“Science Fiction and the Mythology of Progress”

The review series on Brian Stableford’s Opening Minds: Essays on Fantastic Literature continues.

Review: “Science Fiction and the Mythology of Progress“, Brian Stableford, 1977.Opening Minds

Combining his training as a sociologist and literary criticism of science fiction, Stableford does a concise summary of the myth of human progress and how science fiction has used it.

Starting in the 18th century, the notion of progress in human affairs, “softened” manners, enlightened minds, and nations being connected by commerce, a move toward “still higher perfection” as French philosopher Turgot put it, started to appear.

It was an improvement sought in knowledge and technology.

However, soon the grandiose idea of “human perfectibility” was espoused by the French philosopher Marquis de Condorcet.

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels also saw progress in human affairs though not pushed by knowledge but its manifestations in production technologies. Continue reading ““Science Fiction and the Mythology of Progress””

Cybele, with Bluebonnets; or, Adventures in Reviewer Parallax

I was in Texas a couple of months ago, so I took along this novel for its Texas setting.

I had been looking at it for years in Uncle Hugo’s Science Fiction Bookstore. An atypical plot and setting for Harness made me reluctant to buy it, and I also hadn’t read all of his earlier novels. (I still haven’t read The Catalyst and Krono.) I finally bought it about a year-and-a-half ago.

Review: Cybele, with Bluebonnets, Charles L. Harness, 2002.Cybele, with Bluebonnets

Harness’ last novel is atypical and familiar, charming and enticing in its episodes, and memorable in its overarching story of a deep love that survives death.

Harness’ final novel is a masterpiece in that it skillfully weds his most characteristic theme, what George Zebrowski’s introduction calls “the denial of death and the power of hope”, to a plot that transforms the “dreams and what-might-have-beens” from Harness’ life to “artful alternate realities”.

The milestones of Harness’ early life are here. Birth in Colorado City, Texas in 1915, a move to Fort West (which seems to be Fort Worth in its proximity to Dallas), Texas; an early interest in chemistry; a brief foray into seminary at the behest of his mother; employment as a fingerprint technician in the red light district of Fort Worth; employment at the U. S. Bureau of Mines during World War II, and eventually becoming a patent attorney. Oddly enough, Harness makes no reference to the early death of his older brother which shows up in other novels.

There are asides on Texas history and chemistry – lots of chemistry since Harness was a trained chemist. Continue reading “Cybele, with Bluebonnets; or, Adventures in Reviewer Parallax”

“Silent Thunder” & “Universe”

This is the last of my Dean Ing-related material though it’s possible you will get a review of his 2015 Tom Sawyerish It’s Up to Charlie Hardin. I started reading it after finishing Charles L. Harness’ last novel, Cybele, with Bluebonnets. Not coincidentally, both are novels based on their authors’ Texas boyhoods since I just got back from that state. (And the Harness novel is something of a masterpiece in many senses.)

The Quantrill books referred to are Ing’s post-apocalypse trilogy Systemic Shock, Single Combat, and Wild Country.  I have plans to look at those soon too.

Heinlein’s “Universe” got reviewed, of course, as part of Orphans of the Sky.

Sometimes you can figure out some underlying rationale for Ace Double and Tor Double pairings, but I can’t think of any here except for the purely commercial one of publishing an Ing novella. (Though both stories have religion as an element.) Tor has gotten into publishing novellas again, and that’s a welcome development.

Raw Feed (1992): “Silent Thunder” by Dean Ing/”Universe” by Robert A. Heinlein, 1991.Silent Thunder

Silent Thunder”, Dean Ing — I liked this techno-thriller by Ing.  It works mainly because Ing knows the clichés of the thriller story and knows his readers are aware of them too. We know Pam Garza is President Harry Rand’s ex-lover and Walter Kalvin’s toady, and Ing doesn’t try to futilely fool us. We know that Laurie Ramsay is going to get kidnapped, so that plot turn is done early.  Again, Ing doesn’t try to fool us. But Ing does tell a fast-paced, exciting story. The sf element, the Donnersprache, is an interesting device, and I wonder how much reality there is in the background details of German research into electronics and psychoacoustics. Spider Robinson once said Ing wrote moral fiction and that’s true. Here Ing uses the Donnersprache to get in a few truthful observations on the manipulability of democratic populaces and how not everyone has the right to his opinion if it’s founded on emotion and not fact. (Interestingly, Ing never gets into an obvious application of the Donnersprache. If it can electronically enhance the credibility of someone’s voice, why couldn’t the same techniques be used to create a very negative impression of a speaker? Perhaps this is what Kalvin does when Rand deviates from the former’s scripts. ) The violent way in which Laurie escapes her captor was surprising, and Ing’s way of showing the error of her former non-violence stance (a stance fostered by her mother). A child forced into violence to survive is something of an Ing theme as witnessed in his Quantrill books. I liked Ramsay being able to forgive dupe Garza and marry her and how traitor Terrence Unruh tries to kill Kalvin. Ing makes a nice point that a man may sell out for personal reasons (Unruh wants money for his family after he dies), but be unwilling to totally sell out his country. This statement has a counterpoint to Ramsay not saying anything until his daughter is safe. And Rand is furious at being unwittingly manipulated and used by Kalvin. He may be a dopy, repressive preacher, but he’s got integrity that helps save the day. But the very best thing about the story is that America is saved from fascism by a conspiracy of moderate-minded Masons — who assure a cabinet member that their handshake and promise has been good enough for centuries. It’s nice to see this much maligned group (the villains of many a fictional and alleged conspiracy) being the heroes.

Universe”, Robert A. Heinlein — A true classic. I liked the medievalism of the society in the spaceship:  a religious based hierarchy with our hero being hauled up for trial about his views of the nature of the ship and world outside a lá Galileo, storytellers with amazing memories who serve as judges too, and an easy acceptance of slavery under the muties. I also liked mutant Jim-Joes who seems a curious Heinlein character:  a learned man with little ambition (but capable of decisiveness). I liked him (them?) unable to realize the difference between fact and fiction in what he (they?) read.
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The Venetian Court

The last of my onhand Charles L. Harness material though I might have a review of his last novel coming up after I finish it.

Raw Feed (1991): The Venetian Court, Charles L. Harness, 1982.Venetian Court

I read this novel on the presumption, since its hero was Quentin Thomas, that it was of the same series as Harness’ Lunar Justice (whose hero is also a Quentin Thomas).  However, I don’t think these novels are part of the same series.  There are too many inconsistencies.  Lunar Justice involves a seemingly young Quentin Thomas circa 2073; The Venetian Court has a middle-aged Quentin Thomas circa 2013.  Lunar Justice‘s Thomas has psi-powers that allow him to manipulate matter at a sub-atomic level and a headful of microchips; The Venetian Court‘s Thomas has neither of those things.  Lunar Justice involves off-planet colonization and references to a Federation.  The Venetian Court has neither.  However, The Venetian Court‘s Thomas does briefly allude to two failed marriages or, at least, romances.

This novel is another Harness story of a man and woman (here not romantically linked until possibly the end) struggling against official tyranny, here embodied by Judge Rex “Spider” Speyer.  Harness throws in an Oedepial complex for Speyer’s bloodlust, fascination with spiders, and desire to kill women legally in his court.  (Harness more extensively used Freudian ideas in his Lurid Dreams.)  Speyer is a wonderfully black character.

This story is a slight modification of Harness’ usual plot.  Thomas pulls all his best shots to free Ellen Welles from Speyer who must kill her to recharge his psychic batteries.  But all comes to naught.  As usual, Harness lays out, well in advance, his hero’s plan of action.  It’s a question of timing whether his plan works.  He is waiting for the Supreme Court ruling which will rule the Patent Statute of 2002, with its death penalty for patent infringement, unconstitutional.  (Harness tells where he got the title from by having Quentin Thomas alluding to the Venetian penalty for patent infringement — more like violation of monopolistic trading rights back then:  drinking poison).  The inventing computer Faust shows up at the end with all sorts of deus ex machina (although Harness foreshadowed this) powers like telekinetic transmutation of chemicals and power over time and space.  Faust provides the element of vague doom so common in Harness’ works  by predicting the poisoning death of someone in the courtroom.  This is a rather melancholy novel with its fixation on death, tyranny, and high justices of the Supreme Court behaving non-judiciously.  The symphony of fate weaves through this novel.  (Harness seems very fond of music, and this novel, with it’s permutations on the theme of fate, seems structured like a symphony.).  Speyer is killed by his own pet spider who also kills the corrupt opposing counsel to Thomas and General Products CEO.  Like the Thomas of Lunar Justice, this Thomas must ask himself if he’s willing to kill his legal opponents (counsel and judge) to win.  He unpleasantly realizes he very well may want that.  Faust is wonderfully ironic when he says he, after killing Speyer and the lawyers, he did it for Thomas and that he gave everyone — even his victims — what they wanted.

Not up to Lurid Dreams or The Paradox Men but a good yarn.

 

More reviews of fantastic fiction are indexed by title and author/editor.

Lunar Justice

Usual drill.

You get old stuff while I’m working on new stuff.

Raw Feed (1991): Lunar Justice, Charles L. Harness, 1991.Lunar Justice

Like most of his novels, the novel’s elements are simple.  There is a romance between Quentin Thomas and Nadys, a scientific principle or wonder that will save the day — here a double whammy of psychically turning Jupiter into a sun and bringing the Lunarplex Dome down via seismic resonances, psi powers, and a corrupt legal system.  Harness weaves them together in a mixture that is uniquely Harness.

His romances between men and women are well done.  The three Harness novels I’ve read — Lunar Justice, Lurid Dreams, and The Paradox Men — all have plots that involve lovers against a despotic regime.  (In The Paradox Men, it was a tyrannical America, in Lurid Dreams a sleazy bunch of university professors and administrators; here the struggle is against a blatantly, amusingly, appallingly corrupt lunar justice system.

Harness doesn’t give us one of those contrived mid-book romances.  He starts his characters out in love. His characters interestingly digress to talk about history, art, music and his characters. This leads to sparkling examples of characterization and is a good example of naturalistic stream-of-consciousness toned down to comprehensibility.

Hero Quentin Thomas’ has psi-powers and superhuman powers, is the forerunner of a new human sub-species.  Like many of Harness’ plots, the suspense derives not in what is going to be done as much as getting it done in time.  Here the question is if Thomas can get Michael Dore acquitted before Martin Rile and his Peace Eternal Corporation can execute him.  Thomas’ plan is laid out about half way through the book.  The rest is timing.  Dore’s cryptic statements — inspired by his prescient psi-power — introduces Harness’ usual element of prophecy.

I liked this novel, found it’s lunar justice setting blackly humorous, Quentin Thomas a compelling (and somehow gloomy character despite his passion for Nadys) character, and the plot exciting.

 

More reviews of fantastic fiction are indexed by title and author/editor.

 

 

Wolfhead

Raw Feed (2002): Wolfhead, Charles L. Harness, 1978.Wolfhead

The post-apocalypse setting of this book, three thousand years after a nuclear war, is something different for Harness, but many of the themes, techniques, and plot devices of his novels show up.

As his Firebird is a sf version of Richard Wagner’s “Tristan and Isolt”, this story is a combination of Dante’s Inferno and, possibly,  the myth of Persephone.

The narrator goes on a quest for his beloved Beatra (as in Dante’s Beatrice), is kidnapped and taken to the underground city of Dis (which really stands for the District of Columbia — an underground city built thousands of years ago to house the Federal Government).  His aide is the female dire wolf Virgil.  Dire wolves are mutant wolves who are smart and can see in infrared.  The narrator swaps a portion of his brain with Virgil rendering them telepathic.

Like The Paradox Men with its corrupt Imperial America or, less so (though it still seems at least partially responsible for the extinction of man on Earth), the American government of Drunkard’s Endgame, this novel has the American government as the villain.  The constitutional offices have long since degenerated into hereditary positions.  They kidnap people from the surface.  They plan to wipe out all chordate life off the Earth and repopulate when the Vortex technology is finally unable to protect Dis from earthquakes.  Beatra is held in the Central Intelligence complex.  I suspect some post-Watergate significance in having the sympathetic rebels of Dis call themselves Democrats.

Harness’ fondness for mutants shows up by having the narrator be a rare telepath. The notion of fate shows up with the prophecies that say the narrator will destroy the gods-eye — another looming apocalypse as in The Paradox Men, The Ring of Ritornel, and Firebird (though the apocalypse does occur in all those novels}.  Here the apocalypse is limited to just Dis and, in effect, renews their corrupt culture by driving the decent underground dwellers to the surface where the re-unify with normal people and become respected members of the community.

The death of a loved one shows up here in the surprising death of Beatra after she is rescued (it fits in with Persephone not being allowed to return to the surface world full time).  I liked the obsessive ruthlessness of Jeremy Wolfhead, the narrator, and his honest statement that any one who gets in the way of his retrieving Beatra is disposable.  I liked all the clever manifestations of Wolfhead’s psychic ability to set up vortexes (and the Vortex Chamber represents, possibly, Harness’ silliest bit of pseudoscience).  The plot certainly featured more direct killings than The Paradox Men and The Ring of Ritornel, in terms of the number of people Wolfhead kills, it seems to have the highest body count of any Harness novel I’ve read.  I liked the Returner being Jeremy’s father aka Father Phaedrus.

 

More reviews of fantastic fiction are indexed by title and author/editor.

An Ornament to His Profession

The Charles L. Harness series continues.

I have by no means read all of his work but, between this and the novels in Rings, you get a good sense of his work.

This is the only collection of Harness fiction and includes the short novel The Rose.

Raw Feed (2002): An Ornament to His Profession, ed. Priscilla Olson, 1998.Ornament to His Profession

“An Ornament”, Priscilla Olson — A brief but informative introduction to Charles Harness’ characteristic subjects and themes.
“Charles Harness:  New Realities”, David G. Hartwell — A brief and useful overview of Charles Harness’ themes and writing career and the influence and significance of Harness’ novels Flight Into Yesterday aka The Paradox Men and The Rose.  Hartwell makes the interesting observation that, like Alfred Bester and Philip K. Dick, Harness put his own spin on the type of stories written by A.E. van Vogt.  I think that’s a valid observation and explains my like of all three authors.
The Rose — This is the second time I’ve read this short novel.  I didn’t think much of it the first time.  At that time, I was rather puzzled at Ruy Jacques quest for the rose, though he won’t acknowledge the quest to Anna van Tuyl.  This time it was obvious that his quest was for his art to not only maintain immortality but equal power to his wife’s Martha’s Scionmnia Equation.  It was also obvious that love has turned to possessive, bitter competition between the Jacques.  I was even more forcibly reminded of the van Vogtian elements of using artistic concepts in a systemized way as weapons.  I have no idea how true Harness’ examples are, drawn from music, art, and ballet, of art discovering scientific principles first.  Nor do I have any idea if the Oriental five-four rhythms of the second movement of Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony require special training by Western musicians to play or if Delcrozian eurythmics are real.  (Harness mentions Tchaikovsky in several stories.)  After this reading, I can spot the influence of this novel on Michael Moorcock. (Moorcock wrote a very favorable introduction to the novel in another edition.)  Specifically, you can spot Harness’ influence on Moorcock’s The Winds of Limbo.  Harness’ introductory notes were interesting.  John W. Campbell rejected this story, evidently because of his lack of knowledge about music.  Harness was, as you would expect, deeply influenced by the death of his older brother, age 26.  The brother was an artist and the inspiration for the imperious artist Ruy Jacques.  Harness also said that the story was built around a story beloved by his brother:  Oscar Wilde’s “Nightingale and the Rose”.  The story provided the theme and plot outline of the novel. In Wilde’s story the nightingale, provides the dye, with the blood from its fatal, self-inflicted injury, to turn a white rose red.  The Student needs a red rose for admission to a dance.)  At the end, Harness playing with the reader’s expectations by making us believe that it is Ruy who is really to die like the Nightingale and Anna is to be the Student.  I appreciated the story’s blatantly allegorical qualities this time.  It’s another Harness tale of transcendence.
Time Trap” — This is Harness’ first published story and has many of the themes and elements of his later work.  There are the two individuals, Poole and Jon Troy who turn out to be the same individual, existing contemporaneously due to time travel.  There is the mutation, in Jon Troy, looked for by shadowy groups.  Harness throws in a scientific explanation on how Troy’s power to prevent “devitalization” and general death from violence and poisoning.  It involves manipulation of carbon dioxide and oxygen cycles in hemoglobin and was evidently good enough for the story to be published in John W. Campbell’s Astounding SF.  Harness carefully doesn’t explain how physical injuries, like a rabbit being resurrected after its head is severed, are reversed in Troy’s “viton” field.  Harness also doesn’t come up with a good explanation as to how come Poole/Troy doesn’t remember all the times he’s been through this “standing wave” of time until he goes back in time one last time.  The systemization of even prison escapes bears the hallmark of 30s–50s sf where almost any human activity can by systematized and rationalized.  Harness, in his introduction, explains that the legal chicanery of Poole claiming his younger self, Troy, is innocent of murder because, at various times and locations, the intent did not match the actual act is drawn from a real case he studied in law school.  Specifically, an attempt to murder is unsuccessful.  The wouldbe killer transports the body elsewhere, believing the victim to be dead, and then cuts the head off.  The defense is that the initial act was only assault, unintended by the perpetrator, and the actual decapitation was intended to only be a mutilation of a corpse, not murder.  Of course, legal elements were also to become part of Harness’, a patent attorney, fiction.

Continue reading “An Ornament to His Profession”

Rings

I’ve exhausted my existing Robert Silverberg material for now, so I’m moving on to a new favorite: Charles L. Harness.

Harness was a patent attorney and many of his works are legal and courtroom dramas, but that is not the case with the novels in this omnibus.

Raw Feeds frequently feature spoilers and that is definitely the case here.

Raw Feed (2002): Rings, Charles L. Harness, 1999.Rings

“On Rings of Power”, Priscilla Olson — Very brief and perfunctory introduction listing Charles Harness’ major themes and tying this omnibus of his work to an early short story collection, An Ornament to His Profession. (Yes, that will be reviewed in a future post.)
“Charles Harness:  Wielder of Light”, George Zebrowski — The most interesting part about this introduction to the omnibus is the phone interview Zebrowski conducted with Harness.  Harness says that each of the four novels in the omnibus are tributes to certain people.  The Paradox Men was a tribute to A. E. van Vogt, a major influence on Harness.  The Ring of Ritornel is a tribute to Harness’ brother Blandford Bryan Harness who died at the age of 26 when Harness was only 19.  Firebird is a tribute to Richard Wagner and the story of Tristan and Isolde.  Drunkard’s Endgame is a tribute to Isaac Asimov.
The Paradox Men — It’s a curious book in that it is one of my favorite sf novels but that I can’t remember the plot until about half way through rereading it.  However, I always remember one of my favorite sf lines:  “The beastling had joined the drama as a full-fledged member of the troupe, with lines to speak, and a death to die.”  I probably caught, on my other readings, the obvious van Vogt influences of powerful, hidden manipulators and mutant superman.  But I don’t think I caught before the influence of the Cold War on this 1953 novel.  There are East and West Federations poised to start a nuclear war.  Arnold Toynbee’s influence is obvious, of course, since his theory of civilizations rise and fall is alluded to.  The latter always comes after a time of “universal state” and “universal peace”.  Harness also seems to engage in a bit of political commentary with his Toynbean historians stating that no civilization can stand the continual aggrandizement of its ruling class.  Here that aggrandizement is shown by slavery being reintroduced as the penalty for going into debt.  Indeed, a nasty sort of slavery since some are sold to the “charnel-house”.  Indeed, Harness wanted to name the novel Toynbee Twenty-Two, the same as the ship that takes Alar on his journey of transformation.  I was again impressed with the almost hard sf working out of relativity theory to make his time cycles plausible.  I am impressed by the ways Harness does plot in obvious ways.  There is no happy ending for Keiris (who loses her arms in the novel) and Muir.  Muir-Alar is not the avatar of a new race.  Rather, he travels back to prehistory to alter man’s very nature to make him less warlike.  Harness puts temporal cycles inside temporal cycles.  Muir leaves to return five years earlier and then, returning to a point shortly after his crash (and the destruction of civilization), he is transformed.  I wonder if the idea of a superman being created by the deliberate application of lethal stresses inspired the method of superman creation later used in Alfred Bester’s The Computer Connection.
The Ring of Ritornel — This reading added little to my earlier reading of the novel.  The introduction to this omnibus edition does confirm the influence of Fred Hoyle’s steady-state theory.  The crystomorphs reminded me of elements of cyberpunk fiction where computers are used to model people’s reactions to various stimuli.  (It was never totally clear whether Vang and his Aleans manipulated Oberon with a bogus prediction of Andrek’s attempted assassination of Oberon or if it was a legitimate prediction.  If the latter, it is another example of the book coming down on the side of free will.  Paradoxically, by using such the crystomorphs, the Aleans are practicing a type of Ritornelean determinism.)  This time around I appreciated more the Master Surgeon being the founding Ritornelism — a religion modified by its later practitioners.)  I also caught the irony of Omere being the disembodied (at least, not housed in a human body) house for Oberon’s emotions (though Oberon does, at the end, seem to be fearful) but begging for his own death because he is not human.  The final melding of Andrek-Omere was another example of Harness’s love and continual concern and memory of his beloved dead brother, the inspiration for Omere.
Firebird — A much better book than I expected.  Its style is rather different than the the preceding novels in the omnibus, The Paradox Men and The Ring of Ritornel.  The book opens with an engimatic list of terms and their definitions.  It refers (in the novel’s first words) to “The matrix within which all things move, but which defies definition.”  Three of the eight terms show up just once as synonyms of the mysterious emotion of love.  One word is “kaisch”.  It is a rather chess like game (chess is something that shows up fairly frequently in Harness’ short fiction) in its pure form, but psi-kaisch seems, like the Alerean twelve-sided dies of The Ring of Ritornel, serves as both a model (though the dies are not used in that way often in the story) and predictor of future action.  Here Dermaq and Gerain use it as a predictive model of their future and to military tactics.  Three of the other eight terms don’t seem to ever be mentioned in the text; their significance unexplained.  While a since of looming fate and predestination figures in The Ring of Ritornel (it’s a central thematic question and plot point there) and the end of The Paradox Men, it is manifested in those novels as temporal paradoxes or as impersonal fate.  Here, the conversations between the two-headed, utterly callous and evil computers, Largo and Czandra, have a feeling of gods talking.  They are known jointly as Control.  There is a feeling of destiny unraveling as Dermaq and Gerain wonder how the Wine of Elkar will be irradiated, how the woman wielding it knows to show up and who she is.  Volo, when Dermaq and Gerain visit the silent quarter, tells them that Control has driven them there.  The same feeling hangs over the book as Dermaq and Gerain, Harness’ version of Tristan and Isolt, are driven to their fate.  Indeed, Dermaq eventually realizes he has (and will) killed himself.  Another difference in style is that the protagonists in this novel are all non-humans.  Dermaq and Gerain belong to a race of cat-like humanoids.  The prose has more emotion and description than The Paradox Men or The Ring of Ritornel.  All three novels feature characters of hidden identities.  Gerain, it turns out, is the old woman of the first chapter.  However, there are also similarities.  The themes of temporal loops and regenerating universes (the Diavola hope to close the universe so that another Big Bang can lead to the evolution of life without the bane of Control) are here as befits the themes inherent in the omnibus title Rings.  All three novels feature plots of hidden manipulators (here courtesy of a temporal paradox), temporal paradoxes (as in The Paradox Men) or regeneration (the Ritorneleans in The Ring of Ritornel want to ensure the transplantation of sentience to a new universe — here the Diavola seek to remake the universe without Control), and the remaking of the animal that carries sentience in each universe (ancient man is retooled in The Paradox Men, Amatar and Kedrys as mutants in The Ring of Ritornel, the emergence of homo sapiens to replace Phelex sapiens here).  All three novels feature speculations using cosmological ideas:  implications of special relativity in The Paradox Men, Fred Hoyle’s steady state ideas and antimatter in The Ring of Ritornel, and more relativistic ideas here as well as the idea of the oscillating universe.  Firebird is a more mystical novel in tone and plot.  Not only is Control very god-like, but no real explanation is given for how the emergence of  homo sapiens can be predicted — right down to the emergence of another Tristan and Isolt.  (This is Harness making a statement on the mystical, perennial mystery of love.)  Harness does some interesting things with Firebird traveling at near light speeds.  Its mass disturbs oncoming ships and missiles.  Its huge mass means ramming is possible.  The winding down of the universe means little fuel is available.  I also liked burning Firebird’s furnishings for their hydrogen atoms.  I also liked the telepathic communication of Largo and Czandra and the biosilicon implants enabling them to control the bodies of their subjects.  However, there are some problems.  Largo and Czandra seem like cruel gods, but they don’t seem much like computers.  Also, for people supposedly educated in cosmological matters, Gerain and Dermaq seem rather ignorant of the implications of relativistic flight.  Their conversations seem there to provide explication to the reader.  One thing that seemed to be a problem — the notion of a lag between the disappearance of matter and its appearance as energy — is explained at the end.  Cor will re-engineer the universe (what is to become ours, thus explaining the alien protagonists and different physical laws).  Cor is another mystical element.  A portion of Cor’s mind, seemingly an intelligence that survives the universe’s oscillations and can guide its evolution, seems to inhabit Firebird.  Another unexplained plot device is how Control expects to get energy in an ever expanding universe.  I liked the shrunken descendants of the Diavola who have kept the faith through millions of years, ready to give their life to defeat Control for eternity and beyond.  There sacrifice is like Dermaq willingly going to his death.  The latter was an interesting time paradox:  killing a time traveling, future version of yourself.

Continue reading “Rings”

The Ring of Ritornel

I’ve exhausted my Robert Silverberg material for now, so I’m moving on to another favorite author: Charles L. Harness.

Raw Feed (1991): The Ring of Ritornel, Charles L. Harness, 1968.Ring of Ritornel

This is the quintessential Harness novel though I liked The Paradox Men better for a stronger element of revenge. All his characteristic themes are here: the lovers (Jamie Andrek and Amatar) fighting against a despot (here Amatar’s father, Oberon, determined to kill Andrek to destroy a potential threat to his life — Oberon killed Andrek’s father and imprisoned Andrek’s brother Omere’s consciousness in a computer), the mysterious workings of fate (a theme not only echoed here in the preachings of the Ritornel and Alea religions but the crystomorphs of the Aleans which attempt to project the future of a man’s life and how it will be influenced by other events and other people), cycles of time (here the Ritornel belief in an eternal, predestined cycle), the law (Andrek is a lawyer and we are treated to a scene where he saves Earth from destruction), and even spiders (Harness gives us a clever sf idea here — along with the usual van Vogtian fairy-tale vistas of time and spaces — a metal poor planet formed from the debri of a first generation star populated by sentient aliens, expert surgeons descended from spiders). There is also art here in the form of Omere (based on Harness’ brother who died at an early age). There is also an Adam and Eve plot here. Like Harness’ “The New Reality”, it involves a couple repopulating a cleansed Earth in another universe.

The novel is clever on many counts: the corrupted names of Earth (Terror) (However, it was rather obvious that Terror was Earth as it was that Kendrys and Amatar were clones of Oberon) and Rimor (for Rhymer, the computer/brain synthesis of poet Omere); the novel is filled with manifestations of the struggle between the two philosophies of Alea (total randomness) and Ritornel (total predestination bolstered by some interesting philosophical arguments. There is the bet between monk Vang of the Aleans and Andrek as to whether twelve die rolls would produce the Ring of Ritornel, the spiders web which produces a dodecahedron — symbol of Alea’s die. Imagery of randomness is repeated with the many die casts throughout the plot, the very chapter structure which goes from 1-12 and then goes from 12-1 where each of the last 11 chapters is a slightly modified restatement of the title of the first 11 chapters — thereby invoking the twelve faces of Aleas die and the cyclical ring of Ritornel. There is a clever, but nonscientific description of antimatter. Love is another theme in the union of Andrek’s and Omere’s mind (and the symmetry of both experiencing disembodied states). Continue reading “The Ring of Ritornel”

DAW 30th Anniversary Science Fiction Anthology

Another retro review while I work on something for another outlet.

From January 12, 2010 …

Review: DAW 30th Anniversary Science Fiction Anthology, eds. Elizabeth R. Wollheim and Sheila Gilbert, 2002.DAW 30th Anniversary

Apart from the introductions by Wollheim and Gilbert covering Donald A. Wollheim’s contributions to American publishing culminating with his founding of DAW Books, there’s nothing that makes this book stand out from DAW’s many other anthologies except it doesn’t have a theme. The ratio of good to adequate to bad stories is pretty standard – not nearly high enough for a celebration of 30 years of quality publishing. That’s probably inevitable for a group of all original stories, but this anthology, which features installments in several DAW series, also doesn’t serve as much of an enticing sampler of DAW’s goods.

The two stand out stories are Tad Williams’ “Not With a Whimper, Either” and Ian Watson’s “The Black Wall of Jerusalem”. Williams’ story is told through newsgroup exchanges as various users try to figure out what is behind several disruptions of communications and utilities. It’s a worthy and ambiguous addition to a science fiction tradition of sinister machines including Jack Williamson’s “With Folded Hands”, Harlan Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream”, and, especially, Frederic Brown’s “Answer”. Watson’s story is surprisingly Lovecraftian in structure and theme. Its poet narrator is troubled by dreams he’s been having since returning from Jerusalem where he went for inspiration to write a William Blake style work of religious mysticism. There he encountered the Black Wall, a gateway that pops up in different parts of the ancient city, and goes beyond it to investigate the lethal beings of another dimension. Continue reading “DAW 30th Anniversary Science Fiction Anthology”