn't get what is going on? Eventually, he snores out an SOS, as loud as he can, so that his old friend Albert is able to find him. Yeah, that really happened.
Meanwhile, the Secret Service asks Tuppence to accept a very dangerous mission. A German intruder landed with a parachute, dressed as a nurse. They sidelined her and now Tuppence is asked to take her place and to meet with her liaison at an agreed meeting place. Although I thought the subplot with the daughter's boyfriend was incredibly silly and forced, the eventual confrontation with the villain was great.
Oh yeah, they also discover that Mrs Sprot is M. Tuppence wondered why anyone would kidnap a baby. Suddenly, the scales fell from her eyes. The crucial piece of the puzzle is discovered when she realizes that Carl used his chemical expertise to produce invisible ink stored in his shoelaces. The baby found out and that's why it needed to disappear. And her battered picture book, that was part of the resolution as well.
So, full of espionage atmosphere, cozy charm, double plays, and a great climax, I very much enjoyed my first excursion into the literary spy genre. I really didn't expect this to be so much like a James Bond movie. I need more of this!
Rating: 4/5
It's 1940 and the Blitzkrieg is taking place. Tommy and Tuppence Beresford are a middle-aged couple who feel terribly useless. They are considered too old to take their part in British war efforts and they are unable to find other occupation. Then one day Tommy is offered a job by what turns out to be a secret agent (a man named Grant).
Tommy and Tuppence used to be undercover agents themselves, and now Tommy is asked to become one again. German spies infiltrated British Intelligence. His job is to identify these members of the "fifth column". So far, they only have a note of what his predecessor said before his death: "N or M. Song Susie". The Secret Service assumes that this actually refers to the seaside hotel called Sans Souci. It's there that Tommy is sent to look for the spies. Of course, when he arrives there he finds that his wife already beat him to it.
As is so often the case, the group of people they find at the hotel are hardly the ones you would expect to be spies. With the exception of one, who so obviously qualifies that it's hardly to be expected that he will eventually be the one they had been looking for. The German refuge Carl von Deinim works in Britain as a chemistry researcher. Apart from him, there is a Major Bletchley, Mrs. Sprot (with her baby girl Betty), Miss Minton (who spends her days knitting), the colossal Irish woman Mrs. O'Rourke, the grumpy Mr. Cayley with his obsequious wife, and hotel-owner Mrs. Perenna with her daughter Sheila. Apart from that, a suspicious Polish lady shows up.
I loved how they appear at the scene assuming undercover identities. He poses as Mr. Meadowes, a widower who fought during the war. She turns up as Patricia Blenkensop, who has three sons in the army and who had two husbands before. Now she is after Mr. Meadowes. They smartly use their disguises to manipulate the people around them, trying to bring the supposed spies to make mistakes and to reveal themselves. For instance, Tuppence publicly talks about how she has this secret code that she and her fictional son use to talk about secret details of the war. Soon thereafter, someone sneaked into her room and read some letter (no finger prints... not even her own!).
During their investigation, they occasionally hesitate at how to properly interpret what they sensually perceive. For instance, is it just her or did Carl von Deinim sound as if he learned his lines by heart when he was talking about his family? Is she just imagining things or is Mrs. Perenna looking at the group with scorn? Is Mrs. O'Rourke just particularly perceptive or is she on the alert? Naturally, they also pick up quite a few red herrings before they get on the right track.
In the beginning, it's rather cozy. I liked the very manly afternoons of Tommy, Major Bletchley, and later a Commander Haydock. There is something effortlessly cool about these old men. I absolutely loved the twist about Haydock. His plan was just brilliant: He over and over and over tells everyone about how he acquired Smugglers' Rest after he identified the former owner as a German spy. As he himself admits, the place is perfect for communication and for secret meetings. As it turns out, the Germans consciously send one poor bastard to be debunked by Haydock - one of their own, now free to pursue the very same activities at the very same place.
Towards the end, it appropriately builds up the tension, though. The events pick up pace when the little baby is kidnapped. They receive a letter that the kidnappers would kill the child if they call the police. I didn't expect so much action as in the high-speed pursuit. You could scream when they come across this incredibly verbose fellow. They corner the kidnapper at the edge of a cliff. Commander Haydock is unable to shoot - then a shit is fired. Oh, you really hold your breath!
The climax offers everything you would want from the finale of a spy story. The Commander turns out to he more like a classic James Bond villain in his grandeur. Tommy is on to him. His slapstick performance is seriously hilarious. He slips on a dessert that was still lying on the ground - and finds wires! Now it's clear, the English sailor is in fact N. Will he be able to escape? Will he be able to trick him into thinking he is just a daft Englishman who doesn't get what is going on? Eventually, he snores out an SOS, as loud as he can, so that his old friend Albert is able to find him. Yeah, that really happened.
Meanwhile, the Secret Service asks Tuppence to accept a very dangerous mission. A German intruder landed with a parachute, dressed as a nurse. They sidelined her and now Tuppence is asked to take her place and to meet with her liaison at an agreed meeting place. Although I thought the subplot with the daughter's boyfriend was incredibly silly and forced, the eventual confrontation with the villain was great.
Oh yeah, they also discover that Mrs Sprot is M. Tuppence wondered why anyone would kidnap a baby. Suddenly, the scales fell from her eyes. The crucial piece of the puzzle is discovered when she realizes that Carl used his chemical expertise to produce invisible ink stored in his shoelaces. The baby found out and that's why it needed to disappear. And her battered picture book, that was part of the resolution as well.
So, full of espionage atmosphere, cozy charm, double plays, and a great climax, I very much enjoyed my first excursion into the literary spy genre. I really didn't expect this to be so much like a James Bond movie. I need more of this!
Rating: 4/5
Saga of the Swamp Thing by Alan Moore
5.0
Swamp Thing is possibly my favorite comic. Not necessarily this first volume, but the series as a whole (or Alan Moore's run on it). At times it's terrifying, then again it's heartwarming. It's melancholic and sad, then it has your blood pumping. That the stories are able to convey the emotions so impactfully is in no small part due to the incredible art of John Totleben and Steve Bissette. It looks awesome throughout, but then again there are these special pages - breathtaking!
Swamp Thing was originally created by Len Wein with artwork by Bernie Wrightson. Wrightson left after ten issues and soon thereafter, Wein dropped out, too. After a couple of other guys took over, the first volume eventually came to an end. With the release of Wes Craven's movie adaptation, DC (of course) decided to resurrect the character. The first 19 issues of volume 2 were written by Martin Pasko (who ten years later became one of the head writers for Batman: The Animated Series).
To be honest, I really don't know anything about them. As the title says, when Alan Moore took over for issue 20, he had to tie up some lose ends before getting his own story lines underway. His stories revolve around themes of identity, belonging, harmony of flora and fauna, trauma, and fear. They are true horror tales that are able to move you on other levels, too. As often with short stories, I felt like going through the stories one by one.
Chapter One: Loose Ends (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #20, January 1984)
Presumably, the big baddie of the earlier issues had been a guy called Arcane. In the beginning of # 20, his air ship in the mountains and the Swamp Thing goes there to look for him. As he was correctly assuming, his nemesis is dead.
I loved the monologue on these early pages. The Swamp Thing acknowledges the importance of Arcane to his own life (how they defined each other). "You were my opposite. I had my humanity... taken away from me. I've been trying to claw it back. You started out human... and threw it all away. You did it deliberately." He also talks about how they are "things of the shadow" and how the world used to be full of shadows (and monsters). Now, there doesn't really seem to be space left for him in the world.
We are also (re-)introduced to a woman called Abby (Abigail Cable, formerly Arcane, the niece of the late foe) and her husband, Matt Cable. Matt has a drinking problem and he seems to have powers to conjure up monsters (powers that he doesn't have under control).
The mysterious General Sutherland (who unlike Arcane doesn't go back to the very beginning of the series, but only first appeared in Vol. 2) is after them. Eventually, his soldiers attack. I loved the pictorial language here, with the Swamp Thing trapped in the woods, around him the "belt of blind whiteness" and the unreachable shadows behind. Showing him being the target of the sniper-scope was delightfully 80s. Great artwork how the straight lines are piercing him and how he then goes down.
Chapter Two: The Anatomy Lesson (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #21, February 1984)
Issue 21 gives a very interesting spin on the Swamp Thing's origin story. For that alone, this is already an awesome issue.
As he had planned, General Sunderland is now in possession of the monster's body. His aim is to reverse engineer Holland's so-called bio-restorative formula (that would allow plants to grow faster and in inhospitable areas). For that purpose, he effects the release of Doctor Jason Woodrue, the Floronic Man (a minor DC vilain who first appeared in the 1960s). The design of him, with the yellow body and the leaves as head and pubic hair, looks quite sick.
So far, it was very natural to assume that Alec Holland mutated into a plant when an explosion threw him into water ridden with his formula. Woodrue discovers that it's actually the other way around. The plants modified by the formula devoured Holland's dead body and in this way absorbed his knowledge and memories (Woodrue explains this by analogy with planarian worms, is this for real?). So, it's just a plant that thinks that it is Holland.
When he learns about his true origin, the frantic Swamp Thing now loses his humanity for real and turns into a true monster out for the General's blood. "He'll be pounding, and... and will there be blood?"
Chapter Three: Swamped (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #22, March 1984)
In this issue, the Swamp Thing fully turned into a real plant, at least outwardly. Consciously, he wanders through dreamscapes in search for an understanding of his being. Naturally, it gets quite trippy at times. It's not too out there (I think I would have liked the monsters and surroundings to be a bit more detailed), but I very much liked the stark contrast of orange and purple colors.
Abby (Abigail) and Matt Cable came to the swamps to look for the Swamp Thing. It's been a couple of months since Sunderland's troops blew up their home. The picture when they find him half lying in the water looks awesome (I also liked Abby's Red Riding Hood look). Woodrue sneaks up on them, and as he explains: "He's withdrawn. He's a vegetable." I very much liked the idea of severe psychological trauma from finding out about the real essence of his existence.
But the Swamp Thing is not the only character that is psychologically interesting in this issue. Woodrue too is struggling to come to terms with his own identity. He is able to communicate with plants, to control plants - but he cannot be a plant. He literally eats parts of the Swamp Thing, and in this way he is able to touch the Green (as I understand it, something like the unification of all plant life on Earth). The trip his consciousness then takes is probably the highlight of the issue. This is when he turns into the villain of the next couple of issues.
Chapter Four: Another Green World (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #23, April 1984)
The Swamp Thing is happy about his existence in the Green (as opposed to "the red world"). However, as he realizes, "There is another mind in the green."
Looks awesome how he tuns up in the car
Woodrue turns out to be a real villain when he kills a bunch of kids (it looks pretty cool how he turns up in their car) and eventually attacks a village. The way he terrorizes the people gave me the chills. The Swamp Thing vaguely remembers Abby (and her white hair). Realization of Abby being in danger permeates into his blissful state of plant life harmony. "They wouldn't let me be human... And I became... a monster.
...But they wouldn't let me be a monster... So I became a plant.
And now... You won't let me... be a plant." He awakes just in time (after she had been screaming for him for a while), and this one page panel - damn, this is just glorious!
This leads to the first confrontation of the Swamp Thing and the Floronic Man. After the calming blue backgrounds of his reunion with Abby, things now turn brutally red. The villain's design here is awesome. Like the nightmarish version of Peter Pan illustrations. A girl from the village tells him "no more!". He may not take this seriously, but that awesome panel when the Swamp Thing tells him the same thing, that was so fucking badass.
Chapter Five: Roots (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #24, May 1984)
This issue ups the ante. Wood-Rue is making an announcement via television. In order to save the planet, humankind must die. For that purpose, he made the plants to increase the oxygen production.
The Justice League is called to stand up against him. They fought him before, and as is pointed out, he always lost. However, it's different his time. Because of the change in atmosphere, they fear to attack him directly. I loved how the issue breaks with expectations.
We are left were we left off, Swamp Thing and Woodrue face each other in front of the blood red background. Woodrue considers him a traitor to his cause. Because of an attack from behind, the Swamp Thing goes down (would be neat if there was a team of superheroes around, right?). However, the fight is not quite over, yet.
"Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep coming back and hurting me?" The Swamp Thing proves his humanity by defeating him with reason: "Because...you...are hurting...the Green." He doesn't realize that the implementation of his plan would strike back at him. Sure, if the plants release the oxygen all humans and animals would die. Now the question is, "What will change the oxygen... back into... the gasses that... we... need... to survive... when the men... and the animals... are dead?" He has to acknowledge that he was acting like a man rather than a plant.
After the anger is gone, and his mind is no longer flowing through the Green, the color pattern change again ( to cyan). It's hilarious how he eventually runs away. "He realized that the plants couldn't survive without man...and so the plants backed down." - "Yes. I wonder...will your people...do as much?"
Green Lantern and Superman arrive to pick up Woodrue. It's unnerving how crazy he got from losing his place in the world. So they decide to bring him to Arkham. The Justice League wasn't needed. The Swamp Thing proved himself to be a protector of humanity. The scenes where he happily returns to the swamps are so gorgeous. That very last page, Jesus Christ pose in front of the rising sun - glorious!
Chapter Six: The Sleep of Reason... (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #25, June 1984)
Named after a painting by Francisco de Goya, this is the first issue in a three-part series. The story revolves around the deep-rooted fears of disturbed children at a psychological institution.
Abby and Swamp Thing hang out at the swamps. She doesn't see Matt much anymore and now has a new job at the facility for autistic children. There is another creep around, this time a red-headed and red-eyed guy who tells people their tragic future and who exposes their dark past.
Matt is not in a good place and reproach her. He got a bit pudgy and doesn't do much other than drinking and lying in his bed. He doesn't like the idea of Abby starting to work, and certainly not at a mental institution. Although his concerns may be grounded in male chauvinism, the Swamp Thing is worried, too. He feels that something is not right, that something evil is coming with the autumn.
The scenes at the institution made me very uncomfortable. There is this red-headed kid, Paul, who talks of himself in third person and who is obsessed with spelling. He has this very mean look on his face, which gave me the creeps. We see a couple doing a seance when some sort of crazy looking white monkey shows up and kills them. As we learn, the Monkey King (as he is called) is somehow connected to Paul. One night, it comes for the children. It's hungry, but what will it do to them?
Chapter Seven: ... A Time of Running ... (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #26, July 1984)
In the previous issue, Abby witnessed an accident in which a man was spiked by a swordfish his wife made him purchase at an auction. Afterwards, she is having tea with the red-haired man, Jason Blood (who was also present when the accident happened). He says that the children are in danger and that she is to save as many of them as she can.
This explains the opening moments of the issue, where you see her and the Swamp Thing running through the woods. These panels look awesome (the water splashing at their feet). As is now clear, they are trying to get to the Elysium facility as fast as possible. Interspersed are flashbacks from her day at work earlier. These scenes again make you feel uncomfortable. Not only because all the craziness that is going on. Now, all the children are drawing Monkeys, not just Paul anymore. When she meets with him, "You know you'll die pretty soon." When they finally arrive, there is a great opening to the final act: Great opening for the final act, when the completely exhausted Abby (her throat visibly burning) acknowledges. "We ran all that way...and it's already in there."
As is explained now, in the final act of the previous issue, the Monkey King was eating the fear of the children, and that's why they all know him now. The monster feeds on fear and then uses it as a weapon (for instance, Paul's mother was killed because she bit through her own tongue). I thought this one child's fear, the fear of cancer without having explained to him what it actually is, was seriously terrifying. The poor boy just started to be haunted by what he imagined it to be. It's explained that the Monkey King came into our world, because Paul's parents didn't take ouija seriously and carelessly misspelled something. Yeah, they really got what they deserved.
Blood shows up in his real form (or evil persona), Etrigan The Demon, a DC character that goes back to the early 1970s (you may have seen him in Neil Gaiman's Sandman). To be honest, at that point I got a bit confused about what is really going on. The atmosphere was great, though: "It began with death. It began with Blood... I guess it'll probably end the same way."
Before she went to the Swamp Thing, Abby had a fight with Matt. It got pretty nasty. At the end, however, Matt decides that Abby needed him and he goes into his car and rushes towards the Elysium Institute. Unfortunately, he's too drunk to drive and crushes into a tree. This is where the chapter ends for now.
Chapter Eight: ... By Demons Driven! (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #27, August 1984)
This is a direct continuation of the previous story. The best part of this issue is clearly Etrigan's poetic commentary that permeates the whole issue. It's so perfectly written and makes him come as a truly disturbed madman. He is confronted by the Swamp Thing. Their fight is short, but brutal (like tearing off the Swamp Thing's arm). When he furiously strikes, the monster looks like a mangy dog. They again make use of the deep red backgrounds which perfectly contrast to the monster's yellow.
Meanwhile, Abby and Paul are running from the Monkey King. He constantly shifts his shape to turn into what they truly fear. These creatures sure look terrifying. There is something like a riddle for Abby, which I think will play a role in upcoming issues. Eventually, Paul is able to overcome the monster by overcoming his fear of him. This seems to have cured him from what had plagued him before. In the aftermath, he is a much more gentle boy. The moments of the Swamp Thing and the boy together are heartwarming.
Finally, this issues sets up what is to come. The severely injured Matt strikes a deal whose consequences are not yet known. Presumably, it's similar in nature to the bond between Blood and Etrigan. At least he seems fine by the end of the story. Actually, better and more healthy than before.
Rating: 5/5
Swamp Thing was originally created by Len Wein with artwork by Bernie Wrightson. Wrightson left after ten issues and soon thereafter, Wein dropped out, too. After a couple of other guys took over, the first volume eventually came to an end. With the release of Wes Craven's movie adaptation, DC (of course) decided to resurrect the character. The first 19 issues of volume 2 were written by Martin Pasko (who ten years later became one of the head writers for Batman: The Animated Series).
To be honest, I really don't know anything about them. As the title says, when Alan Moore took over for issue 20, he had to tie up some lose ends before getting his own story lines underway. His stories revolve around themes of identity, belonging, harmony of flora and fauna, trauma, and fear. They are true horror tales that are able to move you on other levels, too. As often with short stories, I felt like going through the stories one by one.
Chapter One: Loose Ends (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #20, January 1984)
Presumably, the big baddie of the earlier issues had been a guy called Arcane. In the beginning of # 20, his air ship in the mountains and the Swamp Thing goes there to look for him. As he was correctly assuming, his nemesis is dead.
I loved the monologue on these early pages. The Swamp Thing acknowledges the importance of Arcane to his own life (how they defined each other). "You were my opposite. I had my humanity... taken away from me. I've been trying to claw it back. You started out human... and threw it all away. You did it deliberately." He also talks about how they are "things of the shadow" and how the world used to be full of shadows (and monsters). Now, there doesn't really seem to be space left for him in the world.
We are also (re-)introduced to a woman called Abby (Abigail Cable, formerly Arcane, the niece of the late foe) and her husband, Matt Cable. Matt has a drinking problem and he seems to have powers to conjure up monsters (powers that he doesn't have under control).
The mysterious General Sutherland (who unlike Arcane doesn't go back to the very beginning of the series, but only first appeared in Vol. 2) is after them. Eventually, his soldiers attack. I loved the pictorial language here, with the Swamp Thing trapped in the woods, around him the "belt of blind whiteness" and the unreachable shadows behind. Showing him being the target of the sniper-scope was delightfully 80s. Great artwork how the straight lines are piercing him and how he then goes down.
Chapter Two: The Anatomy Lesson (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #21, February 1984)
Issue 21 gives a very interesting spin on the Swamp Thing's origin story. For that alone, this is already an awesome issue.
As he had planned, General Sunderland is now in possession of the monster's body. His aim is to reverse engineer Holland's so-called bio-restorative formula (that would allow plants to grow faster and in inhospitable areas). For that purpose, he effects the release of Doctor Jason Woodrue, the Floronic Man (a minor DC vilain who first appeared in the 1960s). The design of him, with the yellow body and the leaves as head and pubic hair, looks quite sick.
So far, it was very natural to assume that Alec Holland mutated into a plant when an explosion threw him into water ridden with his formula. Woodrue discovers that it's actually the other way around. The plants modified by the formula devoured Holland's dead body and in this way absorbed his knowledge and memories (Woodrue explains this by analogy with planarian worms, is this for real?). So, it's just a plant that thinks that it is Holland.
When he learns about his true origin, the frantic Swamp Thing now loses his humanity for real and turns into a true monster out for the General's blood. "He'll be pounding, and... and will there be blood?"
Chapter Three: Swamped (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #22, March 1984)
In this issue, the Swamp Thing fully turned into a real plant, at least outwardly. Consciously, he wanders through dreamscapes in search for an understanding of his being. Naturally, it gets quite trippy at times. It's not too out there (I think I would have liked the monsters and surroundings to be a bit more detailed), but I very much liked the stark contrast of orange and purple colors.
Abby (Abigail) and Matt Cable came to the swamps to look for the Swamp Thing. It's been a couple of months since Sunderland's troops blew up their home. The picture when they find him half lying in the water looks awesome (I also liked Abby's Red Riding Hood look). Woodrue sneaks up on them, and as he explains: "He's withdrawn. He's a vegetable." I very much liked the idea of severe psychological trauma from finding out about the real essence of his existence.
But the Swamp Thing is not the only character that is psychologically interesting in this issue. Woodrue too is struggling to come to terms with his own identity. He is able to communicate with plants, to control plants - but he cannot be a plant. He literally eats parts of the Swamp Thing, and in this way he is able to touch the Green (as I understand it, something like the unification of all plant life on Earth). The trip his consciousness then takes is probably the highlight of the issue. This is when he turns into the villain of the next couple of issues.
Chapter Four: Another Green World (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #23, April 1984)
The Swamp Thing is happy about his existence in the Green (as opposed to "the red world"). However, as he realizes, "There is another mind in the green."
Looks awesome how he tuns up in the car
Woodrue turns out to be a real villain when he kills a bunch of kids (it looks pretty cool how he turns up in their car) and eventually attacks a village. The way he terrorizes the people gave me the chills. The Swamp Thing vaguely remembers Abby (and her white hair). Realization of Abby being in danger permeates into his blissful state of plant life harmony. "They wouldn't let me be human... And I became... a monster.
...But they wouldn't let me be a monster... So I became a plant.
And now... You won't let me... be a plant." He awakes just in time (after she had been screaming for him for a while), and this one page panel - damn, this is just glorious!
This leads to the first confrontation of the Swamp Thing and the Floronic Man. After the calming blue backgrounds of his reunion with Abby, things now turn brutally red. The villain's design here is awesome. Like the nightmarish version of Peter Pan illustrations. A girl from the village tells him "no more!". He may not take this seriously, but that awesome panel when the Swamp Thing tells him the same thing, that was so fucking badass.
Chapter Five: Roots (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #24, May 1984)
This issue ups the ante. Wood-Rue is making an announcement via television. In order to save the planet, humankind must die. For that purpose, he made the plants to increase the oxygen production.
The Justice League is called to stand up against him. They fought him before, and as is pointed out, he always lost. However, it's different his time. Because of the change in atmosphere, they fear to attack him directly. I loved how the issue breaks with expectations.
We are left were we left off, Swamp Thing and Woodrue face each other in front of the blood red background. Woodrue considers him a traitor to his cause. Because of an attack from behind, the Swamp Thing goes down (would be neat if there was a team of superheroes around, right?). However, the fight is not quite over, yet.
"Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep coming back and hurting me?" The Swamp Thing proves his humanity by defeating him with reason: "Because...you...are hurting...the Green." He doesn't realize that the implementation of his plan would strike back at him. Sure, if the plants release the oxygen all humans and animals would die. Now the question is, "What will change the oxygen... back into... the gasses that... we... need... to survive... when the men... and the animals... are dead?" He has to acknowledge that he was acting like a man rather than a plant.
After the anger is gone, and his mind is no longer flowing through the Green, the color pattern change again ( to cyan). It's hilarious how he eventually runs away. "He realized that the plants couldn't survive without man...and so the plants backed down." - "Yes. I wonder...will your people...do as much?"
Green Lantern and Superman arrive to pick up Woodrue. It's unnerving how crazy he got from losing his place in the world. So they decide to bring him to Arkham. The Justice League wasn't needed. The Swamp Thing proved himself to be a protector of humanity. The scenes where he happily returns to the swamps are so gorgeous. That very last page, Jesus Christ pose in front of the rising sun - glorious!
Chapter Six: The Sleep of Reason... (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #25, June 1984)
Named after a painting by Francisco de Goya, this is the first issue in a three-part series. The story revolves around the deep-rooted fears of disturbed children at a psychological institution.
Abby and Swamp Thing hang out at the swamps. She doesn't see Matt much anymore and now has a new job at the facility for autistic children. There is another creep around, this time a red-headed and red-eyed guy who tells people their tragic future and who exposes their dark past.
Matt is not in a good place and reproach her. He got a bit pudgy and doesn't do much other than drinking and lying in his bed. He doesn't like the idea of Abby starting to work, and certainly not at a mental institution. Although his concerns may be grounded in male chauvinism, the Swamp Thing is worried, too. He feels that something is not right, that something evil is coming with the autumn.
The scenes at the institution made me very uncomfortable. There is this red-headed kid, Paul, who talks of himself in third person and who is obsessed with spelling. He has this very mean look on his face, which gave me the creeps. We see a couple doing a seance when some sort of crazy looking white monkey shows up and kills them. As we learn, the Monkey King (as he is called) is somehow connected to Paul. One night, it comes for the children. It's hungry, but what will it do to them?
Chapter Seven: ... A Time of Running ... (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #26, July 1984)
In the previous issue, Abby witnessed an accident in which a man was spiked by a swordfish his wife made him purchase at an auction. Afterwards, she is having tea with the red-haired man, Jason Blood (who was also present when the accident happened). He says that the children are in danger and that she is to save as many of them as she can.
This explains the opening moments of the issue, where you see her and the Swamp Thing running through the woods. These panels look awesome (the water splashing at their feet). As is now clear, they are trying to get to the Elysium facility as fast as possible. Interspersed are flashbacks from her day at work earlier. These scenes again make you feel uncomfortable. Not only because all the craziness that is going on. Now, all the children are drawing Monkeys, not just Paul anymore. When she meets with him, "You know you'll die pretty soon." When they finally arrive, there is a great opening to the final act: Great opening for the final act, when the completely exhausted Abby (her throat visibly burning) acknowledges. "We ran all that way...and it's already in there."
As is explained now, in the final act of the previous issue, the Monkey King was eating the fear of the children, and that's why they all know him now. The monster feeds on fear and then uses it as a weapon (for instance, Paul's mother was killed because she bit through her own tongue). I thought this one child's fear, the fear of cancer without having explained to him what it actually is, was seriously terrifying. The poor boy just started to be haunted by what he imagined it to be. It's explained that the Monkey King came into our world, because Paul's parents didn't take ouija seriously and carelessly misspelled something. Yeah, they really got what they deserved.
Blood shows up in his real form (or evil persona), Etrigan The Demon, a DC character that goes back to the early 1970s (you may have seen him in Neil Gaiman's Sandman). To be honest, at that point I got a bit confused about what is really going on. The atmosphere was great, though: "It began with death. It began with Blood... I guess it'll probably end the same way."
Before she went to the Swamp Thing, Abby had a fight with Matt. It got pretty nasty. At the end, however, Matt decides that Abby needed him and he goes into his car and rushes towards the Elysium Institute. Unfortunately, he's too drunk to drive and crushes into a tree. This is where the chapter ends for now.
Chapter Eight: ... By Demons Driven! (The Saga of the Swamp Thing #27, August 1984)
This is a direct continuation of the previous story. The best part of this issue is clearly Etrigan's poetic commentary that permeates the whole issue. It's so perfectly written and makes him come as a truly disturbed madman. He is confronted by the Swamp Thing. Their fight is short, but brutal (like tearing off the Swamp Thing's arm). When he furiously strikes, the monster looks like a mangy dog. They again make use of the deep red backgrounds which perfectly contrast to the monster's yellow.
Meanwhile, Abby and Paul are running from the Monkey King. He constantly shifts his shape to turn into what they truly fear. These creatures sure look terrifying. There is something like a riddle for Abby, which I think will play a role in upcoming issues. Eventually, Paul is able to overcome the monster by overcoming his fear of him. This seems to have cured him from what had plagued him before. In the aftermath, he is a much more gentle boy. The moments of the Swamp Thing and the boy together are heartwarming.
Finally, this issues sets up what is to come. The severely injured Matt strikes a deal whose consequences are not yet known. Presumably, it's similar in nature to the bond between Blood and Etrigan. At least he seems fine by the end of the story. Actually, better and more healthy than before.
Rating: 5/5
Der Weg ins Labyrinth by Cassandra Clare, Holly Black
3.0
The Iron Trial, the first novel in the Magisterium series, was a bit too familiar to excite me much. The similarities to Harry Potter are strikingly obvious. As soon as the main protagonist, Callum Hunt (called "Call"), arrives at the school of magic (the titular "Magisterium"), the plot slightly loses its focus. Moreover, I cannot really say that his friends grew dear to my heart. All this being said, it makes for diverting fantasy entertainment and the ending, that sure was awesome.
Call's father, Alastair Hunt, renounced magic when his wife was killed during a war (Wikipedia calls it "the Cold Massacre during the Third Mage War", but I don't think that was already said in this first novel?). The enemy's army was lead by Constantine Madden, the so-called "Enemy of Death". When she was killed, his wife had their baby son with her, and one of his legs was severely hurt when that happened. 12 years later, Call is living a normal life with his father, far away from anything having to do with magic or war. However, Call is forced to participate in an examination of the magical abilities of children a certain age. Although determined to brilliantly flunk, before long he finds himself in the time-honored halls of the Magisterium.
Because of a truce with the enemy, they are currently living in peace. Of course, the situation is fragile, though. Most magicians are able to harness the elements of fire, air, earth, and water. Very few of them, the so-called Makar, on the other hand, are additionally able to wield the element of chaos. It's the school's main hope to find another Makar among the students, one who can take on Constantine Madden who possesses the same powers.
The reader experiences the world mostly from Call's subjective perspective. As he himself struggles to fully understand the world, the political factions, and its history, so the reader too remains mostly in the dark about much of the world. I think this narrational decision is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it avoids dropping lengthy info-dumps that distracts from the action and teenage themes that its main demographic will mostly care about. On the other hand, I found myself somewhat intrigued by the world and would have liked if Call had learned at least about the most important events.
In many respects, Call is a very familiar main character. He has very few friends, barely any self-confidence, and there doesn't appear to be anything about him that makes him relevant for the world-shaking events that are imminent. However, because of his leg injury, there are themes of disability that I've found quite interesting. There are things he cannot do, but he obviously hates to be reminded of that. To some degree, his personality is formed from the hurtful feelings and fear of being reduced to his shortcomings. This made him a more interesting protagonist as he would otherwise have been.
I was strangely intrigued by the seemingly pointless and boring training that he and his teammates, Tamara and Aaron, had to endure. In many books, characters somehow just conjure up their abilities out of thin air. Here, you learn about the dreary routines they have to repeat to develop their skills in a bodily manner. These moments are also intended to build the foundations of friendship within the group. However, I have to admit that I don't think that was fully achieved.
I have to admit, I thought that some of the adventures before the climax felt rather irrelevant. I didn't find anything special about his mystical pet, either. Before the final confrontation, there were two big reveals which didn't really blew me away, either. One is about Aaron (which is decent and will hopefully be explored more in the upcoming novels) and one about a class mate who before barely appeared (other than a being a too-stupid-to-be-funny comic relief). The final reveal, however, that sure was exciting! I wasn't really sold before, but after that I considered to come back for the follow-up. A series which very well may get better with later installments!
Rating: 3/5
Call's father, Alastair Hunt, renounced magic when his wife was killed during a war (Wikipedia calls it "the Cold Massacre during the Third Mage War", but I don't think that was already said in this first novel?). The enemy's army was lead by Constantine Madden, the so-called "Enemy of Death". When she was killed, his wife had their baby son with her, and one of his legs was severely hurt when that happened. 12 years later, Call is living a normal life with his father, far away from anything having to do with magic or war. However, Call is forced to participate in an examination of the magical abilities of children a certain age. Although determined to brilliantly flunk, before long he finds himself in the time-honored halls of the Magisterium.
Because of a truce with the enemy, they are currently living in peace. Of course, the situation is fragile, though. Most magicians are able to harness the elements of fire, air, earth, and water. Very few of them, the so-called Makar, on the other hand, are additionally able to wield the element of chaos. It's the school's main hope to find another Makar among the students, one who can take on Constantine Madden who possesses the same powers.
The reader experiences the world mostly from Call's subjective perspective. As he himself struggles to fully understand the world, the political factions, and its history, so the reader too remains mostly in the dark about much of the world. I think this narrational decision is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it avoids dropping lengthy info-dumps that distracts from the action and teenage themes that its main demographic will mostly care about. On the other hand, I found myself somewhat intrigued by the world and would have liked if Call had learned at least about the most important events.
In many respects, Call is a very familiar main character. He has very few friends, barely any self-confidence, and there doesn't appear to be anything about him that makes him relevant for the world-shaking events that are imminent. However, because of his leg injury, there are themes of disability that I've found quite interesting. There are things he cannot do, but he obviously hates to be reminded of that. To some degree, his personality is formed from the hurtful feelings and fear of being reduced to his shortcomings. This made him a more interesting protagonist as he would otherwise have been.
I was strangely intrigued by the seemingly pointless and boring training that he and his teammates, Tamara and Aaron, had to endure. In many books, characters somehow just conjure up their abilities out of thin air. Here, you learn about the dreary routines they have to repeat to develop their skills in a bodily manner. These moments are also intended to build the foundations of friendship within the group. However, I have to admit that I don't think that was fully achieved.
I have to admit, I thought that some of the adventures before the climax felt rather irrelevant. I didn't find anything special about his mystical pet, either. Before the final confrontation, there were two big reveals which didn't really blew me away, either. One is about Aaron (which is decent and will hopefully be explored more in the upcoming novels) and one about a class mate who before barely appeared (other than a being a too-stupid-to-be-funny comic relief). The final reveal, however, that sure was exciting! I wasn't really sold before, but after that I considered to come back for the follow-up. A series which very well may get better with later installments!
Rating: 3/5
Brennen muss Salem by Stephen King
4.0
From the first page Salem's Lot quite literally captured my imagination. Stephen King's vivid prose draws sceneries of American small-town life with dark spots no one wants to talk about. Going in I knew nothing of the story, so that the ominous tone paired with mystery as to what evil hides in 'Salem's Lot. The tension is channeled by the awing presence of the Marsten House that inspires in the unprepared reader sentiments that mirror the childish conflict of fright and attraction when confronted with haunted locations.
The main protagonist is Ben Mears who had lived in Jerusalem's Lot when he was still a boy, about 25 years ago. When he was nine years old he entered the Marsten House where he saw what he thinks must have been some sort of ghost or similar apparition. Later there was a big fire that caused his family to leave. He is a writer of horror literature, so what better to stir his creativity than confronting his childhood trauma?
At the same time as Ben resettles in town, the Marsten House is purchased by the representative of an Austrian immigrant, Richard Straker. The new owner, Kurt Barlow, ostensibly plans to open an antique furniture store. It's probably no coincidence that their arrival coincides with the disappearance of the two Glick brothers. Although the older brother reappears, he is severely traumatized and later dies from unknown causes. The foreshadowing in those nightly moments will undoubtedly give you the chills.
It's only late in the novel that the true nature of the threat is revealed. Barlow is an ancient vampire and he is out for the blood of the oblivious residents of his adopted home town. From then on vampirism spreads like disease. It's genuinely scary how many people are affected. Disturbingly, the Glick boy is the first to rise from his grave, and he goes on to turn the graveyard digger, his mother, a man he coincidentally runs into, and even a newborn baby. At this rate, you realize, the good guys soon have to face an army.
Because of his experiences at the Marsten House Ben is the first to admit that something is going on. I enjoyed his little teenage romance with college graduate Susan Norton and it made sense that him and the local high school teacher, Matt Burke, befriend each other. When eventually they realize what they are dealing with others join the cause, including the doctor, the priest, and a boy who proved his smarts. There is something quite epic about how they equip themselves with crosses and garlic to resist the superior adversaries.
The atmosphere is very tense throughout. Many scenes are set in the dead of the night, at the graveyard, the morgue, or the haunted mansion. There is talk of the recurring powers of evil. In one instance the physical reactions to the infection is depicted. Barlow's human familiar makes appearances in town as the dignified and nonchalant gentleman whose true nature in my mind strongly resembled the presence of Christopher Lee's Dracula. The image of him hanging bled-out in the same position in which Ben found Hubie Marsten was pictoresque in the darkest fasion.
Towards the end the evocative mystery turns into open confrontation. I enjoyed those action moments, though it inevitably loses some of the lurking horrors. It's sad to see many of the characters go and slowly you begin to lose all hope. It becomes a struggle with resignation when only Ben and Mark are left. Susan even had to die by Ben's own hands. To my mind it felt as if the plot could have been more streamlined in those final moments (for instance, the boy's Houdini seemed a bit silly), but the aftermath that has Ben and Mark aimlessly travel the country well conveyed the feelings that evil is still out there and that they will never be safe.
'Salem's Lot is a near-perfect work of horror literature that for the first time made me fully appreciate Stephen King as fantastic storyteller.
Rating: 4/5
The main protagonist is Ben Mears who had lived in Jerusalem's Lot when he was still a boy, about 25 years ago. When he was nine years old he entered the Marsten House where he saw what he thinks must have been some sort of ghost or similar apparition. Later there was a big fire that caused his family to leave. He is a writer of horror literature, so what better to stir his creativity than confronting his childhood trauma?
At the same time as Ben resettles in town, the Marsten House is purchased by the representative of an Austrian immigrant, Richard Straker. The new owner, Kurt Barlow, ostensibly plans to open an antique furniture store. It's probably no coincidence that their arrival coincides with the disappearance of the two Glick brothers. Although the older brother reappears, he is severely traumatized and later dies from unknown causes. The foreshadowing in those nightly moments will undoubtedly give you the chills.
It's only late in the novel that the true nature of the threat is revealed. Barlow is an ancient vampire and he is out for the blood of the oblivious residents of his adopted home town. From then on vampirism spreads like disease. It's genuinely scary how many people are affected. Disturbingly, the Glick boy is the first to rise from his grave, and he goes on to turn the graveyard digger, his mother, a man he coincidentally runs into, and even a newborn baby. At this rate, you realize, the good guys soon have to face an army.
Because of his experiences at the Marsten House Ben is the first to admit that something is going on. I enjoyed his little teenage romance with college graduate Susan Norton and it made sense that him and the local high school teacher, Matt Burke, befriend each other. When eventually they realize what they are dealing with others join the cause, including the doctor, the priest, and a boy who proved his smarts. There is something quite epic about how they equip themselves with crosses and garlic to resist the superior adversaries.
The atmosphere is very tense throughout. Many scenes are set in the dead of the night, at the graveyard, the morgue, or the haunted mansion. There is talk of the recurring powers of evil. In one instance the physical reactions to the infection is depicted. Barlow's human familiar makes appearances in town as the dignified and nonchalant gentleman whose true nature in my mind strongly resembled the presence of Christopher Lee's Dracula. The image of him hanging bled-out in the same position in which Ben found Hubie Marsten was pictoresque in the darkest fasion.
Towards the end the evocative mystery turns into open confrontation. I enjoyed those action moments, though it inevitably loses some of the lurking horrors. It's sad to see many of the characters go and slowly you begin to lose all hope. It becomes a struggle with resignation when only Ben and Mark are left. Susan even had to die by Ben's own hands. To my mind it felt as if the plot could have been more streamlined in those final moments (for instance, the boy's Houdini seemed a bit silly), but the aftermath that has Ben and Mark aimlessly travel the country well conveyed the feelings that evil is still out there and that they will never be safe.
'Salem's Lot is a near-perfect work of horror literature that for the first time made me fully appreciate Stephen King as fantastic storyteller.
Rating: 4/5
Äon: Roman - Mit einem wissenschaftlichen Anhang von Uwe Neuhold by Greg Bear
5.0
Eon is everything I want from a science-fiction novel, and more. The plot is full of mind-blowing reveals grounded in ideas that are bigger than life. Rather than being dead weight elaborated in textbook expositions (if you've read Neal Stephenson you'll know what I mean), it's part of the thrill that our conceptual capacities may be too limited to grasp what is going on. All too human, we as a species are our own worst enemy in this quest for knowledge.
In the early 21st century, an asteroid, officially called "Juno", has entered near-Earth orbit and the rival sides of the ongoing Cold War both claim this extra extraterrestrial object for their own. When the "Stone" (also variously called "Potato" or "Whale" by other nations) is later examined from up close, the extensive research mission makes sheer unbelievable discoveries. Not only has the entire celestial body been hollowed out and terraformed, leading to seven vastly different chambers and artificial gravity, they find highly advanced cities in the second and third of those spaces. In the seventh chamber, they come across "the Way" (eponymous for the series of which Eon is the first part), a "corridor" that evidently goes well beyond the confines of the Stone itself, quite possibly ad infinitum. If you've watched Doctor Who, you'll be familiar with this idea.
Since this is the kind of novel about which you cannot talk without introducing spoilers, I decided to go all in. Things are way more complicated than that. Not only is there the already mentioned evidence that the Stone is from the future, and not only is it clear that it's from humanity's future (or past?) - it doesn't seem to be from our future (confused yet?). One big question is, where did everyone go to (about five hundred years ago)? Why did the former civilization abandon the Stone?
In another respect Bear ups the ante. As the researchers find in the historic reports in the libraries of the two cities, the events in the past of the humanoid Stone dwellers differ in crucial respects from our own. Think about it, in their past we may find clues about our future (how exciting is that?). Alarmingly, there had been a nuclear war between the US and Russia, and in many respects the current constellations are frighteningly similar to how they had been in this alternative reality. Strategic secrecy is inevitable.
Although the events are of enormous scope, the story is pleasantly character-driven. The main protagonist is Patricia Vasquez, a mathematician whose out-of-the-box thinking in her dissertation made her an ideal choice for the problem at hand. Especially the first act is very intriguing, as together with her the reader is only gradually introduced to the Stone's mysteries. At first, the abnormalities are only hinted at and at least to a certain degree you do feel the tensions in the intergovernmental relations. The interpersonal relationships are admittedly not very memorable, but (as in Darwin's Radio) there is enough heart and personality to take a shine to them. So, when the story approaches its end, you feel as if you've joined them on an epic journey.
It's not only the Russians that they fear. Since they don't know where the original habitants disappeared to, it cannot be ruled out that they return from the seventh chamber (are they watching us?). To my mind, the novel's tone changed considerably when they finally do make an appearance. Before it was mainly the Americans that were in control of the situation. Later on things are more or less just happening to them and they don't possess even a fraction of the information that would be necessary to assess their benefactors' motives and goals.
Here I was very much reminded of H. G. Wells's The Time Machine, not only because the genetically engineered population appears so fully unaffected, but also because their civilization is completely alien. The plot becomes much less streamlined, which does make you feel the frustration and insignificance. It's only at the very end that Patricia finds the strength to become active again. I have to admit, it was a bit too out-there for me at that point, though I did feel the excitement when she initially arrived back on Earth (what would she find?).
The multiverse introduces highly enjoyable moments of lateral thinking. I've already mentioned how they discover clues about their past from the future. It's mentioned that in their past there was no gigantic asteroid spaceship while in our present there are two (one simple rock, one spaceship), one being the material to form the other. I may have gotten that part wrong, though. The impending nuclear war takes your breath away, too, especially when it actually does take place later on. It's not the end of the world, but three to four billion people die. Talking about high stakes.
There are some parts of scientific jargon that I always appreciate. For instance, Patricia sets out to check whether our familiar "constants" (like the gravitational or Planck's constants) are the same on the Stone. Somehow she even tries to determine the value of Pi, an operation whose meaning I didn't quite grasp. The concepts of the field that she is specialized in was way over my head, too (I guess that was the idea). I've studied philosophy, so maybe I just take delight in dwelling on the unintelligible.
As I've said, much about the alien society remains impenetrable. There are aspects we can understand, though. As in many other works of science-fiction, personalities can be stored. For one thing, this gives them a backup copy in case of terminal injury, as there are of course still fatal mishaps that not even the highly advanced medicine can protect against. I also liked the idea of virtual replicas (or "ghosts") that take commands from the original and whose experiences can later be reunited. There are rules, though. I think it's said that due to population limitations the citizens are allowed only two reincarnations. They overcame emotional reactions, though I think it's said that they use drugs to induce them occasionally. Because of their lamentable capacity for feeling, the guests are met with much curiosity.
One aspect that was mostly only hinted at and that may be further explored in the sequels and prequels, their hosts (the Hexamon) is only one civilization among others. The Way leads to the dwelling places of alien species, trading partners and potential enemies. Here the story felt a bit rushed, though I have to say that I was very much intrigued.
Overall, I cannot emphasize enough how much I enjoyed Eon. It's really the ultimate nerd novel that still somehow manages to be a big page-turner. Now I really wonder what could possibly be left to be discovered in the other Way novels.
Rating: 5/5
In the early 21st century, an asteroid, officially called "Juno", has entered near-Earth orbit and the rival sides of the ongoing Cold War both claim this extra extraterrestrial object for their own. When the "Stone" (also variously called "Potato" or "Whale" by other nations) is later examined from up close, the extensive research mission makes sheer unbelievable discoveries. Not only has the entire celestial body been hollowed out and terraformed, leading to seven vastly different chambers and artificial gravity, they find highly advanced cities in the second and third of those spaces. In the seventh chamber, they come across "the Way" (eponymous for the series of which Eon is the first part), a "corridor" that evidently goes well beyond the confines of the Stone itself, quite possibly ad infinitum. If you've watched Doctor Who, you'll be familiar with this idea.
Since this is the kind of novel about which you cannot talk without introducing spoilers, I decided to go all in. Things are way more complicated than that. Not only is there the already mentioned evidence that the Stone is from the future, and not only is it clear that it's from humanity's future (or past?) - it doesn't seem to be from our future (confused yet?). One big question is, where did everyone go to (about five hundred years ago)? Why did the former civilization abandon the Stone?
In another respect Bear ups the ante. As the researchers find in the historic reports in the libraries of the two cities, the events in the past of the humanoid Stone dwellers differ in crucial respects from our own. Think about it, in their past we may find clues about our future (how exciting is that?). Alarmingly, there had been a nuclear war between the US and Russia, and in many respects the current constellations are frighteningly similar to how they had been in this alternative reality. Strategic secrecy is inevitable.
Although the events are of enormous scope, the story is pleasantly character-driven. The main protagonist is Patricia Vasquez, a mathematician whose out-of-the-box thinking in her dissertation made her an ideal choice for the problem at hand. Especially the first act is very intriguing, as together with her the reader is only gradually introduced to the Stone's mysteries. At first, the abnormalities are only hinted at and at least to a certain degree you do feel the tensions in the intergovernmental relations. The interpersonal relationships are admittedly not very memorable, but (as in Darwin's Radio) there is enough heart and personality to take a shine to them. So, when the story approaches its end, you feel as if you've joined them on an epic journey.
It's not only the Russians that they fear. Since they don't know where the original habitants disappeared to, it cannot be ruled out that they return from the seventh chamber (are they watching us?). To my mind, the novel's tone changed considerably when they finally do make an appearance. Before it was mainly the Americans that were in control of the situation. Later on things are more or less just happening to them and they don't possess even a fraction of the information that would be necessary to assess their benefactors' motives and goals.
Here I was very much reminded of H. G. Wells's The Time Machine, not only because the genetically engineered population appears so fully unaffected, but also because their civilization is completely alien. The plot becomes much less streamlined, which does make you feel the frustration and insignificance. It's only at the very end that Patricia finds the strength to become active again. I have to admit, it was a bit too out-there for me at that point, though I did feel the excitement when she initially arrived back on Earth (what would she find?).
The multiverse introduces highly enjoyable moments of lateral thinking. I've already mentioned how they discover clues about their past from the future. It's mentioned that in their past there was no gigantic asteroid spaceship while in our present there are two (one simple rock, one spaceship), one being the material to form the other. I may have gotten that part wrong, though. The impending nuclear war takes your breath away, too, especially when it actually does take place later on. It's not the end of the world, but three to four billion people die. Talking about high stakes.
There are some parts of scientific jargon that I always appreciate. For instance, Patricia sets out to check whether our familiar "constants" (like the gravitational or Planck's constants) are the same on the Stone. Somehow she even tries to determine the value of Pi, an operation whose meaning I didn't quite grasp. The concepts of the field that she is specialized in was way over my head, too (I guess that was the idea). I've studied philosophy, so maybe I just take delight in dwelling on the unintelligible.
As I've said, much about the alien society remains impenetrable. There are aspects we can understand, though. As in many other works of science-fiction, personalities can be stored. For one thing, this gives them a backup copy in case of terminal injury, as there are of course still fatal mishaps that not even the highly advanced medicine can protect against. I also liked the idea of virtual replicas (or "ghosts") that take commands from the original and whose experiences can later be reunited. There are rules, though. I think it's said that due to population limitations the citizens are allowed only two reincarnations. They overcame emotional reactions, though I think it's said that they use drugs to induce them occasionally. Because of their lamentable capacity for feeling, the guests are met with much curiosity.
One aspect that was mostly only hinted at and that may be further explored in the sequels and prequels, their hosts (the Hexamon) is only one civilization among others. The Way leads to the dwelling places of alien species, trading partners and potential enemies. Here the story felt a bit rushed, though I have to say that I was very much intrigued.
Overall, I cannot emphasize enough how much I enjoyed Eon. It's really the ultimate nerd novel that still somehow manages to be a big page-turner. Now I really wonder what could possibly be left to be discovered in the other Way novels.
Rating: 5/5
Der Todeskanal by Hanno Rink, Isaac Asimov, Rita Mühlbauer
4.0
When I think about why I've started this little book, I would probably be hard-pressed for reasons. So far I've read two books of one of science-fiction's most popular writers, Isaac Asimov. I liked his first novel, Pebble in the Sky, as well as the massive classic Foundation, but neither blew me away. I've read a couple of science-fiction short story collections, but with the exception of Ted Chiang's Story of Your Life and Others, nothing really stuck with me. And Asimov was known for rather inappropriately touchy behavior, right? Maybe it was just that I saw the book on the shelf and started reading.
Coming from this vantage point, the stories collected here - which form the second half of what was originally published as Nightfall - were much more exciting than what I expected. The media often talks about Asimov's brilliant ideas, and there really is at least one very strong idea to all of the stories. As a new perspective on things is one of the main reasons for why I read science-fiction, I really got something out of reading this.
"Breeds there a Man?" (1951)
Some popular scientists and mathematics are known to have been fighting with their own personal demons. Kurt Gödel, for instance, lived under constant fear of being poisoned and would only eat the meals prepared by his wife; when she wasn't able to care for him anymore, he starved to death. John Nash is another tragic example. "Breeds there a Man?" is about a similar personality, even though it leaves open the possibility that the delusional theories of the brilliant man may actually be based in fact.
As Asimov explains in the introduction, the story was written as a response to the catastrophe of Hiroshima, with the intention of giving the topic a more interesting spin than (according to its writer) it received in most of the science-fiction of his time. Elwood Ralson is a nuclear scientist whose brilliant contributions are praised by many of his peers. He is mentally very unstable, though, and he is struggling to keep afloat as suicidal thoughts more and more push him towards the edge. He is very much needed, though, as the invention of a protective screen against nuclear attacks from the East is imminent. If only he would recover and lend them his insight, others are convinced they would gain the upper hand in no time.
There is much more to Ralson's mental illness. He developed a conspiracy theory of cosmic proportions that would account for humankind's global death drive, the rise and fall of powerful civilizations, and the role of the human race in the cosmic order. According to his favorite analogy, we are to an alien intelligence what bacteria strains are to researches in the field of nuclear biology. All our strive, our talents, human progress, it's all part of an elaborate experiment of which we are unaware. If individuals are getting too good at what they do or may even begin to grasp the bigger picture, there are mechanisms that lead them to their death.
After a bit of a rough start, with a man who calls on the police to save him from committing suicide, the pacing of the story was great and for me it got increasingly more exciting as it progressed towards its ending. The mysteries about the content of Ralson's ideas and why the government has such a strong interest in him were quite intriguing, and the resolution mostly satisfying. The tragedy added some emotional touch and I liked that the story never reveals whether his ideas really are nothing more than delusions (the parallel to John Nash's case are striking). So, maybe most of the science-fiction here wasn't really real.
"C-Chute" (1951)
I have to admit, I think I'm prone to prejudice. When I learn about someone's occupation, if someone looks a certain way or wears certain clothes, I often jump to conclusions as to who these people really are. I presume many people do, and I even suspect that often we are right. Within the setting of a dangerous space adventure, "C-Chute" holds up a mirror to us not only in that we may be wrong (that's obvious). It may be that we have exactly the negative traits we narrow-mindedly attribute to others.
Human kind is fighting its first interstellar war, against an intelligent race called the Kloros. The reasons behind the war are not easy to understand, as they are a chlorine-breathing species, so their planets are for us as deadly as oxygen-based worlds are for them. They tend to treat even their prisoners with dignity and good will, so that six human civilians - who find themselves captured as prisoners of war when their ship is seized by alien attackers - are able to freely move and speak within their quarters and are not threatened with violence.
The story is mainly about courage. Naturally, the prisoners want to escape, but it soon shows that they are not ready to seize an opportunity presented to them. There is the so-called C-Chute, short for "casualty chute" and normally used to send dead bodies into space, but a brave individual could use it to go outside of the ship and walk his way to the bridge to kill the two Kloros on board. Of course, most are very hesitant to be this brave individual. Ironically, only a man called Mullen, who is perceived by others as very boring and too cold and calculating, mainly because of his job as bookkeeper and his very short stature, is willing to do it.
The story is not primarily about the action, though there are some cool parts even in this respect (like when the presumed dead Kloros suddenly wakes up again). It's not about the world-building, either, although I liked the descriptions of the Kloros as being more humane than many humans. It's about the misperception with which the others looked at Mullen and who is now doing what he can to save them all. It's made the more interesting even by Mullen openly admitting that his motives were much more prosaic than heroism and the fact that his actions would save the others too are more of a side-effect. Still, the others are ashamed by their own cowardice and his behavior sparks something in them. Inspiring in many ways.
In a good Cause... (1951)
"In a good Cause..." is massive in scope and probably my favorite in the collection. The plot is incredibly twisted and not easy to wrap your head around. As its epigram, it begins with the words: "In a good cause, there are no failures. There are only delayed successes", written on the statue of a man still celebrated centuries later. The man is Richard "Dick" Altmayer. Even though he is not a good man believing strongly in the end justifying the means, and even though his direct intentions never really come to fruition, in the end he was the cause for a better future. Or for a state of the world he and his successors take to be the better future.
After the prelude, the story is told in three parts, delineating the events that lead to the three prison sentences he served in his lifetime. As even the law acknowledges (think of the failure to render assistance), not doing something may have consequences too (and ones whose occurrence you may aim at). There is a war of Earth against another of humankind's colonies. Altmayer protests against being conscripted to participate in this war, and he hopes to be one among many who do the same. His dream is to unite the human peoples in an interplanetary federation. His youthful ideals come to nothing and he is send to prison for his civil disobedience.
Things get only more complicated later on. As becomes clear, humankind is not the only intelligent species in the universe. They are approached by the Diaboli (named so for their devilish outer appearance). After his release, Altmayer formed a party that still champions his idea of universal peace among all humans, but he is increasingly wary towards the Diaboli. He plans to cause a war by assassinating high-ranking diplomats, scheming that in this way humankind would be united against a common enemy. His attempts fail and he again ends up in prison.
In the final episode, Altmayer found out that the Diaboli are planning to transform an oxygen planet into a sulfuric planet to increase their sphere of influence. He wants to transmit the information via an interstellar broadcasting to all human listeners, again to make them aware of the common threat. But again the government knows all about his plans. In fact, they want the information to be leaked.
The Earth government can then dispute the fact as vehemently as the Diaboli, and the other human races will be lead to think Earth and the Diaboli are working together. But there won't be a war, as non-Earth colonies would have no chance against a united Earth and Diaboli alliance. In case of a war Earth against Diaboli the other human colonies would remain neutral. When in fact such a war ensues, war gains motivate other colonies to join Earth in battle. Ironically, this leads to the United Worlds Altmayer always wanted.
I thought with all the political scheming, the twisted morality, and the deception, the story was very thrillingly construed. When I was talking to friends about the story, everyone was going: "Wait, this all happens in just one short story?!", and I felt exactly the same way when reading it. Science-fiction in a nutshell done completely right.
What If... (1952)
When modern-day philosophers are thinking about the multiverse, they are often concerned with necessity and possibility. For instance, they explain the vaguely understood idea of necessity (or so-called de re necessity) by asking what would be the case in all possible worlds. Or more precisely, what state of affairs about individuals would obtain in all possible worlds, given that the individuals in question exist in that world at all. They are rarely concerned, however, with the connections of events in different possible scenarios (conditional actualization, so to speak). To put the point more romantically, how many changes to the actual events can the love of two people survive?
A couple is in the train and on their way to New York to celebrate their five year marriage anniversary. They talk about how they met - in a train where Livvy fell in future husband Norman's lap on a sudden turn. They also reflect how things might have been different, for instance, if he had missed the train or if she didn't fell. She doesn't like the idea that there are still two empty seats in front of them (oh, I know that feeling), and alas, a strange man comes and sits himself in front of them! He has a case on which "What If" is written and the husband correctly assumes that this must be the name of the completely silent man. As you may have guessed, he opens the case and gets out a device that vividly shows them what could have been.
There are some intriguing thoughts here. For instance, in one scene the husband expresses an interesting idea: "The crucial thing is that we cannot be held responsible in the real world for the things we might have done!" Maybe you could say that one thing that could remain the same in the contrafactual situations are our character dispositions (the personality that makes us us). Dispositions are essentially described in the modal vocabulary of "if this-and-this happened, then that-and-that would happen", so I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to reject his plea for excuse. For instance, I guess a husband could be rebuked for his willingness to betray his wife with another sexual partner (if you could somehow know about his ambitions), even if he was never presented with the opportunity.
As the ending of the story proves, maybe the two were meant for each other. Even if their lives had taken very different turns, eventually they still would have become husband and wife. I thought this happy-ending was kind of sweet. Very different from the big blockbuster escapades that currently explore the idea of a multiverse.
Segregationist (1967)
"Segregationist" is a very unusual story, as it is very short and was written for an audience of doctors. There was still a very interesting twist to it, though. In fact, the twist was almost mind-blowing. Did you ever look at C-3PO and wondered, what if he was made of organic parts, would we even perceive him as substantially different from human beings?
You could say that there already are cyborgs among us, human beings who have machine parts. For instance, we are using artificial hearts and limbs. We are very close to new ways of interacting with the internet. So, even in the real world the line between humans and robots is being blurred (albeit we are only at the very beginning of this process). On the other hand, machines are getting increasingly smarter, more believably simulating human intelligence. Maybe there will be a future in which they are not just simulating; they do fully realize intelligence.
"Segregationist" realizes these possibilities. For all intents and purposes, robots are as mentally capable as humans are. So it's only natural that they were granted the status of equal citizenship. One thing has not changed, though: human are still made of organic flesh while robots are still made from metal. In the story, they are at the point in history where this is about to change. This transition is dramatized by means of a medical decision: Does the (human) patient want the hitherto used metallic heart, or does he want one of the more organic new developments (as recommended by his doctor)?
It poses the crucial question (made popular by Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, for instance), when artificial creations are indistinguishable from human beings in their intelligence, what is it that still makes us human? One answer could be that we are born human and made from different material (so to speak). But what if we could create robots from biological materials similar to our own make-up? And is it really impossible to think that they could be able to breed naturally (Blade Runner 2049 makes us think differently)?
There were two aspects to the ending of "Segregationist" that made the story even more exciting. Most humans consciously choose the metallic parts (they seem to think that metal symbolizes longevity and strength). I loved the final twist that the vehement advocate of organic body parts for humans turns out to be an intelligent robot. Apparently, even the robots have developed ideas of separation of intelligent species.
Rating: 4/5
Coming from this vantage point, the stories collected here - which form the second half of what was originally published as Nightfall - were much more exciting than what I expected. The media often talks about Asimov's brilliant ideas, and there really is at least one very strong idea to all of the stories. As a new perspective on things is one of the main reasons for why I read science-fiction, I really got something out of reading this.
"Breeds there a Man?" (1951)
Some popular scientists and mathematics are known to have been fighting with their own personal demons. Kurt Gödel, for instance, lived under constant fear of being poisoned and would only eat the meals prepared by his wife; when she wasn't able to care for him anymore, he starved to death. John Nash is another tragic example. "Breeds there a Man?" is about a similar personality, even though it leaves open the possibility that the delusional theories of the brilliant man may actually be based in fact.
As Asimov explains in the introduction, the story was written as a response to the catastrophe of Hiroshima, with the intention of giving the topic a more interesting spin than (according to its writer) it received in most of the science-fiction of his time. Elwood Ralson is a nuclear scientist whose brilliant contributions are praised by many of his peers. He is mentally very unstable, though, and he is struggling to keep afloat as suicidal thoughts more and more push him towards the edge. He is very much needed, though, as the invention of a protective screen against nuclear attacks from the East is imminent. If only he would recover and lend them his insight, others are convinced they would gain the upper hand in no time.
There is much more to Ralson's mental illness. He developed a conspiracy theory of cosmic proportions that would account for humankind's global death drive, the rise and fall of powerful civilizations, and the role of the human race in the cosmic order. According to his favorite analogy, we are to an alien intelligence what bacteria strains are to researches in the field of nuclear biology. All our strive, our talents, human progress, it's all part of an elaborate experiment of which we are unaware. If individuals are getting too good at what they do or may even begin to grasp the bigger picture, there are mechanisms that lead them to their death.
After a bit of a rough start, with a man who calls on the police to save him from committing suicide, the pacing of the story was great and for me it got increasingly more exciting as it progressed towards its ending. The mysteries about the content of Ralson's ideas and why the government has such a strong interest in him were quite intriguing, and the resolution mostly satisfying. The tragedy added some emotional touch and I liked that the story never reveals whether his ideas really are nothing more than delusions (the parallel to John Nash's case are striking). So, maybe most of the science-fiction here wasn't really real.
"C-Chute" (1951)
I have to admit, I think I'm prone to prejudice. When I learn about someone's occupation, if someone looks a certain way or wears certain clothes, I often jump to conclusions as to who these people really are. I presume many people do, and I even suspect that often we are right. Within the setting of a dangerous space adventure, "C-Chute" holds up a mirror to us not only in that we may be wrong (that's obvious). It may be that we have exactly the negative traits we narrow-mindedly attribute to others.
Human kind is fighting its first interstellar war, against an intelligent race called the Kloros. The reasons behind the war are not easy to understand, as they are a chlorine-breathing species, so their planets are for us as deadly as oxygen-based worlds are for them. They tend to treat even their prisoners with dignity and good will, so that six human civilians - who find themselves captured as prisoners of war when their ship is seized by alien attackers - are able to freely move and speak within their quarters and are not threatened with violence.
The story is mainly about courage. Naturally, the prisoners want to escape, but it soon shows that they are not ready to seize an opportunity presented to them. There is the so-called C-Chute, short for "casualty chute" and normally used to send dead bodies into space, but a brave individual could use it to go outside of the ship and walk his way to the bridge to kill the two Kloros on board. Of course, most are very hesitant to be this brave individual. Ironically, only a man called Mullen, who is perceived by others as very boring and too cold and calculating, mainly because of his job as bookkeeper and his very short stature, is willing to do it.
The story is not primarily about the action, though there are some cool parts even in this respect (like when the presumed dead Kloros suddenly wakes up again). It's not about the world-building, either, although I liked the descriptions of the Kloros as being more humane than many humans. It's about the misperception with which the others looked at Mullen and who is now doing what he can to save them all. It's made the more interesting even by Mullen openly admitting that his motives were much more prosaic than heroism and the fact that his actions would save the others too are more of a side-effect. Still, the others are ashamed by their own cowardice and his behavior sparks something in them. Inspiring in many ways.
In a good Cause... (1951)
"In a good Cause..." is massive in scope and probably my favorite in the collection. The plot is incredibly twisted and not easy to wrap your head around. As its epigram, it begins with the words: "In a good cause, there are no failures. There are only delayed successes", written on the statue of a man still celebrated centuries later. The man is Richard "Dick" Altmayer. Even though he is not a good man believing strongly in the end justifying the means, and even though his direct intentions never really come to fruition, in the end he was the cause for a better future. Or for a state of the world he and his successors take to be the better future.
After the prelude, the story is told in three parts, delineating the events that lead to the three prison sentences he served in his lifetime. As even the law acknowledges (think of the failure to render assistance), not doing something may have consequences too (and ones whose occurrence you may aim at). There is a war of Earth against another of humankind's colonies. Altmayer protests against being conscripted to participate in this war, and he hopes to be one among many who do the same. His dream is to unite the human peoples in an interplanetary federation. His youthful ideals come to nothing and he is send to prison for his civil disobedience.
Things get only more complicated later on. As becomes clear, humankind is not the only intelligent species in the universe. They are approached by the Diaboli (named so for their devilish outer appearance). After his release, Altmayer formed a party that still champions his idea of universal peace among all humans, but he is increasingly wary towards the Diaboli. He plans to cause a war by assassinating high-ranking diplomats, scheming that in this way humankind would be united against a common enemy. His attempts fail and he again ends up in prison.
In the final episode, Altmayer found out that the Diaboli are planning to transform an oxygen planet into a sulfuric planet to increase their sphere of influence. He wants to transmit the information via an interstellar broadcasting to all human listeners, again to make them aware of the common threat. But again the government knows all about his plans. In fact, they want the information to be leaked.
The Earth government can then dispute the fact as vehemently as the Diaboli, and the other human races will be lead to think Earth and the Diaboli are working together. But there won't be a war, as non-Earth colonies would have no chance against a united Earth and Diaboli alliance. In case of a war Earth against Diaboli the other human colonies would remain neutral. When in fact such a war ensues, war gains motivate other colonies to join Earth in battle. Ironically, this leads to the United Worlds Altmayer always wanted.
I thought with all the political scheming, the twisted morality, and the deception, the story was very thrillingly construed. When I was talking to friends about the story, everyone was going: "Wait, this all happens in just one short story?!", and I felt exactly the same way when reading it. Science-fiction in a nutshell done completely right.
What If... (1952)
When modern-day philosophers are thinking about the multiverse, they are often concerned with necessity and possibility. For instance, they explain the vaguely understood idea of necessity (or so-called de re necessity) by asking what would be the case in all possible worlds. Or more precisely, what state of affairs about individuals would obtain in all possible worlds, given that the individuals in question exist in that world at all. They are rarely concerned, however, with the connections of events in different possible scenarios (conditional actualization, so to speak). To put the point more romantically, how many changes to the actual events can the love of two people survive?
A couple is in the train and on their way to New York to celebrate their five year marriage anniversary. They talk about how they met - in a train where Livvy fell in future husband Norman's lap on a sudden turn. They also reflect how things might have been different, for instance, if he had missed the train or if she didn't fell. She doesn't like the idea that there are still two empty seats in front of them (oh, I know that feeling), and alas, a strange man comes and sits himself in front of them! He has a case on which "What If" is written and the husband correctly assumes that this must be the name of the completely silent man. As you may have guessed, he opens the case and gets out a device that vividly shows them what could have been.
There are some intriguing thoughts here. For instance, in one scene the husband expresses an interesting idea: "The crucial thing is that we cannot be held responsible in the real world for the things we might have done!" Maybe you could say that one thing that could remain the same in the contrafactual situations are our character dispositions (the personality that makes us us). Dispositions are essentially described in the modal vocabulary of "if this-and-this happened, then that-and-that would happen", so I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to reject his plea for excuse. For instance, I guess a husband could be rebuked for his willingness to betray his wife with another sexual partner (if you could somehow know about his ambitions), even if he was never presented with the opportunity.
As the ending of the story proves, maybe the two were meant for each other. Even if their lives had taken very different turns, eventually they still would have become husband and wife. I thought this happy-ending was kind of sweet. Very different from the big blockbuster escapades that currently explore the idea of a multiverse.
Segregationist (1967)
"Segregationist" is a very unusual story, as it is very short and was written for an audience of doctors. There was still a very interesting twist to it, though. In fact, the twist was almost mind-blowing. Did you ever look at C-3PO and wondered, what if he was made of organic parts, would we even perceive him as substantially different from human beings?
You could say that there already are cyborgs among us, human beings who have machine parts. For instance, we are using artificial hearts and limbs. We are very close to new ways of interacting with the internet. So, even in the real world the line between humans and robots is being blurred (albeit we are only at the very beginning of this process). On the other hand, machines are getting increasingly smarter, more believably simulating human intelligence. Maybe there will be a future in which they are not just simulating; they do fully realize intelligence.
"Segregationist" realizes these possibilities. For all intents and purposes, robots are as mentally capable as humans are. So it's only natural that they were granted the status of equal citizenship. One thing has not changed, though: human are still made of organic flesh while robots are still made from metal. In the story, they are at the point in history where this is about to change. This transition is dramatized by means of a medical decision: Does the (human) patient want the hitherto used metallic heart, or does he want one of the more organic new developments (as recommended by his doctor)?
It poses the crucial question (made popular by Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, for instance), when artificial creations are indistinguishable from human beings in their intelligence, what is it that still makes us human? One answer could be that we are born human and made from different material (so to speak). But what if we could create robots from biological materials similar to our own make-up? And is it really impossible to think that they could be able to breed naturally (Blade Runner 2049 makes us think differently)?
There were two aspects to the ending of "Segregationist" that made the story even more exciting. Most humans consciously choose the metallic parts (they seem to think that metal symbolizes longevity and strength). I loved the final twist that the vehement advocate of organic body parts for humans turns out to be an intelligent robot. Apparently, even the robots have developed ideas of separation of intelligent species.
Rating: 4/5
The Dirdir by Jack Vance
4.0
The Adventures on the planet of Tschai continue. As the title suggests, they now meet the devilish Dirdir. Reith changed his strategy, in order to finally obtain the spaceboat he had been after for the past two novels already, his plan is now to build one himself.
As the previous novel, The Dirdir is again a two-part story. For the purpose of building a spaceboat, Reith needs money, a lot of money. Or "sequins", as the universal currency of the planet is called. The resource is scooped from chrysopin that only grows in the Carabas, which is part of the Dirdir territory. In the second half, they use their new-found riches to build the spaceboat in the decadent city of Sivishe.
The events in the Carabas are again quite adventurous, comparable to the journey over the rivers and through the swamps in the predecessor, and I liked the goldrush setting. Of course, it's not quite as easy as just picking up the crystalline substances. The Carabas form the hunting grounds on which the Dirdir (setting out from Khusz) live out their prehistorical bestial nature (the so-called "old status"), devouring their prey like they did on their home planet millions of years ago. Reith and his party turn the tables and cunningly make hunt for the hunters, stealing the stolen sequins from their victims.
One scene in particular was great. After their last night of hunting, they are walking through the dark night. They are burdened with their heavy loot and Traz's leg is injured. Dirdir show up, searching for their missing hunting groups. Eventually, the monsters are chasing after them, getting ever closer as our heroes approach the gate of hope. Suddenly, Traz again becomes the mighty Onmale, the persona he wore when Reith first met him. He takes two heavy bundles from Reith and Anacho and as they arrived at the gate, he turns around and is ready to fight the Dirdir. When they run, he breaks down. It's really quite picturesque.
The second half is dominated by the series' first real villain. When they arrived in Sivish, they need an influential partner to acquire the construction site, the resources and parts, and the workers to build their spaceship. They find a fellow campaigner in Woudiver, a despicable man who has his hands in various pockets and whose outer appearance mirrors his depraved soul. Tension comes from the fact that he is hardly trustworthy, but that they need to trust him in order to achieve their aims.
I loved the conflict-ridden negotiations and renegotiations that are ongoing until the very end. Their necessary leap of faith puts them in an intricate position, their relative bargaining positions are shifting, and neither side can trust the other. There is also the constant fear that the money won't suffice. To this comes Woudiver's erratic behavior when he returns from his orgies and Reith is more and more losing his initial high ground.
The events go head over heels when Reith gets back from his trip to pick up the rest of the money and finds that the Dirdir have imprisoned the fugitive Anacho (the Dirdir man that had been with Reith since the first book). At that point I really hated Woudiver passionately. Anacho is held captive in Hei, a Dirdir city nearby. There they have arena in a glass building. The facility is modeled on their home planet, Sibol, and it's used to teach the young Dirdir to hunt by throwing in delinquent humans. In order to save his friend (that's what he is at this point), Reith enters deliberately, but he didn't come unarmed. After some time, Traz will set off an explosion and they would escape, they just have to survive long enough. They run and hide in the shadows. When there is no escape, they kill. The arbitrators are furious. After the explosion they are able to escape through the breach.
The thrilling developments continue. Now they will storm Woudiver's estate. He turns out to he even more disgusting than I thought when they meet Deyne Zarre there, a kind-hearted old-man that oversees the construction of the spaeship. He informs them that Woudiver abused and killed his nephew and niece. Still confident when they confront him, Woudiver insults them as mice with teeth and our heroes fall for his trap. The situation really seems quite desperate, especially when it turns out that Traz and Anacho were captured too. But through a ruse, Reith is able to prove his innocence by killing an immaculate Dirdir man in a final great action confrontation (well, action beats logic). Oh, the gratification when they finally have the rueful Woudiver under their thumb.
I again loved the depiction of cultures. Reith's trick is made possible by the compulsions that are still part of the Dirdir's nature. The Dirdir don't form a real society, essentially they accept their fellow men and women at their leisure. To make cooperation possible, certain screams trigger patterns of behavior automatically. Moreover, their cooperation is very strictly class-based, in a system that also encompasses the Didir men. There is also the tradition of the tschau'gsh as institutionalized act of revenge.
Other peoples are interesting, too. There are the dangerous Khor. They are described as having different personalities during the day and after dark. They hate verbosity and are very wary of submissiveness. Well, and they are very well-versed in throwing their spears, which they often do when something is against their ideas of human interaction. In Sivish, on the other hand, mistrust and debauchery reign. No one speaks his mind. There is gambling, poor diet and obesity, and they show a sick complexion. Woudiver is only the worst of a degenerate people.
The Dirdir is another page-turner in a great series of pulpy sci-fi fantasy. It's so easy to read and still just a lot of fun. I cannot wait to read how the story comes to an end. Probably the most exciting epic of someone who wants nothing more than to get a spaceship.
Rating: 4/5
As the previous novel, The Dirdir is again a two-part story. For the purpose of building a spaceboat, Reith needs money, a lot of money. Or "sequins", as the universal currency of the planet is called. The resource is scooped from chrysopin that only grows in the Carabas, which is part of the Dirdir territory. In the second half, they use their new-found riches to build the spaceboat in the decadent city of Sivishe.
The events in the Carabas are again quite adventurous, comparable to the journey over the rivers and through the swamps in the predecessor, and I liked the goldrush setting. Of course, it's not quite as easy as just picking up the crystalline substances. The Carabas form the hunting grounds on which the Dirdir (setting out from Khusz) live out their prehistorical bestial nature (the so-called "old status"), devouring their prey like they did on their home planet millions of years ago. Reith and his party turn the tables and cunningly make hunt for the hunters, stealing the stolen sequins from their victims.
One scene in particular was great. After their last night of hunting, they are walking through the dark night. They are burdened with their heavy loot and Traz's leg is injured. Dirdir show up, searching for their missing hunting groups. Eventually, the monsters are chasing after them, getting ever closer as our heroes approach the gate of hope. Suddenly, Traz again becomes the mighty Onmale, the persona he wore when Reith first met him. He takes two heavy bundles from Reith and Anacho and as they arrived at the gate, he turns around and is ready to fight the Dirdir. When they run, he breaks down. It's really quite picturesque.
The second half is dominated by the series' first real villain. When they arrived in Sivish, they need an influential partner to acquire the construction site, the resources and parts, and the workers to build their spaceship. They find a fellow campaigner in Woudiver, a despicable man who has his hands in various pockets and whose outer appearance mirrors his depraved soul. Tension comes from the fact that he is hardly trustworthy, but that they need to trust him in order to achieve their aims.
I loved the conflict-ridden negotiations and renegotiations that are ongoing until the very end. Their necessary leap of faith puts them in an intricate position, their relative bargaining positions are shifting, and neither side can trust the other. There is also the constant fear that the money won't suffice. To this comes Woudiver's erratic behavior when he returns from his orgies and Reith is more and more losing his initial high ground.
The events go head over heels when Reith gets back from his trip to pick up the rest of the money and finds that the Dirdir have imprisoned the fugitive Anacho (the Dirdir man that had been with Reith since the first book). At that point I really hated Woudiver passionately. Anacho is held captive in Hei, a Dirdir city nearby. There they have arena in a glass building. The facility is modeled on their home planet, Sibol, and it's used to teach the young Dirdir to hunt by throwing in delinquent humans. In order to save his friend (that's what he is at this point), Reith enters deliberately, but he didn't come unarmed. After some time, Traz will set off an explosion and they would escape, they just have to survive long enough. They run and hide in the shadows. When there is no escape, they kill. The arbitrators are furious. After the explosion they are able to escape through the breach.
The thrilling developments continue. Now they will storm Woudiver's estate. He turns out to he even more disgusting than I thought when they meet Deyne Zarre there, a kind-hearted old-man that oversees the construction of the spaeship. He informs them that Woudiver abused and killed his nephew and niece. Still confident when they confront him, Woudiver insults them as mice with teeth and our heroes fall for his trap. The situation really seems quite desperate, especially when it turns out that Traz and Anacho were captured too. But through a ruse, Reith is able to prove his innocence by killing an immaculate Dirdir man in a final great action confrontation (well, action beats logic). Oh, the gratification when they finally have the rueful Woudiver under their thumb.
I again loved the depiction of cultures. Reith's trick is made possible by the compulsions that are still part of the Dirdir's nature. The Dirdir don't form a real society, essentially they accept their fellow men and women at their leisure. To make cooperation possible, certain screams trigger patterns of behavior automatically. Moreover, their cooperation is very strictly class-based, in a system that also encompasses the Didir men. There is also the tradition of the tschau'gsh as institutionalized act of revenge.
Other peoples are interesting, too. There are the dangerous Khor. They are described as having different personalities during the day and after dark. They hate verbosity and are very wary of submissiveness. Well, and they are very well-versed in throwing their spears, which they often do when something is against their ideas of human interaction. In Sivish, on the other hand, mistrust and debauchery reign. No one speaks his mind. There is gambling, poor diet and obesity, and they show a sick complexion. Woudiver is only the worst of a degenerate people.
The Dirdir is another page-turner in a great series of pulpy sci-fi fantasy. It's so easy to read and still just a lot of fun. I cannot wait to read how the story comes to an end. Probably the most exciting epic of someone who wants nothing more than to get a spaceship.
Rating: 4/5
Servants of the Wankh by Jack Vance
4.0
Servants of the Wankh seamlessly continues the tales about the Planet of Adventure, Tschai. Adam Reith goes on with his quest for a space boat to leave the planet. He is still accompanied by his party - consisting of the nomad boy Traz, the Dirdir man Anacho, and Ylin-Ylan, the Flower of Cath - and together they are on their way to Ylin-Ylan's homeland.
Since his lover promised him the assistance of her rich father, Reith approaches Cath with confidence. Then Ylin-Ylan's love for Reith cools down abruptly, and the closer they get to Cath, the more she tries to distance herself from the rest of her party. This cleverly foreshadows the issues that our heroes will run into when they arrive at their destination.
The second novel is significantly more spiritual and psychological than its predecessor. But don't worry, at no point is the story burdened down by it. The depiction of inner emotional turmoil of Ylin-Ylan is never pretentious and doesn't attempt to go beyond its pulpy roots. The thought that she would arrive in Cath with these lowlives - with her lover even showing clear signs of delusion - the shame becomes too much to bear. Eventually, she resorts to awaile, bloodshed that commonly functions as a valve among the Yao people. She may end her life in the roaring sea, but the events are just so over-the-top that the reader is left more with bewildered amusement than with disturbed tragedy.
One reason for this is the Yao cavalier called Dordolio, a hilarious addition to the cast. He was among the men who were send out to search for Ylin-Ylan and he joins our party on their seaside journey to Cath. He is such a ridiculous character, taking much pride in his dignity and status. With him the reader is given the chance to comprehend the customs of Cath by studying this personified nutshell. His audacities when it comes to money and polite favors, his pretense of superiority, his casual backstabbing, it takes a great writer to come up with such a perfectly exaggerated personality. The highlight is probably his affaire d'honneur against Reith. It's so silly, but I really laughed at the humiliation inflicted by aimed strikes that make him loose his pants. Times were so much simpler in the 60s.
As you will have expected by now, Cath doesn't exactly offer what Reith was hoping to find. The Lord of the Blue Jade cannot be trusted and his seemingly obliging assistant, Helsse, is pursuing an insidious agenda. There are no laws in the city, only strong custom. As Reith has to find out, among the traditions is that you cooperate when the guild of assassins is performing its conventionary duty of ending your life (no decency to these outsiders!). In the light of this, stealing the spaceship is a much more promising way to go about it.
Religion is not a core element to the story, but I liked the addition of the Cult of Longing Refugees (is this how they are called in the English original?). Their core dogma is that humankind isn't native to Tschai, which may or may not be of bigger relevance in the books to come. When they discuss religion in the early pages, Reith argues that religion is projecting the human onto the unintelligible, which I found interesting considering that there are non-human cultures in the series as well (I don't think their religion is depicted, yet).
I loved how the setting completely changes in the second half of the novel. For one thing, we meet another culture: the docile Wankh and the vain Wankh people, the strong aversions of the Black and the Purple against each other (even though they come from the same womb), and the technically versed Lokhar (who dye their skin and hair to distance themselves from the pale Wankh people). With the rough translation of their ideogram-based written language we even get an understanding of how they construct meanings out of layers among layers, comparable to how I imagine Chinese symbols to function.
Beyond that, when Reith and his party are finally able to escape from Cath, they find themselves in hostile and dangerous territory. Suddenly, the story reads like the pulp version of Heart of Darkness. They come across the Hoch Har, mountain dwellers who are the enemies of the Yao and who help the party to find their way to the Wankh city of Kabasas. Over rivers in a sailboat, high forests and caves, passing through a gorge, dangerous seaside villages, the seizing of a ship. I really loved the truly adventurous nature of this episode.
I wasn't super stoked about the final act. The failed attempt of stealing a spaceship unfolds in only a couple of pages. I was kind of puzzled that suddenly they already arrived in the space harbor of Ao Hidis and in its hangar. Then their flight finds quite a sudden ending as well. Then they are brought before the Wankh, the twist that they are actually controlled by their human "servants", the deus ex machina of using the captured and hypnotized Helsse to break the spell, the pacing just felt very off. But I still liked that they now broke the connection of two human species and their alien counterparts. Given the above-mentioned cult, this can only lead to a planet-wide rescue, right?
Servants of the Wankh improves upon the first novel in many respects. The portrayal of culture is even more intriguing, the surroundings are richer, there is a clearer sense of danger in the air. It's still a lot of fun and so far I don't feel fatigued with the story at all (I'm already halfway through the third novel). If you like science-fiction of the softer and more traditional variety, this really is as good as it gets.
Rating: 4/5
Since his lover promised him the assistance of her rich father, Reith approaches Cath with confidence. Then Ylin-Ylan's love for Reith cools down abruptly, and the closer they get to Cath, the more she tries to distance herself from the rest of her party. This cleverly foreshadows the issues that our heroes will run into when they arrive at their destination.
The second novel is significantly more spiritual and psychological than its predecessor. But don't worry, at no point is the story burdened down by it. The depiction of inner emotional turmoil of Ylin-Ylan is never pretentious and doesn't attempt to go beyond its pulpy roots. The thought that she would arrive in Cath with these lowlives - with her lover even showing clear signs of delusion - the shame becomes too much to bear. Eventually, she resorts to awaile, bloodshed that commonly functions as a valve among the Yao people. She may end her life in the roaring sea, but the events are just so over-the-top that the reader is left more with bewildered amusement than with disturbed tragedy.
One reason for this is the Yao cavalier called Dordolio, a hilarious addition to the cast. He was among the men who were send out to search for Ylin-Ylan and he joins our party on their seaside journey to Cath. He is such a ridiculous character, taking much pride in his dignity and status. With him the reader is given the chance to comprehend the customs of Cath by studying this personified nutshell. His audacities when it comes to money and polite favors, his pretense of superiority, his casual backstabbing, it takes a great writer to come up with such a perfectly exaggerated personality. The highlight is probably his affaire d'honneur against Reith. It's so silly, but I really laughed at the humiliation inflicted by aimed strikes that make him loose his pants. Times were so much simpler in the 60s.
As you will have expected by now, Cath doesn't exactly offer what Reith was hoping to find. The Lord of the Blue Jade cannot be trusted and his seemingly obliging assistant, Helsse, is pursuing an insidious agenda. There are no laws in the city, only strong custom. As Reith has to find out, among the traditions is that you cooperate when the guild of assassins is performing its conventionary duty of ending your life (no decency to these outsiders!). In the light of this, stealing the spaceship is a much more promising way to go about it.
Religion is not a core element to the story, but I liked the addition of the Cult of Longing Refugees (is this how they are called in the English original?). Their core dogma is that humankind isn't native to Tschai, which may or may not be of bigger relevance in the books to come. When they discuss religion in the early pages, Reith argues that religion is projecting the human onto the unintelligible, which I found interesting considering that there are non-human cultures in the series as well (I don't think their religion is depicted, yet).
I loved how the setting completely changes in the second half of the novel. For one thing, we meet another culture: the docile Wankh and the vain Wankh people, the strong aversions of the Black and the Purple against each other (even though they come from the same womb), and the technically versed Lokhar (who dye their skin and hair to distance themselves from the pale Wankh people). With the rough translation of their ideogram-based written language we even get an understanding of how they construct meanings out of layers among layers, comparable to how I imagine Chinese symbols to function.
Beyond that, when Reith and his party are finally able to escape from Cath, they find themselves in hostile and dangerous territory. Suddenly, the story reads like the pulp version of Heart of Darkness. They come across the Hoch Har, mountain dwellers who are the enemies of the Yao and who help the party to find their way to the Wankh city of Kabasas. Over rivers in a sailboat, high forests and caves, passing through a gorge, dangerous seaside villages, the seizing of a ship. I really loved the truly adventurous nature of this episode.
I wasn't super stoked about the final act. The failed attempt of stealing a spaceship unfolds in only a couple of pages. I was kind of puzzled that suddenly they already arrived in the space harbor of Ao Hidis and in its hangar. Then their flight finds quite a sudden ending as well. Then they are brought before the Wankh, the twist that they are actually controlled by their human "servants", the deus ex machina of using the captured and hypnotized Helsse to break the spell, the pacing just felt very off. But I still liked that they now broke the connection of two human species and their alien counterparts. Given the above-mentioned cult, this can only lead to a planet-wide rescue, right?
Servants of the Wankh improves upon the first novel in many respects. The portrayal of culture is even more intriguing, the surroundings are richer, there is a clearer sense of danger in the air. It's still a lot of fun and so far I don't feel fatigued with the story at all (I'm already halfway through the third novel). If you like science-fiction of the softer and more traditional variety, this really is as good as it gets.
Rating: 4/5
Naufragio sul pianeta Tschai by Jack Vance
4.0
City of the Chasch was so much fun. Written when science-fiction was still in its so-called Golden Age, it's all about the adventures. Fittingly, it's the first novel in the Planet of Adventure series. It were simpler times, but Jack Vance proves that pulp doesn't necessarily mean that you cannot have fantastic prose.
Adam Reith is stranded on the planet Tschai. You know the story: He and his crew passed by the planet in their starship, the Explorator IV when they received a signal. Reith is one of two scouts on board of the ship and they are send down in a space boat to investigate the signal's origins. Suddenly, the Explorator IV is destroyed by a missile and Reith's partner is killed almost immediately after their arrival. Strangely, he finds his death by the hands of human beings - so far from planet Earth!
The eventful opening excitingly introduces the reader to many of the races that will be of big importance in the entire series. At first, the alien Chasch arrive with their Chaschmen human servants, and immediately thereafter we meet the Dirdir with their Dirdirmen subordinates. The two are clearly hostile to each other. The Chasch disperse the Dirdir, injure Reith, and eventually leave, taking Reith's space boat with them. Reith is taken captive by a tribe of nomads. And all this in only a couple of pages.
The novel keeps up the high pace all the way through the story. The introduction of other races of Tschai (like the Wankh, the Pnume, or the Phung, to mention only the the ones that are frequently referred to in the conversations) and their belief systems is never in the form of boring info dumps. Instead, fascinating ideas like the nomads' emblems as bearers of personalities and histories that are assumed by their wearers are of immediate importance to Reith's survival. Information about the planet and its peoples shines through interesting speeches and lore.
Reith finds a friend in the leader of the nomads, Traz Onmale, and when he is to be sacrificed on the event of the planet's two moons being on top of each other, the two escape together. When they run into a Dirdirman, Anacho, the core of our party is formed. I have to say, the characters are kind of boring and too stereotypical at first, but as they begin to trust each other and overcome the prejudices of their upbringings, the cast grew on me.
Even though they don't travel far in this first novel, the world already feels very much alive. You learn about even more peoples and races (and as it will turn out especially with the second novel, all with rich customs and practices), about their ongoing feuds, and about the geography and cities. Our heroes now travel with a caravan, and I loved the images that this evoked. It is also the beginning of a cool sidequest, as with them travels a cult of radical feminist priestesses who have captured a beautiful princess to be sacrificed in one of their rites.
One part of me says that I should be wary of the representation of women in these pages. But to be honest, I thought the ceremony of dancing naked women, of which some had cut off their breasts, men in cages, and dominant queens was kind of hilarious. It's just so silly, only a man writing in the 60s can get away with it. Of course, Reith is able to save his beloved Flower of Cath. However, the relationship of the two was too much for me. It's not even funny, just shitty storytelling. The only redeeming quality to the repercussions of this subplot is that it takes some surprising turns in the beginning of the second novel.
There is a political dimension to the events that unfold in the final act. Even though the setup isn't the most original - a man called Nago Goho rules despotically over the ruined city of Pera - I loved how it plays out. By freeing the town of its oppressor, Reith unwittingly gains trusty followers. He still believes his space boat to be with the Chasch (the Blue Chasch, as he know knows more accurately), and when his stealth missions came to no avail, it's convenient that he now has an army to march into the Chasch city of Dadiche to regain what is his. The battle is made more interesting by the Green Chasch entering as another war party and by making use of their mysterious telepathic abilities. It's not exactly The Lord of the Rings, but still an enjoyably epic conclusion to the first part of the story.
There are various questions that still beg to be answered. What is the exact history of the planet? How did the humans come to Tschai and why do they believe they are only underdeveloped slaves? Who fired the missile that destroyed the Explorator IV? What exactly are the Phung and Pnume that constantly lurk in the darkness like rats? I'm not sure how much of this will be relevant in the books to come. So far, it's back to finding a spaceship and leaving this damned planet. You might think this is a rather underwhelming starting point for the next novel - but I couldn't be more excited about the series. Entertainment in its most delightful form.
Rating: 4/5
Adam Reith is stranded on the planet Tschai. You know the story: He and his crew passed by the planet in their starship, the Explorator IV when they received a signal. Reith is one of two scouts on board of the ship and they are send down in a space boat to investigate the signal's origins. Suddenly, the Explorator IV is destroyed by a missile and Reith's partner is killed almost immediately after their arrival. Strangely, he finds his death by the hands of human beings - so far from planet Earth!
The eventful opening excitingly introduces the reader to many of the races that will be of big importance in the entire series. At first, the alien Chasch arrive with their Chaschmen human servants, and immediately thereafter we meet the Dirdir with their Dirdirmen subordinates. The two are clearly hostile to each other. The Chasch disperse the Dirdir, injure Reith, and eventually leave, taking Reith's space boat with them. Reith is taken captive by a tribe of nomads. And all this in only a couple of pages.
The novel keeps up the high pace all the way through the story. The introduction of other races of Tschai (like the Wankh, the Pnume, or the Phung, to mention only the the ones that are frequently referred to in the conversations) and their belief systems is never in the form of boring info dumps. Instead, fascinating ideas like the nomads' emblems as bearers of personalities and histories that are assumed by their wearers are of immediate importance to Reith's survival. Information about the planet and its peoples shines through interesting speeches and lore.
Reith finds a friend in the leader of the nomads, Traz Onmale, and when he is to be sacrificed on the event of the planet's two moons being on top of each other, the two escape together. When they run into a Dirdirman, Anacho, the core of our party is formed. I have to say, the characters are kind of boring and too stereotypical at first, but as they begin to trust each other and overcome the prejudices of their upbringings, the cast grew on me.
Even though they don't travel far in this first novel, the world already feels very much alive. You learn about even more peoples and races (and as it will turn out especially with the second novel, all with rich customs and practices), about their ongoing feuds, and about the geography and cities. Our heroes now travel with a caravan, and I loved the images that this evoked. It is also the beginning of a cool sidequest, as with them travels a cult of radical feminist priestesses who have captured a beautiful princess to be sacrificed in one of their rites.
One part of me says that I should be wary of the representation of women in these pages. But to be honest, I thought the ceremony of dancing naked women, of which some had cut off their breasts, men in cages, and dominant queens was kind of hilarious. It's just so silly, only a man writing in the 60s can get away with it. Of course, Reith is able to save his beloved Flower of Cath. However, the relationship of the two was too much for me. It's not even funny, just shitty storytelling. The only redeeming quality to the repercussions of this subplot is that it takes some surprising turns in the beginning of the second novel.
There is a political dimension to the events that unfold in the final act. Even though the setup isn't the most original - a man called Nago Goho rules despotically over the ruined city of Pera - I loved how it plays out. By freeing the town of its oppressor, Reith unwittingly gains trusty followers. He still believes his space boat to be with the Chasch (the Blue Chasch, as he know knows more accurately), and when his stealth missions came to no avail, it's convenient that he now has an army to march into the Chasch city of Dadiche to regain what is his. The battle is made more interesting by the Green Chasch entering as another war party and by making use of their mysterious telepathic abilities. It's not exactly The Lord of the Rings, but still an enjoyably epic conclusion to the first part of the story.
There are various questions that still beg to be answered. What is the exact history of the planet? How did the humans come to Tschai and why do they believe they are only underdeveloped slaves? Who fired the missile that destroyed the Explorator IV? What exactly are the Phung and Pnume that constantly lurk in the darkness like rats? I'm not sure how much of this will be relevant in the books to come. So far, it's back to finding a spaceship and leaving this damned planet. You might think this is a rather underwhelming starting point for the next novel - but I couldn't be more excited about the series. Entertainment in its most delightful form.
Rating: 4/5
Warnung an die Welt: Science-fiction-Roman by John Brunner
3.0
Give Warning to the World is neo-noir pulp with strong Lovecraftian themes. Many reviews on here point out how it feels like a lazy commissional work; while it may have originated this way, I still enjoyed it dearly. It's comparatively undemanding on the reader, but still interesting enough to keep your attention.
Sally Ercott lives in a filthy boarding house on London's Mamble Row. She is squalid, abused by her landlady (who push her into the prostitution business), and most of all, she is suffering from amnesia. She is having terribly vivid nightmares of horrific creatures and near-death experiences. Sometimes these visions strike her during daytime even, and in one of these episodes she approaches a man called Nick Jenkins, who she deliriously takes for someone else.
The man prides himself in being open for the unexpected and when he eventually agrees to help her, he comes to believe in the reality of her visions. As they fight back against Sally's oppressors, they begin to discover a conspiracy of cosmic scope that may endanger the entire human population.
It's clear that her visions are not just visions, and I was quite intrigued by the mystery. The opening, with the dominant tentacle creature that reveals how it removes the brains of humanoid beings to plant its descendants, really made me wonder what they would discover in the end. When Jenkins hypothesizes that her visions are the thoughts of beings on other planets, Lovecraft turns into Doctor Who, and I liked that.
The resolution - a cosmic field that records thoughts before an individual's death, women of similar species that are able to receive the messages, parasites, different development stage of the alien usurper, explosions - it wasn't great, but I was entertained alright. I didn't expect the concluding info dumping of species history, the surprisingly elaborate portrait of the Yem's culture, strategies, abilities, form of intelligence, and division of labor, but I thought it wrapped up the story quite nicely and provided the main events with additional meaning. The cosmic oneiromancy of Sally's vision was another cool touch.
As you would expect, the novel certainly doesn't read like high literature. Some plot developments, especially in the beginning, are introduced as if with the sledgehammer. For instance, Jenkins runs into a man in a very crowded bar who turns out to be Sally's neighbor. I guess it's not unlikely that he would talk about the strange things that are happening at his building, but that he meets him in the first place sure is quite the coincidence. To be honest, I didn't really mind. The police perspective on the events (which was added in the expanded version of Echo in the Skull) is kind of inconsequential, but it added this pulpy detective atmosphere that I enjoyed very much.
Compared with the only other of John Brunner's novels I've read, Catch a falling star, is much more silly and in a sense even quite trashy. I've appreciated it just the same. As with movies, sometimes a stupidly easy sci-fi read is all I need to enjoy myself.
Rating: 3/5
Sally Ercott lives in a filthy boarding house on London's Mamble Row. She is squalid, abused by her landlady (who push her into the prostitution business), and most of all, she is suffering from amnesia. She is having terribly vivid nightmares of horrific creatures and near-death experiences. Sometimes these visions strike her during daytime even, and in one of these episodes she approaches a man called Nick Jenkins, who she deliriously takes for someone else.
The man prides himself in being open for the unexpected and when he eventually agrees to help her, he comes to believe in the reality of her visions. As they fight back against Sally's oppressors, they begin to discover a conspiracy of cosmic scope that may endanger the entire human population.
It's clear that her visions are not just visions, and I was quite intrigued by the mystery. The opening, with the dominant tentacle creature that reveals how it removes the brains of humanoid beings to plant its descendants, really made me wonder what they would discover in the end. When Jenkins hypothesizes that her visions are the thoughts of beings on other planets, Lovecraft turns into Doctor Who, and I liked that.
The resolution - a cosmic field that records thoughts before an individual's death, women of similar species that are able to receive the messages, parasites, different development stage of the alien usurper, explosions - it wasn't great, but I was entertained alright. I didn't expect the concluding info dumping of species history, the surprisingly elaborate portrait of the Yem's culture, strategies, abilities, form of intelligence, and division of labor, but I thought it wrapped up the story quite nicely and provided the main events with additional meaning. The cosmic oneiromancy of Sally's vision was another cool touch.
As you would expect, the novel certainly doesn't read like high literature. Some plot developments, especially in the beginning, are introduced as if with the sledgehammer. For instance, Jenkins runs into a man in a very crowded bar who turns out to be Sally's neighbor. I guess it's not unlikely that he would talk about the strange things that are happening at his building, but that he meets him in the first place sure is quite the coincidence. To be honest, I didn't really mind. The police perspective on the events (which was added in the expanded version of Echo in the Skull) is kind of inconsequential, but it added this pulpy detective atmosphere that I enjoyed very much.
Compared with the only other of John Brunner's novels I've read, Catch a falling star, is much more silly and in a sense even quite trashy. I've appreciated it just the same. As with movies, sometimes a stupidly easy sci-fi read is all I need to enjoy myself.
Rating: 3/5