Coyote

Coyote by Allen Steele is the first in a series of seven (as of March 3, 2009) science fiction books. In print, Coyote has an Amazon sales rank of #145,794 in books, and it ranks #28,867 in the Kindle store.

I read Coyote neither in print nor in Kindle format, but listened to it as an audiobook read by Peter Gamin. There is a cool introduction to the audiobook in which Allen Steele discusses the origin of the series. However, Peter Gamin really annoyed me as narrator. His reading style was emotionless, reminding me of a computer converting text to speech. Worse, when he attempted to change his voice to depict Spanish-speaking or female characters, his voice had a mocking quality which, I'm sure, was unintentional- but, nevertheless, detracted from the story.

Like the hills and valleys on the planet Coyote, the first novel of the Coyote series had its high points and low points. The opening of the book was written in present tense. I'd guess Steele made the present tense decision in order to add even more tension to the already nail-biting events of the opening. I was about to despair that the entire book would be in the present tense, but was relieved to find that large stretches of the book, such as journal entries, were written in the storytelling past tense.

The opening also suffered from an overly black and white political landscape. The conflict between the mean-for-no-reason establishment, and the tragic Dissident Intellectuals being shipped like Jews to concentration camps, was painted in broad, uninteresting strokes just to establish the good guys and bad guys. However, once I suspended disbelief and accepted the naively conceived political climate, I found myself looking for any excuse to listen to more Coyote. Steele ratcheted the tension of the "Journey from Earth" with a visceral sense of dread that left my heart racing.

Coyote seems to me a fantasy novel wearing science fiction clothing. Sure, there are space ships, biostasis fields, and Savants (people who have traded in their bodies for machines)- but the mysteries for those who journey to Coyote do not lie in the wonder of technology or human aspiration and reason. Visions, ghosts, dreams, and, ironically, a fantasy novel written by one of the colonists, are key to the novel's sense of wonder. What's more, those who reach the planet aren't setting up state-of-the-art research labs- they are farmers, barkeeps, adventurers. And the world they attempt to colonize is filled with fantastical beasts. The creatures on Coyote reminded me of those in John Varley's Gaea Trilogy, in which space explorers land on a new planet to find centaurs and flying angels. Steele does not use traditional fantasy archetypes to populate his alien planet the way Varley did, but descriptions of his creatures have more in common with fantasy than they do science fiction.

Coyote is a great world for adventure, for stretching out the cramped limbs of your imagination. If, as the ending of the first novel implied, politics are going to play a large role in the Coyote series, I hope Steele portrays political conflict with a deeper and more realistic investigation into the motives of the "bad guys."

La Jetée

This weekend I watched a unique, post-apocalyptic, French science fiction film. When Chris Marker made La Jetée in 1962, motion picture technology was churning out such films as To Kill a Mockingbird and Dr. No, but Marker chose to shoot his film as a series of black and white still shots. With only one brief exception, the entire 28 minutes of La Jetée is a slide show of images with narration and orchestral soundtrack. The only dialog is some creepy muttering in German that the original French audience was not meant to understand (and neither did I).

The result of Marker's still-shot and narrative techniques is the manipulation of time- a manipulation in beautiful harmony with the time travel plot at the heart of the story.

The 1962 vision of a scary future is the aftermath of World War III. Germans occupied Paris, took prisoners- then victors and captors alike suffered the same fate of radiation poisoning and slow starvation. Desperate to survive, German scientists single out a French prisoner with a strong link to his past, to send on a torturous journey back in time to a France that had not yet been destroyed in order to obtain food, medicine, and aid. The prisoner's link to the past is the memory of a woman, and each trip back to the time of his childhood, he is drawn to her. The still shots of Paris before its destruction are full of life, light, and hope, in strong contrast to the post-apocalyptic world the prisoner has just left. I especially loved the series of stills in which the prisoner and the woman explore a natural history museum. The taxidermied species on display are a beautiful metaphor for the prisoner. Even the title of the film, while ostensibly referring to the pier on which the film opens, has a second meaning that refers to the prisoner- one thrown out, cast out, tossed back in time.

Although there was a lot of potential for this film to be corny- still shots, narration, ideas, such as WW III, which no longer seem fresh to modern audiences- it was overall a beautiful and intense experience. With the exception of some decidedly 1962-esque visions of humanity's future, La Jetée has aged pretty well. The film also lives on as the inspiration for the well-known 1995 science fiction film, Twelve Monkeys.

The Phoenix Requiem

More fun than working, and free, too- if you've never followed an online graphic novel, you might consider giving Sarah Ellerton's The Phoenix Requiem a try. The Phoenix Requiem is a Victorian-style fantasy tale with horror overtones and just enough polite sexual tension to keep things interesting. The artwork is pretty- Ellerton renders her human characters with warmth and humor, and her supernatural beings are appropriately ethereal or horrid, depending on whether they are spirits or shades.

At first I wasn't sold on heroine, Anya, a marriage-averse guy magnet. Anya is a doctor in training, fighting against the idea that a woman's place is in the home. Based on the feminist premise, I feared she'd become a one-sided character- but Anya's struggle is mostly with herself, as she attempts to balance her career goals and personal desires. This conflict resonates well with modern audiences of both sexes, and when combined with Anya's genuine empathy for the health and well-being of those around her, creates an endearing heroine.

The Phoenix Requiem is a work in progress. I just finished reading up to Volume 3. Ellerton posts 2-3 pages twice a week. Those who enjoy watching the novel take form, little by little, can eagerly await each new post. I prefer to let several chapters build up, and then pig out on Phoenix Requiem fun.

Anathem a Modern-Day Number of the Beast

I was a big fan of Neal Stephenson during his cyber phase (Snow Crash, The Diamond Age). I completely skipped out on his historical phase (Cryptonomicon and the Baroque Cycle), but wanted to catch up with his most recent book, Anathem, which I can only hope is the beginning of a new philosophical phase.

In my review below I've kept spoilers to a minimum, but it would be impossible to discuss such a lengthy book without delving past the initial mysteries. So be warned that there are some spoilers below.

I was particularly tickled by Anathem because of the way it treated alternate universes. That's not to discount the fact that I got a huge kick out of Stephenson's invented language. Of course Stephenson also wove physics, technology, and mathematics into his adventure- and he drew the plot together with a fascinating dose of philosophy and spirituality. This may sound like a lot of topics to cover while writing the story of an alien invasion- but Stephenson took 960 pages to draw all these subjects into an intriguing plot, and he made (nearly) every page exciting while doing it.

For years I cited Robert Heinlein as my favorite science fiction writer. He largely won that place through Number of the Beast, in which he explored the consequences of small party that learned to travel between the multitude of alternate universes. Heinlein leaned toward a fantasy aesthetic in his interpretation of alternate universes, having his party travel to worlds such as Oz, become real because his characters imagined them. I was enamoured by the idea that imaginary people could dream imaginary characters into existence- especially when those characters shared my own fictional references.

Stephenson does not fail to pull the heart strings of the familiar when writing a tale of alternate universe interaction. But first he extrapolates a carefully researched scientific and philosophical framework to explain how interaction between different universes becomes possible.

Another difference between Number of the Beast and Anathem- Heinlein starts his adventure from our universe, and travels to a multitude of others. In Anathem, the story begins in Arbre, a world hauntingly similar to ours- but which is clearly not Earth past, present, or future. Stephenson creates this sense of other-worldliness through the vocabulary of his created Arbran language. After spending months reading Anathem, "reticulum" seems a perfectly valid synonym for the Internet, and I might almost ask my husband if he felt like going to see a "speely" (movie). Continuing his manipulation of linguistics, Stephenson then cleverly creates a sense of pleasant notstalgia and connection when Earth words (in French) begin to seep into the Arbran vocabulary. Stephenson then deepens this sense of familiarity using the same trick Heinlein used- by tipping his hat to golden age spec fiction. Gets me every time.

Released in September 2008, Anathem is now 17th on Amazon's science fiction bestseller list. Interestingly, as of today, the Kindle edition of the book is not even in the top 100 of the Kindle's science fiction bestseller list. I, myself, read the book in print. The discrepancy may be explained by the fact that the Calcas (mathematical proofs) in the back of the book are more comfortable to flip to (and in some cases easier to view) in paper format. Perhaps readers were lured by the bundling of the book with companion CD (IOLET: Music from the World of Anathem) when the book was released. Perhaps there is simply more satisfaction weighing a huge, 960-page book in one's hands than comparing its storage space to other books saved to memory. At any rate, Anathem is selling much better in print than in Kindle format.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

I've been reading a lot of door-stoppers lately. It was fun to take a break and enjoy something short and satisfying.

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" was written by F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1921. The story does just what my favorite science fiction always accomplishes- illuminates the human experience by looking at it from an unusual perspective. In the case of Benjamin Button, this perspective is, literally, backwards.

The Sharing Knife, Book 1

I just finished Book 1 of Lois McMaster Bujold's Sharing Knife fantasy series, of which the fourth (and series final) book was published in January 2009. Books 1, 2, and 4 are available in Kindle format. Book 4 ranks #31 in Kindle's "Epic Fantasy" category. Publisher, Eos, is proud to point out that Book 4 ranked #30 on the NY Times Extended Bestseller list (as of Feb 15th).

This gives a picture of The Sharing Knife as a current fantasy series which, while not topping the charts, is certainly selling.

The Sharing Knife series is a down-to-earth romantic fantasy. In Book 1 Bujold balances life and death, procreation and a grim fight to save the world- all with endearingly honest characters, and a sense of humor. She treats sexuality with a no-nonsense, mature attitude that addresses both its pleasures and social complications. This book is far too explicit for teens and those who blush easily, yet Bujold never crosses the line into vulgarity. The worst I can say of her love story is that it serves little purpose other than to entertain and confirm mainstream values of love, sexual union, and marriage. The conventional aspect of the story can be forgiven as these values are explored by a man and woman of conflicting cultures. Book 1 foreshadows dangers in which this special union may cause painful conflict, but may also offer hope in the battle against evil.

We have already seen the smash success series like Twilight have enjoyed by stirring together spec fiction and soft-core romance. It will be interesting to see how the popularity of different spec fiction genres, such as fantasy, react to the infusion of romance.

House of Leaves

Over the past months I've been talking a lot about eBooks. Today I'm going to discuss a book that absolutely has to be read on paper- thick volume weighty in your lap, paper sliding between your fingers. House of Leaves needs to be read right-side-up, upside-down, diagonally. It needs to be read in color. You'll need easy access to the footnotes, or you'll miss at least half the story, and you'll want easy access to the appendices in back. Don't skip parts like this written in red, they are some of the best bits.

The book is a haunted house tale, but if you're expecting ghosts, think again. The protagonist of the story has never even been to the house. He simply had the misfortune of finding a manuscript- presumably the very manuscript we, as readers, hold in our hands. Truant has annotated the manuscript with his own comments and experience, which grow more disturbing and...creative in layout...as the story progresses. The manuscript itself is a scholarly work on the subject of a documentary film which, as Truant tells us, probably never existed. The non-existent documentary is about a house which mistreats three-dimensional space much the way the layout of House of Leaves mistreats traditional manuscript format.

I thoroughly enjoyed House of Leaves. It would be tempting to think all the crazy formats, colors, and footnotes were mere gimmicks to garner attention- but Danielewski proves that he uses each special effect to draw his reader deeper into the story. There is an artful resonance between the printed layout and the plot. No opportunity is wasted, be it a footnote, a translation, an exhaustive list of architects- to blur the line between what is real, and what is nightmare.

Kindle and iPhone make friends

Amazon has announced a free iPhone (or iPod Touch) application that allows the iPhone to read Kindle eBooks.

Wow.

This means iPhone and iPod Touch owners don't have to shell out the money for an expensive Kindle device in order to purchase and read Kindle books. No doubt Amazon hopes this will create a huge increase in the market for Kindle books. I certainly hope this development will lead to an increase in the already impressive number of titles available in Kindle format.

For those who do own Kindles, the new iPhone software can synchronize your place between the Kindle and the iPhone. So if you read a few chapters on your iPhone while on the train, you can pick up your Kindle when you get home and not have to waste a moment searching for where you left off in your reading. As a Kindle owner whose device is strictly used at home, this opens up exciting new possibilities for never being without my book!

Dollhouse- Thoughts after the First Three Episodes

I've been a Joss Whedon fan since the very first time I caught a random Season Two episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the WB. My admiration for Whedon TV greatly deepened when he created Firefly, translating his special mix of comedy and drama, wordplay, and ensemble acting, from the horror realm to science fiction.

So I was pretty excited about the premiere of his latest series, Dollhouse. Now that the first three episodes have aired, it's time to think about how the series is living up to my expectations.

Dollhouse is not exactly what I expected. And, strangely, that's okay.

The first big departure from Whedon's previous work is a change in his recipe for equal parts comedy and drama. Dollhouse mixes action and intrigue (with some strategic drama). Is there any comedy in the series at all? A little- the comedy is sparsely sprinkled in, like raisins in a cookie you were hoping was chocolate chip.

Hand-in-hand with the departure of comedy's role is the absence of wordplay. Heroine Echo has no time to quip or bandy pop culture references with her foes- she is normally too busy racing across the screen on foot, on motorcycle, in helicopter. And the show's other characters are usually too caught up casting conspiratorial glances to produce either comedy or drama.

One of the three big hallmarks of Whedon TV stands firm in Dollhouse: ensemble acting. Whedon makes no mistake about his leading lady- like Buffy, Echo is core to the story, and without her the plot and the world would crumble. At the same time Whedon is slowly, carefully, filling in the backgrounds of other intriguing characters: an FBI agent obsessed by uncovering the Dollhouse, Echo's Handler (who echoes the BtVS Watcher- pun intended), fellow Active, Sierra, and the mysterious and dangerous Alpha.

I'm really looking forward to the next episode of Dollhouse. So far it has been a well-crafted blend of action and intrigue, with drama popping up where I least expected it- in the course of exploring Echo's temporary, imprinted personalities. The fact that Whedon draws drama out of a character who essentially arises from nowhere and disappears at the end of every episode, fascinates me.

My biggest concerns with the series are the depth of the world, and how Whedon will draw out and deepen the intrigue. Why does the Dollhouse exist- simply as a screenwriting convenience to explore a character like Echo? I'm trusting Whedon has deeper motivations in mind, that will draw his ensemble of characters into stickier and stickier moral territory.

So, am I disappointed by the changes in Whedon's yummy TV recipe? No. I'm tasting, I'm chewing, I'm tasting again. Of course I like chocolate chip cookies. But oatmeal raisin is pretty scrumptious, too.